When Harry Potter woke up in his seat, the Hogwarts Express had already started moving again.
As the seats vibrated, he reached up and pushed his spectacles, which had been slipping down, back up on his nose, only to find Hermione and Draco crouching beside him, watching him.
"Are you all right?" Hermione asked with concern.
"It is nothing," Harry said. He quickly got up from his chair and tried to peek into the doorway.
"What happened?" he asked in a puzzled tone.
From the moment the Dementor entered the compartment, he lost all awareness of his surroundings.
He seemed to have entered another dark space. It was filled with screams, coldness, and fear.
Hermione carefully observed his expression and briefly told him everything that had just happened.
"I am sorry, I did not have time to wake Professor Lupin..." he murmured.
"It is all right. Have something to eat." Draco shoved something into his hand.
Harry took it blankly and ate it without thinking, only to be surprised to find a warm current flowing to his fingertips and toes.
After a whilst, the boy who was eating chocolate finally came to his senses and asked in confusion, "Then, who was screaming?"
"Nobody is screaming," Ron said worriedly. He was leading his sister Ginny and Neville into the compartment.
Ginny looked just as bad as Harry. Neville swayed, looking stiff. Hermione had given them both a piece of chocolate, which they ate listlessly.
"But I heard screams—" Harry looked around.
"Do you remember what I told you in Grimmauld Place?" Draco said wearily. "Dementors awaken the darkest memories of wizards."
Harry's face darkened. He did not say a word, frowned, and quietly finished the rest of the chocolate. Hermione and Ron watched him with concern.
"Since you are all all right, I am leaving." Draco slowly stood up, straightened his robes, nodded to them, and walked out of the compartment.
The corridor was no longer gloomy and desolate.
The lights that had been extinguished had all come back to life, now so bright they were almost blinding to Draco. He walked forward, lost in thought, his eyes downcast, feeling utterly exhausted.
Just then, a voice called out to him from behind.
"Draco, are you sure you are all right?"
It is Hermione.
Draco stopped and looked back at her blankly.
She was scrutinising him with a worried expression. "You still do not look too good."
Draco could not resist being a little cheeky and reached out to pat her fluffy head. "I am fine. Your chocolate worked wonders."
Hermione had not expected him to suddenly touch her hair. But she did not pull away. More than worrying about these abstract things, she was concerned about his mental state.
"If you feel uncomfortable, you should say so immediately," she said, tilting her head slightly as she accepted his caresses. She did not get angry at being treated like a small animal; instead, she just kept reminding him, "You cannot hold it in or bottle it up."
Draco nodded, pleased that she had not rejected his pat on the head.
"Also this is the first time I have ever seen someone cast a Patronus Charm. You are amazing," Hermione said curiously.
She found herself constantly wanting to talk to him.
Looking into his slightly tired eyes, she felt as if grey frost had condensed within them, both beautiful and cold, both complex and desolate.
At times like these, she always wanted to say something to him, to dispel anything beyond the beauty.
"It is a pity I did not cast it well enough," Draco sighed regretfully. "I have only just started practising this spell. I learnt a little from my mother at the end of summer holidays."
"Could you teach me?" Hermione asked enviously. "I hate that feeling of being controlled by Dementors. It is like being ill, like—"
She hesitated, then secretly swallowed the rest of her sentence.
It is not just because she hates feeling dominated.
She hated even more that she could not do anything and could only hide behind him.
When he stood alone in front of her against that terrifying thing, she felt utterly powerless, frustrated, and furious that she could not help him.
"Of course." Draco lowered his hand from her hair, feeling somewhat frustrated by the less-than-successful Patronus Charm.
"Anytime is fine as long as you do not mind that I am only a half-baked amateur," he said wistfully.
"Of course not. We can study it together," Hermione said with great interest.
He found a trace of sincerity in her eyes, and a faint smile finally appeared on his lips.
"All right," he said.
Hermione smiled along with him, her expression less worried.
"I do not think I have thanked you yet… for protecting me by standing in front of me," she said to him, a slight blush rising on her cheeks.
"My pleasure," Draco said contentedly, feeling a long-lost joy that Hermione Granger had not been harmed in front of him.
Hermione, of course, had no idea what he was thinking.
In her view, his expression was somewhat joyful, yet also somewhat distant, even somewhat sad and melancholy, which was truly perplexing.
Lost in their own thoughts, they exchanged a silent glance, then unconsciously looked at the window beside them located opposite the compartment door, on the other side of the train.
Outside the window, the wind and rain were gloomy, but inside the train, it was warm and cosy.
It was as if those dark creatures had never attacked the train.
But the terrifying impression of that dark creature had already been imprinted in their minds.
"Draco, will those Dementors...go to Hogwarts?" Hermione asked hesitantly.
"They will not enter the school," Draco said softly, gazing at her reflection in the glass window. "They will stay outside Hogwarts until they catch Peter Pettigrew."
Hermione seemed relieved, though her gaze on his retreating figure still held a hint of worry.