The Handsome Dark Lord[Comprehensive]

Fox immediately spread his wings, trying to jump on Harry and drag him away from the source of danger.But before it could touch Harry, it was knocked off with precision by a spell beam, bounced painfully against the wall, and fell back down, slamming on the bedside table.

"It's none of your business here," Voldemort threatened. "Next time it will be the Killing Curse."

A hand was raised from the hospital bed and shook at him.

The red eyes turned away, and the killing intent was suppressed invisible.

Harry put his hand down, watching his expression reveal obvious disapproval.

Voldemort lowered his head slightly, and simply walked around the end of the bed. Under his gaze, he said inexplicably, "You look very dissatisfied."

Harry turned his face away, not answering his knowing question.

Voldemort's gaze fell back to the thrashing phoenix on the bedside table, to see when it would charge at Harry a second time.

"Still so naive, Harry." He tapped his palm with the tip of his stick, and sneered, "Do you think Dumbledore really cares about the life of this bird? If he really cared, he would remember who replaced the bird last time." He took the Killing Curse."

"I guess you've seen it just after nirvana, haven't you?"

The person on the bed was visibly shocked and was hit by what he said.

"Without a single hair, curled up on the perch naked, unable to fly, unable to scream, not even the only worthwhile lacrimal gland, just a poor, weak and useless... trash."

Perhaps feeling his vicious slander, Fox fluttered more violently, and finally flew up from the bedside table.

But the Dark Lord had been watching for a long time, so how could he give it an opportunity.

On the medical tray by the bedside, a pair of tweezers suddenly stood up and transformed into several flexible iron wires. They grabbed Fox with lightning speed, dragged him down, and then gradually became thicker and harder, finally fixed into a delicate silver birdcage.

Fawkes was trapped inside, screaming loudly and angrily.

It didn't work, Harry could sense that Voldemort had used the Silencing Charm, which he knew all too well.

It's just...Harry couldn't understand, Voldemort actually competed with a phoenix?

Normally, he would definitely not be able to help being curious, but now he doesn't want to pay attention to it.

He controlled his eyes to stay on the white sheet, not asking about his purpose and thoughts.

In fact, the revelation this time did not bring him all pain.The encounter in the Muggle world, the origin of all the twists and turns, the amazing moment when Voldemort lost his magic power...their relationship finally got rid of the illusion of tenderness and ambiguity, revealing the naked cold use inside.

It turned out that Voldemort saw him in the bar that day, not because he didn't want to kill him, but because he couldn't.

The sense of emptiness that had been there for a long time finally landed.

The memory of that night is not clear. Harry drank a lot of wine and his mind is not clear, but he still remembers his initial indifference and the more harmonious atmosphere later... Now that I think about it, it's not that they hit it off, but that he intentionally cater.

Harry couldn't remember when they came into contact, but presumably before that, Voldemort didn't know the secret to gaining magic from him.

Beginning with unilateral use, continued communication with deception, until today, finally lifted the last layer of mask.

Long before that surprise kiss and confession, he had his own plan in motion.

Harry felt a utter relief.

But at the same time, there was another hole in his heart that was growing bigger and bigger, and it kept sucking in the spirit of joy, gradually exceeding the total amount he could continue to produce.

He had that tired feeling that penetrated the marrow of his bones again.

Especially when he faced Voldemort and couldn't stop thinking about him.

It is undeniable that when he woke up and saw him at the end of the bed, the sudden joy in his heart was smooth and natural.

But he came closer, even if he just stood silently aside, the feeling of suffocation from last night seemed to come again.It was never far away, like an invisible hand, strangling Harry's throat.

What is he here for?kill him?Harry fancied that he could reach out to Fawkes, and just cast a spell, and the phoenix would take him away.

But his body didn't seem to be moved by his own thoughts, lazily spread out in the shape of a mattress, without even blinking his eyelids.

There was a faint rustling sound outside the window, and the heavy snow like goose feathers was falling down, burying the bleakness of the entire castle in a disturbing manner.

Harry turned his head to look at the window, feeling the gaze fixed on him follow him.

"It's snowing," said Voldemort.

Harry didn't answer him.

"Today is Christmas," he added.

Fox fluttered angrily in the cage, but no one paid attention.

Voldemort's eyes returned to Harry.But Harry was staring out the window stubbornly, as if attracted by the flakes of falling snow.

He hadn't even spoken a word since Voldemort's appearance.

Voldemort's mood worsened and, rarely, this time he tried to control it.

"...you said you'd be with me today," he said darkly.

The expression looked as though Harry was coming to duel him.

Harry didn't.

But there was no answer to him either.

Only the fingers under the quilt moved slightly.

Voldemort didn't notice, and the whole person seemed even more irritable.

He took a deep breath and stared at the back of Harry's head, fighting the urge to reach out and twist it away.

"Speak, Harry."

