Bride of the HP Dragon

Bojin came quite early, and he was waiting outside the Round Rock Hotel, a little embarrassed because of the frequent attention of several street girls.

He was dressed in his usual jet-black and greasy clothes, which made it easier for him to wander the dingy corners and alleyways of Knockturn Alley.All in all, he looked the same as the last time Draco had seen him, only a little more bald and his long forehead more open.

"Miss Granger, it's an honor to finally see you." He spoke fluently, stretched out a hand, fingers slightly curled.

Draco hadn't mentioned Hermione in his letter to Borgin, and with Borgin's sophistication the shock didn't affect his hospitality.Draco admitted that it might take a lot of work to surprise Emmanuel Bergin.

"Hello." Hermione's response was short and calm, ignoring the outstretched hand.

She had probably never met Borgin, but Draco guessed she had heard his name.They might need his special connections in heresy, but Granger made it very clear that she didn't appreciate Borgin as a man.

"Okay, then." Borgin's eyes became slightly cold because of this obvious coldness: "Little Mr. Malfoy, shall we begin?"

Hermione threw her first question, and Draco seemed to trust Borgin, but they'd be crazy if they thought she'd follow them anywhere unprepared.

"Where are we going now?"

"I arranged a consultation at the expert's residence," Bokin said as he walked.

"How far?"

"Not far from here."

"How did you find this specialist? I don't see him promoting his services in the local paper."

Borgin paused to give Draco a "is she always like this?" look, and replied, "After contacting Draco, I asked around, and I immediately learned that there was a special person with this talent. The foreigner has recently settled in London. I assure you, this man is very professional. He has decided to set up shop in London's wizarding world and has a solid record."

"Yes," Hermione commented dryly, "I saw the offer. At that price, I'm surprised he didn't send a diamond-encrusted carriage to meet us, which is ridiculous."

"Borkin, just pretend she doesn't exist," Draco interrupted, giving Hermione a small nudge to make her walk faster.The girl had long legs, but her unhurried manner was unpleasant.

Dragging around, Draco believed that was the word he wanted.

"Yes, I'll try," Borgin muttered, in a low voice that Hermione couldn't hear.

The journey is not long, but very interesting.They passed many alleys as narrow as "holes in the wall", and Hagrid would not be able to squeeze through them.

Even after the sun has set, the streets are full of stalls.Perhaps it was because the sun was setting that they appeared.Some street stalls were built precariously over gutters, and there were tattered oilcloths and everything under the sun: jars, racks, cages, crates and hooks.Hermione was amazed at the business going on (illegal no doubt) and the place was full of it.

Arthur Weasley's Ministry of Magic likes to think of itself as the ultimate adjuster of society, but apparently this has been a centuries-old deal that can't be killed in the night by a well-meaning, over-enthusiastic Ministry .

This is enough to prove that Hermione's view of the wizarding world is still very naive, and there are too many things she has not touched, which means that she (and possibly Harry) will easily feel that they have learned from their limited experience. The ideas are, of course, all correct.Hermione doesn't like to think of herself as someone who doesn't know anything, and sometimes she regrets the days when she was running for SPEW, but she doesn't want to put that out just because a towel candidly says what she thinks. Throw away the towel.

She glanced at Draco, who was clearly indifferent to everything around him.She realized that this was all his world, even if it happened to be hers now.Besides Hogwarts, she should really see more here.

Draco and Borgin led the way, not because they wanted to, but because Hermione always stayed behind, looking from shop window displays to street vendors' displays.

An old woman set up a stand next to a candy store, an overturned bucket covered with a dirty linen.On this temporary tablecloth, there are all kinds of beautiful gadgets.

Draco stopped talking to Bokin and looked over his shoulder to see where Hermione was.He took a few steps to her side, grabbing her hands before she touched one of the gadgets.

"Don't touch it," he said.

"why?"

"Poison. You haven't read Snow White?"

The old woman giggled, which, by God, was the laugh of a witch in a fairy tale, and Hermione stared in amazement at the old woman's bulging eyes.

For the umpteenth time that day, she wished she had brought a camera.

