hp pounding

"What's this?" Harry played with the glass ball, holding it up and looking at it.

Snape didn't answer, his lips moved without saying what he was about to say.

He didn't want to tell Harry now, and he didn't want to restore his memory.

Maintaining the status quo may be the best option.

"You cast a spell on it." Harry squinted his eyes and stared at the black surface of the glass ball, then put it down, rubbing his fingers over it, he mused, and soon he tentatively used a wandless spell.

As a result, the blackness on the surface of the glass ball quickly faded away, revealing its real transparent texture, and the inside was stiff like a shining starburst integrated with the glass. He sprawled across the surface of the glass ball as if touching Harry's fingers.

"What the hell is this?" He looked curiously at the spot of light inside the ball, tapped his fingers as if shaking hands with the light, and then spun the ball again, and found that no matter how he turned the little light in the ball would disappear. In the position facing him, it seems to have recognized him, and it seems that as long as there is no barrier of glass, it will rush into his arms.

"This is not your toy." Snape made a serious face. He strode over and snatched the ball from Harry's hand, and then carefully looked at the light spot on the palm of his hand that was shifted towards him. Finally, he cruelly raised his hand to hang over the glass ball, covering the surface of the glass ball with black again.

"Sleep, it's not time for you to wake up yet." He said softly, his voice was softer than Harry had ever heard before, as if he was humming a nursery rhyme.

Such meticulous treatment made Harry's heart overflow with sourness.

"Can it still understand your words?" He asked sourly.

Snape only glanced at Harry, as if accusing him of being troublesome, and didn't speak.

Harry pursed his lips, "This is the part of me that lost my memory again." And Snape must have a way to restore his memory, but he didn't want to do it.

So sometimes he just can't help but hate this old bastard who always does everything for him, and it makes him feel like there's nothing he can do but do what Snape wants - and he doesn't want to discuss it with him his plan.

So isn't this the same as Dumbledore?He is always the last to know.

No—he had to change that.

"What's the matter, I won't help you with your homework." Snape sneered, he picked up the ball and walked to the study, locking it in the cabinet under Harry's gaze.

"I miss you, that's why I'm here," Harry stepped forward, and when Snape turned, he reached out to trap his professor between the locker and him, and they were so close .

If he'd been taller, he'd certainly be more of a pressure--and it's pretty good right now.

"I want to kiss you, Professor."

"Potter." Snape frowned, trying to tear Harry's arm off.

But Harry was quicker. He touched Snape's face and tiptoed to kiss those thin lips.

He knew Snape would not refuse him.

Maybe he could do more, Harry glanced at the sofa chair in the study, he thought about the time and his original plan, and made a decision in a split second.

He kissed Snape, then backed away, pulling his professor to follow him, towards the couch.

Just when they were kissing so hard that even Harry was starting to feel his tongue tingling and his brow blushing over and over, he pushed Snape onto the sofa, made him sit down, and lifted him up. Kneeling half of Snape's body, this posture is ambiguous.

"That's not a good plan," Snape said slowly, his dark eyes staring at Harry like the center of a hurricane.

"I managed to wait until Sirius went out, and this might be the last time we see each other before school starts, Severus," Harry said, unbuttoning his house jacket. "You really don't want to go on?"

His lips were rosy from the kiss, and Snape's gaze stayed there, then turned to where the button was undone.

I have to say that this proposal is extremely attractive.