HP+ Miss Malfoy has green eyes

"Are you punishing yourself?" she whispered. "Or are you punishing me? Do you want to punish me? Because I died? Because I left you here alone? Because I gave up my life Giving up everything you have and will have, so you give my things to others? You want to punish me like this? But, Re, I'm dead, you can't punish a dead person..."

"I didn't..." he said, "I just..."

"I'm different from her," she whispered. "You know I'm different from your wife. I really love you. She's just talking. She loves herself the most. She wants you. She wants you." Whether you like it or not, she only thinks about herself."

His wife didn't love him, his wife just wanted him.

And she would want nothing to please him.That's how she loves him.

She loves him enough to not want him.

"Don't let her do that to you, don't let them do that to you," she repeated, "You are mine, no one else can touch my things, and only I can break my things! Just like you, Even you can't punish yourself, only I can punish you!"

He hugged her and just nodded.

"They can't treat you like that..." She seemed to cry again.

"Okay," he whispered, "I'm not going to let them do that to me, I'm not going to let them go on, you know, I'm yours, only yours, and only you can punish me... ..."

Just like at that time, he held her in his arms and kept saying, "I'm yours, sister, it's yours alone, it's just yours..."

But at that time, she was still alive.

"You made me forget you," he said softly, "my mind forgets you, but my heart remembers you, and my body remembers you."

You'll forget why you love the sound of summer wind blowing through leaves, you'll forget why you love the smell of mint, you'll forget why you help your picky eaters eat vegetables off their plates while your wife isn't looking , you will forget why you subconsciously want to stick your fingers in their hair, you will forget why you want to buy it home when you see a green dress-you know Rebecca doesn't like green, but Anna doesn't like skirts.

But you like them.You like how those things make you feel.

You forget that those things were once liked by others, you forget that those things remind you of her.

But you don't forget how they make you feel.

They are beautiful things, with your best memories, in your head, while your body remembers it, your five senses remember it.

When you hear, see, even smell something, when you touch silky hair, taste food that you don't actually like, you lighten up, you feel good.

Because that's your body subconsciously telling you that it's something pleasurable.

That's beautiful stuff.

Similarly, you don't know why you can't see other people's tears, you can't see a woman who threatens you that she will die if she doesn't get you, you don't know why you are afraid of the little unconscious attachment of your daughter to your father mood.

Your second daughter longs for you to hug her, but makes you sad every time she looks at you.

Many things make you depressed and sad for no reason, and you cannot see many things.

Even if they are harmless, even if they look normal in the eyes of others.

But you know you can't see them.

You can't see your daughter put the rings on her long, white fingers because they look like a death talisman.

She has beautiful fingers, but you still can't see her wearing any rings.

You ask her, "Isn't that bracelet over there pretty?"

You can't even speak the language of snakes, because for some reason every word you spit out is like a steel needle piercing your throat, even though your daughter really wants you to speak to her in a language that only you know Dialogue and your rejection confuses her and starts to dislike her talent.

It all makes you miserable and makes you tremble and makes you want to scream and make you want to destroy everything.

You don't know why, but you want to do it.

Your body betrays your brain in an instant, or they have their own memories from the beginning.

Is this a bad thing?No, it's a good thing.

You have something that cannot be easily taken away from you.

You forget why, but you always make the same choices, with consistent outcomes.

The reason is not important, what matters is that you will do it that way.

Memory is not important, because the really important things are not in your mind, your body will automatically and spontaneously regard it as your own choice, the good situation is that when you hold the blade unintentionally, you subconsciously let go, before you react, it will hurt When you are you will loosen up.

But the worst part is that the pain is reassuring, as if the binge eater could never control his appetite.

The body remembers the pleasure, but also the pain.

Even if you forget the reason, the body always remembers the result.

The body is more honest and more reliable than memory.

She will give you all the vegetables on the plate when mom is not looking, even if you don't really like it.

You will eat it. Mom is right, picky eaters are really bad.So you are not picky eaters.

But if she doesn't like it, then forget it.Vitamins aren't just in vegetables.

She likes summer because it's a time when there's very little to wear and she doesn't catch a cold.

She calls you, "Re."

The leaves are rustling on the treetops by the wind, and you look up and see her wearing a green skirt and silky blond hair, sitting on the branch and smiling at you.

