Bride of the HP Dragon

It took some effort for Draco to leave Grimmauld Place quietly after the results of the investigation came out.The Ministry of Magic had worked so far to keep Draco's return a secret, which was a good idea, but the secret was out now.

It didn't take long for the reporters to arrive.

Lucius' escape and Draco's well-timed disappearance still caused occasional conversations. "Malfoy sightings" are all the rage, especially in the summer when people go on holiday and, after one too many afternoon cocktails, bluntly swear that they saw father, son, or on a beach in Mallorca or A father and son were seen at a market in Morocco.

Harry likened it to "sighting Elvis Presley" and spent 10 minutes explaining to a mostly uninterested Draco who Elvis Presley was. (Annotation: The rumor that Elvis Presley is not dead has been widely circulated. Every year, some people say that they have seen a big star...)

Draco didn't have much luggage with him, Harry glanced at a shabby, sandy cotton bag that Draco had brought into the house, and ordered him to burn it quickly buried.

It didn't take long for Draco toss his few rags into a backpack and head downstairs with Harry for one last breakfast before Harry left for work that morning.

Unfortunately, Harry was adamant about it.

Malfoy Manor is an hour's broomstick flight from London.Pansy Parkinson, the current Ministry of Magic authorized administrator of Malfoy's estate, was there now, and Harry helped Draco confirm the information.

The man who was considered to be the "boy who survived" peeked at the thick velvet curtains in the living room on the first floor of NO. Blinked.

"They're out early," commented a drowsy Harry. "Haven't seen it since I first moved here."

Draco put on his newly mended boots with little interest: "Potter, don't worry about your beautiful black head, I'll go out through the back door."

"If only we had a back door," Harry told Draco a little too cheerfully.

Draco stood up and looked at him: "Are you telling me this old house has no back door?"

"I was going to have one," said Harry, "I don't see why you don't use the Floo?"

Draco didn't want to Floo or Apparate home because he just didn't want to suddenly "break" into his ancestral home after five years, just because it would be so rude, he would walk up to the front door and knock on it.

"I said don't worry, I can get rid of them as soon as I get out."

Harry laughed. "You obviously haven't met the new reporter from the Daily Prophet."

An exasperated Draco walked over to the window, took a peek through the curtains, although to be fair he didn't quite look like a "sneak peek", and threw back the curtains to glare at the reporters.

"Who's that at the front door? Looks like two and a half Colin Creevey..."

"That would be Colin Creevey. He's out to work."

Colin, who had apparently only just spotted Draco by the window, snapped the camera flash on.

"Does Pansy know you're going to Malfoy Manor?" Harry asked.

"Do not."

Harry didn't press further, Draco answered many of Harry's more personal questions in the same way.Harry fretted about whether he and Draco were friends or not.The conversations about friends would be deeper and more to the point, which bothered Ginny as well, and she kept pushing Harry to get Draco to show some camaraderie. (Translator's Note: In addition to friendship, camaraderie can also be interpreted as gay love, poof...)

She sees this as a necessary step before Draco can resume his pursuit of Hermione.

Harry loved Ginny dearly, but he thought it was a little naive for her to assume that Draco was the kind of person who waited to be "allowed" to act, let alone Hermione.

Malfoy can do as he pleases, and that hasn't changed.

It's impossible to tell what Draco is thinking. If he closed himself off as a teenager, his perception now is that of a practitioner.Harry thought he might be happy and relieved that the Board of Review had cleared him of all suspicion, but who the hell could really say?

What really confuses Harry is that Draco seems to be living on a razor's edge, even with a place to live, something to eat and clothes to wear for six weeks, and hours of boring talk with Harry on many nights.

Harry found an unsettling alertness in Draco, which bothered Harry a lot, because it proved to be creeping, and Harry didn't want to experience it in his own home.

It wasn't delusional, which was all the more understandable given Draco's recent encounters.But, that's just Draco's nature.

