Theodore had long since grown used to Pansy's aggressive tone.
Steady and reserved by nature, he had crossed swords with Pansy several times before and thoroughly grasped her proud, competitive temperament, gradually working out a way to handle her.
His expression unchanged, Theodore explained with the same composure, "Don't misunderstand. I'm not belittling this competition. I simply haven't seen Draco in a long time, and happened to hear you'd invited him today, so I deliberately came early to have more time to spend chatting with him."
Rather than argue with her head-on, Theodore smoothly turned the conversation, preserving his own dignity while taking some of the edge off her aggression.
Sure enough, Pansy's expression softened at his words, some of the mockery fading from her eyes. "It seems you can say something sensible once in a while, Nott."
Then she turned to Draco and said with a touch of self-satisfied pride, as though expecting credit, "Hear that? Even Theodore can see that today's occasion is worth attending. It's hardly some ordinary bit of fun."
Draco smiled and obligingly agreed. "Great minds really do think alike, it seems. With such a lively occasion, it's always worth coming to have a look."
His words pleased Pansy without leaving Theodore out.
Both looked a little more pleased upon hearing them, and some of the tension in the pavilion dissipated.
Just then, a somewhat lumbering figure squeezed through the crowd and approached.
Draco looked over. It was Millicent Bulstrode, who had been clapping the most enthusiastically earlier.
She was solidly built and moved rather clumsily, with an honest, good-natured smile on her face. Drawing up before Draco, she said eagerly, "Draco, you look so handsome today. That silver-green morning robe makes you look even sharper. Anyone can see how much care went into it."
Draco nodded in acknowledgment and replied politely, "Your outfit isn't bad either. It's neatly tailored and looks very presentable."
At his words, Pansy slowly shifted her gaze from Draco to Millicent, a barely perceptible trace of contempt flickering in her eyes.
"Millicent, you noticed Draco's robe too? You've shown a little more taste than usual. At least this trip wasn't wasted."
"But," she changed tack, turning to Draco as though sharing a joke only the two of them would understand, "you're being far too polite. Everyone knows Mrs Bulstrode has recently become obsessed with..."
Pansy had yet to finish, but Draco had already sensed something was wrong.
Pansy had always had a sharp tongue. Once she brought someone's parents into it, she was usually about to say something hurtful and seize the chance to mock them.
Unwilling to see Millicent humiliated in public, Draco forcibly interrupted before Pansy could finish, changing the subject quite naturally. "Choosing such a well-fitting, suitable outfit must have taken a great deal of thought. Your mother must have helped you pick it out carefully, right? Such good taste is rather rare."
Entirely oblivious to the undercurrents a moment earlier, Millicent nodded with a good-natured smile. "Yes, yes. Mother always takes care of choosing my clothes. She keeps saying the things I pick myself don't look nice, and she's afraid I'll disgrace the family."
Draco sighed inwardly, thinking that this big, dim girl really was simple-hearted.
Thrust by her parents into these social gatherings where pure-blood children traded verbal barbs, she probably suffered veiled insults like this often without even realizing it.
Seeing how defenseless she was, Draco thought he should send her away quickly before Pansy could mock her again, so he said, "All right, the competition is about to start. You should hurry over to the competition grounds and get ready, so you won't be scrambling later."
Scratching her head, Millicent still wore that same good-natured smile. "I'm only here to take part. Winning or losing doesn't really matter, as long as I have fun."
Seeing this, Vincent hurried forward to join in. "My boss thinks you've got a chance. That's why he's reminding you to prepare properly. If he tells you to get ready, hurry up and go. Don't waste time."
A flicker of delighted surprise appeared in Millicent's eyes. "Really? Then I'd better prepare properly. I can't let Draco's kindness go to waste."
With that, she turned cheerfully, clumsily squeezing through the crowd toward the competition grounds.
Watching her retreating figure, Draco quietly breathed a sigh of relief.
The big, dim girl was so sturdily built, yet so simple-hearted, without the slightest wariness. It really did leave him feeling rather helpless.
It was not that Draco expected anything more of Pansy. He simply could not bear watching someone humiliate another person in public. Especially with someone as guileless as Millicent, it always felt far too cruel.
Seeing Draco take the initiative to send Millicent away, Pansy's eyes flickered with surprise, but she said nothing more.
Perhaps she could no longer be bothered wasting words on Millicent, and had therefore reined in her sharp tongue for the moment.
Over the next little while, the young witches and wizards in the pavilion took turns approaching, some greeting Draco enthusiastically, others exchanging polite pleasantries, all hoping to seize the chance to talk to him and grow closer.
The scene gave Draco a real sense of the Malfoy family's influence and prestige in the Wizarding World.
Even with him now the family's only male member, it could still draw numerous pure-blood families flocking to it, all seeking an opportunity to maintain their connections.
Draco responded politely to each of their overtures, neither compromising the Malfoy family's dignity nor becoming overly familiar, always maintaining an appropriate distance.
As the start of the competition drew near, another figure suddenly appeared among the crowd, slowly approaching the pavilion.
It was a slender girl with delicate, lovely features and a gentle bearing, yet with a subtle air of refinement.
