HP+ Miss Malfoy has green eyes

Harry had always been terrified of the closeness of his bond with Voldemort.

He even felt as if he was growing closer.

His wound was always faintly hot and painful.

But none of these can compare to the pain in his heart.

He always has a heartache.

As he looked through the other's eyes, his heart ached more and more uncontrollably.

He could see the back and profile of the other party constantly watching the girl.

The girl is reading a book, sometimes willing to let him comb her hair.

Voldemort never took his eyes off her hair and fingers.

He didn't know why, but he didn't dare to look at the girl's face for a long time.He seemed afraid to meet her eyes.

His slender and pale fingers picked up a strand of blond hair, combed it neatly and then let it go, that long hair would fall on her book when she lowered her head, and she would reach out Push your hair behind your ears.

He likes her to do it.

He felt an urge to take her fingers and pull them towards him.

He twisted a strand of her hair and held them, held them, almost to his lips—his barely there lips.

The girl turned her head to look at him as if she had eyes behind her back, and he let go of his blond hair for a moment, as if he didn't want her to see what he was doing.

She held her lock of hair and looked at him for a moment.

Her fingers are as slender as white flower stems, and her pale pink nails are trimmed and rounded. The silver bracelet on her wrist slides to her elbow with her movements, causing the loose shirt sleeves to fall down, revealing a white and flexible forearm.Her fingers were held up next to his face, and the way she touched something on his mind.

He wanted to hold the girl's tender fingers up in front of his face - and he did.

He couldn't help but kiss her fingertips.

She quickly withdrew her hand from his and gave him a push before making a very obvious look of disgust.

Then she picked up the book and left the room without looking back.

Neither of them said a word.

For some reason, she can always do whatever she wants, and no one stops her anywhere.

She seems to have no sense of fear, always challenging all seemingly authoritative existence.

Even if the opponent is Voldemort.

And from Harry's point of view, Voldemort wasn't angry at all.

Harry only felt his heart ache, as if it was about to burst.

It was a tormenting feeling, and he felt like he wanted to kiss her madly, at any cost, just one kiss.

He just wanted to kiss her, even if it was just hair and fingertips.

But she wouldn't let him touch even her fingertips and hair.

He was in great pain, and she refused to let him kiss him like that!Not at all!

He even stretched out his hand, as if he wanted to grab a thread of her clothes - after she left, his outstretched hand naturally didn't touch anything.

He was silent in the living room alone.His pet crawled to his side to keep him company.

Harry wondered what had happened to Voldemort.

He seemed unable to control himself when he looked at the girl.

There was always something wrong with him when he was with her, he wasn't as firm and evil as usual.

He seemed to have grown weaker, and also saddened.

"Harry?" Hermione called him. "What are you doing?"

He suddenly came back to his senses, the things in front of him faded and became reality, and he saw his outstretched hand.

He didn't know whether he wanted to reach out or Voldemort wanted to reach out.

But there is always a kind of pain and soreness in his chest.

He wanted to hold her in his arms, he wanted to kiss her.

He could hardly restrain these two thoughts.

Harry didn't know why he felt that way.

It was as if he didn't know if the pain and sourness belonged to him.

And he could feel that the other party's desire to contact her was getting more and more intense, as if it was out of control at all.

A few days later, he saw Voldemort asking everyone angrily, "Where did she go? I haven't seen her since I got up in the morning, and it's almost supper now, can no one tell me where she is?" !"

At this moment, the door of the living room opened, and the girl came in. She said, "I'm back."

Her blond hair was a little wet, sticking together like gold thread instead of silk.

But clean and not wearing a robe but a dark green silk dress, she gave Voldemort a look, and she didn't even try to comfort him, she just gave him a look.

Just a glance.

Voldemort suddenly calmed down, "Where have you been, Miss?"

She looked at him, "I think I don't have to say it."

Voldemort waved a vase to the ground, and the Death Eaters were trembling, but she went out without looking up.

None of the Death Eaters dared look up, they just stared at the floor.

The door shut as suddenly as it opened.

And his two hands were suddenly lifted up like a spasm, as if he wanted to stretch out his hands to hug something, but then put them down again.

His heart was suddenly full of pain and despair.

At least that's how Harry felt.

He felt his heart twitching violently, as if he had been stabbed by someone and the person held the handle of the knife and spun it around his heart several times.

His heart was about to be sliced ​​into pieces by the sharp blade.

He even thought he could hear the chilling sound of the blade scraping against his ribs.

That day he dreamed that he was sitting on the same sofa with Vera, the room was very dark, her fingers were inserted in his hair, and he held Vera's face and kissed her lips.

She was wearing a black silk dress, and his hands slid down her back, unbuttoning it one by one.

He didn't expect to have such a quick means of unbuttoning, but he did.

He took off the black dress from her body, she was as white as milk, her skin was smoother than silk, not only the color, but even the texture of the skin was like milk.

Your hand is reluctant to leave.

His hands slid down her shoulders, she felt so smooth, so soft, she looked older than she was now.

He had thought the dream a little embarrassing.

Yes, originally.

She leaned softly in his arms.He could feel that her lips were full and soft, as full and plump as if they could burst open at the touch of a touch.

When his lips touched, he felt that she tasted sweet and juicy.

She was like some kind of sweet red fruit.

Like cherries or strawberries.

Delicate, with a light sip that brings out the sweet juice.

Or the pomegranate that he had never tried before, the pomegranate that brought Persephone to Hades.

Beautiful and luscious, you are already seduced by its appearance before you enter it, and finally it tricks you out of your choice.

He kissed her until he was fascinated, she was so beautiful and so irresistible.

He was crazy about that kiss.

He almost pinned her on the couch.

But out of breath she called him.

she called him.

Call him, "Tom."

Her hands were still hooked around his neck, she tilted her head back slightly, her slender neck and chin curved like a swan in an extremely elegant arc.

There was a faint blush on her face, and she looked a little dazed.

Although there is a saying called, "Tomand Harry." (Zhang San Li Si)

But his name is not Tom.

What's more, when thinking of Tom, the first thing Harry thinks of is Tom Riddle.

That was Voldemort's name.

This slightly humbling dream suddenly turned into a nightmare, the last kind of nightmare you want to see.

He woke up screaming in bed.

The whole dormitory was frightened by his cry, but no matter who asked, he couldn't tell about this dream.

Not at all.

After waking up, he was dripping with cold sweat. He sat up and told himself that she was Sirius' daughter, she would never stand by Voldemort's side, and she would never allow such a person to kiss herself!

He thought it should be a dream, because she was obviously older in the dream than she is now.

Her boobs are like that...

He felt a little hot just thinking about it.

He shook his head.

It should have been a dream, but only a dream.

It was absolutely not true, she would never do it, she would never call Voldemort Tom.

It was definitely just Harry's own dream.

This dream was so embarrassing that he didn't dare to tell anyone, nor did he want to tell anyone.