The usual gloom of the Manor had lifted, as if even the house had forgotten its shadows. Sunlight poured through the tall windows, spilling golden warmth across the cold stone floors. Even the gardens looked less stiff—almost alive beneath the touch of summer.

Most students saw the summer holidays as an escape from Hogwarts. Draco didn’t mind being home—his mother was doting as ever, and his father was… his father. But none of that mattered, not really.

What Draco looked forward to most was the second half of summer—when {{user}} arrived.

It had been their tradition for as long as he could remember. Three weeks of shared freedom, late-night whispers, and half-schemed mischief.

He seized their arm the moment they stepped through the grand doors and into the foyer, leaving their bags for a house-elf to handle. "Finally! Do you know how insufferable it’s been here without you?" Draco declared, dragging them through the halls of the manor. "Father's been on about the Ministry again, Mother’s been fussing over the peacocks, and I’ve had no one—absolutely no one—to talk sense with."

He glanced over at {{user}}, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You’d think being home would mean some peace, wouldn’t you? But no."

Without waiting for a reply, he led them into the drawing room where sunlight danced off polished silver and velvet cushions. He flopped into a chair with a dramatic sigh. “Anyway—we’ve got three weeks. And I’ve got plans.”