She wanted to ask why anyone would want to buy a poison necklace, and then she realized it was a stupid question.

Once again, Draco walked side by side with Borgin, talking about Borgin's business, the current state of the black market economy, and the recent theft of dragon's blood in Hungary that caused prices to quadruple. (Translator's Note: It may have something to do with the Portkey Wormtail gave Blaise, which used dragon blood.) This sounded interesting, so Hermione approached Draco, and even then Draco had to remind her Twice don't get left behind.

It's just that for a curious mind, there's mostly enough distraction here.

The houses their experts rent are compact, two-story town houses with red walls and yellow windows.There were a dozen identical houses in the street, all with numbers on elegant yellow doors.

They have all learned to tilt their heads slightly to the left, so that if someone is watching them, their heads will tilt slightly to the right.Hermione complied when Draco gave her the wink.

They stopped for a while outside the door of "No. 3", and Bo Jin went to ring the doorbell.Draco took off the hat, twirled it in his hand, and stuffed it in his hip pocket.

The door opened almost immediately, and a well-dressed man with blue and green eyes came out to meet them.

"It's you!" Hermione yelled, and immediately recognized him as the pervert who had previously regarded herself as a prostitute.Her hand tightly grasped the packet, ready to swing it out at any moment.

He was grinning at her, the way the Weasley twins grin after a successful prank.

"I'm sorry about the previous incident. I asked Mr. Bo Jin to ask the two of you to arrive before the meeting. Only in this way can I take a good look at you."

Borgin muttered something, looking displeased that he didn't know he was being played.

"Look at us?" Draco looked even more unhappy than Bokin.

"Yes, this is part of the counseling service, and I'm happy to explain it to you." He stood for a moment, giving them time to digest the news: "By the way, my name is Arne, and it looks like I'm here for you guys tonight." FidaMia Specialist of Service," he stepped through the door and made a theatrical welcome gesture: "Come in."

"Do you have a last name, Arne?" Draco walked into the room, Hermione was thinking the same thing, and she thought Draco would be tactful, it seemed he was still angry at being played.

They walked down a narrow carpeted corridor to the second floor, and the place smelled like freshly baked pastries.There is only a hat hanging on the small coat rack, and the knobby cane looks three times older than Dumbledore, full of stories.

"Of course I have a surname, but I guess you are not a 'happy bone couple', so let's not stick to the details." Arne smiled slowly.

On point, Hermione thought.

Through the narrow corridor, Arne slid open the panels on the wall, opening a small drawing room.There was a tea set, a few Cornish pasties and cakes, probably for the talks.

"Are you going to join?" Arne asked Borgin, noticing that Borgin was still standing outside the front door.

"No more," Borgin faltered, "If there's nothing else I need to do tonight, then I can go?" This was asking Draco's opinion.

Draco nodded, reached into his pocket and took out a small bag tied with a string, which Hermione guessed was Borgin's reward, and he tossed the bag to Borgin.

To be honest, Malfoy definitely had a mobile vault in his pocket.

Hermione and Draco sat at opposite ends of the same green velvet sofa in the drawing room.Hermione snorted and thought to herself, this scene is almost like you're witnessing a marriage counseling session.

Malfoy made a small noise of pleasure, and Hermione was struck again by the fact that he could read his own thoughts.

"Would you like tea?" Arne asked them, pointing to the tea set.That was odd, but he didn't look like he was going to serve them tea.

Draco shook his head, then quickly flirted with Hermione.

"No thanks, we just had lunch."

"That's good." Arne sat down in the armchair.

He was a very attractive man, and Hermione guessed he was in his twenties, with hazel hair, trimmed and sprayed in an old-fashioned style, still wearing his fine white shirt and tweed trousers.

Weird attire, considering the weather, but Hermione already had the preconceived idea that he was somewhat of an odd man.

"So, what we're having trouble with now is a binding marriage spell, right? FidaMia, that's a remarkable spell," he looked strangely smug. "I'm assuming you guys know where it came from?"

"Yeah," Draco snorted, "a crazy old Danish fool, a polygamist."

