[HP] End of Death

November came in a cold wind.The temperature dropped almost instantly, and the window sill was covered with a thick layer of white snow every morning, and the wind blew on the face like a knife.

The sky and the ceiling of the auditorium turned a pale blue-gray, resembling someone's indifferent eyes.And under the gaze of such cold eyes, Harry also felt chills all over his body, as if the heat and moisture in his body were about to be drained, leaving only a shriveled, non-functioning core.

Ron has been very strange since he got up in the morning, his face was pale, his cheeks and forehead were sweaty, and he refused to say a word.He sat at the dining table staring at his plate in a daze, as if he was going to throw up - but he obviously didn't eat anything.

"It's over, I can't play ball at all." He opened his mouth suddenly, his voice was hoarse and trembling, "I can't play ball at all, I'm a waste...why should I join the team?"

"Don't think so, Ron. You're very good, just a little nervous," Harry reassured quickly.

"It's a good thing to be nervous. I found that if you're not nervous, you won't do well in the exam." Hermione said enthusiastically.Ron didn't answer, he didn't seem to listen to anything.

Harry originally wanted to wait for Ron to finish his breakfast and go to the locker room of the stadium to change clothes, but now it seemed that he had no appetite at all, so he dragged him out of the auditorium.Hermione kissed Ron on the cheek before saying goodbye to them:

"Good luck, Ron. And you, Harry—"

Ron looked a little sober as he walked through the auditorium. He touched the place where Hermione had kissed him, with a dazed look on his face, as if he didn't know what happened.

As they passed the Slytherin table, Harry noticed that they all seemed to be wearing a small crown-shaped badge on their chests, with the words: Weasley is our king engraved on it.

Harry felt that this was not a good word, so he hurriedly pulled Ron away.

They hurried to the locker room of the stadium, and Angelina introduced them to the Slytherin team while they changed into their uniforms. She seemed a little worried: "I saw the last Slytherin lineup, last year's Derek and Ball, the batsmen, are gone, but Montague seems to have found two ordinary gorillas instead of a particularly good flyer. Their names are Goyle and Crabbe, and I don't know much about them—”

"We understand," Harry and Ron said together at once.

"They don't seem to be able to tell the end of the broom." Angelina put away the parchment in her hand, "But then again, I've always wondered how Derek and Ball found the stadium without relying on road signs."

"Crabbe and Goyle are the same," Harry reassured her.

The Gryffindor players walked out of the locker room and came to the wide stadium. There were enthusiastic cheers and screams from all around. Harry heard someone singing, but the singing was a little ethereal, and the lyrics were very vague.

The Slytherins were already on the other side of the field, and Harry noticed that they also wore the same crown on their chests, glinting in the sun.Also shiny was Draco's hair, a touch of pale gold too dazzling to ignore, and Draco noticed his gaze and thrust his chest out at him triumphantly so that the badge on his chest stood out.

"The captains of the two sides shook hands... get on the broom..." Mrs. Huo Qi blew the whistle suddenly, and fourteen players jumped into the air.

Draco was circling the pitch, squinting for the little golden ball, and he knew Harry was doing the same, and he tried hard not to look at him.

They will soon receive his share of the gift.The corners of Draco's mouth rose, feeling extremely happy in his heart.He didn't know where he got this strange sense of pleasure, which was different from the pleasure he used to give to the annoying Gryffindors, something he didn't bother to do now - now he just wanted to arouse that person's pleasure. Notice that it doesn't matter if it's done in the worst way, it's okay to make him angry, it's the only way he can get rid of his longing and guilt, however contradictory and distorted it may be.

"Johnson, Johnson got the Quaffle! What a girl, I've been talking about it for years, and she still won't date me—" Lee Jordan's voice rang out over the court.

"Jordan!" cried Professor McGonagall.

"Just kidding, Professor, with a little spice - she dodged Warrington, dodged Montague, she was - ouch - hit by a Bludger behind her, Crabbe calling... "

Draco pulled back his rambling thoughts, and continued to look for the Snitch in the arena, but he soon realized that he was just staring at Harry's figure intently... At the same time, the singing in the arena became more and more loud. It got louder, and Lee Jordan's explanation couldn't cover it up, and the lyrics I had taught them for a long time were not in vain——

"That little Weasley, he can't block a ball, the Slytherins sing, Weasley is our king. Weasley was born in a dustbin, he always puts the ball in the goal, Weasley made me win this, Weasley is our king..."

