Descendants of HP

Chapter 004

Astoria flipped through Draco's letter to her, and Draco and her thoughts were similar, but they had no choice but to be the most suitable for each other.

Nothing to do with love, just fit.

Now Draco, a lunatic, found something he wanted to do, so he wanted her to help.

It was rare for Astoria to detect a trace of Draco's hesitation in this insignificant letter.

It's different from Astoria who recognized her fate early and then chose to transition smoothly.Astoria knew that Draco had been wandering, he always seemed to feel that he should have another choice, but he couldn't find such a way out.

Just a little bit of a dying struggle.

It's always been that way.

Being so close, many people will lose their minds, such as Miss Poodle Parkinson; but Astoria is not like this, she sees Draco, who will be her husband in the future, too clearly, so she reduces a lot A different kind of thought.

Yes, Draco is handsome. Even though there were two wars, the Malfoy family still stood firm. Even if the reputation was lost, after the money was washed away, as long as the Malfoys stopped making mistakes, Malfoy would soon be the leader of the wizarding world again. model nobility.

So many people still have fantasies about Draco.But Astoria won't, she has long since lost her delusions of pure love, and Draco is just the right candidate.

She chose a Malfoy, and the Malfoys chose her.

Draco's wandering, in her opinion, is just a little bit of rebellion, but soon he will recognize the reality, and after getting married, he will become her husband in peace, and the father of their future child—— There are many more possibilities.

Even without love.

"A coward who escaped." Astoria threw the letter into the fireplace, holding a cup of hot tea by herself, with a slightly lonely expression.

She'd give Draco three chances, the first.

☆＊☆＊☆＊☆＊☆＊☆＊☆＊☆＊☆

After Draco finished the ceremony, he fell to the floor with a face like gold paper.

The raised dust stained his clothes.

This was much more exhausting than he imagined, making it difficult for him to recover for a while.

The scarce magic power in his body was flowing dryly, and he was almost drained by this ritual.If you let him know that all this is a lie, he will shut down that store.

After all, all these signs really made Draco have higher and higher expectations of "this is true", and if he finally found out that this was just a hoax, he might go crazy.

Draco leaned against the cold edge of the bed, and on the hard bed was the key to resurrection—the Holy Coffin of the Blood Race—at this time, a cold life was being conceived in this coffin, or it would be a cold life when it came out. The monster, if it came out, would be an incomplete bloodline descendant.

No matter which one it is, it will no longer be that cold and tough wizard, and it will no longer be that reserved man named Severus Snape.

But it won't be the mistress in the mouth of that idiot Harry Potter!

Draco thought, as long as what came out was a living creature, as long as it was a sane and successful product, he would, he would raise him, he would take good care of him.Think of it as atonement.

And what Draco didn't know was that his every move was under the eyes of someone.

Frank stared at the scene in the magic mirror and took a sip of mulled wine.

"Are you sure there is no problem?"

"What's the problem with the foolproof method you think?" the crooked shadow said hoarsely behind the curtain.

"Why does it have to be him?" Frank threw away the glass, "Cowardly, stupid, if something goes wrong, he hides under the wings of his parents like a frightened rabbit and acts like a baby..."

"Or who else could it be? Harry Potter?" The hoarse voice was full of disdain.

"You always have your reasons." Frank spread his hands, and a glass of wine suddenly floated into his hands.

The red wine in the glass seems to be stained with the aroma of blood, which is alluring.

"Otherwise?" the hoarse voice asked back.

Frank held up his palms, indicating that he was no longer entangled: "Don't worry, I will of course support whatever you want to do. But it's really not like you to spend a lot of time on it. Why don't you do it yourself? Instead, let the unreliable Imp? Do you know what kind of existence that holy coffin is?"

"Have you forgotten? Deep soul thoughts, remorse, a clean soul—does this have anything to do with us?" The voice seemed to be mocking something.

Frank took a sip of his wine, raised his eyebrows and nodded, with a playful expression: "You are always right. This has nothing to do with us, and we can't do it even if we want to. Are you in pain?"

"It doesn't matter." The voice disappeared completely.

Frank shook his head and continued to enjoy his wine. Knowing that he had left, Frank snapped his fingers, and the lights in the entire store were dimmed. Only his silver-gray eyes showed a little scarlet.

Draco didn't know all this, and Harry, who was supposed to be sleeping peacefully in Black's old house, woke up suddenly.

A pair of beautiful emerald eyes are now like dark green moss growing on damp stones in the dark depths.

Cold sweat soaked his pajamas.

Harry hugged his arms tightly, squinted his eyes and looked out of the window, a blood moon, quietly recounting the extraordinary tonight.