HP: She married Malfoy after becoming an exchange student.

As dawn broke, Elias finally finished dealing with those troublesome tasks and had just sealed the letter to the Department of Trade at the Ministry of Magic when he received a reply from Draco.

A familiar tap came from the window, and the owl I had seen just yesterday landed skillfully on the windowsill, clutching a note in its claws.

Draco only wrote a few hasty words: "Three cartloads of spruce? You're smart. If the elves can't understand the blueprints, I'll have Dobby bring the pruning instructions—don't expect me to admit any improvement in your aesthetic sense."

In the lower right corner of the letter, there was a crooked, simple line drawing: a spruce tree circled in the air, with a hastily drawn checkmark on the trunk and a tiny asterisk next to it, representing someone's awkward approval.

Elias traced the arrowhead from the crooked tree to the straight tree with his fingertips, his smile softening slightly compared to the night before.

He stacked the notepad and the previous crooked spruce scroll together and put them in the drawer. Then he pulled out a sheet of silver-patterned stationery, dipped his quill pen in the inkwell, and the quill made a light, rustling sound as it touched the paper.

"The three cartloads of spruce trees have crossed the English Channel. The little elf says the trees are three times more symmetrical than the sample you drew."

If you're free during the Christmas holidays, how about spending a few days in Germany? There's a family-run farm on the edge of the Black Forest that houses moon deer that sing lullabies and silver foxes that leave glowing footprints in the snow—much more interesting than those silvered candlesticks in your manor.

"Stay at my place then. I recently blended a new wine with the essence of fire from a salamander. It's warm and comforting, and I'm sure you'll like it."

Elias paused, then shifted his tone slightly: "If you'd like, I can introduce you to my friends in Germany. Of course, if you'd rather stay at Malfoy Manor counting silverwares, I wouldn't mind leaving the cinnamon cookies for the house-elves."

A day later, Elias received a reply in the morning mist.

Draco's words this time were filled with joy: "Moon Deer!!! I've never seen one in person before! As for Silver Fox, what is that? I hope their claws aren't as sharp as Elois's; it almost tore my velvet cloak last time."

"My mother was going to visit my cousin in France during the Christmas holidays, and my father was busy taking inventory of the old wines in the cellar, so I happened to have some free time."

"Write down the address clearly. Don't expect me to wander around the Black Forest looking for your shabby manor—and don't give the cinnamon cookies to the elves. Save them all for me."

Elias flipped through the letter. This time, Draco didn't draw the crooked-necked spruce; he only wrote a line of tiny words: "Flame Essence Wine? You'd better make sure it's really good."

Elias chuckled as he held the letter. The morning light streamed through the window and fell on the words "Just happened to have some free time," giving the cool-toned paper a warm glow.

He folded the reply into a small square, put it in the drawer as usual, and turned to the house-elf, instructing, "Clean up the room next to mine, decorate it nicely, and keep the fireplace at a constant temperature."

Elias paused for a moment, "Hmm... also prepare some chilled pumpkin juice, just in case someone doesn't like flamingo."

The house-elf nodded in agreement and hurried off to prepare.

……

Malfoy Estate one day ago:

Upon receiving Elias's invitation, Draco knocked over the water glass with a "crash," shattering it into pieces.

Draco burst into the study like a cannonball. Lucius was rolling up the latest issue of the Daily Prophet with his snake-headed cane, while Narcissa sat in a velvet armchair, trimming white roses on the windowsill with small silver scissors.

"Father, Mother," he deliberately slowed his pace, rubbing his fingertips on the strap of his velvet satchel, "Elijas of the Reinhardt family invited me to their estate and said he would take me to the Black Forest to see silver foxes and moon deer."

Lucius's fingers, which were turning the pages of the newspaper, paused, and his snake-eyed cane shrank back in the shadows: "Reinhardt?"

He put down the newspaper, his pale fingers tapping lightly on the table. "Their territory borders the heart of the Black Forest, which is more classy than your friends who only know how to swing their wands on Quidditch pitches."

"Were you close to him at Hogwarts?" Lucius suddenly asked. The little dragon had mentioned Elias a few times in his letters, and he'd previously assumed the two had a fairly good relationship, but now he'd even invited him to his own manor.

Lucius slowly stroked his cane. The Malfoy family was currently in a delicate period, and it was important to understand that ordinary friendship and an invitation to visit the manor were two different things.

Narcissa stopped pruning the flowers, her gaze gentle yet probing: "Yes, Draco, is Elias particularly close to you at school?"

She was always more concerned about her son's situation in social circles, fearing that he might be wronged or looked down upon—although it was impossible for the Malfoy family to do so with their power.

"Closeness? Mother, you should ask who understands me better than him." Draco's face showed a rare certainty for a young man.

He raised his chin, his tone still carrying his usual pride, but with a touch more sincerity, "Those Slytherin fools only know how to boast about their family collection, not to mention Potter and the others."

Only Elias knew how many errors I marked on the title page of *Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them*, and knew that my favorite drink was pumpkin juice.

He paused, his fingertips unconsciously tracing the Malfoy family crest on the suitcase: "At Hogwarts, no one is more... in sync with us." The word came out somewhat awkwardly, but it made Lucius and Narcissa exchange a glance.

"Looks like this isn't just a boring social engagement." Lucius picked up the newspaper again, his tone devoid of emotion, but he didn't press for details. "In that case, we should act like Malfoy and not let people think we're making a fuss over nothing."

"Since we're going to stay at a manor in the Black Forest, we can't act like a clueless little wizard." He glanced at his son. "What are you standing there for? Have the elves prepare some decent clothes for you. The Floo Net won't wait for anyone tomorrow morning."

Draco seemed to have been suddenly put on a start button; his earlier excitement instantly transformed into the motivation to act.

He practically turned and rushed towards the door, but then remembered something and turned back, stiffening his neck, to add, "I'm not in such a hurry to see him—it's the silver-furred fox cub from the Black Forest, I've wanted to see it for ages!"

After saying that, she disappeared at the end of the corridor like a gust of wind, leaving Lucius raising an eyebrow at the air. Narcissa had already gotten up and was walking towards the storage room with a smile on her lips—she needed to find the travel cloak embroidered with the Malfoy family crest first, since the nights in the Black Forest were always cooler than those in the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts.

That night, in Draco's bedroom:

Moonlight streamed through the diamond-shaped window, spilling onto the open storage box.

He tucked the silver telescope into a corner, folded the anti-curse handkerchief his mother had prepared, and carefully placed a copy of "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them" on top of his clothes.

Tucked inside the pages was a drawing of a silver fox he had secretly made, the tip of its tail repeatedly drawn to be fluffier than in the book.

"Young master, should I put your spare wand in as well?" Dobby's big ears twitched.

Draco closed the case, the metal latch clicking crisply. "No need. You don't need to point your wand at anyone to see magical creatures."

As he turned, the hem of his robe brushed against the bedside table, on which lay the invitation letter from Elias, its six-pointed star pattern, stamped with wax, gleaming faintly in the moonlight.