Draco glanced at Hermione, who was still engrossed in adding notes, and said:
" Granger, stop writing, hurry up and eat. After you finish eating, go back and take a short nap. Professor McGonagall is our Dean of the House; if you dawdle like someone else and are late, you're in big trouble."
The person mentioned in his words was clearly a veiled reference, and Ron's face immediately darkened. He put down his knife and fork, glared at Draco, and said, "Who are you talking about? When have I ever been late?"
Draco glanced at him sideways and casually tossed out, "You agreed?"
Upon hearing this, Ron choked instantly, his face turning bright red, and he opened his mouth but couldn't utter a word.
By clearly identifying themselves as the target, they actually made a fool of themselves.
Ron clenched his fists and glared at Draco, his cheeks puffed out, but he couldn't find a word to refute him.
Finally, he could only make a loud sniping sound, grab his knife and fork, and furiously shovel the steak off his plate, chewing it with a crunching sound as if in venting his anger.
Neville suppressed a laugh but dared not, covering his mouth and lowering his head, his shoulders trembling slightly, while secretly glancing at the sulking Ron out of the corner of his eye.
Harry shook his head helplessly, reached out and tugged at Ron's arm, whispering, "Don't argue with him."
Hermione sat to the side, pen tip to her lips, seemingly lost in thought, but her ears twitched slightly, and a barely perceptible smile played at the corners of her mouth.
Lavender and Parvati huddled together, covering their mouths and giggling softly. Parvati even winked at Lavender and whispered, " Malfoy's got such a sharp tongue."
After lunch, the group went up the stairs back to the Gryffindor Common Room.
Everyone dispersed, and Harry and Ron headed straight for their dormitory, muttering that they would catch up on some sleep during their lunch break.
Lavender and Parvati disappeared in a flash, and the common room became much quieter instantly.
Hermione had already chosen to sit at the long table, spread out her Transfiguration textbook and notes, and started sketching with a quill pen, showing no intention of going back to her dormitory to rest.
Neville blinked and asked softly, " Draco, aren't we going to rest?"
Draco glanced at Neville and said indifferently, "You go back first, I'm not in a hurry."
Neville frowned, leaned closer with a serious expression, and added another instruction:
"But Professor McGonagall has class this afternoon! If I stay up without resting and get caught dozing off in class, I'll be in big trouble. Last time, an upperclassman was punished so badly he Transfiguration!"
Draco, seeing his clueless expression, said meaningfully, "Why has your perception suddenly become so poor?"
As he spoke, he glanced at Hermione, who was intently studying by the fireplace; the implication couldn't be clearer.
Neville paused, followed Draco's gaze to Hermione, and after a long while, belatedly slapped his forehead.
"Oh! I understand!"
He scratched his head, a slightly embarrassed smile appearing on his face:
"Well... I'll go back and rest now! Draco, you're busy, see you in class this afternoon!"
As he spoke, he quickened his pace and dashed towards the dormitory stairs.
As he ran, he didn't forget to steal a glance back at Hermione, then gave Draco a motherly smile.
Draco nodded in satisfaction and said, "Don't oversleep."
Neville nodded hurriedly, his steps becoming even lighter, like a little mouse afraid of startling anyone, as he shuffled towards the dormitory stairs while turning back to give Draco a salute of acceptance.
Hermione's pen stopped abruptly on the paper, the ink spreading out in a small circle.
But she didn't look up; only her drooping eyelashes trembled slightly, and a faint pink tinge crept onto the tips of her ears.
Hermione's fingers unconsciously rubbed the quill pen.
While seemingly focused on the Transfiguration Spell in the textbook, he had already caught a glimpse of Neville's knowing look out of the corner of his eye and overheard their conversation.
At this moment, she felt a strange tightness in her heart, but she pretended to be completely indifferent, deliberately pressing the pen tip harder to let the rustling of the paper drown out the slight turmoil in her heart.
Draco casually pulled over a soft sofa and sat down at Hermione's desk, leaning forward slightly and staring at her notes with a mischievous grin.
Hermione's pen suddenly stopped again, and a small blot of ink spread out next to the words "Wand waving arc".
She finally couldn't take it anymore, looked up at me coldly, and snapped, "What are you looking at? Haven't you ever seen someone previewing lessons before?"
Despite her harsh words, her ears secretly flushed pink, and she deliberately moved the notebook closer to herself, clearly not wanting Draco to see it.
Draco, elbow on the table and chin in hand, smiled, his gaze sweeping over the key points she had noted down, deliberately drawing out his words:
"I've seen Granger like this, but never one this diligent—what, are you afraid you won't be able to answer Professor McGonagall's questions and embarrass your employer?"
"Stop talking nonsense." She turned her face away and lowered her head to pick up her pen again.
But he was no longer as focused as before. He made two strokes on the paper with the pen tip, but accidentally wrote the spell incorrectly. Frustrated, he erased it with an erasing pen.
"If you have nothing to do, go to sleep. What are you doing here?"
Draco leaned back in his chair and said matter-of-factly, "I'm making sure you go to bed on time. How much sleep do you need? How can a bodyguard protect his employer if he doesn't get enough sleep? Besides, we have things to do tonight."
As soon as she finished speaking, Hermione's fingers tightened around the quill, and the redness from her ears instantly spread to her cheeks.
She glared at Draco, a hint of panic in her voice. "Who needs your supervision? I know what I'm doing."
As she spoke, she reached into the side pocket of her backpack and pulled out a bottle of medicine, the very Draco had given her that morning to relieve fatigue.
The bottle still had some lint from her backpack stuck to it; she held the bottle and shook it at Draco.
"Well."
Draco choked when he saw the bottle of potion.
It turns out they were prepared all along. All my well-intentioned supervision was seen as meddling, and I was the clown.
Seeing Draco's discomfiture, Hermione's annoyance dissipated considerably, and a faint smile subtly curved her lips.
His mood had clearly improved considerably; he even loosened his grip on the quill pen and lowered his head to flip through his textbook.
Draco stared at the bottle of potion, then glanced at her smug expression, shrugged sheepishly, and said resignedly, "Fine. Wake me up when it's time, I'm going to sleep."
As he spoke, Draco reached out and pulled over another soft sofa next to her, piling it up against her table to make a narrow little bed.
Then he lay down next to Hermione, his head resting on his arm, no more than an arm's length away from her desk, so he could hear the rustling of her turning pages.
Anyway, there's nothing else to do, so there's no rush to tease the young wife.
Draco, smelling the ink on the pages and the minty scent of her hair, actually felt a bit sleepy.
Even with his eyes closed, Draco could still feel her gaze lingering on him for a few seconds.
She probably didn't expect to actually fall asleep like that. It took her a while to hear the sound of her writing again, but slower and softer than before.
But as she wrote, Hermione couldn't ignore the fact that someone was sleeping beside her.