HP: She married Malfoy after becoming an exchange student.

The black carriage rolled along the gravel road in front of Malfoy Manor, the sound of its wheels hitting the ground particularly clear in the twilight.

Draco clung to the car window, watching the lights of Diagon Alley gradually shrink into distant stars. The inexplicable unease in his heart had not yet dissipated—that Elias Reinhardt, and his words "I hope your wand is harder than your mouth," were like a tiny thorn stuck in his mind.

"What are you thinking about?" Narcissa put down the small silver mirror in her hand and gently brushed her fingertips across the top of his hair. "You didn't look too good at Madam Malkin's shop just now."

Draco turned his face away: "It's nothing. I just find that Reinhardt really annoying; he talks in a sarcastic way."

Lucius, sitting opposite him, snorted coldly, twirling the snake-shaped ring on his ring finger: "The Reinhardt family has always been adept at scheming."

Unlike us, who focus on the power dynamics of the British wizarding world, they extend their reach far and wide—from the distribution of magical potions and the trade of rare magical materials to the transnational transport of magical artifacts. They practically control the entire commercial fabric of the German wizarding world.

"The Reinhardt and Bach families are even related by marriage—the family that controls evening primrose" (This refers to Elias's engagement to the only daughter of the Bach family, and it's a fictional setting that evening primrose is a key material for the core of German magic wands).

He recalled Elias's seemingly calm, silver-grey eyes, and his tone deepened. "Old Reinhardt's health has been failing lately, and I've heard he's handed over most of the family affairs to this son. Rumors are circulating that Elias's first task upon coming of age is to use the expansion of the business empire to completely consolidate the loose power structure of the German Ministry of Magic."

Draco blinked. "So...they have business dealings with our family?"

“We’ve only done a few small transactions before,” Lucius leaned back in his chair, his fingertips tapping his knees. “But the Reinhardt family’s ambitions go beyond that. They need access to the British market, and we…”

He paused, not saying anything more, but Narcissa had already gently taken his hand—everyone knew that relying on Voldemort's power was like dancing on a knife's edge, and there would always be a day when one needed to retreat.

"So, it seems like he went to Hogwarts to scout things out."

Narcissa's voice was soft, carrying a hint of barely perceptible consideration, "If we can facilitate a business alliance between Reinhardt and Malfoy, we will have an extra layer of protection no matter what storms we encounter in the future."

She looked at Draco, her gaze gentle yet suggestive, "Perhaps you could try to get along with him, Draco."

"Who wants to get along with him!" Draco retorted immediately, his cheeks burning slightly. He remembered Elias's fingers holding the sycamore leaf, and the way Elias's long, silver-gray hair fluttered as he turned away, and his mind suddenly felt a jumble of emotions.

The carriage slowly drove into the manor gate, the tall stone pillars casting silent shadows in the twilight.

As Draco jumped off the carriage, he deliberately straightened his back, but couldn't help glancing back at the direction of Diagon Alley.

He thought that even if they were to form a "business alliance," he would have to be in a better position—after all, he was the heir to the Malfoy family.

The night breeze swept across the manor's neatly manicured lawns, and the distant clock tower struck seven. In the lingering echo, one could almost hear the Hogwarts Express's whistle sounding a month from now.

At that time, no one knew that the young men from the two families would weave a web within the stone walls of the ancient castle that was far more tightly intertwined than a commercial alliance.

…………

On September 1st, at King's Cross Station, steam billowed in the morning mist, resembling a giant white monster coiled around the platform.

Draco stood on Platform 9¾, carrying his silver-rimmed suitcase. His platinum blonde hair was ruffled by the wind—Narcissus had just straightened his bow tie, which made him frown and tug at it irritably.

"Remember, Draco," Lucius's voice was deep and authoritative as he reached out to fasten his son's bow tie, the cool touch of the snake ring brushing against Draco's neck. "Malfoys can only be Slytherins. Don't get too close to those Mudbloods and half-bloods, and especially don't... bring shame to the family."

Draco nodded vigorously. "I know, Father." He glanced at the Weasleys noisily carrying their luggage not far away, their red hair standing out conspicuously in the crowd. He couldn't help but scoff. "I wouldn't bother with people like the Weasleys."

Narcissa gave him a gentle hug, her scent mingling with her usual white rose perfume: "Take care of yourself. If anything happens, send a letter by owl."

"Oh, right," she paused, her gaze sweeping across the other end of the platform as if searching for something, "if we run into the Reinhardt children again... there's no need to deliberately distance ourselves."

Draco's ears inexplicably burned: "I know, Mom." He wouldn't do anything on purpose; that guy with the long silver-gray hair better not appear in front of him.

Just then, a low gasp came from the end of the platform. Draco looked in the direction of the sound and his heart skipped a beat—Elijas von Reinhardt was emerging from the thick fog.

He changed into a dark gray wizarding uniform (the standard style for Hogwarts, without yet wearing the house badge), with a black silk bow tie at the collar. His long silver-gray hair was still loosely tied back, with a few stray strands falling beside his cheeks and swaying gently with his steps.

Unlike the students around him carrying large bags and bundles, he carried only a simple black leather suitcase with a subtle six-pointed star emblem on the corner (the Reinhardt family crest).

The young wizards around him were all secretly observing him.

Several children, who were clearly from a pure-blood family, huddled together and whispered among themselves. Draco vaguely heard things like "from Germany," "the Reinhardt family," and "supposedly very rich."

