young man returning home

Chapter 47 The Unlawful Wedding Dress

Three years later, Mr. Malfoy, who was the Minister of Magic at the time, married Miss Greengrass, a pure-blood descendant, in the grandest wedding. People finally gradually forgot the trauma of the war many years ago in this grand jubilee feast.

All the prominent ethnic groups in the wizarding world were invited, and even Mrs. Nott, who hadn't seen her for a long time, joined her husband in attendance.Malfoy greeted him personally.

This wedding banquet has almost become a class reunion that Slytherin hasn't seen for many years. The waltz champagne is staggered, and there is still a Slytherin-style tacit understanding in every small movement and frequent and calm laughter.

"Congratulations." After many years, Zambini congratulated his old friend on the balcony of the Malfoy Manor: "Draco, the wedding is about to start, you shouldn't be here."

He shook his head, shook his right hand lightly, and the cigarette ash fell scatteredly.Draco took a deep breath, continued to smoke, and smiled, "Hide away. It must be very lively outside."

"Of course." Blaise affirmed without any suspense: "Pansy is here too." Leaning on the bench on the balcony, he raised his long legs as before: "Aren't you happy?"

"Oh." Malfoy ignored him and turned to go downstairs.

"Where are you going?" The old friend moved lazily, not going to move.

"Pansy is here, you don't want to meet our Mrs. Nott?" Draco turned his back to him, expressionless.

Blaise flicked his fingers: "I am very interested in the new Mrs. Malfoy!"

Draco turned his head and shrugged helplessly: "Astoria Greengrass, you don't know him?"

"I thought it was a Mudblood..." Zambini gracefully lit his cigar with his wand, squinted his eyes, and suddenly asked, "Draco, are you happy?"

"What about you, Zambini?" the cunning Mr. Malfoy asked back, raising the corners of his mouth.He was staring at his old friend now, Zambini might not be happy, the years in Azkaban had worn down the last trace of humanity.Draco remembered that when he visited him in Azkaban for the last time, Blaise was ragged and skinny, only his piercing eyes still ignited the Slytherin look.The only difference between him and other prisoners, or just such a pair of eyes.Slytherin's ambition and self-confidence will never be worn away by the years of suffering, and arrogance has already been engraved into the soul.

"What do you think?" Blaise took a puff of cigarette, his eyes wandered into the distance: "Draco, I saw you and nutria practicing Quidditch, look, it's over there." He pointed out the window with his finger, Taking a deep breath, as if wanting to inhale all the silently passing time into the nostrils.

Draco blocked it with his hand: "You're drunk, Blaise."

Zambini stubbed out the cigarette butt, and said with a smile, "Draco, I don't drink at all now, don't you know?"

Mr. Malfoy leaned against the door frame and sighed: "I don't know. With age, my memory is getting worse and worse." He arranged his suit gracefully, dragged his long crutches, and staggered downstairs.

"Good luck to you, Draco."

Blaise yawned, lay on the balcony bench, and lazily flipped through the newspaper.From the balcony of the Malfoy Manor, one can see the unique scenery, the verdant cypress trees, the blue sky, and occasionally a few owls flapping their wings, like flying fish swimming in the blue sea.

He brushed the hair hanging down his forehead, a hideous scar across the corner of his eye, twisted like a centipede, clinging to the bulging flesh sac. ——that is the only mark left by the war.Slytherin stroked the bulging scar lightly, muttering, "The price. The price, Draco."

"I just stayed in Azkaban for a few years, I came back, but you left."

He didn't get up and go downstairs until the dance music of the century sounded, the singing of praise hovered over the manor, and people's joy and joy filled every corner.

The moment he left the balcony and turned the corner, he realized that Draco had been there the whole time, leaning against the railing and smoking silently.

He was a little puzzled: "Draco, you kept the bride waiting for a long time."

Mr Malfoy did not turn, his shoulders heaved slightly.Through the huge floor-to-ceiling mirror, Zambini found that Draco in the mirror was full of tears, and his sad feelings were as thick, gloomy and lingering as they were many years ago.Draco's hands trembled slightly while supporting the railing, and plump ash jumped from the tip of the red heart and fell into the hall downstairs.

