The thought that no one was inside was like the last straw.
Although incredibly fragile, it made Hermione's heart, which had almost stopped beating, start to beat slowly and heavily again.
She can't stay here any longer.
I can't stand frozen in this cold corridor any longer under the Fat Lady's mischievous gaze.
She had to go in, she had to return to that seemingly safe and warm common room.
Hermione, with legs that felt as heavy as lead, slowly moved away from the cold wall.
She then let her messy, frizzy brown curls cover her face and rushed into the entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room as if fleeing.
Behind her, the portrait of the Fat Lady slowly closed as she entered, silently isolating her from the cold corridor outside.
The Fat Lady in the portrait is still intoxicated by the bouquet of roses, a satisfied and joyful smile on her face, and she is humming a light tune.
The brief, tense moment at the door just now seemed to have been completely forgotten by her.
After all, young people are bound to be a little awkward and shy; it's perfectly normal.
Especially after that romantic little adventure of getting lost late at night and returning hand in hand.
As Draco had predicted, the common room was indeed empty.
This contrasts starkly with the cold, desperate, humiliating, and fearful corridor outside, creating an atmosphere of extreme cruelty.
However, all this warmth and tranquility felt utterly devoid of warmth to Hermione. Instead, it evoked a strong sense of unreality and alienation within her, as if she were a cold ghost who had wandered into this place, completely out of place in this warm world.
Her gaze, like that of a startled deer, swept hastily and quickly across the entire lounge.
It's confirmed, there's definitely no one there.
Hermione sighed in relief and slumped onto the soft carpet, leaning against the cold, rough back of the portrait, burying her face deep in her knees.
The warm flames of the fireplace danced and flickered, dispelling the chill that enveloped her.
She tried to draw strength from this warm feeling, even if it was just a tiny bit.
That way, she could get up, climb the stairs, return to her dormitory bed where she could at least be alone, and completely wrap herself in the thick blankets.
However, just as Hermione had gathered a little strength to look up and confirm the direction of the stairs leading to the girls' dormitory...
Her gaze swept over the area in front of the fireplace that was brightest illuminated by the firelight.
The next moment, her movements suddenly froze.
Bathed in the warm firelight, his pupils first contracted sharply, then dilated rapidly, filled with unbelievable terror.
She saw it.
Right in front of the fireplace was the largest and softest armchair, covered with thick gold and red brocade.
A figure was sitting there in a relaxed, even leisurely posture.
Her long legs were casually crossed, one arm was draped over the sofa armrest, and the other hand rested casually at her side.
He tilted his head slightly, his gaze fixed intently on her.
Draco Malfoy.
He didn't leave.
He didn't go straight upstairs after entering the lounge, as she had expected.
He sat there in the most prominent spot in the Gryffindor Common Room, completely unconcerned.
But he didn't see it himself.
What is he waiting for?
Waiting for myself to calm down a bit from being easily frightened?
Are we waiting to witness the even more fascinating look of fear on her face when she discovers he hasn't left?
Hermione's mind went blank the moment she saw the figure on the sofa.
She couldn't even feel her heartbeat, her breath, the warmth of the fireplace flames, or the softness of the carpet beneath her.
All she could feel was an overwhelming chill that surged up from the deepest part of her spine, instantly engulfing her limbs and freezing her completely from the inside out.
How... how could he be here?!
Why didn't he leave?!
He's been sitting here... for... how long?!
What did he see? He saw her slumped helplessly in the corner?
No... no!
The faint, pitiful sense of relief and relaxation that had just arisen because the lounge was empty vanished without a trace, like a soap bubble bursting in the sunlight.
Instead, there was an inescapable fear and coldness.
He's here.
He kept watching.
The so-called safety, the so-called desertedness, the so-called ability to finally catch one's breath... it was all a lie.
Just as Hermione stood frozen in place like an ice sculpture.
Then, Draco spoke.
"Now, Miss Granger..."
"... Can I relax now?"
Nobody knows...
"... We came back hand in hand."
These words were enough to completely shatter Hermione's last shred of reason and defenses.
"Reassured? How could she possibly be at ease?!"
Yes, at this moment, there was no one else in the lounge besides them.
But for him to say those words was utterly absurd, shameless, and disgusting!
The moment Hermione heard the words "hold hands," it felt as if the most intense high-voltage current had pierced through her body!
"Boom--!!!"
Something seemed to explode in my mind.
She doesn't want those two words!
She doesn't want to recall that scene!
Shut up! Shut up! Shut him up!
No one can hear this!
We cannot allow this secret to be leaked in the slightest! Stop him!
He must be stopped immediately!!!
This thought, like the most violent hurricane, instantly swept away Hermione's last remaining sanity.
"Ah--!!!"
Hermione gasped.
Her body reacted before she could think, as if shot from an invisible bowstring, lunging at Draco Malfoy on the sofa with a frenzied, suicidal momentum!
Her goal was crystal clear—to cover his mouth and stop him from saying anything more.
But Hermione rushed too fast, too hastily.
She was too emotional, and her body was too tense for a long time, causing her to lose coordination.
Just as she was about to rush up to Draco and reach out to cover his mouth,
Her foot, precisely, tripped on the slightly curled edge of the soft, thick scarlet carpet.
"Ah!"
A short, panicked cry escaped Hermione's lips.
The world spun around.
Hermione lost her balance and, due to inertia, fell forward uncontrollably!
The hand that had been reaching for Draco's mouth now waved futilely in the air, trying to grab onto something to steady itself.
Her pupils dilated from the sudden weightlessness and horror as she stared at Draco's face, which appeared calm and even somewhat bewildered in the firelight.
That face rapidly magnified in her vision, and she herself was irreversibly falling straight towards him, towards that large armchair!
No! Don't! You can't fall on him! Absolutely not!
The thought screamed in her mind, but her body was completely out of her control.