Shock overwhelmed Hermione like a tidal wave, curiosity burned like a flame in her heart, and a faint unease, like a cold snake, quietly coiled around her heart.
Draco stared at the door that had appeared out of nowhere, without turning back to look at Hermione. He simply stepped forward and stopped in front of the newly appeared door.
He reached out and grasped the cold brass doorknob, feeling the cool, smooth touch of the metal on his fingertips.
Then he slowly pushed open the door.
Inside the door, a warm, soft light emanated from the room.
The lights, like molten gold, illuminated a small area in front of the door.
Draco stepped aside, gracefully making way for the doorway.
He didn't go in, but calmly looked at Hermione, then slightly turned his head to indicate that she should enter.
Hermione stood in the doorway, holding a cold wicker basket in her arms; the food inside had long since lost its warmth.
Before them stood a mysterious door radiating a warm light.
The scene inside the door was shrouded in light and shadow, making it indistinct, yet it possessed a strange allure.
Behind me stretched the dimly lit and silent corridors of Hogwarts, where the comical patterns on the Troll tapestry appeared somewhat eerie in the dim light.
Hermione took a deep breath, then hugged the wicker basket tighter and began to walk, step by step, towards the door.
Draco followed half a step behind her and entered the room.
His footsteps were very light, making almost no sound.
Behind him, the wooden door that had appeared out of nowhere closed silently with a very soft "click".
The door closed.
Hermione stepped inside, clutching the cold wicker basket, and for a moment she was in a daze.
The scene before her eyes matched the outline she had subconsciously sketched out with astonishing accuracy.
But in certain details, it reveals a thoughtfulness that exceeds expectations.
The room wasn't large, but it wasn't cramped either; it was just the right size for two people to sit facing each other.
It neither feels crowded nor does the spaciousness breed unease.
The walls are a warm, soft off-white, retaining the unique rough texture of Hogwarts ' ancient stone walls.
But it was polished by magic to a smooth and delicate finish, warm to the touch, completely different from the cold and icy stone walls in the corridor.
Soft light diffused from somewhere, evenly illuminating the entire space.
Neither too bright nor too dim, it creates a peaceful and comfortable atmosphere in just the right way.
The air was warm and dry, a stark contrast to the damp, musty smell at the entrance to the bathroom.
This caused Hermione's tense nerves to relax slightly.
This was followed by heightened vigilance.
Because this comfort is too deliberate, it feels more like a carefully laid trap.
The room was simply and practically furnished, with every detail precisely addressing her previously vague desires.
In the center was a thick, warm-colored, deep red carpet that was soft and silent to the touch.
The carpet not only insulates against the cold air from the ground, but also absorbs all unnecessary noise.
On the carpet, near the inner part of the room, sat a rather comfortable-looking single sofa chair.
The sofa chair is covered with Gryffindor's signature scarlet velvet cushions, with delicate gold embroidery along the edges, making it clear that it has an excellent tactile feel.
Next to the sofa chair is a small Walnut Wood cabinet with drawers.
On the other side of the room, directly opposite the sofa, was a simple high-backed wooden chair with a smooth surface and no cushions, giving it a more sturdy and formal appearance.
This was clearly intended for Draco.
Between the two chairs was a round table, also made of dark Walnut Wood.
The tabletop was spotless and smooth as a mirror, reflecting the soft light above.
This perfectly matched the vague thought that had been in her mind just now.
What surprised Hermione even more, and even made her feel a little uneasy, were the other furnishings in the room.
On the Walnut Wood side table next to the armchair, a set of clean silver cutlery had been quietly placed there sometime earlier.
A plate with a floral pattern engraved on the edge, a fork, a knife, a spoon, and a stemmed glass.
The cup's surface is crystal clear, reflecting a soft light.
There was even a neatly folded linen napkin next to it, folded into an exquisite square.
Near the door, a simple stone washbasin quietly appears on the wall.
The pool walls were polished smooth, and the faucet gleamed with a warm, coppery sheen.
A clean white towel and a handmade soap that smells of lemon are placed by the pool.
This is simply... too thoughtful.
The room was so well-designed that it didn't feel like a last-minute idea; it felt more like a guest room that had been prepared in advance.
Every detail reflects meticulous and thoughtful consideration.
Hermione's gaze slowly swept across every corner of the room, finally settling on the round table.
In the center of the desk stands a small desk lamp with a brass base and a milky white glass lampshade.
The desk lamp emitted a warm and steady light, illuminating the desktop perfectly and becoming the softest light source in the entire room.
