Reaching the bedroom door, Hermione held clothes in one arm and had her other hand on the doorknob, her voice escaping through clenched teeth.
"If you dare come in, you're dead."
After saying that, she turned the doorknob and slipped inside.
The noise inside the door quickly subsided.
Hermione bent down and unfolded the suit.
He was wearing a dark blue, three-quarter sleeve, round-neck top with white stripes, paired with khaki high-waisted wide-leg pants. The pleats at the waist and the single button on the pants gave off a casual yet neat vibe.
"This guy's taste is as good as ever..."
Hermione stopped, not daring to say "good" aloud, afraid that the guy outside the door would overhear and then gloat.
She quickly slipped on a striped top, the sleeves rolled up to her forearms as was her habit, then on the khaki high-waisted pants. She slid one leg into the pants, pulled up the waistband, and snapped the single button fastened.
The high-waisted design elongates the leg line, and the wide trouser legs have a great drape, completely concealing the previous disheveled appearance.
It also accentuated her extremely slim waist.
Hermione wanted to find a mirror to see how she looked, but after scanning the bedroom, there was no mirror, and the windows still reflected light from both inside and outside.
If you want to see it, you'll have to go outside.
But outside, that guy whose smile could tear down all her defenses might be waiting for her to come out right now.
What's there to be afraid of?
He gave me the clothes, he didn't take them off.
She is now clean and tidy.
Her clothes were buttoned up perfectly, and her hair was even swept back over her shoulders. Why was she hiding in her bedroom, afraid to go out?
Hermione straightened her back silently, facing the bedroom door. "Calm down, be natural, just think of it as borrowing a mirror."
Hermione took a deep breath and turned the doorknob.
The door was only pushed open a crack, less than half a hand's width.
The scene in the living room immediately came into her view.
Draco had been staring at the door the whole time, his mind completely focused on it. As soon as the door opened a crack, he peered through the narrow gap and met Hermione's cautious eyes.
Seeing Hermione's reserved and shy appearance,
Draco found it amusing.
Hermione saw him too, of course. He was sitting comfortably on the sofa, his elbows resting on the armrests, looking at her sideways with an undisguised smile in his eyes.
Hermione's eyelashes trembled violently; the courage she had finally mustered vanished in an instant after being looked at like that.
She wanted to push the door back, but her hand was already on the doorknob. Pulling it back would only serve as irrefutable evidence of her guilt.
Hermione could only bite her cheek and glare at him fiercely.
He secretly encouraged himself.
After comforting herself, she pushed the door all the way open and stepped out, but her eyes were fixed on the four walls of the living room, refusing to look in the direction of the sofa. Where could the mirror be?
Hermione walked with stiffness, trying to appear calm, while Draco looked at her openly and without any hesitation.
Draco's gaze swept from her striped top to her high-waisted wide-leg pants, then landed on her flushed but trying-to-remain calm face. He looked Hermione up and down, nodding in satisfaction from time to time. His taste, combined with his new wife's figure and appearance, was truly a match made in heaven.
The living room was only so big, Hermione quickly found the mirror standing against the wall. She turned on her tiptoes and went straight to it.
The speed was so fast it didn't seem like she was looking for a mirror; it was more like Dementor was chasing her from behind. The cuffs of her khaki pants lifted slightly with each step, then fell back down.
Walking up to the mirror, Hermione looked at the reflection. The person in the mirror was far more pleasing to the eye than she had expected.
Hermione pursed her lips, forcing back the corners of her mouth that were about to turn up, and casually tucked a stray curl behind her ear.
Then he pretended to check if his collar was crooked.
Just then, Draco's voice drifted slowly from behind Hermione: "So, are you satisfied?"
Hermione didn't turn around. She straightened her cuffs in front of the mirror, her tone as indifferent as if she were grading a barely passing paper.
"It's just so-so."
"So-so?" Draco didn't call her out on her stubbornness, but instead asked, "What about the wet clothes?"
Hermione blushed and became angry upon hearing this, her cheeks flushing slightly, and she felt a sudden surge of heat.
Wet clothes—something I never want to mention again.
"Can you please stop harping on that word!"
Hermione glared at him angrily.
"Which word?" Draco asked, his tone utterly innocent.
"Still pretending?"
"Okay, let's not talk about wet clothes anymore, so what about the clothes?"
After being repeatedly mocked, Hermione really wanted to punch him, but if she did, it would confirm the truth about the clothes... She didn't want to bring up that embarrassing incident, so she calmly said, "It's inside!"
Draco glanced at the closed bedroom door. "It's in there. Why don't you take it out and clean it? One Scouring Charm and it'll be spotless, even the wrinkles will be ironed out."
Hermione was stunned.
Those words suddenly enlightened her.
Yes, Scouring Charm.
She knows magic, so cleaning stains is the simplest thing for her; she could do it easily. She was so anxious that her heels almost fell off as she ran, grabbing clothes, locking the door, and changing... But she could have just used one spell to clean the clothes instantly.
She didn't even need to change!
"Yes." Hermione's voice trailed off, her eyes widening as she questioned him, "Why didn't you say so sooner?"
Draco suppressed a laugh and said:
"I thought you could figure that out."
"Ugh—this is so annoying!" Hermione stomped her foot, then blamed Draco. "It's all your fault! You messed everything up, my head was spinning! I forgot again!"
"Heh." Draco finally couldn't help but laugh out loud. "I thought Miss Granger had a pretty good memory."
"You can memorize an entire book word for word, how come I've forgotten even magic so completely?"
Hermione couldn't deny it, but it was still because of him that her mind always went blank when he came close.
Hermione turned her face away and said stiffly:
"No matter what, it's your fault."
"Yes, it's my fault." Draco had no intention of reasoning with his wife. He suggested, "How about this, the outfit I specially picked out for you will be my compensation?"
Hermione flatly refused. "No."
"Isn't this enough? Apart from Miss Granger, no one else receives this kind of treatment?"
"Don't even think about getting rid of me with an outfit." Hermione wouldn't budge. "You made me feel so awkward outside for so long, and now you're talking about compensation? This is clearly a scheme."
Draco smiled helplessly.
"What kind of conspiracy is this?"
"Don't think I don't know," Hermione bluntly exposed his hidden thoughts. "You did it on purpose! You just wanted me to wear the style you liked, and then you sat there staring at me with that burning gaze—"
" Miss Granger, you're wronging me. I don't want to see clothes like that," Draco said meaningfully.