There seemed to be an uncertain possibility that some fanatical follower of Voldemort, hungry for revenge, would burst into the house and finish them off in their sleep, but that didn't stop Draco from volunteering to take on the night's guard duty, He checks doors and windows and guards spells.When they had to show up at the Ministry of Magic, Harry sensed that Draco had a very personal security measure of his own.

So, are they friends now?

Harry tends to be negative, friends trust each other, Draco trusts no one.

Harry guessed that there was only one person on the planet who had access to Draco's potentially complex inner world through established channels.But at this moment the only thing this man wanted to do was clearly not wanting to do anything with Draco.Hermione confirmed this fact very clearly every time she brought up the subject of Draco.

Draco's vigilance never let up, even in a relatively safe and private place like Grimmauld Place.It wasn't Draco's intention, Harry knew.It was more, Harry thought, the product of years of running around, having to be mentally exhausted, never feeling secure or belonging enough to relax even for a minute.

Harry couldn't do anything to make Draco feel truly safe, but he could at least help with the "belonging" aspect. (Translator: home I translate as a sense of belonging) Going home is supposed to be a private matter, but the British wizarding media has almost gone all out to chase Draco back to Malfoy Manor. It's a bit tricky.

It wasn't until Draco spoke slowly to him on the stairs that Harry realized he had been staring at him intently.

"Your sudden interest in my trousers is worrying, Potter. Speak."

"Uh," that's what Harry said, with the same concern: "What size do you wear again?"

Colin Creevey is having a bad day, and he and his unflappable junior assistant, Jessica, have so far been at the front door of Grimmauld Place working on a collection of thematic photographs of the brick building, a plethora of Photos of the first-floor windows, and a few close-ups of someone poking the tip of their nose into the curtain fabric.

Nobody pays for a bunch of nose-tip photos.

As for their intended target, Draco Malfoy, nothing has been found so far. This person must now leave Harry Potter's monitoring, because the authorities have cleared him of suspicion.

Colin's informant at the Department of Magical Transport had confirmed this morning that there were no Floo transmissions in Grimmauld Place, and Malfoy was smart enough that the Floo would be traced, but the broom would not.

Well, unless you're ready to catch up, most of them certainly are.

Nobody even knew if Harry had been in the house this morning, but Malfoy was definitely there, they'd just seen it.

Jessica, eager for a promotion, was the first to notice after three hours of waiting in the freezing cold for Draco to act.

"There he is!" Her scream pierced the cold air.

Miserable journalists have dismissed all thoughts of competition and huddled together for warmth.They didn't act much immediately, nor did they dawdle.

Someone from Wizards Weekly moaned that it was good to be able to feel his feet again.

It was Malfoy, and they all recognized the faded brown trousers and thick black wool jacket he had been wearing when he had stood by the window.He pulled up the hood of his jacket, and the wrapped scarf covered half of his face.

There was a brief look looking directly at them - Colin could easily recognize that as disdain, it had to be disdain.Then Malfoy mounted the broomstick and soared into the sky with blinding speed.

It's time to make some rent money, Colin decides, as he and his assistant get on the broomstick.

Draco waited for the agreed 10 minutes to pass, then walked out of Grimmauld Place unnoticed, with not a single reporter left in sight.

Potter was a brilliant pilot, Draco had to admit, a lot better than they were when they were kids.

Potter also happened to be wrong.

They were not the same size either, as Potter's flight robe was a little short.

It shouldn't feel like Draco wants to go home, especially back to his home.Merlin, he was really nervous.

He hovered for a moment, moving his gloved hands, and Draco couldn't remember the last time his palms were sweaty, and it was all in the freezing cold country air.He descended over Thimble Creek, low through hazy frost and fog, and was surprised to see that what had been a tiny population now seemed tenfold.

With Lucius gone, magic is restored to the land and the inhabitants are able to live again.The old residents must have returned, and perhaps new groups of magic have chosen to settle here.

There was a brand new village square, a few commercial houses, and Draco could make out a few newly built cottages on the outskirts.Everywhere he looked, people were starting their day.