His father's strict education had a great influence on him since he was a child. Draco may not be very accomplished in literature, but he is still very particular about rhythm and rhyme. It took him a lot of effort to write this lyrics ——Although the content is quite unsightly, the arrangement was handed over to Pan Xi.

Gradually, almost everyone noticed the singing of the Slytherins, and Harry was no exception.Draco hovered in the distance and stared at him leisurely. The other party had no intention of looking for the golden snitch at this time, and he turned his head to look at Ron nervously.

Oh, don't look at him, Potter.He will only make things worse and worse, it's useless... He chuckled inwardly, almost overflowing with joy, are you satisfied with the gift I gave you?I actually wrote this song just for you, although the content has nothing to do with you...but I only care about it being heard by you.

Gripping the broom head tightly, he leaned forward and rushed towards Harry, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ron miss a ball, and the Slytherin audience burst into cheers... the singing was deafening, and Lee Jordan's voice could hardly be heard It's gone... He flew towards him with the singing that swept the audience, as if he was carrying a storm wave that submerged the whole world, the wind whistling behind him, the air violently shaking, rubbing against the sharp piercing sound, slashing his mean cheeks sharper.

Sensing his approach, Harry stepped away unhurriedly, flying quickly in the other direction.As they passed, he leaned into his ear and whispered in his ear the song he had composed: "Weasley was born in a dustbin..."

"—Warrington lost the Quaffle, and Katie Bell - er - lost the Quaffle... Now it's Montague who has the Quaffle, and Montague, the captain of Slytherin, has the Quaffle, and is Rush towards the frontcourt, Gryffindor come on, stop him!"

Draco was so happy now that everything he'd expected was happening: Ron was dropping balls, Gryffindors were being suppressed, Slytherins were rising, his songs were filling the arena - the man had to Thoughts are affected by everything he creates.

Whether he was angry or flustered, he was always under his control, and the pleasure of controlling everything made him feel so comfortable that he wanted to groan.He saw Harry running around the field, looking frantically for the Snitch, and he knew he wanted to end the game quickly, because Ron had already missed four balls...

Since he wants to end it, then let it end, anyway, his purpose has been achieved.It was the greatest indulgence he'd had these days, to stare at him, to influence him, to wring a pitiful morsel of pleasure out of it.

Draco sprinted towards Harry again, they were not far away, and he was soon to his left, flying towards the Snitch hanging over the pitch.

The Snitch turned around the pedestal of the goal ring and flew to the other side of the stands, a turn that worked in his favor, and he got a little closer... out of the corner of his eye he caught Harry turning the Firebolt, trying to Overtake him from the bend...and he catches up, keeps pace with him...

Ah, that's it, what a great Potter!Chase me, just look at me...even if it's just for a moment.

They swooped down together, acting in tacit agreement as if they had made an appointment in advance.Harry let go of the broom just a few feet from the ground, and reached for the Snitch. Draco let go, but instead of looking at the Snitch, he grabbed his hand.

At that moment he felt like he was completely insane.He put all the honor behind him, just wanted to hold the hand that had warmed his palm, and hold it tightly—even if it was the last time.

Anyway, he has been crazy for the whole game, so it doesn't matter if he adds this one more time.Draco thought so.

But he didn't catch it.

With Harry's arms hanging down, just missing his fingers, he held the small, struggling Snitch tightly.

His nails stretched desperately to his arm, but Harry lifted his broom mercilessly into the air, and he flew into the bright sky, holding the Snitch high above his head to meet the Gryffindors who resounded through the sky. cheers...

Bang!

A Bludger hit the boy hard in the lower back, knocking him off his broom and dropping him to the ground, clutching the winning Snitch.

The blood in Draco's whole body stopped flowing in an instant, his vision seemed to burst, and his chest was so painful that it was about to explode.He turned sharply and saw Crabbe holding his bat triumphantly.