HP+ Miss Malfoy has green eyes

"Ma'am..." Tom Riddle said dryly.

His eyes were all focused on the other party's neck, where there was a finger-shaped bruise that even the blonde hair couldn't cover up.

She leaned on her sofa, leaning there as if she had no strength.

She was still beautiful, but the scars on her neck were bruised and purple.

She was wearing a black dress, black as night, the color of mourning.

She was as white as glowing.

How could someone be so pale yet so radiant?

However, all of this is not as attractive as the bruise on her neck that she tried her best to cover up but still couldn't hide.

She rolled her green eyes, and smiling, still smiling, looked at him. "Good afternoon, Tom."

"Ma'am..." He felt like he was about to cry, "What's wrong with you?"

He couldn't help but want to get closer to her.

"It's nothing." She sat up from the sofa and slid her sleeves twice as she moved. You can see that there are tooth marks and abrasions on those beautiful hands, as if they were bitten by sharp teeth and then scratched by sharp nails same.

Before he came back to his senses, he was already standing beside her.He wanted to reach out and touch her, he just wanted to hold her hand and see what was wrong with those hands.

"He just wants me to beg for mercy," she said softly.

"Okay, Tom, go back, I'm not feeling well today."

She smiled, "You should go back."

He didn't like her laughing like this.

It was worse for her to laugh like this than to cry, though he had not yet seen a single tear from the lady.

"Madam..." When he came back to his senses, he was already kneeling beside her sofa, and he couldn't restrain himself, "Madam..."

He said, "I'm sorry..."

It was all his fault, on the premise of knowing her husband's terrible possessiveness.

"It's okay," she raised her hands in front of her face, "Tom, this is between me and him, not your fault."

She looked at her bruised hands, "That's my own ignorance."

"I hurt myself," she said.

But he subconsciously grabbed those hands and held them in front of his chest. Before he came back to his senses, he subconsciously kissed the deep and unbelievable tooth marks. It was more like a beast bite than a human. out of the wound.

"lady……"

But she frowned fiercely, and she withdrew her hand.

"Did I hurt you, ma'am?" he asked her.Her wound has not healed yet, and there is still fresh blood on it.

"Yes," she said, "a little bit, but it's not your fault. I'm afraid of pain. I'm more sensitive to pain." Her hands were shaking. "Okay, Tom, go back..."

He knew he shouldn't stay any longer, but the next time he saw her was not until two weeks later.

"Ma'am..." he almost begged her.

"Tom," she looked at him with deep emerald eyes, "you're too young, Tom," she looked at him, "you don't know what you're doing, you should go back."

No, he knows.

It's like his instinct to get close to her, no matter what, get closer to her.

He grabbed his wand, "At least let me heal you..."

His hands were shaking, and even his wand was shaking.

She looked at him silently, and after a while, finally passed her hand over.

Trembling, he compared his wand to her wound. How could there be any healing magic?

The wound will not heal without the potion.

It's just transferring the other party's wounds to himself, it's just exchanging his health for hers.

But for her, he is willing.

However, even such a small wish is not destined to be fulfilled.

Her wounds couldn't heal.

"It's impossible," he whispered, he couldn't even work such a small spell, "it's..."

"His wounds haven't healed yet," she whispered. "I hurt him and he was angry. He wouldn't use white meat or potions, so until his wounds healed, my wounds wouldn't heal." It will be better."

how so?How could he treat her like this!

But she laughed, "Don't worry, Tom, he healed the cut on his face. He's going out to meet people, and he doesn't like my face. Let them grow well..."

and.

Thinking that he didn't dare to take off his gloves at all, thinking that he didn't dare to roll up his sleeves...

She felt extremely relieved.

She suddenly laughed.

He didn't let go of her fingers.Her fingers were cold, but after covering them for a long time, there was a little heat.

After a while.

Her fingers rested lightly on his wand. "Is it yew?"

Many people said that the yew was the wand of the dark wizard, so even when he had to introduce his wand, he only mentioned it in passing, but he was curious how she recognized it.

Except for the craftsmen who make wands, most people don't have such eyesight.

"Yes." He said softly.

She smiled softly, "Tom, you are definitely not a cowardly and incompetent person."

No, no, no, there was nothing he could do to save her.

There was nothing he could do.

"It's a fine wood," she said, "and if its owner dies, bury it with its owner, and it will grow into a tree to protect his grave."

"What's the wand core?" She touched his wand and asked him very gently.

"Phoenix's tail feathers." He replied in a low voice.

"Same as mine," she said softly, "I am also the tail feather of the phoenix."

She is a witch without a wand.

At least not now.

"Can I use it?" she asked softly.

He couldn't refuse her, she had lost too much.

With a flick of her wand, little golden sparks fell from the ceiling.

It landed on them, bounced on the ground, and finally disappeared.

"Do you think this looks good?" She asked him in a low voice, the corners of her mouth slightly curved. "The first time I used my wand," she said softly, "that's what it showed me."

She hadn't touched her wand for a long, long time.