And the kids, Draco could hardly remember the last time he saw them in Thimble Creek.He flew, feeling like an intruder, and part of the dark, oppressive past of the territory.

It almost felt like it was wrong to come back.

For a moment, some jerkiness and fear flashed through his heart, almost making him turn around, but there was no way for him to retreat.

Then, across the woods, he saw Malfoy Manor, easily overwhelmed by an ancient longing, and he landed in complete silence under the huge iron gate, just staring.

Even in winter, the manor is still green.The trees were bare, but the two rows of neatly trimmed hedges that lined the long walk to the front steps of the house looked full of life and health.Draco enjoyed the sight because he had been in the barren and desolate desert for so long.

Pansy took good care of the house.

He took out his wand and touched the door, which opened smoothly and quietly.The dust and rust were nothing more than recent history now, and Draco put the broom on his shoulder and started walking, the gravel crunching sharply under his boots.

The manor itself had been repainted, and Draco couldn't help but gleefully, not even the whitewashing of industrial power could take away from the place's gothic, oppressive feel.The house still has a character of its own, the roof and window frames have been repaired, and the stained-glass windows are immaculate.

When he reached the main entrance, flanked by heavy white columns, Draco could see the marble being polished and patched, and the huge bronze gantry knocker on the front door gleaming.

The feeling of déjà vu was strong and violent, and he remembered the last time he had stood on the same doorstep, feeling a whole different kind of unease, because he was about to tell his father about his doomed affair with Hermione. marriage.

Hermione stood beside him, terrified and brave, disheveled and enchanted.With a look of obsession with their current predicament, and a naive belief that Draco's presence alone would keep him safe from all manner of evil, Lucius Malfoy or whatever.

He really should have held her hand then.

Draco knocked on the knocker and waited, not long.There were intermittent footsteps behind the door, and then the door was opened.There stood Pansy, immaculately dressed in dark purple robes.

She wasn't surprised at all to see him standing there.

"It's finally here." Pansy said, throwing herself into Draco's arms.

"Ugh."

Draco looked over the top of Pansy's hair to see a thin, dark-haired young man glaring at them from the bottom of the stairs.He was wielding a feather duster, although, as things stood, it might have turned into a machete.

A sobbing Pansy broke away from Draco's soft embrace and stared at him with moist blue eyes.

Then she slapped his arm hard.

"You make people worry so much, I should kill you!"

"Wait a minute," Draco muttered, touching his arm. "Who's that?" He nodded at the still-glaring young man, who seemed committed to witnessing Pansy's personal emotions in this moment.

"Oh," Pansy blushed and smoothed her already smooth hair: "Draco, this is Boris, my manservant."

Boris stood at attention and hit his heels in welcome, the feather duster drooped, but the glare remained the same.

The form of the introduction should have gone further, but at the moment, Draco was completely captivated by Pansy's efforts to revive the manor.

The place was filled with bright rococo exuberance, and most of the elegant ornate decorations that Narcissa had scavenged were salvaged from the storerooms of the manor, polished to a radiant glory, and put to effective use.

"Pansy, you've done a great job here." Draco was genuinely impressed.

Pansy's small face was beaming with pleasure at the compliment.

"Remember, I was born for this, Draco."

He tilted his head down at her. "So you've got to keep telling me," he whispered. "I don't think I've fully appreciated the work you've done keeping this place going."

Pansy calmed down a bit: "Your mother did a great job, I hope she rests in peace. I'm just doing what I can to fix it." She took his arm: "Come on, I'm going to take you around before I interrogate you." One lap. Boris, can you order us some tea in the drawing room?"

Pansy was probably the ablest woman on the estate, but her servant was no submissive house-elf, with a subtle expression of defiance on his rigid, dour face.

"Will you work?" Pansy added sharply, narrowing his eyes at Boris.

Boris muttered something incoherently and left, his steps strangely clumsy for such a thin man.

Draco raised his eyebrows at this, while Pansy rolled his eyes: "Don't worry, I'll take him with me when I leave."