Even a few children dressed in ordinary wizard robes on the other side were pointing in Elias's direction, their eyes shining with curiosity.

"Pretentious," Draco muttered under his breath, but involuntarily straightened his back. He couldn't let himself be outdone.

Elias seemed to notice his gaze and looked over through the crowd.

His silver-grey eyes were like two deep pools of water on the noisy platform. Although they were expressionless, they made Draco feel inexplicably guilty. He turned his face away, pretending to adjust the buttons on his cuffs, but the tips of his ears were burning hot.

"Time to get in the car, Draco." Lucius patted him on the shoulder, his gaze lingering on Elias for a moment before returning to his own. "Remember what I said."

Draco grunted in response and turned to step onto the train's footboard.

The carriage was already quite full. Several pure-blood children were gathered in the front compartment, and when they saw him enter, they greeted him, "Malfoy! There are empty seats here!"

Just as he was about to walk over, he caught a glimpse of the carriage next to him out of the corner of his eye—Elijas was sitting by the window, a black book open on his lap, his long silver-gray hair falling onto the pages, his profile outlined in the morning light.

Almost instinctively, Draco turned and walked toward that cubicle.

With a loud thud, he tossed his suitcase into the aisle, deliberately making a loud noise. Elias looked up, closed his book, his silver-grey eyes showing no surprise, as if he had expected him to come.

"The young master of the Malfoy family," he gestured to the seat opposite him, his tone flat, "still prefers to use noise to assert his presence?"

"Mind your own business!" Draco opened the door, sat down, crossed his arms, and glared at the other person. "This train isn't yours to sit wherever I want."

Even so, he couldn't help but examine Elias's book—the cover had no words, only a gold-embossed emblem, like a shield wrapped in vines, somewhat resembling the Reinhardt family crest.

Elias seemed to read his mind and pushed the book towards him: "The family's business ledger."

"Who wants to see your ledgers!" Draco immediately turned his face away, but he was a little surprised—wizards his age were either studying Quidditch or thinking up pranks, who would want to look at something like this?

The compartment fell silent, with only the clatter of wheels rolling over the rails.

Draco glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and saw Elias looking down at the ledger again, his fingers sliding quickly across the pages, occasionally pausing to make annotations with a quill pen.

Sunlight streamed through the car window, illuminating his hair with a faint golden edge, which softened his otherwise cold and aloof demeanor somewhat.

"Hey," Draco cleared his throat, breaking the silence, "is your family really doing a lot of business in Germany, like my father said?"

Elias raised his eyes, a hint of a smile flashing in his silver-grey pupils: "Mr. Lucius is certainly well-informed. The Reinhardt family's trading network does indeed cover most of Europe."

He paused, closed the book, and said, "For example, the transportation of raw materials for magical potions, the mining rights for rare ores, and... the international supply of wand workshops."

Draco's ears perked up. His father had mentioned yesterday that one of the Malfoy family's wand stores was short of a batch of premium unicorn fur and apparently had a falling out with the supplier. Just as he was about to ask further, he heard the cubicle door open, and Crabbe and Goyle poked their heads in.

"Malfoy, we've been looking for you for so long—" The two stopped abruptly when they saw Elias, clearly intimidated by his aura.

Draco frowned. "What is it?"

"N-nothing." Crabbe scratched his head and pulled Goyle away quickly.

Elias watched their retreating figures, a faint smile playing on his lips: "Your lackey doesn't seem very bright."

"Mind your own business!" Draco's face flushed again. "They're much better than some pretentious Germans!"

"Oh?" Elias leaned closer, his long, silver-gray hair cascading between them, carrying a cool, refreshing scent. "Like, 'certain people' who were startled by a fallen leaf in Madam Malkin's shop?"

"I wasn't scared at all!" Draco jerked back, bumping into the suitcase behind him. "That...that's what I let you take on purpose!"

Elias chuckled softly, a sound as gentle as a silver bell in the wind. Draco then noticed that when Elias laughed, a slight curve appeared at the corner of his eye, unlike his usual cold demeanor.

"Alright," Elias straightened up, picked up the ledger again, "you win, Malfoy."

The scenery outside the train carriage gradually changed from the city to the fields, with green grass stretching into the distance like a carpet.

Draco looked out the window, and his frustration inexplicably vanished. He thought, perhaps the Hogwarts Express wasn't so boring after all, at least... much more interesting than discussing the poor Weasley with Crabbe and the others.

He didn't know how much time had passed before he drifted off to sleep, leaning back in his chair. In his hazy state, he felt something soft fall on his shoulder—fragrant, like a quiet snowflake.

When he woke up, he only saw Elias looking down at a book, his long silver-gray hair hanging down, as if nothing had happened.

Looking down, he saw a black shawl draped over his shoulders, the edges of which were embroidered with the Reinhardt family crest.

Draco's heart suddenly raced, and he felt unusually embarrassed.

He yanked off his shawl and threw it at the other person, his voice slightly stuttering, "Who...who wants your stuff! I'm not cold!"

Elias took the shawl, said nothing, and simply folded it and placed it aside.

Sunlight streamed through the car window, illuminating his light-colored eyelashes. Draco looked at his face and thought this long-haired German boy was just so-so in annoyance.

The train sounded a long whistle, and in the distance, the spire of a castle slowly emerged from the clouds among the mountains—that was Hogwarts, the place they were about to arrive at.