"Who are you waiting for, Draco?" he tried to ask, expecting a reply.Malfoy, however, ignored him.Not even a slight change of posture.

"Are you expecting the Mudblood to come to your wedding? - in the name of a colleague? Minister." Blaise shrugged and walked around behind him with a smile.

It was only then that Malfoy was willing to talk to him: "You've obviously been too patient, Blaise." He added: "A friendly reminder that the banquet is in full swing, and if you don't go down, there will be no leftovers."

Blaise glanced carefully at the window—the image of Draco was being reflected in it, but it was obvious that Mr. Malfoy had already dealt with his emotions, and no one would believe that the calm Minister of the Ministry of Magic would On the wedding day, he cried so much that even Blaise had to say in his heart: "Well done, Draco."

Of course, he didn't say that.Zambini patted him on the shoulder: "Thank you for your concern! Mr. Malfoy! It is obvious that your greetings are too much--the groom is still here, they will not wait to start the banquet, you call Greenglass one people to get married?"

"Anyway, I'm sorry for her."

"'She' is?" Blaise pretended to be silly: "If you mean Astoria, then don't worry too much, although my old friend who returned to the team very late has no idea why you married her , but I know Greengrass’ intentions——they are definitely willing to marry Malfoy, and the upstart Mr. Malfoy has a bright future!” He changed the topic, and quickly said: “If what you said is... If you're a nutria, then obviously there's nothing to worry about—you'll never see her today."

"What did you say?" Draco turned suddenly, glaring at Zambini.

Blaise snorted: "Still so excited - for her. I really can't understand, after all these years, that name is still stuck in your heart like a stinger, so why did you marry Greengrass? No one forced you, Draco .”

"Want a story? I'm in a good mood today, for Slytherin's sake."

"It's an honor." Blaise dragged a chair.

"You have to tell me first, what did you do to her?" Of course Malfoy refused to suffer.

"Who?" Blaise played dumb again.

"You really are stupid in Azkaban." Draco "politely" delivered a sarcasm that Slytherin used to use back then, and then, cruelly, he had to compromise: "I mean-you put Mrs. Weasley What's wrong? As a colleague, she should be at today's wedding—I mean, the assistant should have sent my invitation to every colleague."

"Aha, 'Mrs. Weasley'," Blaise deliberately emphasized his tone, and of course he replied proudly before Draco got angry: "I just used the petrification spell to keep her on the road. I heard that she is now Aurors?—for Aurors, if the cold wind on the road can't survive—congratulations, Minister Malfoy, the Ministry of Magic can take a salary cut."

"Don't be silly, I mean—" Malfoy gave a sly smile, "Has Mrs Weasley messed with you lately?"

"It's not. I still think it's better for her not to come. If inviting her is your assistant's idea, congratulations, you can save another salary." Blaise was interrupted by Draco before he finished speaking. He said: "Mr. Zambini, I'm really surprised that your talkative skills have improved a lot in the past few years, but in Azkaban, you didn't even talk to that group of black monsters, did you?——What happened?" Who is the teacher?"

"Don't dare." Blaise waved his hands again and again, "I still think it's better for 'Mrs. Weasley' not to participate, so as not to make you finish the ceremony with a bitter face. Don't worry, after the wedding is over, I will lift the petrification curse immediately."

He and Draco looked at each other and smiled. In the tacit understanding of old friends, only Slytherin-style ridicule and teasing can promote friendship.It's like going back to many years ago.

"Draco, are you... well?" Finally, Mr. Zambini asked.

Draco shrugged with a smile: "It's the same." He made an inviting gesture: "This is probably the reason why Leah and I got married.--Would you like to hear this story?" He changed into a begging "Just help me, Blaise, you know, getting married for the first time, I'm always a little nervous....I...don't want...to go down..."

"Reluctantly." Zambini laughed.Then hang yourself comfortably on the recliner, quietly waiting for the arrival of the story.

The author has something to say: In fact, it is almost over. . .It's not hard to write either. . .But just because I don't know how to express the result perfectly, I write very slowly. . . .Dear friends, don't be afraid!It's almost over!I can finally get rid of the procrastination king! !happy New Year!