The tour starts in the library, which is enhanced by a huge new Persian rug and a re-stacked fireplace.Draco recognized the large gilt mirror above the fireplace, which had once been displayed in one of the guest rooms.Between the mahogany bookshelves there is an antique framed map of the British Isles, enchanted of course.Occasionally a little ink schooner sails from the southern coastline, heading straight for France.

Then they visited the bedrooms, which were mostly untouched, except for Draco's old bedroom which had been repainted and the bed curtains were newly hung in sepia and gold satin.Draco mused, almost the color of Gryffindor.

There were fresh flowers in his mother's old bedroom, and Draco noticed that Pansy had replaced some of the portraits of Narcissa that Lucius had made earlier.He stopped in front of the only family photo - him and his parents.This was the last time they sat together for a portrait before Narcissa left the estate.

Pansy came and stood beside him, her perfume intensified by the enclosed space: "I've always liked this painting," she said, "How old are you?"

"Twelve years old." Draco replied, his voice was far away.

This painting is almost from a different life, he saw his 12-year-old self, regretting his provocatively raised chin and the stupid gown with a lace collar that his mother made him wear.In the painting, he keeps tugging on his robes, and flatly refuses the hat of the same style as the clothes.Narcissa sat in a chair, her pale elegant hands folded demurely on her knees, she didn't move much, just blinked slowly, as if she was still sitting there being painted.

No smile, Narcissa never smiles in portraits because she says it would be outdated.Draco didn't understand what that meant, the smile was eternal.

Lucius stood casually behind Narcissa, one arm draped over the back of the chair, boots crossed.This was before his conviction, of course, four years before he was stripped of his wand.There is no frustration in his expression, and his handsome face reflects the desire to control everything in front of him, even the person looking at the portrait.

Pansy lives in a guest room in the East Wing, which is unsurprisingly pink.But it was the bed that really caught Draco's attention.Or, a silk quilt with a bunch of stuffed elephants taking up all the space.

It was a neat array of stuffed elephants of different sizes, and Draco was sure there were more of them than before.Among the elephants, Draco spotted the oldest one - a huge yellow fur elephant with what appeared to be patched ears.

He turned to look suspiciously at Pansy while she was busy explaining what the bed curtain was made of.

Draco almost blurted out.

He may have made a highly erroneous assumption, but he still doubted it.

Then they visited his father's study, or rather they stopped in front of it.They were standing right where Lucius had almost kissed Hermione when they had gone to meet him.

Pansy misunderstood his hesitation: "You want to be alone for a while?"

He thought of a suitable answer: "No, it's fine. I think we should skip this room and get to know each other enough later."

She nodded, took his hand, and went to the nearest living room.

"There's not much to do there anyway, and Tolly has kept the study spotless since your father left, and she says that's how he wants it to be."

"By the way where's Tory? You haven't retired her yet have you?"

"The elf?" Pansy laughed. "I don't have the luck to let her retire. I might as well seduce Harry Potter. She's running errands in the village now."

"Speaking of Thimble Creek, the changes there are remarkable," Draco noted.

Pansy grinned: "Right? It's all because of the hornbeam. I let the villagers grow this plant. It's impossible to maintain this place with the little money allocated to me by the Ministry of Magic, so I have to find a way to make money." Dow. The land in your domain is obviously the best in the area, and it took us a while to figure out how to plant trees, but once we succeeded we sold the wood directly to wand makers and some apothecaries. The village got a lot out of it. Leigh, that's what you see now."

They went into the living room and sat face to face on the striped satin sofa by the fireplace, and Pansy lit the fire after Draco took off his gloves and slipped his jacket on.

"Gloves are great," Pansy said, looking at the cashmere leather gloves appreciatively.Gloves were obviously expensive, but they didn't match the rest of Draco's questionable outfit, and Pansy liked to observe details.

"The gloves belong to Potter, and everything I'm wearing right now," he admitted, a little self-defeating. "If I don't return the gloves, Potter threatens to kill me."

