The compartment door clicked softly shut, shutting Draco Malfoy's somewhat forlorn figure out in the light and shadow of the corridor.
Hermione lifted her gaze slightly from the page and caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye.
As his footsteps receded, Draco's figure finally disappeared around a bend in the corridor.
A faint trace of hesitation, like a pebble dropped into still water, sent barely perceptible ripples through her heart.
But that hesitation lasted only an instant before she firmly suppressed it. Her reason, like solid ice, swiftly covered that fleeting uncertainty.
Lowering her eyes, Hermione unconsciously traced the printed letters on the page with her fingers, silently repeating to herself, His disappointment is the inevitable result of his own behavior.
His concealment in Diagon Alley, his deliberate friendliness on the platform, and that intimate form of address were all attempts to test boundaries.
I responded correctly and necessarily. I am not responsible for his emotions.
With that thought, Hermione straightened her back further, and her gaze became clear and resolute again, as though that moment of hesitation had never occurred.
Lavender, sitting opposite her, could no longer contain herself. She let out a long, exaggerated sigh, her shoulders slumping as her hands unconsciously twisted the hem of her clothes, her face full of regret and emotion.
Looking at the closed compartment door, she spoke up for Draco. "Oh... this is just so... so heartbreaking."
"He looked... goodness, he really looked so upset." Lavender shook her head, keeping her voice soft, as though she could not bear to bring it up again. "The way he looked as he left, all alone, without even looking back..."
Hermione's eyelashes trembled almost imperceptibly. Her gaze lifted from the page for the briefest moment, swept over the closed door, then quickly dropped back to her book.
But her fingers turned the page with slightly more force, as though she meant to press every trace of that unwarranted uncertainty into the grain of the paper.
She did not respond immediately. A brief silence fell over the compartment, broken only by the wind outside slipping through the gaps, carrying a little of the journey's clamor.
Seeing that Hermione remained silent, Lavender edged closer, trying to talk things through with her:
"Hermione, I know he might... er, his family certainly doesn't have a very good reputation. But when he was chatting with me in the compartment just now, he was quite funny, too. He wasn't at all arrogant or rude like the rumors say... could... could there be some misunderstanding?"
Only then did Hermione raise her head and look calmly at Lavender, still as rational and composed as ever. "Lavender, I understand that you want to see the good in things. There's nothing wrong with that."
"But we need to distinguish between 'a moment's behavior' and 'a consistent stance.'"
"At the station, he behaved in keeping with the etiquette expected in public. That's good, but it only shows that he possesses basic social manners. Or rather, that he chose to display those manners at that moment, in that setting."
"It doesn't cancel out, much less whitewash, the systematic contempt for Muggle-borns that his family publicly represents."
"As for a 'misunderstanding'..."
At this point, Hermione paused very briefly, her gaze darkening slightly, as though she had recalled something deeper.
"I'm not assuming that he harbors ill intent at this moment. But I must, and have every right to, take the most cautious preventive measures based on the most reliable information available-the stance represented by his surname."
"The cost of mistaking a potential danger for friendship is far greater than that of mistaking a potential friendship for danger."
Looking at Lavender, she softened her tone a little. "I hope you can understand."
Her words were clearly reasoned, every sentence carrying an unquestionable logic that left Lavender unable to refute her for a moment.
Silence fell over the compartment again. Sunlight streamed in at an angle through the window, casting a faint band of light and shadow between them.
Only after a long while did Lavender swallow softly, her voice much quieter and more hesitant than before:
"I... I understand. You're right. I was being too simplistic. I only saw the surface politeness and didn't think about the... complicated things behind it."
Seeing her like this, Hermione's lips curved ever so slightly into an almost invisible smile, an expression of utterly sincere satisfaction.
She knew Lavender had understood and accepted her position.
The smile vanished in an instant. She soon lowered her head again and immersed herself once more in the world within the pages, as though their conversation about stances and choices had been nothing more than a minor incident along the journey.
Meanwhile, Draco was wandering aimlessly through the corridor.
The heaviness in his heart had yet to fade when, rounding a corner, he caught sight of two familiar figures.
Harry Potter and Ron Weasley stood side by side at a corridor window.
Both wore troubled expressions. Clearly, they had failed to find seats and could only settle for standing in the corridor for the time being.
Draco saw their predicament at a glance.
They must have arrived too late, after all the compartments had filled up.
The factional struggle between the pro-Voldemort and pro-Muggle pure-blood families, and the way the two families routinely slung mud at each other in private, had long since ceased to be secrets.
He must have feared that Draco would make things difficult for them, and so had been unwilling to take Harry into the "wolf's den" guarded by Vincent and Goyle. That left them standing in the corridor, trying to think of something.
An idea struck Draco, and he walked over.
The instant Ron spotted Draco, his body tensed like a startled cat.
Then he instinctively shifted half a step sideways, shielding Harry behind him, his blue eyes full of undisguised wariness and hostility.
Harry, on the other hand, looked confused. He clearly did not understand why Ron was treating the newcomer like a formidable enemy. He merely studied Draco curiously before quickly looking away.
Draco stopped and spoke calmly. "There's a free seat over there. You should be able to fit if you squeeze in."
Draco was pointing to Hermione's compartment.
Unexpectedly, Ron reacted as though he had heard some tremendous joke.
His lips curled in undisguised mockery, and he even gave a cold laugh. "Oh, really? Thanks so much for your 'kindness.'"
Ron deliberately stressed the word "kindness," then turned and tugged Harry's sleeve. "Come on, Harry. Let's look somewhere else. No need to trouble Young Master Malfoy with his kind offer."
Harry grew even more confused. He looked at Ron, then at Draco, but ultimately turned and obediently followed Ron.
Before leaving, he hesitated, then gave Draco a hurried nod by way of greeting.
Watching their retreating figures, especially Ron's red hair, which seemed almost ready to stand on end, Draco could not help letting out a bemused laugh.
That hostility of his really was etched into his bones.
Still, Draco did not take it to heart-there was simply no point in getting worked up over the Weasley family's boy.
The corridor remained noisy, but Draco suddenly lost interest in wandering any further.
The disappointment of being shut out by Hermione had actually faded somewhat, replaced by an inexplicable sense of relief.
He returned to the compartment where his lackeys were and sat down.
Just then, a cold, mechanical voice suddenly rang out in Draco's mind:
[Ding-original plot added. Fortune Points increased by 20.]
Draco froze for a moment, then a smile curled his lips.
So that was how it worked.
With that thought, the last lingering trace of disappointment in his heart finally vanished.
The system's unexpected reward had given him a little consolation after all.