Hogwarts: A little lion in the skin of the Eagle School

night.

John sat alone on the sofa in the living room, watching TV listlessly, occasionally stroking the alluring figure of the big orange cat in his arms.

The room was dimly lit and quiet, while snow was falling heavily outside the window.

Big Orange purred contentedly in John's arms.

The television was playing an old black-and-white movie with a hissing sound.

The sound of running water came from the bathroom in the hallway.

Soon after, the sound of water stopped, the bathroom door slowly opened, and steam poured out through the crack in the door.

Hermione, wearing a bathrobe, slowly walked out of the bathroom, her hair still damp.

She glanced at John, who was watching TV on the sofa in the living room, with only the back of his head visible, and her face flushed slightly.

Then he quickly returned to his room.

After a while, Hermione, now dressed in pink pajamas, came out of the room again, walked lightly past John, and sat down on the other side of the sofa.

Perhaps it was because I had just taken a shower, as I passed by John.

John could clearly smell the faint fragrance emanating from her, a fresh scent like a mixture of shower gel and conditioner.

After Hermione sat down, she tossed her wet hair in front of her and picked up a comb to slowly comb it.

Her usually messy hair looked smooth and shiny at this moment.

John's gaze inadvertently shifted from the television to her slightly lowered profile.

Hermione, oblivious to John's gaze, continued combing her hair while watching TV and asked a question.

"Aren't you going to take a shower? You might catch a cold if you shower too late."

She casually tossed her neatly combed, damp hair behind her back, inadvertently revealing a section of her snow-white neck.

Her face was still slightly flushed, and the tips of her ears were also red.

I don't know if it's because I took a hot shower for too long.

"Okay, I'll go in a bit, the movie's almost over."

John said lazily, but seeing Hermione fixing her wet hair, he spoke again.

Do you need a hairdryer?

Hermione turned her head slightly, revealing her rosy cheeks after her bath and her eyelashes glistening with moisture.

She said this with a somewhat speechless expression.

Why didn't you say so sooner?

"You didn't ask."

John retorted, quite naturally.

After saying that, John dropped the orange, got up, and went into his parents' room at the very back to get a hairdryer.

The orange cat meowed in dissatisfaction and jumped into Hermione's arms.

Hermione gently stroked Orange's fur, watching John walk back with the hairdryer.

She was about to get up and take the hairdryer when John waved for Hermione to sit down.

Despite her confusion, Hermione remained seated obediently.

John skillfully walked behind the sofa, plugged in the power cord, and gently pressed the switch.

A warm breeze blew out and then walked behind Hermione.

John reached out and straightened Hermione's head.

"Don't move." John's voice rang out amidst the noise of the hairdryer.

Hermione paused slightly, realizing what John meant, but did not object.

John gently brushed aside Hermione's wet hair and began to blow-dry it for her.

A warm breeze brushed against Hermione's hair and flowed down the back of her neck.

Unexpectedly, John actually helped her blow-dry her hair.

This was the first time a boy had ever blow-dried her hair, and it felt rather special.

Feeling John's skillful movements, Hermione closed her eyes slightly, enjoying the comfort brought by the warm air.

The noise of the hairdryer continued to echo in the room, and Hermione's hair gradually became dry and smooth.

"alright."

A moment later, John turned off the hairdryer and said.

Hermione gently raised her head, her cheeks still slightly flushed.

She touched her hair; it was completely dry, but still slightly warm.

"Thanks, John. I didn't expect you to be so skilled at blow-drying hair!"

Hermione chuckled softly as she stroked her hair.

"I learned it while taking care of my elderly mother."

John muttered as he put away the hairdryer.

Hermione rested her chin on her hand, a hint of teasing in her eyes as she spoke.

"Really? I'm so envious of you, Auntie."

"What a pity, I'm not lucky enough to have this service. I wonder which girl will be able to enjoy it in the future."

Upon hearing this, John immediately glared and said with displeasure.

"You were just enjoying yourself, weren't you? You have Alzheimer's, don't you?"

"..."

Hermione was speechless for a moment, then sighed.

I always felt that John's emotional intelligence was inconsistent.

Every time she tried to coax John into saying something that would make her happy, he would shut her up.

But precisely when you're least on guard, John will say things that make you blush and your heart race.

"idiot..."

Hermione muttered a helpless sigh, then lifted the orange cat high and buried it in its belly.

"Isn't that right, Crookshanks?"

Faced with its owner's outburst, the orange cat meowed expressionlessly.

John didn't hear Hermione say "idiot," but he did hear her suddenly say something nonsensical, and then give the big orange a good squeeze and twist.

However, he was too lazy to investigate further.

I've just gotten up, so I'll go take a shower.

John left the living room, grabbed his clothes, and headed towards the bathroom.

A short while later, Hermione, who was playing in the hall with Crookshanks, heard the sound of water coming from the bathroom.

She paused for a moment, then a faint, unnatural blush spread across her face.

So you can hear the water running in the bathroom so clearly from outside...?

Did he hear me when I was taking a shower?

It's a perfectly ordinary sound, but for some reason, it makes me feel a little ashamed now...

.......

It was late at night.

The two had already gone back to their rooms to rest.

But Hermione couldn't sleep.

She could only lean on the windowsill of her room, staring blankly at the snowy night outside.

Crookshan lay down beside her and lazily yawned.

A cold wind blew by, bringing a chilly feeling, but Hermione didn't feel cold.

Christmas is just around the corner.

The trees lining the streets were adorned with twinkling colored lights. The streets were deserted late at night, with only the occasional pedestrian hurrying by, their footsteps crunching on the snow.

A couple walked closely together from the night and stopped in front of the apartment building.

A man in a blue down jacket and a woman in a red coat embraced each other and whispered something to each other.

After a farewell kiss, the woman gently pushed open the apartment building door and disappeared from the man's lingering gaze.

Hermione watched the farewell kiss, shrank back, and blushed slightly.

Wow, you're amazing!

You're back so late, you must have gone on a date.

That direction should be towards the Thames.

I remember the Thames River was very beautiful at night, especially in the lead-up to Christmas.

Couples or families often stroll hand in hand along the riverbank.

Every Christmas in the past, her parents would take her for a walk along the Thames, all the way to the opposite side of Big Ben.

When the clock strikes midnight, the people gathered there will cheer and celebrate the arrival of the new year.

Unfortunately, her parents won't be able to spend Christmas with her this year.

Fortunately, she wasn't alone.

The distant bells slowly rang out.

Hermione peeked out from the windowsill and looked at the windowsill next door.

That was John's room, and the lights were already off.

Her gaze lingered on the window, lost in thought, a beautiful smile playing on her lips.