Arne raised his hands and pressed his elbows on his knees in tweed trousers, his expression seemed to be telling a story to a child: "Some people think it is a very touching magic, but it binds the soul these days There aren’t many magics left that don’t do harm. And, none of them are legal.”

Draco grimaced, and Hermione thought it was a reaction to Arne's hype about the soul, and she wasn't entirely wrong.

"Touching?" Draco snorted. "It's a curse, not a spell. Ordinary marriage, even if it doesn't violate the spiritual connection with your partner, is bad enough. No wonder this spell is illegal." Contempt is enough to strangle a chicken.

"It doesn't seem romantic at all?" Arne noticed, got up and went to the desk to get a quill and a stack of parchment.

Draco must have sensed that this particular question obviously didn't need an answer, and he put on a haughty stance and looked straight ahead.

"You don't mind if I take some notes while we're at it?" Arne sat down and looked at them, and they looked at each other.

No one objected.

"How long have you been dating?"

"We're not on a date," Draco and Hermione said in unison, but Hermione couldn't help feeling the sting of Draco's impatient answer.

Arne raised his head: "So, is it an emergency?"

Draco cleared his throat and sat up straighter: "You can say that."

Arne had written something on the paper, it looked like five or six sentences, and Hermione was eager to see what he had written.

"Why do you want to know this?" She had to ask.

"It's like I'm going to spy on my customers ahead of time so I can see how deep the spell is. Your emotions have more to do with the spell than you realize. Any remedy I can do is It varies from person to person. In this case, overcorrection is not helpful, but harmful. It is very useful to estimate the effect of FidaMia on you, and on each other." He paused and shrugged: "Between the two of you. "

Draco didn't seem at all interested in hearing Arne's analysis of their unique "grounded" situation.

Arne's next question left Hermione a bit evasive: "Can you tell me how it got here?"

"Really?" said Hermione, "You want to know how I feel?" She hadn't expected to be asked to explain her growing feelings for Malfoy to a stranger, or in Malfoy's presence.

"He's asking you how the spell came about, woman." Draco muttered.

"Oh," said Hermione, looking brighter. "Well, two weeks ago we both got a little too drunk after a party and went to a bar to get tattoos. Then we were told it was FidaMia."

Arne snorted at the nib of the pen: "Where is it?"

"Where?" Hermione suddenly realized: "Well, he has a pair of black wings tattooed on his back, and there is a silver dragon in the... area of ​​my... buttocks and thighs."

There, it doesn't look too bad.

"I mean where did it happen? The location."

Hermione blushed even more, and she gave Draco a bitter look: "Are you going to sit here or can you do me a favor?"

He didn't even look at her: "The Snake Stone tattoo shop, I think it's about three blocks away from the hotel we're staying in, and about two blocks away from the main road of Diagon Alley."

"I know there is such a place," Arne nodded, "If you can recall, can you describe the process?"

Draco shrugged and looked at Hermione. They couldn't get much help from him, the alcohol-induced confusion had blurred memory.

Hermione took a deep breath and began to talk: "We sat on the seats on the first floor and ordered about four or five rounds of wine. To be honest, I didn't feel very good afterwards. I said I wanted to go for a walk, and he, just Mr. Happy Bone, you said it’s not safe, so you have to stay with me.”

"Did I say that?" Draco asked casually.

"You said it," Hermione thought he would say something more, but she didn't, so she continued: "We saw an advertisement for tattoos on the second floor, and he thought it would be interesting to see what tattoos looked like. But Then he decided to buy another bottle of Ogden in the bar."

There was a short silence, and Hermione looked disturbed.

"Please continue," Arne urged.

"Okay," she began, "and then Mr. Jolly Bone got into a bit of a...well, argument with one of the other guests because the guy said something rude to him, and I think that's why anyway, but I was too far away. It's far from certain." But her tone showed that the reason for the fight was not so light.

Let's say the man mistreated Draco.

"And then Della... no, I mean Mr. Jolly Bone broke the man's nose..."

"I do not have!"

She stared at Draco. "I thought you said you didn't remember."

"I don't remember, but that doesn't mean I just sit around and listen to you accuse me of breaking someone's nose," he insisted.

As the argument went on, he was much more guilty than in the cellar.

