HP: She married Malfoy after becoming an exchange student.

Morning light streamed through the window, flowing down the folds of the curtains and spreading a pale yellow hue across the carpet.

Draco's breathing was even and long, his eyelashes fluttering; he was clearly sleeping soundly.

"Knock knock knock"

A soft knock came from outside the door, the rhythm neither hurried nor slow, carrying a sense of just the right amount of restraint.

Still drowsy, Draco opened his eyes groggily, his grey pupils misty with tears. The warmth of the hand warmer still lingered in the bedding. He steadied himself, sat up, and hugged the blanket before calling out, "Come in."

With a soft creak as the door hinges turned, Elias's voice drifted in, mingled with the chill of the outside air: "Awake? Breakfast will be ready soon. Shining made bacon and eggs."

Draco huddled under the covers, curling himself into a ball to resist Elias's "wake-up service."

Clearly, our young Malfoy hasn't had enough sleep yet.

Draco waited for a while, but when he didn't hear Elias make any more noise, he couldn't hold back any longer.

The "little ball" silently cracked open, revealing a platinum-gold head flashing by—he was peeking at Elias at the doorway, who was standing by the doorframe looking at him. He must have left in the morning, as there were still unmelted snowflakes clinging to his dark coat.

"Hmm? How come hair is growing on this blanket?" Elias said with a smile, looking at the snow-white clump stuck to the bed and the platinum blonde hair exposed by someone.

Draco: Damn it!!!

As if realizing the childishness of his behavior, Draco abruptly lifted the "sphere" and got out of bed before Elias could say anything more provocative.

The platinum-haired young master stood on the bed with his hands on his hips, looking so energetic that he was practically ready to play Quidditch, only needing a cape to catch his breath. He was incredibly aggressive.

Elias knew he was a little shy, so he didn't bring up the dangerous topic of "blanket" again, and helped him get his clothes while saying, "The snow has stopped outside, but it's windy, wear this."

Draco was pleased with Elias's pragmatism, his fingertips hooking the shirt Elias offered. Neither spoke as they put it on, the only sound the soft rustling of fabric, until Draco's fingers paused as he tied his tie—the silver-gray tie he'd specifically chosen before bed was still uneven this morning.

Just as he was about to frown, he heard a soft sigh. Elias approached and skillfully tied his bow tie with his fingertips. "Don't frown," he said. "When Shanshan brings up the pumpkin porridge, she'll start nagging again if she sees you like this."

Draco turned his face away; Elias's silver hair slid down his neck, tickling him.

The morning light outside the window shone through the gauze curtains, casting tiny shadows on the lowered eyelashes of the person intently tying their tie.

Draco was inexplicably agitated, and finally managed to squeeze out through gritted teeth, "I know."

The windows downstairs were open, and the stair railing was still a bit cool. Draco gripped the sash of his cloak and walked forward, already smelling the aroma of toasted bread.

Several pairs of elf slippers were laid out on the rug by the kitchen door. Sparkle came out carrying a silver tray, her eyes lighting up when she saw them: "Young Master! Mr. Draco! The bacon is freshly fried and still warm!"

A dark green tablecloth covered the long table, and crispy bacon was piled on a silver plate. Next to it was a soft-boiled fried egg, and steaming pumpkin porridge filled the room with the sweet aroma of butter.

Elias pulled out a chair and tapped the table with his knuckles: "Try the pumpkin porridge. Shining added honey today."

Draco sat down opposite him, his gaze sweeping across a corner of the table—where a small silver bookmark lay, the very one he had given him, now tucked between the pages of a book.

He paused in scooping the porridge, and when he looked up, he met Elias's gaze. Elias had a mischievous smile in his eyes, but didn't say anything. He just pushed the jar of jam toward him.

The sunlight outside the window was intense, casting several small black dots on the floor.

Draco lowered his head and took a sip of pumpkin porridge. The sweetness of the honey slid down his throat, warming him just right.

She forked another piece of bacon and put it in her mouth. The crispy edges released a savory aroma of oil when she bit into them. The yolk of the soft-boiled egg flowed out with the slightest touch. Eating it with bread perfectly balanced the saltiness of the bacon. Shanshan's cooking skills are truly excellent.

"Would you like to go to the Black Forest to see the Moon Deer later?" Elias suddenly asked, his fingertips brushing against the corner of his pale lips.

