HP: She married Malfoy after becoming an exchange student.

After the Sorting Ceremony, the prefects led the new students through the maze-like corridors to the Slytherin common room.

On the damp stone wall, green torches flickered, casting long and short shadows of everyone.

"This way, keep up!" The prefect's voice echoed down the corridor.

Draco deliberately walked ahead, his platinum blonde hair shimmering like flowing silver threads in the firelight.

Pansy followed closely beside him, chattering about the rules of Slytherin, while Draco kept glancing at Elias out of the corner of his eye—the German boy walked a little further away, his long silver-gray hair gleaming coldly in the torchlight, seemingly indifferent to everything around him.

Theodore and the others followed behind, occasionally exchanging a few words in hushed tones, always revolving around the "influence of the Reinhardt family." Draco listened intently, feeling inexplicably irritated, as if a strange beast had intruded into his territory.

The common room was hidden behind a stone door engraved with snake patterns. The prefect whispered "pureblood" and the stone door slowly slid open.

The room was filled with a faint scent of the sea, the walls were smooth black stone, and the flames in the fireplace were a ghostly green, making everyone's faces appear somewhat bluish.

"The freshman dorms are in the east corridor, two people per room." The prefect handed out brass name tags, "Find the room corresponding to your name."

Draco took his name tag, which read "Draco Malfoy" and next to it was another name—"Elijas von Reinhardt".

"What?!" He nearly crushed the designer brand in his hand. "I'm going to live with him?"

The prefect frowned. "This is an arrangement by the academy, based on family reputation and entrance exam scores. Any objections?"

Draco opened his mouth, but swallowed his words. In Slytherin, questioning a prefect was a shameful thing, especially not in front of Elias.

He glared at Elias, who was walking towards him, then turned and headed towards the dormitory corridor.

Elias followed at a leisurely pace, the black leather suitcase still hovering beside him like a silent shadow.

The dormitory was spacious and exquisitely decorated—two carved beds were placed opposite each other, with silver candlesticks on the bedside tables, and the window faced the Black Lake, where you could see the tentacles of giant squid swimming by.

Draco had just tossed his luggage onto the bed when he saw Elias open his suitcase. Inside were neatly folded dark robes and several bundles of parchment tied with red rope, clearly family documents.

"Stay away from my things." Draco stood by the bed with his arms crossed, like a cat guarding its territory.

Elias glanced at Draco's haphazardly thrown luggage, said nothing, and simply waved his hand. Draco's luggage suddenly jumped up on its own, and socks, shirts, and textbooks flew into the closet, folding neatly.

"You—" Draco's face flushed with anger, "Who asked you to meddle in my business!"

"We can't let the Malfoy family's young master sleep in a garbage dump." Elias walked to his bedside and sat down, his long, silver-grey hair cascading over the black bedspread. "Classes start tomorrow. Where's your potions textbook?"

"What's it to you!" Draco retorted, but subconsciously rummaged through his bag—sure enough, he had left "Potions and Magic" at the manor in his haste to leave that morning.

Elias seemed to see through his predicament, pulled a book from his suitcase, and tossed it to him: "The Reinhardt family's translation is more detailed than the English version."

Draco caught the book; the cover had a German title in gold lettering, and the paper was so thick it didn't look like a textbook. He wanted to say, "I don't need your stuff," but then he remembered his father saying, "The Reinhardt family's potions manual is the most authoritative in all of Europe," and his fingers unconsciously began to stroke the cover.

Pansy's voice came from the hallway: "Draco? Want to go to the common room for hot cocoa? Theodore said he brought mead—"

"I'm not going!" Draco shouted at the door, his cheeks burning. He glanced at Elias, who was looking down at family documents, his profile appearing particularly cold in the candlelight, and suddenly felt that his earlier refusal had been a bit too hasty.

Pansy's footsteps faded into the distance. The dormitory fell silent, save for the occasional crackling of the fire in the fireplace.

Draco lay in bed, staring at the serpentine carving on the ceiling, his mind a jumble of thoughts—Harry Potter's rejection, Elias's meddling, Pansy's enthusiasm… and tomorrow's classes. He didn't want to be the professor's target on the first day for forgetting his textbook.

"Hey," he suddenly spoke, his voice unusually clear in the quiet room, "Does your translation... have annotations?"

Elias looked up, his silver-gray eyes gleaming in the candlelight: "The Reinhardt family's books are never incomprehensible to their readers."

Draco snorted and opened his textbook. Sure enough, the edges of the pages were covered with annotations in silver-gray ink, the handwriting neat and easy to understand than the textbook itself.

He was so engrossed in watching that he didn't notice Elias's gaze lingering on him for a moment, like a fish peeking out of a black lake before quickly sinking back to the bottom.

Ripples spread across the black lake outside the window, and moonlight shone through the water into the dormitory, casting shimmering spots of light on the floor.

The fire in the fireplace gradually died down, until only a few embers flickered in the ashes. Elias closed the book, his silver-gray gaze falling on the bed opposite him.

Draco was already asleep, his platinum blonde hair spread messily on the pillow, with a few unruly strands sticking up like dandelions that had just been blown by the wind.

He must have been dreaming about something; his brows furrowed slightly, his lips moved, and he uttered a muffled murmur that sounded like he was cursing an "idiot"—most likely thinking of the red-haired Weasley, or Potter who had rejected him during the day.

Elias silently rose and walked to Draco's bedside. The boy's cheeks glowed with a porcelain-white luster in the moonlight, his long, thick eyelashes drooping quietly, no longer displaying the fierce demeanor of the day, but instead revealing a touch of childlike softness.

Draco's gaze fell on the bedside table—he was holding the German translation of Potions in his arms, the corners of the book slightly curled up, clearly he was so engrossed in reading it before bed that he forgot to put it down.

Draco's own silk pajamas had a crooked neckline, revealing a small patch of his fair neck, just like the skin he had seen in Madam Malkin's shop, delicate and well-cared for.

"What a young master," Elias muttered to himself, a hint of helplessness in his voice that he himself didn't even realize.

During the day he's like a cat with its fur standing on end, but at night he sleeps so soundly that he doesn't even know someone is standing by his bedside. If he were at the Reinhardt family manor, his father would have already woken him up with cold water.

He reached out and gently brushed his fingertips across Draco's upturned hair, the movement so light it was as if he were touching fragile glass.

Then, he raised his hand to straighten Lydraco's crooked collar, his fingertips "inadvertently" brushing against the other's collarbone, feeling the warm touch.

Draco flinched in his sleep, his brows relaxed, and the corners of his mouth even turned up slightly, as if he were dreaming of something happy.

Elias withdrew his hand, turned, and walked to the window. The Black Lake shimmered silver in the moonlight, and faint roars of beasts echoed from the distant Forbidden Forest.

He recalled his father's words before he left—"The Malfoys are a double-edged sword; you can get close, but don't take them seriously." But looking at the unsuspecting boy on the bed, he felt that this "sword" was much blunter than he had imagined, and also... much more interesting.

He turned and extinguished the candlestick, plunging the dormitory into a soft darkness.

As he lay back on his own bed, he could clearly hear the even breathing coming from the other side.

"Good night, Master Malfoy." Elias closed his eyes, a faint smile curving his lips.

Tomorrow will probably be another day filled with "idiots" and "pretentious people".

However, this seems like a good idea.