Well, he's still pissed off.

...at least he's under control and not threatening.

Harry paused for a moment before turning his head, a slow pace that Voldemort found to be torture.

But he kept his wand hand under control.

Just when he thought Harry was about to speak, he raised a hand and pointed to his throat.

Can't talk?

Voldemort raised his eyebrows subtly, just stretched out his hand, paused again, and said, "I want to check your neck."

Harry stared at him intently, his blood-red eyes staring straight at him.

Then he slowly lowered his hand and looked aside again.

acquiesced.

His bony fingers caressed his neck, and goose bumps immediately appeared on the fair skin that had completely erased the bruises. The reaction of the body could not be fooled. The crisis of last night was still vivid in his memory, and the redness in Voldemort's eyes almost burned.

He silently used the detection magic, his fingers lingering unnecessarily on the side of his neck, feeling the savior's forbearing and restrained swallowing.

Still...very tempting.

"Sound-burning potion, it only takes a few hours to re-grow the entire throat...too anxious."

Voldemort judged displeased.

"Obviously there is a more stable and reliable prime agent, and you can rest for a week at most, and nothing will happen. Is Dumbledore rushing to ask you to give a speech?"

"And... your injury doesn't need such a strong medicine."

"...it's simply unreasonable."

Harry looked at him, wondering if he really wasn't talking about himself?

Madam Pomfrey just wanted him to get better as soon as possible and deal with this dangerous enemy.

Whose fault was it that caused this result?

Distraught by his gaze, Voldemort turned his face away from his habit.

"Where's my Christmas present?"

Harry's eyes widened in disbelief.

——Why does this guy have the nerve to mention it?

His expression is so explicit that he can clearly convey the meaning without words.

Not only did Voldemort have the nerve to mention it, but he also had the nerve to repeat it.

"I want my present."

Fawkes blew angrily again, pacing back and forth in the cage, trying to remind Harry of his existence.

This time Voldemort was so annoyed that a Stunning Spell hit him.

The ward was quiet, only the sound of wind and snow outside the window.

Harry was angry and funny, and stared at him, and finally grabbed his hand angrily, and wrote a letter on the palm——

S.

"...Snape." Voldemort gritted his teeth, "You want me to trade him for Christmas presents?"

Harry nodded viciously.

Voldemort sneered, "Why?"

The heat in Harry's eyes cooled slightly.

"Why is he eligible to exchange my gift?"

Harry froze slightly.

"He doesn't deserve it," said Voldemort grimly. "He will continue to serve me until the day he dies on the bench."

It took Harry a few seconds to realize that it meant... Snape was alive?

He sat up slightly and confirmed with his eyes.

Voldemort only took the trouble to emphasize: "A gift."

He even held out a hand towards him.

Harry stared at the beautiful hand for a while, then smiled lowly.

His voice was limited, only his chest was vibrating sullenly, then he shook his head, fumbled in the space pocket of his school robe, and found the crushed gift box.

He carefully opened the gift box, took out the spark machine and put it in his palm.

Voldemort didn't withdraw his hand.

"A box too."

Harry looked at him strangely for a second, and put the broken gift box on as promised.

Voldemort then stopped, put the spark machine back into the gift box, looked at it for a while, and then sealed it again.

After receiving the gift, Harry felt that his emotions had been inexplicably soothed, although his gaze that fell again still showed a kind of scrutiny that was neither salty nor light.

"I have no presents, Harry," he said flatly.

Harry wanted to roll his eyes, as if he'd expected it.

"but……"

As soon as Harry's anger flared up, he was caught by his hesitation again.

Voldemort lowered his eyes, staring at the hand he had just held the gift in.

"I feel...you need this."

Harry looked at him in bewilderment, obviously not understanding what he was talking about.

Voldemort didn't intend to make him understand, he suddenly raised his eyes fiercely, and locked Harry fiercely.

That sudden outburst of momentum stopped Harry, and he didn't dodge as he leaned forward.

But the position was all too familiar, and Harry knew all too well what was going to happen next.This clear recognition rekindled the anger he had just relieved, and it became more intense and resentful——

No!Not at all!

— This is not what he needs!

"Listen." Voldemort stopped at a distance of breathing and smelling him, their noses almost touched, and they could clearly see themselves in each other's eyes, "I still don't think I am, but if I have to A thing is defined in me, so you can almost think that..."

The redness in his eyes was like thunder and flames piercing the sky.

"I love you."

The ward seemed to be covered by heavy snow, and there was no sound at all.

Fox fell silently in the birdcage, beautiful feathers hanging from the gaps in the wire, even the tiniest fluff was still.

After Voldemort finished speaking, he showed a disgusted expression, almost unable to bear any more, and wanted to withdraw from Harry's presence.

The savior hugged his head violently, and gnawed on it without any rules, the intense breath was like the afternoon when he swallowed the golden snitch for the first time.