"We can go this afternoon. Aren't you going to take me to see Reinhardt Manor?" Draco put down his knife and fork, his fingertips unconsciously rubbing the edge of the silver spoon. "I didn't get a chance to see it last night. I can't keep being blind forever."

Elias rolled up his sleeves to his forearms, his silver-gray hair hanging over his forehead. When he gently brushed it aside, his silver-gray eyes shone with a faint, clear light in the morning light.

He loosened his collar, his fingertips tracing a casual line across his neck: "My room is really nothing special."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the scattered snowflakes falling outside the window: "I have few things left in the manor, just some simple daily necessities, a few changes of clothes, and half a shelf of books I haven't finished reading."

"Hmm?" Draco raised an eyebrow.

Actually, he had only asked casually and wasn't very interested, but Elias's refusal made him even more interested.

"Tch, I don't believe the heir to the prestigious Reinhardt family would have so little in his bedroom!" Draco began to unleash his ultimate weapon. "Just let me see! Please, Elias~"

The young master was secretly pleased with himself. Based on his observation, as long as he spoke like this, Elias would not refuse any of his requests. This trick had never failed him.

As expected, Elias looked at Draco with a headache, but still nodded in agreement, appearing quite helpless and unable to do anything about it.

Elias's bedroom was on the third floor of the manor. Draco was taken aback when he pushed open the heavy oak door.

The room was much simpler than he had imagined: a bed with dark green curtains hanging around it, several notebooks spread out on the black walnut desk, and bookshelves against the wall crammed with classics; the entire bedroom was frighteningly simple.

"You really live here?" Draco frowned. "Even a house-elves' storerooms are more lively than this."

Elias leaned against the doorframe, his tone calm: "My father believed that extravagance would corrupt the will."

He walked to the bookshelf, his fingertips tracing the gilded spines of the books: "Advanced Transfiguration Theory," "Atlas of Norse Dragons," "The Evolution of Quidditch Tactics,"...

Draco raised an eyebrow: "You study Quidditch?"

"Just prepared this." Elias pulled out a book titled "The Complete Guide to the Nimbus Series Brooms," with "For DM" written on the title page. "After all, you're running for Seeker next year."

Draco took the book, opened the pages, and found that each chapter had German annotations, the handwriting as neat as printed text.

"Your bedroom..." The blond young master seemed at a loss for words, finally managing to stammer, "At least... at least there should be a Quidditch poster!"

Elias laughed: "Then bring one next time." He seemed to agree that Draco would come many more times.

"Hmph! We'll see, depending on my mood!" Draco shook him off and turned to go downstairs. But as he reached the top of the stairs, he made a startling discovery and immediately called out, "Elijas!"

The black eagle in the oil painting in front of me has its wings spread out, looking very majestic. Its wings are constantly shaking, and the snowflakes falling in the painting drift to my nose, which actually makes me feel a chill.

"The Reinhardt family's morning ritual," Elias's voice drifted slowly from behind, "each snowflake carries the magical memories of our ancestors."

Draco raised his hand and caught a snowflake, watching it slowly melt in his palm.

"Come on, let me show you around."

Draco followed Elias through the east wing corridor, which was filled with portraits of their ancestors. He could hear the figures in the paintings talking in hushed German, and they would occasionally cast scrutinizing glances at him, making him very uncomfortable.

"Draco, you look like a Niffler who's wandered into a vault." Hearing the deliberately loud footsteps behind him, visibly embarrassed, Elias finally couldn't help but speak up.

Draco: "!!!"

Seeing that someone's face was red with anger, Elias quickly drew his wand, intending to find something to distract Draco.

With a gentle sweep of the wand, ripples suddenly appeared on the floor of the hall, and the light and shadow of the twelve crystal chandeliers flowed on the black marble, gradually forming the constellation Draco.

"Dragon!" Sure enough, Draco looked up.

"This is a memory of the starry sky from 1811." Elias breathed a sigh of relief, seeing Draco's delighted expression. "It will automatically adjust based on important visitors; since Draco is here, it will naturally be the constellation Draco."

"Who told you to call him Little Dragon!" One sentence was enough to make Draco's head smoke again.

"Alright, don't be angry, it was my fault," Elias said sincerely. "How about I treat you to some Flame Wine?"

"That's more like it!"