She climbed up like a cat, but she often didn't know how to get down after climbing up.

She's a cat and you're a dog, you can't climb up and take her down like Rebecca did.

So you hold out your hands.

You know she's going to throw herself into your arms.

Take the form of a cat.

The moment you make sure you catch her, she immediately changes back to her human form.

You can smell the peppermint aroma on her body, but under that aroma is the smell you are more familiar with, her smell, the smell like milk, as time goes by as she grows into a girl, the milk smell in her smell will change Light, it will be mixed with fruit, and the aroma of the fruit will gradually become sweet from light, but her taste will always be special and familiar.

Your dearest daughter smells so much like her, almost exactly.

You will touch her silky blond hair and slender shoulders, her smooth and delicate arms around your neck, and her kiss is as light as a feather on your cheek.

She won't turn back into a human sometimes, she'll let you just take her home like a cat.

Her fur is soft and her paws are delicate.

She is corporeal, she exists.

As a cat she hated being touched on her stomach.

Not even you.

She will claw you.

Because she is a girl.

yes girls.

She never grew up again.

She is 15 and will always be 15.

You killed her yourself.

What can magic do?It can make you forget who you are, it can make you forget what you have done.

It can make your mind forget everything, but it can't make your body forget everything.

You will forget that an apple is an apple and a grape is a grape.

But when you put them in your mouth, you will know that you don't like apples, you like grapes.

The likes and dislikes of the body are so difficult to change, and things that have been used to since childhood cannot be stripped away by time.

No matter how many times, no matter what happens, what makes you happy always makes you happy, and what makes you miserable still makes you miserable.

You forget what she looks like, what she smells like, everything she likes.

But you still remember the joy that those things brought you.

You can't relate that to her, but it's always about happiness.

The scent of mint cheers you up, the sound of leaves reassures you, and even pesky vegetables are irresistible.

Pavlov's dogs salivate at the sound of bells, as if the presence of these things makes you happy.

why?

The bell signaled the arrival of food.

And these are with her.

She makes it all count, she makes it the bell in your head.

You forget about her, but it still subconsciously pleases you.

All this is her foil.

It all makes you feel for her.

You don't remember her.

But you remember being happy.

What is she?

what is she to you

you do not know.

You just know that she is unique and that she grew up with you.

She is the summer wind, she is the fragrance of mint, she is the feathery kiss on your face.

She is your unfailing companion and closest rival.

She is made of all good things.

She is a combination of countless pleasant memories.

She was with you for 15 years, 15 years as it should be, 15 years that were almost never apart.

She knows everything about you, just as you know hers.

You have done a lot of things together—figuring out someone's secrets, guessing how to get people to do what you want them to do; comparing who gets better grades, who makes more perfect experiments , Play chess, see who wins this game.

You hug each other, kiss each other good morning and good night on the cheek, and do it every day.

When you were very young, you and her would secretly sleep on the same bed without telling your mother, back to back because you hated each other's breath blowing on your face, and when you woke up in the morning, you could realize that she was right behind you, like ancient times. Roman soldiers are each other's reliance.

You are so close, you are so alike, you need each other.

She throws the snowball at you, and you know she'll be happy to hit you.

So you don't move, because her smile can make you happy.

You will pretend to be in pain and fall to the ground clutching where she hit.

She cheered and rushed over, pressed you tightly in the snow, straddled you, and pressed your shoulders with both hands. You could break free but just let her wait until she bowed her head in your arms. There was a cold kiss mixed with snowflakes on his face.

She said, "Did I hurt you?"

No, never.

She always wears very thin clothes, and she is prone to fever in winter, so she refuses to wear even one more.

So you should always remember to hold her hand. When her body temperature is too low, you have to untie your coat and hug her, and you have to share your body temperature with her.

She cuts a peach and gives you half of it, and she gives you everything.

She took a bite of the pear and thought it was unbelievably sweet, so she insisted that you have a bite too.

Everything about her is yours, and everything she likes is yours.

Therefore, she must give you what she likes.

She doesn't give it to others, only to you.

You can't transfer the things she gave you, because they are for you, only for you, and those things cannot belong to others.

At any time, she may call your name and throw herself into your arms, and you hug her, smiling uncontrollably.

She is forever associated with joy.

She is your joy.

When you were 15 years old.

You killed joy with your own hands.