The next second, Draco naturally moved to her side, shielding her from the wind, and asked, "Are you cold?"
"I'm not cold," Hermione said softly without turning around.
"Stubborn."
He stopped teasing her, and quietly raised his hand to cast a silent Warming Charm on her.
A gentle warmth immediately enveloped her, more comfortable than any coat. Hermione paused, her heart softening, but she still kept a straight face, refusing to give in first.
Until I pushed open the library door, it was quiet inside, with only the sound of turning pages and the scratching of pens on paper.
She found a spot in the very corner, and as soon as she sat down, Draco sat down next to her, placing his book next to hers.
Hermione lowered her voice and emphasized, "You're not allowed to tease me anymore."
Draco, resting his chin on his hand, looked at her and said, "Okay."
"You're not allowed to hug me anymore."
"Good."
"Don't say anything strange again."
"Good."
He agreed too quickly, which made Hermione a little uneasy, and she gave him a suspicious look.
Draco suppressed a laugh and said, "I only promise not to tease you in front of others."
"It's just the two of us here."
Hermione's face flushed red again.
Hermione hurriedly moved the parchment aside, glaring at him and whispering a warning, " Draco Malfoy, this is the library!"
"I didn't do anything," Draco laughed.
After saying that, he really settled down, resting his elbows on the table, his fingertips gently supporting his chin, and quietly watching her do her homework.
But after a series of events, Hermione's pen became so shaky from his staring that she wrote two crooked characters and had to hold the book up to cover her face.
Why are you looking at me? Go read your own book.
"My book isn't as good as yours," Draco said seriously.
Hermione's cheeks started burning again, so she simply ignored him and buried herself in writing her paper.
But the gaze beside her was so gentle, like warm light falling on her cheek, that she didn't even dare to breathe too heavily.
Not long after, her wrist started to ache slightly from writing, and she subconsciously rubbed it gently.
Draco reached out, took the quill from her hand, naturally dipped it in ink for her, and placed it back beside her.
He moved so gently, as if afraid of disturbing her.
Hermione whispered, "I can do it myself."
"I know," Draco replied casually, his gaze still fixed on her. "I just wanted to help you."
Her heart melted completely; her earlier embarrassment and anger had long since vanished, leaving only a sweet warmth that quietly spread with the cold October wind.
She glanced at him quickly, then immediately turned back, her pen tip making a small, delicate stroke on the paper.
Draco caught that glance, a smile curving his lips. He reached out and gently took her other hand under the table.
This time, Hermione didn't break free.
She simply curled her fingers slightly and gently gripped his hand in return.
The wind is still blowing outside the window, and the cold is still spreading in the castle, but this spot in the far corner of the library is destined to remain unaffected!
But the warmth in the library was quickly overshadowed by the Halloween atmosphere wafting from the distant lobby.
Hermione finally finished writing the last line of her paper, breathed a sigh of relief, and was about to look up and tell Draco to go back when she heard a faint commotion coming from deep within the castle.
The two exchanged a glance, packed their things, and followed the crowd toward the brightly lit Great Hall.
The Halloween Feast had reached its climax, with long tables piled high with Pumpkin Pasties, caramelized apples, and steaming mead.
Harry sat at the Gryffindor table, chatting and laughing with Ron and Ginny, a freshly unwrapped chocolate in his hand.
But in the next second, something burrowed directly into his brain.
It was like a cold, sticky, and malicious thought that crashed into his consciousness.
... tear you apart... rip you apart... kill you...
The chocolate in Harry's hand fell onto the plate with a "thud," and his smile vanished instantly.
The surrounding noise, laughter, and clinking of cutlery all blurred into a distant background at this moment.
His face turned pale, and he subconsciously pressed his forehead, his eyes scanning the entire Great Hall in a panic.
Who is speaking? Where is it? Why can only he hear it?
The sound was so clear, so malevolent, like a cold snake's tongue licking the skin.
Harry felt his heart pounding, and a strange fear surged up from the soles of his feet.
Ron noticed something was wrong with him and quickly nudged his arm. " Harry? What's wrong? You look terrible."
Harry opened his mouth, but couldn't say anything for a moment.
He couldn't explain it; he had just heard Parseltongue again.
Not in a dream, not in an accident, but at a lively Halloween Feast.
That cold voice still lingered deep in his mind, sinister and filled with an unyielding hatred.
He only knows one thing!
Something very, very terrible has entered Hogwarts.
Ginny was about to ask Harry if he was feeling unwell when she was interrupted by his sudden tense expression, and she gently pursed her lips.
"That voice is back—don't speak yet—"
Harry's voice was extremely low, his fingers gripping the edge of the table tightly, his eyes fixed on the air, as if he could see through the noise to the unseen malice.
The next second, the cold, sticky Parseltongue burrowed into his mind again, carrying a rotting hunger. "... Starving..."
"Listen!"
Harry's voice was urgent. Ron and Ginny stared at him intently. Ginny felt a sudden tightness in her chest, a familiar yet terrifying chill creeping up her back.
"... It's time to kill..."
The sound gradually faded and became distant, like a wisp of black smoke drifting upwards along a crack in the rock.
Harry looked up sharply, his gaze fixed on the dark ceiling of the Great Hall. The sound was moving, moving upwards.
But the ceiling was made of heavy stone blocks, and the corridors and stairs were below; how could it possibly go up?
Could it really be a ghost? Something even a castle couldn't stop?
Fear and a strange excitement gripped him, making his hands and feet go numb.
"Up... it's going up!" Harry blurted out, his voice trembling uncontrollably.
Ron's face hardened, his playful demeanor vanishing completely. He stared nervously at the ceiling. "What's going up? There are only bedrooms and attics on top of the castle!"
Just when the atmosphere was at its most tense, two familiar figures suddenly appeared at the entrance of the Great Hall.
Hermione was half-protected by Draco as they walked, her skirt still carrying the chill of the outside wind, and a faint blush still lingering on her face.
But upon seeing Harry and Ron's alarmed expressions, that warmth was instantly replaced by vigilance.
She released Draco's hand almost immediately and strode towards the long table. "What happened? Why do you all look so pale?"
Draco followed half a step behind her, his previously nonchalant expression now serious.
"What's wrong now, Harry? Have you seen a ghost?"