"Beautiful." He watched her face, watching the tiny sparks falling from the sky, bouncing off her hair, making tiny gold reflections in her green eyes, finally falling to the ground and extinguishing, "It's beautiful, ma'am, it's beautiful."

She smiled at him, "Really?"

She looks very pretty when she smiles like this, with a rare innocence, like a child.

He couldn't help feeling sad again.She was always smiling, but this was the first time she had smiled like this.

"It's no big deal," she seemed to see the sadness in his heart, she smiled, "Tom," she stared at the sky, "ten years, I've been married to him for almost ten years," she said, "you Do you know that yesterday was my 27th birthday?"

From 17 to 27 years old.

ten years.

From 14th birthday to 27th birthday.

13 years.

Thirteen birthdays.

Thirteen is said to be the most unlucky number.

Yet every birthday in his absence was a torture to her.

He was less than 15 years old when he died.

And she has grown into the sad adult she is now.

"I'm used to it," she whispered, "at least I think I'm used to it."

This already made her feel better than her 15th birthday.

All this has been better than the night of her wedding.

That night...

She restrained herself from thinking, and returned his wand to him, "Thank you, go back, child."

She worked very hard, but she was still thinking, the more you tell yourself not to think about one thing, the more that thing hovers in your mind.

She looked dazed and vulnerable.

She's always been like this, like she's fragile to the extreme.

Also beautiful to the extreme.

He stood up, and suddenly couldn't help but bent down to kiss her, but the moment he was about to touch her, she suddenly recovered from the trance.

She jerked aside and screamed tremblingly, "Don't touch me!"

She subconsciously resisted him.

He stopped, not understanding why he did such a thing.

The elf at the door asked, "What's the matter, ma'am?"

His nervous stomach convulsed.

She calmed down and pressed her palms against his chest.

She first said loudly, "It's nothing, don't come in." It was to the house-elf.

Then she said coldly, "You should go."

He stopped, he said, "I'm sorry..." He was a little flustered, "I just..."

He didn't mean it, he didn't know what happened to him.

She turned her head away, "You should go!"

She wants to throw up.

Man, man, man!

All of them are disgusting!

She took a deep breath, she knew it was none of his business, she knew it was mainly because she was in a bad mood.

She repeated, "You should go, kid!"

Don't call him a kid!

Don't call him a kid!

He is not a child anymore!

He is 20 years old.

He turns 20 in two months!

But he knew he was wrong, he shouldn't have tried to kiss her, how could he do that!

Her palm was still on his chest, forcefully and resistingly.

But he...he couldn't do anything.He knew what to do and what to say.

but……

He knew he was... angry too.

Angry at her resistance, angry at her husband, angry at herself... her powerless self.

but……

She squeezed her palm again.

But that bit of strength was actually meaningless, and even that bit of resistance aroused his certain desires to a certain extent.

She is so close to him...

She was no more than five and a half feet tall, and her wrists were so slender they were almost boneless against his chest.

She's so soft, so small...

He can hold her with one hand.

He wanted to just press her on the sofa like this, he knew he could do that if he wanted to...

She was imprisoned when she was too young, she really didn't understand anything, this level of resistance...

The breath she exhaled was on his face, and that breath was weak, even though she was already tense and frightened like a cat with its hair blown out, she didn't have any more strength.

The feeling that he could get anything he wanted with just a little more effort almost bewitched him...

She is like a cat...

No, she's not necessarily stronger than a cat.

She doesn't even have a wand...

if he……

His mind was full of thoughts that were so crazy that they were almost out of control.

But her green eyes were full of tears, she was on the verge of tears, she was even shaking.

"Tom..." she whispered to him, "Tom?"

He scared her, she was scared.

She was so scared that she was about to cry.

He didn't want her to cry.

He wanted to hug her but she was determined not to let him touch her.

But he really wanted a kiss...

Just a kiss, ma'am...a kiss...

He took a deep breath, knowing that he didn't want to but had to, he couldn't make her hate him anymore.

He has to leave, he can't do that.

He picked up the suitcase, and when he was about to walk to the door of the living room, he turned his head to look at her, and said softly, "Happy birthday, madam."

It was rare to see the living room very dark, very dark, and after a little distance, the other party's expression could hardly be seen, and the face was so blurred that there was only a faint shadow.He could no longer see the scars on the opponent's neck.

Under such dim light, you will have a kind of confusion, wondering whether such scars really exist.

But he knew the scar was there.

The scar was on her neck, and it was also in his brain.

Lingering.

He waited a while.

There is no answer.

He finally opened the door and went out.

And the moment the door closed, she could finally curl up in the sofa and hug herself.

She wore her shoes and wrapped her arms tightly around her knees, curling herself up in a small ball between the two arms of the sofa.

Darkness is scary, but...

What is not to be afraid of?

She doesn't want to do anything, she can't do anything.

Even beasts will lick their wounds to comfort each other.

But she was alone.

She has no companions but herself.

But even that wasn't all hers.

How can there be any joy.

Since the age of 14, all birthdays are torture.

She was sobbing in her arms, she had nothing, she wasn't even her own.

She was dressed like mourning, but only because she was dead.