Time flies like an arrow; nearly two months had passed since arriving at Hogwarts.
Today, Draco was in unusually high spirits. One might even say he was beaming. At dinner, the corners of his mouth refused to settle.
"So you've got a permit. Big deal. You look absurdly pleased with yourself," Pansy remarked, slicing into the smoked fish on her plate.
"This isn't merely a permit—it represents knowledge, wisdom, and power," Draco declared, far less composed than usual.
"I think you ought to move your plate over there," Pansy said, gesturing towards the Ravenclaw table.
Thanks to his exceptional performance across subjects, Draco had finally secured permission to borrow most library books without seeking Madam Pince's approval each time.
Some volumes contained advanced Dark magic never covered in standard classes. Normally, such texts were reserved for students studying advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts and required a professor's signature.
For Draco, the scope of accessible knowledge had expanded once again. Apart from rare editions and particularly dangerous works, the library now lay open to him.
"You couldn't concentrate at all today," Pansy observed. Her tone was sharp, though something else lingered beneath it.
"You've never looked this delighted when you're with me," she added quietly.
"You're right. There's still a lesson this afternoon," Draco replied absently, failing to notice the faint edge in her voice.
Nevertheless, he remained distracted throughout class.
Herbology was the final lesson of the day. The moment it ended, Draco headed straight for the library, leaving Professor Sprout faintly bewildered.
"I sometimes wonder if the Sorting Hat malfunctioned," a group of Ravenclaws whispered nearby. "If he were in our House, we'd have secured the Cup already."
"What's so special about him? He just scores well," Ron muttered irritably in the Gryffindor common room.
"I think apologising to Hermione is more important," Harry interjected.
"Apologise? Wingardium Leviosa!" Ron exclaimed. "Did you see how she looked at us? As though we're complete idiots."
"Ron, enough. You know she didn't mean it like that," Harry said. "You saw her crying."
Ron looked uneasy. "So?"
"Let's apologise at the Halloween feast. You're just being stubborn."
"Fine. I'll apologise," Ron grumbled.
Meanwhile, Draco moved between towering shelves in the library.
The wooden cases were old and faintly decayed, carrying a musty scent. Some volumes were thick with dust.
Draco scanned titles swiftly, searching for knowledge beyond the ordinary syllabus.
He stopped before one of the oldest shelves.
"It's you," he murmured, drawing out a faded, dust-covered book.
"Scourgify."
The grime vanished, though time had blurred the lettering beyond recovery.
"That will do."
He paused.
Halloween.
Candy. Pumpkins. Pansy had mentioned it repeatedly.
"The troll," Draco realised suddenly. "This is a pivotal moment."
As he turned, someone collided with him.
"I'm sorry," came a familiar voice.
Draco glanced back. Wild brown curls, red-rimmed eyes. Hermione.
"Well, if it isn't Gryffindor's know-it-all. You seem rather distressed. A disagreement?" Draco asked lightly.
A sheen of tears welled again.
"They say I'm trying to impress the teachers. Ron called me a nightmare. I only wanted to correct his spelling. Why do they say such things?"
She swallowed. "And the students in your House keep calling me that word. I hate it."
"Do you want to mock me, too? The only thing I was proud of—being clever—is useless if no one wants it."
Draco was momentarily at a loss. He had not expected such vulnerability.
He cleared his throat.
"As Slytherin's most distinguished first-year, I suppose I should apologise on behalf of those who lack refinement," Draco said, bowing slightly.
"And personally, I apologise as well. Allow me to make amends. Honeydukes—consider it a gesture of goodwill. After all, it is Halloween."
Hermione blinked in surprise.
"You're not angry?"
"I believe a Gryffindor once apologised to a Slytherin. I would hardly be so small-minded as to refuse the example."
She hesitated. "Hogsmeade visits are restricted to Saturdays—and only with permission."
"In this world," Draco replied calmly, "there are only places one dares not go, not places one cannot reach."
"Courage, I believe, includes bending a rule or two."
He turned and began walking.
Hermione lingered for a heartbeat—then followed.
Gryffindors, after all, rarely resisted adventure.
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