"We're only in second grade, we can't do this."
Hermione's breathing was still rapid, her chest heaving, but the dazed look in her eyes had completely faded, leaving only clear-headed restraint.
These words were like a bucket of cold water, instantly doused in Draco's heart.
His movements abruptly stopped, his hand, which had been inside his clothes, froze in place, and the passion and heat in his eyes vanished in an instant, leaving only a confused and bewildered state of mind.
He looked at Hermione's flushed yet determined face, felt the coolness of her skin beneath his palm, and felt the resistance she exerted against his chest.
Draco abruptly withdrew his hand, quickly letting it fall to his side. Her warmth still lingered on his hand, but he didn't overstep his bounds.
The living room fell silent instantly, with only the sound of their slightly rapid breathing mingling.
Draco scratched the back of his head and said, "Hehe, sorry, honey, I couldn't help myself, I couldn't help myself!"
Hermione's composure crumbled instantly at his resolute shout, and she repeated, "We're only in second grade, we can't do things that cross the line again."
"Okay, okay, it's my fault! I'll definitely restrain myself next time and never cross the line again, okay?"
Hermione saw the seriousness in his eyes, and her anger gradually subsided, though she still kept a stern face. "Remember what you said, if there's a next time, I really won't talk to you anymore."
"I'll definitely remember!" Draco raised his hand in assurance, looking a little silly, which made Hermione involuntarily smirk, but she quickly suppressed it.
"It's good that you know you were wrong." Hermione nodded.
"Honey, you look really good in this." Draco's proud gaze fell on her navy blue dress again.
He proudly exclaimed, "See? I have good taste, don't I? The clothes I picked are the most suitable for you."
"It's just so-so, only slightly better than those weird clothes," Hermione said, though she didn't mean it.
Draco didn't mind, saying, "If Pheobe and Gabrielle see this tomorrow, they'll be green with envy."
"Who wants them to see this?" Hermione retorted, blushing.
"So you're going to wear it just for me to see?" Draco asked.
"I... I didn't..." Hermione's cheeks flushed even more, and she stammered.
"I need to go change." Hermione just wanted to get away from this heart-pounding atmosphere as quickly as possible.
Just as she was about to leave, Draco grabbed her wrist and gently pulled her back, preventing her from leaving.
"What's there to change?" Draco's eyes sparkled with a lighthearted smile as he leaned closer, urging, "We're almost in fourth grade, perfect, let's practice some dance."
"Dancing? I can't, Draco! I've never learned it, I... I'll stomp on your feet!" Hermione waved her hands frantically.
She couldn't help but feel embarrassed at the thought of clumsily moving to the beat.
"What are you afraid of?" Draco reached out and naturally placed his hand on her waist, gently steadying her. "I'll teach you. With me here, you absolutely won't make a mistake."
Before Hermione could refuse again, he raised his hand and waved it gently, and a soft, soothing waltz melody immediately filled the living room.
Draco firmly took one of her hands, and gently placed the other hand on her lower back, leading her slowly into the next step.
Hermione was so nervous that she was as tense as a taut string, her eyes fixed on her feet, afraid of stepping on the wrong step.
Her mind was in complete chaos, and she couldn't keep up with the music at all.
His steps were unsteady, and within two seconds he had stepped hard on Draco's leather shoe.
She hurriedly shrank back, apologizing repeatedly in a panic.
After several attempts, she either moved her hands and feet in unison, lost her balance, or kept stepping on her feet. She was flustered the whole time, and it was difficult for her to even stand still, let alone dance gracefully.
"I'm not practicing anymore!" Hermione finally stopped, frowning in frustration, pulling her hand back and taking a half-step back. "I really can't do it, I'm too stupid, I can't keep up at all."
Draco looked at her dejected expression, but instead of laughing, he showed tenderness on his face.
He stepped forward, gently patted the top of her head, and patiently and earnestly coaxed her:
"It's alright, practice makes perfect. I'll teach you slowly when the opportunity arises, little by little."
"Once you've mastered it, you'll definitely amaze everyone," Draco said expectantly.
Hermione was stunned for a moment, then met his gentle yet firm gaze. The embarrassment and panic she had just felt gradually dissipated, and a warm feeling quietly rose in her heart.
"... Okay, then. You can teach me slowly, but you're not allowed to laugh at me," Hermione whispered in response.
"I didn't laugh at you this time either," Draco said.
Hermione turned her face away from him, saying firmly, "Then we won't practice anymore. That's enough for today."
As she spoke, she seemed to suddenly remember something, immediately turned her head, her cheeks flushed, and confidently tried to defend herself:
"It must be because you touched me inappropriately and disturbed my concentration that I couldn't dance well."
"Yes, yes, it's all my fault. I was too nosy and disturbed my little dance partner," Draco said indulgently.
"Anyway, it's you. It's late, I'm going to sleep."
Hermione turned to leave, giving him a final glare before she did.
Draco didn't stop her, but leaned against the sofa, watching her retreating figure, and called out, "Such a big mansion, and you sleep alone? Aren't you scared?"
Hermione stopped abruptly, turned around sharply to look at him, and instantly realized what was happening:
"Well, Draco Malfoy! You knew I might be scared, so you brought me here. Was this all planned?"
"Yes," Draco laughed candidly, "I like to sleep with something in my arms, and I just happen to need a soft pillow."
"I'm not scared at all!" Hermione retorted.
"That's good. Now you don't have to worry about not being used to living at the Malfoy Manor."
Hermione couldn't find a word to refute him. She just glared at him fiercely, turned around, and strode towards the stairs, leaving behind the words "I'm going to sleep" before fleeing back to her room.
Once inside the room, she locked the door behind her. Her gaze fell on the full-length mirror, where she saw herself still wearing a navy blue preppy dress. Her feet unconsciously moved towards the mirror.
She raised her hand and gently straightened her Peter collar, then twirled around, watching the graceful curve of her skirt swaying, and the corners of her mouth unconsciously turned up.
Even though she said she was going to change, she couldn't help but admire herself in the mirror repeatedly. After looking at herself for a long time, she reluctantly changed her clothes and folded them neatly on the bedside table.
In fact, she wasn't afraid to sleep alone in the huge mansion. Having spent a lot of time reading and being alone since she was a child, she was already used to a quiet environment.
The spacious room felt surprisingly comfortable to her.
That night, the house was quiet and peaceful; nothing was said.
The next morning, the two got ready to go out and meet up with the sisters, Pheobe and Gabrielle.
As Hermione pushed open the door, Draco's gaze instantly fell on her, a mocking smile in his eyes.