The crisp sound of the latch locking shut shattered someone's wishful thinking of "watching in person."
Outside the door, Draco touched his nose, which had almost been hit by the door, and looked at the closed door. Instead of being angry, he laughed. He knew this would happen.
However, the act of teasing her was amusing enough, and just imagining her blushing cheeks behind the door made Draco even happier.
Thinking of this, he turned around, humming an off-key tune, and walked to the side to change his tennis shoes.
Although there won't be a "personalized fashion show," we'll soon see Hermione on the court, dressed in a white tennis dress, with her hair in a high ponytail, looking full of energy. Come to think of it, it seems...
It's pretty good too?
At least, he was the sparring partner.
Rounding off, it can be considered a "special" display.
Thinking about it that way, Draco suddenly decided that all white was fine, since his Miss Granger looked good in anything anyway.
Of course, he didn't plan to tell her this conclusion for the time being, lest she become too smug.
After changing into his sneakers, Draco straightened his collar in front of the mirror and then started urging Hermione was still moving slowly.
"Hurry up, Miss Granger, three minutes have passed already," Draco said menacingly. "Or are you actually waiting for my help? I don't mind doing you a favor."
Hermione, inside the door, was struggling with the buttons on her polo shirt. They had indeed grown quite a bit recently, causing the top button to be a little tight. Hearing his words, she paused, her cheeks flushing slightly.
She glared at the door and snapped, "Dream on! Malfoy, if you dare come in, I'll let you experience what it's like to have a ' Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4 ' slapped in the face!"
"So fierce! I wouldn't dare." As Draco spoke, Hermione finally fastened the last button, quickly put on her skirt, and zipped up the side zipper. She quickly tidied herself in front of the mirror. The pure white polo shirt made her skin look even whiter, and the well-tailored short skirt made her legs look long.
Only after doing all this did she open the door to the changing room.
When the door opened, Hermione was met with Draco's undisguised scrutinizing gaze. He was leaning against the opposite wall.
His lecherous gaze slid from her tied ponytail, across her shapely chest accentuated by the well-fitting polo shirt, down to her straight legs beneath her white skirt, and finally settled on her face, which appeared even more vibrant and energetic thanks to her sporty attire.
"What are you looking at?" Hermione felt a little uncomfortable under his gaze. She glared at Draco fiercely, trying to hide her shyness with her imposing manner. "Aren't you in a hurry? Let's go."
"Tsk tsk, wife," Draco deliberately lingered on her chest for half a second, then looked at her teasingly, "Your figure and your tone of voice are quite a match, both rather 'fierce'."
"You're so mean!" Hermione was instantly enraged by his blunt gaze and assessment, her cheeks burning.
Then she wanted to hug herself, but felt that would be too weak, so she could only straighten her back and glare at him.
This suited Draco's wishes, and he leaned closer, saying, "I was just observing. Honey, don't you feel... lately, it seems like..."
At this point, he extended his fingertip and touched just below her collarbone, without actually touching it. "It's grown quite a bit?"
These words made Hermione feel like the blood was rushing to her face.
"Look at this polo shirt," Draco, seemingly oblivious to Hermione's near-explosive expression, still intently analyzing the situation.
She traced the outline of the clothes with her finger again. "Is it a little tight? It looks restrictive to you."
As he met Hermione's embarrassed and indignant gaze, he asked with feigned concern and innocence, "Is your bra size too small?"
"A bra that's too small or too tight isn't healthy and it will affect your performance. How about I go with you to the ship's boutique and we can buy a couple more that fit properly? You should also get a new sports bra, right?"
"You..." Hermione was so angry that she couldn't even speak properly. Her face was as red as a ripe tomato, and even her neck and ears were bright red. She raised her hand and hit him with the tennis racket she had just taken out.
But Draco, who was prepared, laughed and easily dodged, then scooped her and her paddle into his arms and held her tightly.
"Don't hit me, don't hit me, I'm serious. It would be such a waste if you broke it. When we get back tonight, I'll personally 'check' you out and see if it's really too small. I guarantee a 'professional evaluation'."
"Go to hell!!!" Hermione finally snapped, struggling desperately in his arms, banging her forehead against his chin and stomping on him. "Let go of me! You filthy, shameless bastard! Your head is full of dirty thoughts! Who asked you to check! I know myself! Shut up! Now! Right now! Shut up!"
"Okay, okay!" Draco winced as she bumped into him.
But he tightened his grip even more.
"I'm lewd and shameless, but you're all I can think about. Don't be angry, or you'll get even 'fierce,' and your clothes will really rip open..."
"You still dare to say that?!"
In the end, Hermione, with a face so red it could fry an egg, was half-carried, half-embraced by Draco and led to the tennis court.
All the way there, she tried to kill him with her eyes and secretly vowed that once she got on the court, she would use all her strength to smash the ball into his hateful face!
The tennis court on the cruise ship is open-air, with the entire court surrounded by a matte black fine safety net to ensure that the tennis balls do not fall into the sea. Underfoot is a flat, non-slip, light dark green professional plastic floor with moderate elasticity and a comfortable feel.
One side of the venue is backed by a transparent, infinity-edge railing with a cruise ship view of the sea. The azure sea and clear sky serve as an excellent backdrop, and the cool sea breeze soothes away fatigue.
Along the walls on both sides of the tennis court are two sets of pure white, light luxury outdoor rattan seating tables, complete with soft and comfortable upholstered reclining chairs. Next to them stand neat, enclosed storage cabinets for tennis equipment. Through the glass doors, you can see brand new, non-slip professional tennis rackets, cans of tennis balls, and neatly folded pure white sweat towels.
All the necessary utensils were provided.
However, the stadium was already in use at that moment.
Above, a man and a woman are engaged in what appears to be a rather intense match. The man is tall and wears a professional tennis shirt and shorts; his movements are precise and powerful.
The woman wore a bright yellow sleeveless tennis dress, the hem of which fluttered as she ran and jumped, showcasing her graceful figure.
The two players seemed to be evenly matched, the yellow ball flying back and forth across the dark green court, making "bang, bang" sounds.
Outside the stadium, five people—three women and two men—were already seated on the rattan seating area, enjoying chilled drinks while watching the game with great interest.