Chapter 212
On Saturday, there was very little interaction among the three people in the infirmary. Pansy hadn't expected things to turn out that way. Fleur Delacour was in no mood to deal with anything beyond her sister's illness—her only concern was waiting for Gabrielle Delacour to recover.
To ensure the patient could rest properly, Poppy Pomfrey indirectly asked them to leave. As a result, Pansy and Draco Malfoy didn't stay long.
Pansy felt a trace of relief.
She hadn't been prepared for that meeting—it had caught her completely off guard. Fortunately, she hadn't lost any ground.
That said, the day wasn't entirely uneventful.
Malfoy dragged her to the library to make up for missed lessons.
"You don't have to rush like this, Draco… I just got back today," Pansy complained, looking miserable.
Malfoy remained unmoved.
"If you don't hurry, the gap will only get worse," he said sternly, sounding very much like a strict teacher.
Sunday passed in much the same way. Pansy gradually readjusted to school life, shaking off the laziness she had developed during recovery, walking around the castle to regain some rhythm.
Her injury was troublesome—she couldn't exert herself too much, but staying completely inactive wasn't an option either.
Letters were usually delivered by owls in the Great Hall, but sometimes they were sent directly to each house's common room. Near the entrance stood a small iron box for this purpose.
When Pansy returned to the Slytherin common room, she noticed a letter inside.
"What's this?" she asked, picking up a pale yellow envelope. "Another love letter? Like the one that girl gave you the other day?"
Her tone was complicated.
They had just finished morning classes, eaten lunch, and returned to rest before heading to their dormitories.
"I doubt it," Malfoy said casually, taking the letter from her. "If she wanted to confess, she'd say it herself."
"You seem to know her quite well," Pansy said, a hint of jealousy in her voice. Still, she relaxed slightly. "What does it say?"
"This handwriting is terrible," Malfoy remarked, examining the envelope.
Only the recipient's name—"Draco Malfoy"—was written on it, and even that was sloppy, almost illegible.
"Oh? There's even a concealment charm."
He raised an eyebrow, broke the spell, and opened it.
"Pay attention to the dragon…"
The contents were brief, more like a note than a proper letter. It listed the creature's habits, weaknesses, and even methods of evasion.
"Bagman really is proactive," Malfoy said with a faint smile, immediately thinking of Ludo Bagman.
The deliberately messy handwriting and the added spell were clearly meant to hide the sender's identity.
"Draco… your first task is against a dragon?" Pansy leaned closer, reading over his shoulder. Her expression changed instantly.
She grew tense.
"You're still smiling? Do you even understand how dangerous that is?" she asked, staring at him.
"How dangerous is it?" Malfoy replied lightly, as if discussing something trivial.
Pansy fell silent.
She realized she didn't actually know—only that dragons were dangerous.
"In any case… it's dangerous," she said finally.
"Fear comes from the unknown," Malfoy said calmly. "Once you understand it, a dragon is just a slightly bigger creature. One that breathes fire, at most."
He was deliberately downplaying it to reassure her.
But in his mind, he wasn't exaggerating.
Compared to what lay ahead—
dragons were insignificant.
Even several wizards at Charlie's level wouldn't survive a single strike from Lord Voldemort.
And unlike the others, Malfoy already knew the entire process of the task.
"I'm still scared of something that big," Pansy muttered.
Seeing she was still uneasy, Malfoy softened.
There was no need to keep it secret from her.
So he leaned closer and quietly explained his plan.
Pansy felt her ears heat up.
His breath brushed against her skin, soft and warm. Her heartbeat quickened, her face flushing red.
Memories surfaced—
the time at Black Manor, when he had disciplined her.
Back then, fear had dominated.
Now, only embarrassment remained.
"Sorry," Malfoy said suddenly, stepping back as he realized how close he had gotten.
"You were too close… and too quiet. I couldn't even hear you properly," Pansy said, turning her head away to hide her expression.
"Alright," Malfoy sighed.
He pulled out a piece of parchment and tossed it lightly into the air. A quill sprang to life, writing swiftly and neatly across it.
Moments later, he caught the parchment and handed it to her.
"Better?"
Pansy read it carefully, surprise filling her eyes.
"You really know how to handle it?"
"No one jokes about their own life," Malfoy replied, giving her a reassuring look.
For a moment—
Pansy felt something steady settle in her heart.
He wasn't facing this alone.