Hermione continued, "Anyway, we went upstairs after that, and I think it was almost midnight." Hermione looked at Draco for approval, but someone gave her a straight face.

"Don't ask me, remember, I don't remember anything."

"Just keep your mouth shut," Hermione countered, looking resigned. "We went into a tattoo parlor, and there's an old woman in there..."

"Wait, I remember this old woman!" Draco leaned forward: "This old woman can scare away a troll within ten steps with one tooth."

Hermione frowned at this: "Yes, it's really a bad tooth, isn't it?"

"She smells like mothballs, preservatives maybe? I mean she's just too old."

"Must be at least 120," said Hermione.

"Almost." Draco nodded.

There was a muffled sound upstairs, as if someone had kicked the door shut.

Arne was so frightened that his heart stopped beating: "My cat, she is very old, and she probably wants to go out for a walk."

"Poor kitten," said Hermione softly, "she must be very weak."

"But it is well-loved by the master."

Draco found Arne's overly charismatic nature irritating, and even more irritating was Hermione's reaction to it, especially when you thought about how she was going to throw the bag in the man's face before.

"Is the interview session over?" Draco didn't want to talk nonsense.

Arne put down his note: "It's almost over, now all I have to do is look at your tattoos."

Was it his imagination, or was the man really looking at Hermione passionately while saying that?

Draco's eyes narrowed slightly: "Why don't you look at mine, as for hers, you can just rely on your imagination? It must be the same." His voice was falsely gentle.

"Draco!" cried Hermione, completely forgetting to call him "Jollybone".

"I really want to see your tattoos, actually." Arne dismissed Draco's threat.

Hermione sighed. "Is there any use in seeing them?"

Arne nodded: "It's not necessary, but sometimes it can be helpful to observe the degree of influence of the spell on the body. I think you have experienced it for a while..." He searched his brains to find a wording: "Have a heart? "

Draco was still annoyed with Arne, but was distracted by the question: "Yeah," he took a breath: "It feels like…"

Hermione continued: "It's like hiding under his skin for an instant and feeling his perception. This kind of situation only happens when we are particularly excited. I feel the insight bursting out, or being overwhelmed by his inner feelings. It was a shocking impact."

Arne nodded approvingly at her. "Most affected people generally describe the sensation as a tingling of horror and nothing else."

"Oh, with a sting," Draco confirmed dryly. "It hurts."

"Very well, let's take a look." Arne stood up.

A little annoyed, Draco stood up, took off his T-shirt, and turned his back to Hermione. The moment the black wings were revealed, Hermione gasped and covered her mouth.

She could hardly believe that it was the same tattoo that Draco had proudly displayed in the prefect's bathroom.It was no longer a static tattoo, it moved, like black ripples on the water.

His smooth white skin is like a suitable canvas, and the color of his feathers is like jet black, but there are some deeper colors in the jet black, dizzying and gathering, like a drop of oil slick in black water .

The wings looked agitated, echoing Draco's mood, and no doubt the feathers were almost bristling at the moment.

There was an urge to reach out to soothe the wings and touch his skin, almost irresistible, and Hermione clasped her hands so tightly that her knuckles were turning white.

Draco turned around, and the two looked at each other: "I told you that the tattoo has changed."

Hermione remembered their conversation in the Forbidden Forest, just before the Dark Mark appeared.

"Where is your intellectual interest, Granger?"

Where did it go?It must have run away from home with her sanity.

Arne was busy looking at the tattoos, looking excited, the only word to describe him.He circled Draco with something like a "ruler" in his hand, saying "beautiful", "fantastic" and "what a masterpiece" over and over again.

Hermione shuddered, agreeing with those adjectives wholeheartedly, the "Mr. Jolly Bones" tattoo made hers look like a love mark by comparison.

"Why are his wings?" she asked. "And mine are dragons?"

"Didn't you guess it?" Arne replied: "Your mark is on your husband, and his is on you. This is what you see each other in your eyes."

Hermione still didn't understand what Arne was telling her, but she could take a chance to annoy Malfoy: "If my tattoo came from my impression of him, why didn't I have a horrible tattoo on my thigh? Little goblin?"