Next to the lamp, there was even a small silver teapot that seemed to be kept at a constant temperature by magic.
A wisp of steam was rising from the spout of the teapot, accompanied by a faint aroma of black tea.
This... this is all so perfect it's breathtaking.
Hermione stood frozen at the doorway, holding the wicker basket, momentarily at a loss for what to do.
She instinctively glanced back at Draco, as if hoping to get some kind of explanation from him.
Draco stepped half a step into the room behind Hermione.
He seemed completely unsurprised by what he was seeing.
He simply glanced calmly at the room's furnishings, then nodded slightly to indicate his satisfaction with the house.
This composure only deepened Hermione's suspicions.
Draco ignored Hermione's questioning gaze and showed no surprise.
He simply took off his school uniform robe and casually draped it over the back of the high-backed wooden chair that had been prepared for him.
He turned around, facing Hermione was still standing frozen in the doorway, and said with a smile:
"It seems it understands your needs, Miss Granger."
As he spoke, Draco tilted his head slightly, gesturing towards the armchair covered with a scarlet velvet cushion:
"I think you need to deal with that basket... the dinner that's already starting to get cold."
However, Hermione did not immediately let her guard down.
She was still holding the wicker basket, her gaze shifting between Draco's calm face and the furnishings in the room.
"Has it always been like this here?" Hermione asked dryly.
"Not entirely," Draco replied. "I said it would become what you needed. Apparently, what you needed was... more thoughtful than I anticipated."
Hermione's cheeks felt slightly warm.
This room... seems to be able to read the deepest desires of people's hearts, even those latent needs that she herself may not be clearly aware of.
This feeling of being seen through made her somewhat uneasy, but it also gave her a more direct understanding of the room's magic.
It can not only satisfy superficial needs, but also uncover the hidden desires deep within people's hearts, which is a fearsome force in itself.
Draco took in her reaction but didn't continue the conversation.
He simply gestured to the sofa chair again with his gaze and reminded her in a calm tone:
"Your dinner, Miss Granger, if you delay any longer, even the last trace of creamy aroma will disappear."
This sentence brought Hermione's attention back to reality.
The basket of dinner in her arms was already cold.
After hesitating for a moment, Hermione finally picked up the wicker basket and walked towards the single sofa chair covered with scarlet cushions.
The velvet felt soft and comfortable, making Hermione's tired body want to sink in and enjoy it.
But she simply sat down on the edge of the sofa chair and placed the wicker basket on the rug between the sofa chair and the round table.
Her movements were still somewhat stiff.
Draco watched her sit down before leisurely pulling out the high-backed wooden chair prepared for him and sitting down himself.
He placed his hands naturally on the table, then picked up the thermos-free silver kettle and skillfully poured himself a steaming cup of black tea.
The deep red tea liquor was slowly poured into the pristine white porcelain cup, releasing an even richer aroma.
Draco gently swirled his teacup to release the aroma, then calmly looked up at Hermione seemed somewhat at a loss.
"So,"
Draco picked up his teacup, took a small sip, and then put it down. He continued, "Before you start dealing with those... things between us, perhaps you should take care of your dinner first."
As he spoke, he leaned forward slightly, casually resting his elbows on the edge of the round table, his fingers interlaced, his gaze calmly fixed on Hermione's face.
"Then, let's have a proper talk."
Hermione sat in the overly soft, scarlet velvet sofa, yet felt no comfort whatsoever.
Across the round table, Draco's calm, unwavering gaze made her even more uneasy.
A sense of powerlessness and frustration at being told what to do well washed over me again.
In a fit of pique, Hermione bent down abruptly and yanked off the plain linen cloth covering the wicker basket.
The smell of cold, solidified cream and cooled mushrooms hit me, instantly dispelling the faint, warm aroma of black tea in the air.
Hermione frowned. She reached out and touched the cold rim of the porcelain bowl with her fingertips, the chill making her flinch.
She picked up the bowl of creamy mushroom soup with a layer of oily film on the surface, then took out the cup of honey mint tea that had also gone cold, and finally the piece of Forbidden Forest cake that looked cold and hard.
She took them out one by one and placed them on the carpet in front of her.
She didn't want to dirty the clean round table; that would make her feel even more passive and embarrassed.
The food's cold smell and appearance clashed with the warm and comfortable atmosphere of the room.
Hermione realized how absurd and inappropriate the dinner was.
She stared at the cold food on the ground, unsure of where to begin.
Should we just use that silver cutlery set?
Facing the cold, solidified soup?
Or... should I go wash my hands at that overly thoughtful sink?