Draco turned her face away. "Hmph, I don't want to tell you anymore. I've been waiting for you for ages."
Herman smiled and changed his tone, "I was wrong, can I let you hit me one more time?"
Draco's gaze swept over his face, as if assessing the truthfulness of his words, and then, before he could finish speaking, she swiftly reached out and slapped him on the head. The slap wasn't forceful, but it landed precisely on the back of his head.
Herman was caught off guard and hit squarely on the head. As he reached up to rub the back of his head, Draco was already laughing so hard he was doubled over.
She sank into the armchair, her shoulders shaking with laughter. Her laughter was clear and bright, her blue eyes curving into two crescent moons, with a hint of moisture at the corners of her eyes from laughing.
Herman thought her smile was quite pretty, so he didn't mind, rubbed the back of his head, leaned back in his chair, and waited for her to finish laughing.
After laughing her fill, Draco sat up straight and cleared her throat. " Head of House Snape has agreed. Harry can join the Quidditch team as the Seeker, which is much more important than being the Beater."
As she spoke, she gestured with her chin towards Harry, her tone carrying a smug "You can trust me to handle things" vibe, "That way, Neville won't be the youngest player anymore."
Herman followed her gaze and looked at Harry.
Harry kept her head down, flipping through the book. Her expression was unreadable; she neither nodded nor shook her head, but she didn't object.
Given her personality, tacit approval is practically equivalent to agreement. After all, this version of Harry has never been one to passively accept things. If she doesn't object to something, it's highly likely that she has already tacitly agreed to it.
Seeing Draco so happy, Herman clapped and congratulated Harley, then added, "Who's older, Harley or Neville? If Harley is older than Neville, then Neville is still the youngest."
Draco paused for a moment, her smug expression shattered by the question, but she quickly waved her hand. "That's not important! The important thing is not to let Gryffindor dominate."
Herman, seeing her eagerness to draw conclusions, thought that children were easy to fool in this regard; their interests shifted quickly, unlike Neville and his two companions who got stuck in one thing and couldn't get out.
Herman turned to Harry and asked, "When does training start?" Harry turned a page in her book. "Next week. The Slytherin Quidditch Team captain said he'll call me then."
Draco listened with her chin propped up on her hand. At first, she was able to maintain her interest, but after a few minutes, she started yawning, her eyes half-closed, her head gradually sinking down, and the Pumpkin Juice in her hand tilted to one side.
Herman asked a few more questions about the training time and venue. Harry answered briefly, but every sentence hit the nail on the head. Herman spoke calmly and unhurriedly, as if she already knew she would be there, but was just too lazy to tell him in advance.
Draco and the other two finally quieted down before raising their eyelids and saying, "Alright, are you done? You'll come with me to find Hagrid tomorrow."
Herman paused for a moment, then asked, "What do you want with Hagrid?"
A strange feeling welled up inside him. Was there something wrong with the script? Draco had taken the initiative to go to Hagrid —was this finally going to be a turning point?
Dumbledore to fall from grace? Will Hagrid find a new employer?
Draco yawned. "I had a great chat with him last time. I didn't know there were so many things to consider when raising pets. We've exchanged a few letters since then, and he said he'd like to invite me over tomorrow and even prepared afternoon tea."
Herman looked at her matter-of-fact expression, paused for a moment, and then nodded. "Alright, nothing much to do tomorrow."
Harry was nowhere to be found early the next morning. The dormitory door was closed, and no one answered after knocking twice. No one knew where she had gone.
After lunch, Herman and Draco returned to the common room and waited for a while, but no one came back after about fifteen minutes.
Draco leaned back in her chair, having finished her tea. She glanced at the doorway, then at the clock on the wall, finally placing the cup on the table, standing up, and saying:
"I can't wait any longer. I'll settle the score with Harry when she gets back. First, help me move some things from my dorm."
Herman followed her through the corridor, around two corners, and stopped in front of Draco's room.
Draco didn't close the door after entering. Herman stood at the door, waiting for Draco to find something, his gaze naturally falling into the room as he passed by her.
The room was more spacious than his dormitory, and the window faced the direction of the Black Lake, through which a layer of flowing dark green light and shadow was reflected from the magical ceiling.
The bed was made fairly neatly, with the dark green bed curtains half-drawn and a dark brown throw pillow lying on the bed.
On the table against the wall sits a dressing mirror with a silver lace trim. The edges of the frame are engraved with fine vine patterns. The mirror is very clean. Several bottles of nail polish are scattered next to it, the caps loosely screwed on. One bottle is leaning against the mirror at an angle, as if it was used not long ago.
Several pieces of clothing were draped on the chair, not neatly folded, with a piece of light pink fabric hanging down from the edge. Herman's eyes had barely touched the edge of that fabric when he realized what it was.
It was a light pink lace petticoat, with a thin belt loosely hanging from the back of the chair, and a small section of the lace trim at the neckline peeking out from underneath.
There was also a light blue bra draped over the back of the chair, with two thin straps hanging down on the chair surface. The fabric was soft and thin, and its thickness was not visible.
Herman's gaze lingered on it for about half a second before quickly looking away, as if he had been burned.
Draco had her back to him and was bending over by the bed looking for something, completely unaware of his gaze just now.
Herman shifted his gaze to the corner of the wall, staring for a few seconds at the cabinet door with the poster of an unknown witch pasted on it. Then he moved his gaze to the floor, where two slippers, one pink and one white, were lying on the floor. The pink one was crooked next to the table leg, while the white one was crooked and misaligned next to the bed leg.
He had barely looked away when Draco pulled a large bundle from under the bed. It was bulging, made of grayish-blue cloth, tied with hemp rope, and looked like half a bed of cotton stuffing had been tucked inside.
She put the package on the ground, dusted off her hands, and glanced back at him. "What are you standing there for? Help me carry it."
Herman walked over, bent down, and picked up the package. It was much heavier than he had expected, and there was something hard inside.
He tried to lift it with one hand but couldn't, so he switched to both hands and hoisted it onto his shoulders. The rope cut a shallow indentation into his shoulders.
He carried the package towards the door, with Draco following behind.
As they walked down the corridor, she suddenly quickened her pace to walk in front of him, turned around, and walked backwards, as if just realizing what had happened. Her gaze swept over his face. "What were you looking at in my room just now?"
Herman didn't stop walking. "I didn't see anything."
Draco stared at him for two more seconds, as if judging the truth of his words, then her eyes widened slightly as if she had thought of something, "You saw the clothes on my chair?"