HP: She married Malfoy after becoming an exchange student.

The young wizards spent the following days in intense study.

Of all the subjects, the most tedious was the history of magic, which was also the only one taught by a ghost.

Draco and Elias chose a corner by the window, where the long table was divided into two halves by the setting sun, like a magical two-tone cake.

Draco's History of Magic lay open before him, Professor Binns' ghostly handwriting blurred on the pages. He bit his quill, the tip hovering above the parchment—the details of the thirteenth-century goblin rebellion were a tangled mess no matter how he tried to remember them.

"Here," a hand suddenly reached out, its fingertip pointing to the footnote on the page, "connecting the dots with a timeline: the cause of the rebellion, the three attacks, and the eventual suppression."

Elias's voice was low, his breath brushing against Draco's ear, carrying a faint, cool fragrance, like a feather fan gently scratching the tip of his heart.

Draco's pen trembled, and a drop of ink landed abruptly next to the words "Pure-blood families participate in suppressing the rebellion."

Draco hasn't spoken to Elias for two days since Elias's question about being a "good boy."

It was obvious that Elias had angered Draco.

The young master was like a small animal peeking out of a cave entrance, and Elias's sudden mischievousness had clearly stepped on his tail.

Draco wanted to get away from Elias, but the space was too limited, and his shoulder eventually bumped against Elias's arm, their sleeves brushing together, the green and silver-gray fabrics overlapping.

"Don't move."

Elias held his wrist, picked up a quill with his other hand, and drew a small goblin outline next to the ink dot—round nose, pointed ears, holding a crooked spear in his hand, which was somewhat comical.

"That way it won't be noticeable."

Draco stared at the goblin, finally finding some interest in Professor Binns's tedious lecture.

Besides Draco and his companion's clandestine affair, the long table opposite them was also not behaving themselves.

Ron poked Harry's arm with his pencil, pointed at Hermione's open Old Rune Dictionary, and mouthed "pretentious." Hermione seemed not to see it, but turned the pages faster, her eyelashes casting faint shadows under her eyes.

Draco noticed Ron's commotion and recalled Weasley's foolishness in mistaking stars during astronomy class that morning, as well as Granger's red-rimmed eyes during Charms class. He almost instinctively prepared to have a good "discussion" with the person next to him, but then he remembered that he was still angry with Elias.

After much hesitation, Draco decided to give Elias a chance.

Young Master Malfoy opened his mouth, about to say something to Elias, when he saw the other push his German notebook over, which contained a different account of the goblin rebellion marked in silver-gray ink—much more detailed than the textbook.

"Here, see. Don't be angry anymore, okay?"

As Elias withdrew his hand, his fingertips brushed against the back of Draco's hand. "The Reinhardt family archives contain records of our participation in the war."

"Who said they wanted to watch it?!"

That being said, Draco decided to forgive Elias, considering that Elias was somewhat reasonable. So, although the platinum-blonde head was still drooping, his gaze kept drifting towards the notebook beside him.

The sunlight slanted in through the window, making half of the person's body feel hot.

Elias's hair was getting a bit long, with silver-gray strands hanging down, a few of which clung to Draco's hand, making it a little itchy.

"Your hair..." Draco mumbled.

Elias raised a hand to brush his hair aside. "Is it in the way?"

"no."

The sunlight was getting stronger, which made me irritable.

Draco grabbed his quill and wrote quickly. When he got to the "key battle to quell the rebellion," his eyes lit up, and he drew a small six-pointed star in the corner of the book—exactly the same as the mark on Elias's star map.

As if afraid Elias wouldn't see it, Draco even pushed the book to the side.

Elias glanced at it, but said nothing, and instead added a few strokes to the corner of his notebook.

"???"

This piqued Draco's curiosity, and he peered over to see what Elias was drawing.

Just as Draco was about to "see his true face," Professor Binns suddenly floated by, startling Ron across from him, who hurriedly buried his face in his textbook, forcing Draco to abandon his investigation plan.

Given Professor Binns's constant hovering and inspection of the classroom, some of the young wizards had to restrain their fidgeting, and the classroom returned to silence.

As the sun gradually set, it cast a long shadow on the table.

Finally, get out of class was over.

Elias closed his notebook and noticed that, without him noticing, a small, silver-gray owl had appeared next to the goblin he had just drawn, the little creature tilting its head and looking at him.

"Well done," Elias praised Draco's drawing skills this time.

Draco's face lit up with a smug look. "Of course."

The two of them tacitly packed up their books and walked out of the classroom side by side.

Outside, some careless little wizard must have let his pet escape, making a lot of noise.

An owl flashed past the window, its wings stirring up a gust of wind that made the curtains sway gently.

————————————————————

The lesson the whole class was truly looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Professor Quirrell's lesson turned out to be almost a joke.

