The corridor was much dimmer than it was during the day.
The torches on the wall crackled and popped.
The orange flames flickered and danced, casting their shadows, long and short, across the cold stone wall, adding a touch of hazy ambiguity and tension.
Draco was still half a step ahead, his platinum-gold hair gleaming softly in the firelight.
Hermione followed behind, her mind a jumble of thoughts, like a tangled ball of yarn torn by a cat.
The History of Magic classroom is located in a secluded corner of the castle, far from the hustle and bustle of the main road.
Draco paused slightly at the doorway, listening intently for a moment.
Inside, the buzzing of students' voices and the soft rustling of tables and chairs moving could be heard, indicating that everyone had gradually taken their seats.
He turned his head and glanced at Hermione very quickly.
The girl had her head down, her brows furrowed, and her long eyelashes cast a small shadow under her eyelids.
He was clearly still lost in thought.
The unnatural blush on her cheeks hadn't completely faded.
As they drew closer to the heavy wooden door of the History of Magic classroom, the noise from inside grew increasingly clear.
Just then, Draco, who was in front, stopped without warning.
Hermione was lost in a jumble of thoughts and didn't notice that she had almost bumped into his back.
She abruptly stopped, jolted awake from her dazed state.
Slightly bewildered and with a lingering annoyance, she looked up at Draco's retreating figure and blurted out, "What now—"
The question was left unsaid, stuck in his throat.
Draco had slowly turned around to face her.
He didn't speak, but simply lowered his head slightly, his gaze fixed on Hermione's face.
To be precise, his gaze landed near the corner of her mouth, fixed on it, unmoving.
Hermione felt uncomfortable under his gaze and instinctively wanted to back away.
Unexpectedly, his back was already pressed against the cold, hard stone wall, leaving him nowhere to retreat and forcing him to stand frozen in place.
"What are you looking at?" Her voice carried a hint of wariness, mixed with lingering embarrassment.
Like a frightened little animal, it can only use bluffing to cover up its inner panic.
Draco didn't answer immediately; his gaze remained fixed on a certain spot on her face.
Then, under Hermione's increasingly puzzled and wary gaze, he did something that instantly and completely robbed her of the ability to think.
Draco very naturally raised his hand and took out a neatly folded handkerchief from the inside pocket of his Gryffindor robe.
The handkerchief was soft and plain in color, a pale moon white, and looked spotless.
Then, before Hermione could react at all...
He slowly raised the hand holding the handkerchief, aiming it clearly at her face.
What are you doing?!
Hermione recoiled in fright, pressing her back against the cold stone wall, her body almost becoming one with it.
Her eyes widened like a startled cat's, filled with bewilderment and embarrassment.
"Don't move."
Draco's voice carried an undeniable air of authority, as if he were giving orders to a disobedient student.
His movements did not stop because of her retreat and exclamation.
With just a slight adjustment of the angle, his wrist continued forward steadily and firmly.
The next second, the soft fabric, carrying the cool warmth of his fingertips and that chilly scent, gently touched Hermione's lips.
Hermione's hair stood on end!
But she was Petrificus Totalus, and dared not move an inch.
Only those eyes were wide open, churning with turbulent emotions.
She could clearly feel the extremely soft texture of the handkerchief and the slightly firm fingertips.
The sensation was so vivid, so intimate, that it made her heart pound wildly, as if it were about to leap out of her chest.
Draco's actions weren't exactly tender and affectionate, but they were by no means rude or offensive.
He took a handkerchief and gently wiped the area near her mouth where the sauce had stained, applying even pressure twice.
His breath was soft, brushing against her forehead and bringing a slightly ticklish sensation.
The sensation was like a feather gently scratching her skin, sending goosebumps up all over her body.
In the dimly lit and quiet corridor.
Outside the classroom of the History of Magic.
In public spaces where other students or professors may appear at any time.
This posture, this distance, this movement...
It seemed too intimate, too inappropriate, and too embarrassing.
Hermione's mind completely shut down, going blank and losing all ability to think.
Her cheeks flushed bright red with alarming speed, as if they had been burned.
Even the tips of her ears and her slender neck were tinged with a deep crimson, burning hot.
She even forgot to push him away, forgot to protest, forgot to feel ashamed.
She simply stood there, stiffly letting him do as he pleased.
My heart was pounding wildly in my chest, crashing against my ribs with a deafening thud that almost drowned out the crackling of the torches burning in the corridor.
Draco seemed completely oblivious to her violent reaction.
He wiped it so meticulously, as if handling a delicate and fragile magical instrument, his focus was unbelievable.
After wiping twice, he slightly removed the handkerchief.
I glanced at the specks of sauce on the fabric to confirm the effectiveness of the wiping.
Then, with extreme precision, he touched it up again to make sure no trace was missed before slowly moving the handkerchief away.
"Alright," Draco said calmly.
He casually crumpled the used handkerchief in his palm, not even glancing at Hermione's ashamed and indignant expression.
He simply stated the facts calmly. "You have sauce from the scallion pancake on your lips."
But those words struck Hermione like a thunderbolt, snapping her out of her daze and bringing her back to her senses instantly.
The sauce?! The sauce from the scallion pancake?!
Oh, right!
She was in the hallway just now, and because she was so shocked by his amazing remarks, she did indeed take a few big bites of that strangely-tasting but unexpectedly delicious scallion pancake!
Later, due to the shock and confusion, she completely forgot about it.
She actually followed him all the way from near the Hospital Wing to the History of Magic classroom, with sauce still dripping from the corner of her mouth!
She actually... she actually walked for so long with that damn sauce on her face?!
And Draco Malfoy saw it all clearly?! And he actually wiped it off for her himself?!
A surge of immense shame and inexplicable rage rushed to Hermione's head.
It almost made her faint.
At that moment, she wished she could disappear into a crack in the ground.
Or cast the highest level of Vanishing Spell on yourself and disappear completely from here!
She actually showed such an indecent side in front of Draco Malfoy!
And this happened right after such a mind-blowing conversation!
This is an utter disgrace!
"Who... who told you to meddle!" Hermione's voice trembled noticeably.
Half of her was angry, and half was ashamed; even her eyes were a little red.
"I can wipe it myself!"
That being said, the truth is, she really didn't notice the sauce on the corner of her mouth at all.
And... he did indeed "help" her remove the mark that had caused her so much embarrassment.
This angry rebuke sounded more like a furious defense than a genuine accusation.