Pansy smoothed her skirt, then stared at him for a moment, surprise in her eyes: "I still can't believe you're actually sitting in front of me now."

Draco looked at her tenderly: "Am I that old?"

She smiled, the same as in school, with a slightly arrogant girlish smile: "Dear Draco, even if you risk such a haircut, you will still be charming when you are one hundred and eight years old." She Seriously: "But is the report really that dire? They say you spent some time in Africa, really?"

"I ended my trip in Egypt," Draco confirmed, "I spent two years in Europe before that."

"What happened in Egypt?"

For a moment, Draco didn't seem to want to go into detail, but then he said, "I followed Bellatrix to Cairo, and then she fled to Kenya. I finally caught her in Nairobi, and brought her back before returning." Cairo, that's the outline."

"Yes," Pansy trembled and opened her eyes, "I bet all the details will give me nightmares at night. Tell me something? If you come back and tell the Ministry of Magic the information they need to track down Bellatrix , can they catch her?"

The committee, of course, explored the issue from various angles, and he told Pencey the same answer.

"Possibly," Draco agreed, "but I think it's only because I let myself get into her behavior, so to speak. It took me a long time to get close without her noticing." , I can't describe how paranoid she was when it was all over."

"I have every reason to imagine that," Pansy guessed.

Draco responded with a sarcastic sneer.

"Do you still have feelings for Granger?" Pansy asked with an almost cruel indifference, "It's just because you've been here for more than an hour and you haven't mentioned her name once. You don't forget the mess you left behind." Pansy pointed out, "Or I presume that's why you came back."

"My feelings about the matter haven't changed." Draco said flatly.

"It's hard to get her to trust you again, even if you bring back Bellatrix Lestrange as an apology gift, even I will never forgive you."

"Thanks, Pansy."

She had a slight regret on her face: "I'm sorry for being so pessimistic. Four months ago, August Winthrop was killed while on a mission in a village in Devonshire. At that time, he and Millicent Married for two weeks."

"Damn," Draco hissed, "what happened?"

"Oddly enough, someone claimed to have seen you there. The Ministry sent two men to check it out, and they did that every time Malfoy was sighted, whether it was you or your father. No one thought of them Just strayed into the Death Eater's lair, they're not Ministry of Magic Oro. For Merlin's sake, Winthrop is just an administrator. Millicent has been completely devastated since then, Draco, love is A terrible burden." Pansy's words were a little too strong for personal opinion: "It can make you vulnerable to all kinds of pain, but I'm sure you already know it all."

"So you're happily single as a matter of course?" Draco looked at her closely.

She blinked because of the change of topic: "Yes, that's it."

Draco hung his arms on the sofa pillows and stretched his neck towards the porch: "Your Boris seems to have been making tea for a long time."

As if to follow Draco's words, there was the sound of expensive utensils being smashed in the kitchen, and then the cupboard door was slammed shut in displeasure.

Pansy looked taken aback, but quickly put back her smile: "The kitchen is a bit far away."

Draco hid his smile, "Yes, I do."

Pansy's smile froze, and she stood up: "I'll go and see what's delaying him, okay?"

After thinking about it, Draco took Harry's precious pair of gloves from his jacket and deliberately threw them on a chair aside.

He stayed three hours, and at least Pansy made a much better tea than Potter.She decided to hold a social evening within two weeks to officially announce the re-opening of the estate and welcome back its rightful owner.Draco knew he couldn't say no, it was Pansy's way of saying goodbye, and he couldn't be stingy.

Draco insisted that she continue to oversee the apparently successful hornbeam business she ran with the residents of Thimble Creek, but she assured that a competent replacement manager had been trained in the village.It took them a while to discuss it, but she eventually revealed that she would be moving to the south of Italy, in a climatic country house she had bought that was nearly renovated.

Boris, whom Pansy said would not actually be employed by the estate, would have to accompany her.

She said it was out of sympathy.

Pansy had many qualities, but Draco had never known her to be softhearted.