When Pansy spotted her, a sharp glint flashed through her eyes. Then she stepped forward first to greet her. "Daphne! It's wonderful you could come. I thought you wouldn't have time today."
"What do you think of this year's garden layout? My mother specially invited a top florist from Italy to arrange these white rose arches. She said they were meant to complement the fresh summer atmosphere. She put a great deal of thought into them."
Daphne stopped and returned a perfectly proper, impeccable social smile.
Then her gentle gaze swept over the white rose arches Pansy had just mentioned, and she praised them. "Yes, Pansy, this arrangement really is exquisite and distinctive. You can see the care in every detail. The white roses in full bloom and the elegant arches complement the surroundings beautifully. Just looking at them puts one at ease."
Daphne paused briefly, her gaze settling on the blooming white roses. After studying them for a moment, she continued, "Especially this variety of white rose. Unless I'm mistaken, these must be the extremely rare 'Luna Goddess,' correct?"
"Look at that delicate pearly sheen on the petals, their soft, lustrous texture. No ordinary variety could have that. Only prolonged exposure to the morning mist in particular valleys in Tuscany can produce such a texture. They're very precious."
Pansy smiled proudly and nodded.
Daphne continued, "The Italian florist you invited today must be a successor to Mr Mario Bettini's school in Florence, then? When my mother was preparing a charity flower show last year, she also made a special visit to invite Mr Bettini. Unfortunately, he was already booked through next spring, so it never worked out. It was quite a pity."
Her words sounded like praise, but every part revealed knowledge and depth. She pointed out the rarity of the white roses and mentioned the florist's background, quietly displaying her family's connections and breadth of experience, more than matching Pansy's boasting.
At this, Pansy's smile remained, but a trace of wariness flashed in her eyes, and she quickly replied, "You really do have a good eye, Daphne. You recognized the rose variety at a glance."
"These are indeed 'Luna Goddess.' To wait for this batch of superior flowers, my mother even postponed the date she'd originally set for the tea party by quite some time. She wouldn't allow the slightest carelessness. As for the florist..."
She deliberately paused subtly at this point, lowering her eyes as though recalling some insignificant little detail.
Once she had settled on her wording, Pansy said, "I didn't make a point of remembering his exact name, so I couldn't say whether it's Bettini. I only vaguely heard Mother mention that his grandfather once tended the gardens of... well, a certain member of a European royal family who prefers to remain unnamed. His skill is extraordinary. Ordinary people could never secure his services."
Pansy deliberately elevated the florist's background, using his history of royal service to overshadow Mr Bettini's fame as she quietly competed with Daphne.
Their exchange seemed polite, but barbs lay hidden in every remark, each trying to gain the upper hand and establish who came out on top.
Standing beside them and listening to their understated clash, Draco felt he had been caught in an entirely undeserved disaster.
Competitions between pure-blood girls were always this subtle yet fierce, with neither willing to give an inch.
"The competition's about to start, girls." In truth, "girls" was something Draco could only say in his head.
If he actually said it aloud, given the strict etiquette demanded by pure-blood families, the two of them would probably join forces to tear into him and leave him without a shred of dignity.
Fortunately, most of Pansy's attention was still on the competition.
Hearing the faint note of reminder in Draco's words, she immediately, almost instinctively, shifted her gaze from Daphne's face to Draco, then swiftly glanced toward the competition grounds and the judges' seats. Her expression gradually grew serious.
The subtle mockery, deliberate provocation, and quiet boasting previously lurking in her expression all receded silently like the tide.
In their place came a brighter focus and propriety better suited to a "public occasion," as though she had instantly switched into "competitor" mode.
Pansy discreetly drew a deep breath, her chest rising and falling slightly. Her already straight back grew even straighter, and her bearing became somewhat steadier.
There was less petulance and more seriousness.
She turned to Daphne and said quickly, "Indeed, it's nearly time. The competition should be starting."
With that, Pansy immediately turned all her attention to Draco. Her gaze was entirely different from the affectionate reproach of their earlier private interaction as she instructed him solemnly, "Draco, we must hurry over to the competition grounds to prepare."
"Remember, stand two paces behind me on my left later. Just keep smiling, but don't make it so stiff and silly that you lose your dignity."
Draco nodded lightly. "Don't worry. I know how to conduct myself."
Daphne, who had watched everything from beside them, very naturally took a small half-step back to clear their path. "Of course, you mustn't be late for the competition. Good luck, Pansy. I hope you give an outstanding performance today."
Then Daphne turned to Draco. Her smile remained gentle and proper, but a hint of understanding had entered her eyes.
It was the look of someone who had already seen through the subtle relationship between Draco and Pansy. Daphne then said, "Well then, Draco, I won't disturb your preparations. I'll await your performance."
As her words fell, she turned slowly with composed steps, entirely unhurried and at ease, and headed toward the spectator seats or wherever her family was.
Seeing this, Draco and Pansy delayed no longer and walked side by side toward the competition grounds.
Sunlight fell warmly upon them. Many guests had already gathered around the competition grounds to watch, their voices creating a lively, bustling din. A magical competition centered on puffapods was about to begin.