He was wrapped in a thick purple scarf, almost burying his nose in it, and his voice was muffled, as if he had a stone in his mouth: "Today we'll learn...how to protect ourselves from vampires..."

Quirrell, trembling, held up a tattered copy of "Dark Powers: A Guide to Self-Defense." "Vampires...vampires are afraid of garlic and crosses..." he said, pulling a bunch of garlic from his pocket and holding it high, his scarf swaying as he spoke. "N-nothing, we mustn't let them bite our necks..."

The lesson was clearly not very effective, and the noisy chatter of the young wizards began to rise intermittently from the audience.

Ron chuckled from the Gryffindor side, nudging Harry with his elbow and making an exaggerated expression: "Is he afraid of becoming a snack for vampires?"

Harry didn't laugh, staring at the section of Professor Quirrell's neck peeking out from under his scarf—he had a feeling that something was lurking in that shadow, making the back of his neck feel cold.

Draco, sitting in the front row of Slytherin, deliberately moved his chair closer to Elias and said in a voice only the two of them could hear, "Look at him, he's not even as brave as a house-elf."

Elias didn't reply, his fingertips lightly tracing the handle of his wand—which was engraved with tiny defensive runes.

The silver-haired boy's gaze lingered on Professor Quirrell's trembling hands, and he frowned. "His scarf hides something more troublesome than a vampire."

Draco frowned, about to press further, when Professor Quirrell suddenly shivered, the string of garlic in his hand falling to the floor with a "thud" and rolling under the Gryffindor desk. Ron jumped up dramatically: "Merlin, get away from me! I don't want to smell garlic all year round!"

The nearby lion cubs were amused and burst into laughter, and for a moment no one bothered to help Quirrell pick up his things.

Finally, Hermione bent down to pick up the garlic cloves and handed them back to Professor Quirrell. Her voice was clear: "Professor, the book says that what's truly effective is the aspen wand and wolfsbane extract. Garlic can only temporarily repel low-level vampires."

Professor Quirrell hurriedly took the scarf, which slipped down a little, revealing a dark red mark on his neck, as if he had been strangled by something.

"Thank you so much, Miss Granger..." His voice trembled even more as he hurriedly pulled his scarf tighter. "I...we shall continue..."

Draco glanced at Quirrell, who was trembling on the podium, and then at Hermione, who was sitting upright. Just as he was about to utter a sigh of "Granger actually knows quite a lot," he felt Elias's arm gently touch him, gesturing for him to look at the podium.

"Look at his hands," Elias said softly. "The way he's holding the book is wrong."

Draco looked closely and noticed that Professor Quirrell's fingers were stiff, turning the pages like a puppet on strings, with his knuckles showing an abnormal bluish-white tinge, which was quite eerie.

Sunlight streamed through the window, casting a shadow on the back of his hand, the shape of which resembled a curled-up hand.

"It's a little scary." Draco subconsciously moved closer to Elias, his shoulder brushing against the other's school uniform, feeling a warmth beneath the fabric.

Elias didn't move, but simply pushed his wand towards him, the silver markings on the tip gleaming in the light: "Don't be afraid, if there's a real problem, Dumbledore will step in."

Draco felt comforted, but wouldn't admit it: "Who's afraid? I just think he's tarnished the Defense Against the Dark Arts class." As he spoke, he moved closer to Elias, letting their shadows get even closer on the ground.

As soon as the bell rang, Professor Quirrell rushed out of the classroom in a panic, clutching his books. His scarf swept across the threshold behind him, bringing with it a gust of wind that smelled of garlic.

Ron's complaints continued: "This class is so boring, I'd rather watch Quidditch practice." Harry listened quietly, raising his hand to touch the scar on his forehead, lost in thought.

As Draco and Elias walked down the corridor, the smell of garlic gradually faded.

"There's definitely someone behind Quirrell," Draco said confidently.

Elias nodded, his long, silver-gray hair falling over his shoulders, obscuring the emotions in his eyes: "But don't worry about him now, stay away from him."

"..."

"???"

After not hearing a reply for a while, Elias turned his head and found that Draco was engrossed in something again, his platinum head turning around with great interest, clearly not having listened to what he had just said.

"Sigh," Elias sighed, "Let's take it slow, there's still plenty of time."

"Draco," the boy's gaze fell on Draco's wind-blown hair, and he reached out to tidy it up, his fingertips feeling slightly cool. "I'll teach you defensive spells. Next time you encounter Professor Quirrell alone, stay far away, understand?"

Draco's ears instantly turned bright red, and he slapped Draco's hand away: "Don't touch my head! I don't need you to teach me!" With that, he ran away like a gust of wind.

Elias had no choice but to follow.

On the stone wall of the corridor, the shadows of the two people walking side by side stretched long, extending to the edge of the wall, swaying gently.