Draco would be staying at the village hotel until the official handover was completed within two weeks, even though Pansy strongly objected to his immediate move into his former bedroom.But after six weeks of living with Potter, Draco needed some breathing room.

He was walking halfway through the wrought-iron gates at the front of the estate when Boris, out of breath, caught up to him.

"Mr. Malfoy, you forgot about this!" he yelled, holding up Harry's glove.

Draco turned impatiently and grabbed the glove: "Merlin's chest, Goyle, you are enough, if you want me to walk more slowly, then I might as well stand still."

Goyle's mouth couldn't close, like a goldfish with its mouth open for half a minute: "What...you...you know!"

"Yes, I see," Draco snapped, "if your possessive hyperbole in the lobby hadn't convinced me, the colorful elephants on Pansy's bed would have revealed the trick." .”

The open mouth closed: "Yes, she likes elephants." Goyle muttered to himself.

"So I know," Draco sighed. "Why the hell are you here? If they catch you, you'll be in Azkaban for the rest of your life! Not to mention they'll do something about Pansy!"

"They won't catch me. I'm Boris, remember?"

"That's what I'm asking, where is the real Boris?" Draco narrowed his eyes. "Or I wouldn't want to know?"

"He's a clerk in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia, and there's no other clue, we just happened to get enough of his hair to make Polyjuice Potion for another year... Yeah, you don't want to know."

Draco frowned: "Well, you better hope nobody's going on holiday over there, questioning why some foreign country clerk they've only met overseas is in Wiltshire scrubbing Pansy Parkinson's upholstery Taste."

"Who the hell goes on vacation to Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia?"

Draco thought for a moment, "That's right." He backed down.

Goyle shuffled and grinned at him boldly: "It's still nice to see you, even if you look like hell."

Draco wondered if he was doomed to hear about his lost good looks: "How long have you been playing Boris the valet?"

"Two years."

Draco was angry again: "Damn it, Goyle! I should have thought that any rash plan of the two of you could be acted on!"

"Yeah, it's nice to be able to live in peace here after having to do all that stuff...I think, you know that. It's a miracle she got me back, you can't blame us for wanting a little stability .”

"You should tell me! I feel insulted that neither you nor Pansy think I'm credible."

"Malfoy, with all due respect, we haven't found out you've been back for more than two months. We don't know what to think until we see you again. All we know is that you probably came after me to keep the Death Eaters away."

"Then what do you think now?"

Gore considered this question: "I think you came back for the same reason as me, and I think there are some things that Pansy ignored and didn't mention to you..."

Draco looked at him curiously, "Really?"

Goyle was still hesitating: "Well, I just guess that the reason Pansy didn't tell you is because you don't seem to want to kill people at the moment..."

"I know Snape," Draco interrupted. "As long as I get my identity back, I'll be able to do something."

Goyle nodded quickly: "What happened to Snape is of course unacceptable. He released Lucius, but then he illegally used Veritus on her when she was interrogating Pansy on the last night of Hogwarts. Pansy even wrote a letter saying he didn't care, but it didn't help. Dumbledore tried everything he could to get him out of prison, but Snape wasn't good."

"If it's not about Snape, what else should Pansy tell me?"

Goyle looked unusually disturbed at this point: "Nicholas Winter," he said hastily, "he's a Muggle-born who works in Granger's department. August Winthrop and Winter are good friends, Pencey had August and Millicent come to dinner all the time and .

"Nicholas Winter?" Draco scowled.

"He's Granger's boss, well not really a boss, more like a superior, maybe not. I think he might just be a co-worker, and I might be wrong. August keeps saying how practical Nick is. run the whole department."

Draco raised his hand impatiently: "Greg, who the hell is Nicholas Winter, why do I suddenly feel a murderous anger at what you said earlier."

Goyle looked at his old friend sympathetically: "He is Granger's boyfriend."

The author has something to say:

Remember, Pansy's elephant was given by Gore~

There are still a lot in this chapter, but most of the highlights are in the last sentence, which made me laugh to death.

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