What's wrong with Draco Malfoy today?
No, whatever it is, she can't let him affect her anymore.
She is Hermione Granger, someone who will establish herself at this prestigious magic school based on her extensive knowledge.
She's definitely not a fool who can be easily unsettled by a few words from him.
Thinking of this, Hermione took a deep breath, slowly straightened her back, and looked intently at herself in the mirror.
Although her eyes were still red and swollen, and there was still a lingering tear in them, she still nodded vigorously at the person in the mirror.
The determination and sharpness of the past rekindled in those brown eyes.
"I want to go back," she whispered to herself.
Although his voice was still a little hoarse, it had regained some of its former strength.
"Going back to the Gryffindor Tower and facing everyone else's gaze is no big deal."
"He's just Malfoy, a nasty guy. I can't let him influence me anymore."
She reached out and turned off the dripping faucet, then grabbed the sleeve of her wizard's robe and hastily wiped the remaining water droplets from her face.
She raised her hand again to tidy her messy curly hair and smoothed the collar of her shirt.
Although her eyes were still red and her face was pale with shock.
But at least he was no longer in that disheveled, tearful state.
"Are you leaving?" Moaning Myrtle's head suddenly popped out from above the cubicle.
She still had teary eyes.
His gaze was fixed on Hermione, his tone filled with lingering resentment.
"Okay, let's go, let's go. Anyway, in the end I'll be all alone in this cold, desolate place again... Waaah... Remember next time you cry, don't get your snot everywhere. That Ravenclaw girl was disgusting; she made a mess of the sink!"
Hermione: "..."
She stared at Moaning Myrtle's sorrowful face and suddenly felt...
Perhaps returning to the Gryffindor Common Room, facing other people's questions, and the gossip about Lavender and Parvati, won't be so terrible.
"Thank you, Moaning Myrtle." Hermione turned around and nodded politely to the ghost floating in mid-air.
Even though she knew that this crybaby probably didn't care about the thank you at all.
Just as Hermione gripped the strap of her backpack and stepped toward the bathroom door...
Draco, who had been silently waiting in the shadows outside the door, finally moved.
He waited a long time, long enough for the crying inside to stop, long enough for the flustered girl to calm down.
He raised his hand, his fingers slightly bent, and tapped the door three times with his knuckles, neither too hard nor too soft.
"Knock, knock, knock."
Three knocks on the door, crisp and rhythmic.
The sound echoed in the Silencio corridor, then penetrated the heavy wooden door and exploded in the washroom.
All sounds inside suddenly ceased.
Draco lowered his hand and waited patiently for a few seconds.
He could clearly imagine what it would be like outside.
The girl who had just regained some composure must have been struck dumb, frozen in place, her breath caught in her throat.
My heart is probably about to pound like a drum again, and the alarm bells in my heart are ringing loudly.
This thought brought a smile to his lips again.
Then, in a calm but clear enough tone, he slowly spoke through the door:
" Miss Granger, it's me, Draco Malfoy."
He gave his full name without any concealment or unnecessary preamble.
After he finished speaking, he deliberately paused for a moment, as if giving the person behind the door enough time to react and recover from her shock.
Then, his voice lowered slightly, still steady, but seemingly with a subtle softening:
"I brought some dinner. I thought you might... need this."
He slightly raised his hand and lifted the delicate little wicker basket beside him.
The basket was lined with a clean linen cloth, and inside it was a bowl of creamy mushroom soup, kept warm by magic.
The lid was tightly closed, and a faint, rich aroma could be detected.
Next to it were two perfectly toasted whole wheat breads, golden and crispy, with a thin layer of honey and butter spread on them, carefully wrapped in parchment paper.
There was also a small dish of evenly cut apple and pear chunks, fresh and plump.
Finally, there was a small pot of mint tea, still steaming, with a touch of honey added; its sweet aroma filled the air.
He stood quietly outside the door, carrying his wicker basket, waiting.
The bathroom was deathly silent.
The only sound was the dripping of the faucet, drip, drip, drip... a monotonous sound that seemed to be pounding on everyone's nerves.
Hermione heard the three clear knocks on the door, followed by the sound she least wanted to hear at that moment.
He felt as if he had been struck by lightning.
Draco Malfoy?!
How did he get here?
How did he know she was hiding in this secluded washroom?!
He... he even brought dinner?!
A profound sense of absurdity and a deeper sense of vigilance sent a chill down her spine.
She instinctively took a step back, her back slamming heavily against the cold, damp wall, the hard stone digging painfully into her.
My heart started pounding again, even harder than when I was running.
Tears still lingered on her face, her eyes were swollen and red like walnuts, and her hair, though hastily combed, remained somewhat disheveled...
He absolutely, absolutely must not see me in this disheveled state!
Moaning Myrtle stopped crying, her perpetually wet eyes gleaming with a gossipy light.
She drifted to the door like a gust of wind, trying to stick her head out.
Of course, her body passed through the door panel without any hindrance, leaving only a transparent afterimage.
"Oh? It's a boy? And his voice is quite nice..." Moaning Myrtle's voice was full of curiosity, but also tinged with a hint of complaint.
"Did he come looking for you, Miss Crybaby? Waaah... He's bothering me! This is my territory!"
Hermione completely ignored Moaning Myrtle's complaints; her mind was racing, a jumbled mess of thoughts.
What did he mean by that? Did he bring dinner so he could see her like this and continue to mock her?
Are they trying to continue the farce that happened in the classroom in this secluded washroom?
Or... or is there some other purpose?
No, no matter what his purpose is, she cannot open the door! Absolutely not!
But... he just waited outside the door.
Just as Hermione was at her wit's end...
Outside the door, Draco's voice rang out again, shattering her forced composure:
" Miss Granger?"
"I meant no harm. It's just... because of what happened in the classroom earlier, I think you need something to eat."
He actually brought up what happened in the classroom earlier!
These words were like a spark, instantly igniting the long-suppressed shame, anger, and grievances in Hermione's heart.
Her nose suddenly stung, and tears almost welled up in her eyes again.
How dare he even mention it?!
If it weren't for his relentless pressure, and his cruel, sarcastic remark, how could she have ended up in this wretched place?
Why would someone cry over a ghost?
But he said he meant no harm? And he even brought dinner over?
What trick is he playing?
Hermione bit her lower lip tightly, her teeth almost digging into her soft flesh, leaving deep teeth marks.
A fierce internal struggle is raging within her.
To open or not to open?
Hiding inside might preserve her last shred of dignity for the time being, but it made her appear exceptionally timid, as if she were truly too frightened by him to show her face.
Opening the door to face him meant she would have to confront him again, to face those eyes that caused her such turmoil.
She even had to face any embarrassing words he might say, and more importantly, face her current pathetic state...
Just as she was hesitating and her inner balance was wavering, Moaning Myrtle was stirring things up again.