Malfoy glanced at her: "Ha."

"The symbol on your skin is very personal, even some subconscious feeling you have about your partner. You know, there are many kinds of dragons. Maybe you thought it would be interesting to see in him what you have, Eastern dragons are symbols of wisdom and kindness," Arne told Hermione.

"Thanks, Arne, puzzle solved." Draco turned to Hermione and declared, "Apparently while you see me as some kind of saint, I have a pair of nasty nasty women The big wings of the demon, this comes from my opinion of you." When Arne didn't see it, Hermione gave Malfoy a middle finger.

"Move your shoulders, if you can?"

Draco complied, the feathers moving in layers as if they were connecting to the muscles beneath the skin.Arne noticed some discoloration, apparently a wound on Draco's left shoulder.

"What a pity, what's going on here?"

"A Quidditch injury."

"Oh, Quidditch," Arne nodded. "It's also very popular in Denmark, but the Danes are not as crazy as you British, right?"

Draco shrugged, that was true.

The wings seemed to shrug, and both Hermione and Arne saw it: "Our Ministry of Magic doesn't want to see large public gatherings recently, and we have been affected, I think you understand what I mean." Arne's tone Not very cheerful.

"Death Eaters?" Draco asked quietly.

Arne shook his head: "Not necessarily, I think few people would like the idea of ​​'You-Know-Who', and I don't think your Voldemort would be interested in our little country. This is a good thing."

"Very good thing, I can't believe his influence has gone that far." Hermione found herself angry that Arne's hometown had also been damaged by Voldemort's villainy.

"You will see, young lady, that there will always be some bad people among us. That is our weakness, and those people may go astray. But it takes soil to make things happen."

"Is this the Voldemort you see? An evil seed?" Hermione asked.

"He's an 'idea', of course it's bad. Admittedly, it's not an easy time. Many people in my country expect war in some form, maybe a year, maybe ten years. So I earn as much as I want and spend as much as I want , as long as I can," he smiled slightly: "There are more people who are convinced than weak people, and most people will not be so easily bewitched."

Draco looked at him strangely, as if the man's opinion was more doubtful than believing: "How do you know so much about FidaMia? You don't look much older than us."

Arne touched Draco's skin and was delighted to see the "feathers" flutter back in response, like the leaves of a mimosa: "This is just a side job, my partner and I have a little charmer in Copenhagen Counseling, you know, family business. FidaMia originated in Denmark, and I just happened to spend a little time researching."

"Then how do you usually break the spell?" Hermione asked.

"Mostly, I would cast a spell to replace the body of the spell. The body of the spell is the soul of the person, and the magic is implanted with the spell during the tattooing process, and then the spell and the tattoo succeed together. It's not It's a simple magic, not even white magic, considering that blood was shed in the primitive ritual, so blood needs to be shed when countering the curse."

"I see." Hermione was a little surprised by this.

"You can get your clothes back on," Arne told Draco, and Hermione almost felt a strong sense of regret that the beautiful tattoo had been covered up again.

"And the conclusion?" Draco asked after getting dressed.

Arne's answer was ambiguous: "Can I talk to you in private, just for a while?" He looked at Hermione apologetically: "I hope you don't mind."

Hermione minded, but she could only nod reluctantly: "Anyway, he pays."

The author has something to say:

Hermione's fight with Borgin was quite interesting, and the old man almost said to Draco: Take care of your women... However, as Hermione realized herself, her understanding of the wizarding world in the past seven years is still very one-sided.

Draco is Draco, and he will not hide his arrogant nature just because he asks for others.Even with Hermione, if there was a disagreement, the two would sneer at each other.But once the two have a common topic, it will be very interesting to sing together.

What a lovely lovebird, especially when the male bird is jealous and the female bird is nympho... But the male bird probably has an attitude of rejection towards love and marriage because of the birds' parents...

Visually inspect the next chapter with a full set of high-energy, and there are enthusiastic readers with colorful illustrations of the bathroom of the eclectic class leader. Covering my face, my nose bleeds...

I've been working so hard recently, if you don't keep your claws to encourage you, there will be no high energy and no color pictures, hehe~