Chapter 22 The Eve Before Dawn
"Creaky, creaky", light footsteps landed on the wooden stairs.
Hermione held the plate steadily in both hands, which was filled with steaming hot food.
When she came to the door, she stretched out her hand, grasped the door handle with her slender fingers, and turned it slowly. The door hinge made a slight creaking sound, like a gentle sigh.
Hermione tiptoed into the room and placed the plate gently on the bedside table.
"Eat when you wake up Harry."
"You haven't eaten properly in the past few days. You've been slurring your food down. It'll hurt your stomach if you keep doing this for a long time."
We were all sad to lose Dumbledore, but Harry, who succeeded Dumbledore and became the core of the Order of the Phoenix, did not even have time to grieve.
The Death Eaters' pursuit was getting more and more intense, making him extremely busy every day and leaving him with very little time to sleep.
Hermione knew that Harry had not yet gotten over the death of Dumbledore.
But no matter what, life must go on, and as a savior, he must be strong because the entire Order of the Phoenix is behind them.
They had no time to grieve or mourn, and Harry, as the core, needed to recover his strength as soon as possible to continue fighting the Death Eaters.
Hermione took a deep breath and turned, ready to leave.
"Thanks, Min."
Harry sat up slowly, and a corner of the burgundy quilt was lifted up and wrinkled to one side.
His messy hair covered his furrowed brows, and his eyes did not show the sleepiness of someone who had just woken up, but instead revealed an indescribable dullness.
The dark eyelids and black stubble on his chin made his face look a little gloomy.
"Get well soon Harry, we still need you."
The words of encouragement I wanted to say were stuck in my throat and I didn't know how to continue.
Harry was already under enough pressure, she couldn't add to his burden and make him more exhausted.
Harry raised his head, revealing his determined green eyes. His proud eyes seemed to promise her, 'I won't let myself fall.'
"Min, I'm fine. It's just that the Death Eaters have been chasing me too closely lately. Don't worry, I know my physical condition and I won't collapse."
How could I fall down when I haven't killed that lying liar yet?
The creaking sound of footsteps rang out again.
The soles of the shoes landed on the deep red wool carpet, and the gravel and leather squeezed against each other, making a faint rustling sound.
The bright and fine wool on the clean shoe upper looks like blood spilled on the dark rocks, like a medieval oil painting with absolute visual impact.
His black suit swung out in perfect lines on the thick, cotton-like carpet that covered the corridor. The flickering yellow light from the carved wall lamps outlined his tense jaw, which gleamed like a sword drawn from its sheath.
She pursed her thin lips, and two rows of dark rain clouds pressed down on a pair of half-covered mirror lakes, and her whole body exuded a cold breath like a shattered vase.
A steady stream of footsteps passed along the corridor, like the plucking of an ancient bell on the strings of history, emitting a solemn and low reverberation.
As the footsteps stopped, a hand rested on the study door handle.
Draco tilted his head back slightly, his Adam's apple rolling under the layers of his collar. The cool touch on his moist palm made him shudder.
The exquisite brass handle turned slowly, accompanied by a slight "creaking" sound. The smell of old paper and leather dancing in the study replaced and diluted the refreshing apple scent at the tip of Draco's nose.
After preparing himself mentally for a while, Draco pushed open the door and walked into the study, which he rarely visited before.
The envelope on the table made his heart beat, like a half-pack of soda being spilled into water and instantly covered with ice foam.
His stiff and cold hands and feet seemed to be out of mechanical coordination, and he almost fell into the room with his hands and feet together.
If those greedy eyes had been staring at him, he would have collapsed to the ground by now.
"Little Malfoy, why don't you come to me?"
The voice was low and hoarse, with a hint of a smile, and a certain indescribable charm and sexiness, but it was like a call from hell, piercing Draco's heart.
Draco paused, his legs felt like they were filled with lead, his weak feet seemed to be stepping on a velvet bed. He moved step by step to the front of him and knelt down: "Master"
Draco tried to keep his voice steady, but his fingers were shaking slightly.
The dim light struggled to penetrate the tall bookshelves that stretched to the ceiling and were as thick as castle walls, and scattered on the ground.
Most of its strength was devoured by the darkness, leaving only half of the beast with a strange shape and blurred edges. It hid in Draco's shrinking reflection, shivering.
"You completed this mission very well. How should I reward you?"
A low and magnetic voice came from the darkness, as if carrying some kind of temptation and magic, causing the crippled beast huddled at Draco's legs to tremble involuntarily.
"No, no, it's our honor to lay down our lives for you." Draco's voice was weak, but he knelt on the carpet respectfully with great determination.
As soon as Draco finished speaking, a mysterious chuckle sounded in the darkness again.
"Then you must be willing to serve me again."
Draco's heart suddenly sank, and his originally neat tie suddenly turned into a dark green python, coiling around his meticulously made collar.
His chest began to feel stuffy, as if a large rock was pressing on it, and his throat seemed to be choked by something, making swallowing difficult.
He unconsciously reached out to pull at his collar, his fingers trembling on the edge of the tight collar, trying to tear a big hole so that he could breathe freely.
"Answer me!" The sudden falling sound, along with the demonic pressure that came with a fierce murderous intent, pierced Draco's nerves like a sharp blade, causing him to collapse to the ground almost instantly, his knees unable to move at all.
Cold sweat dripped down his forehead, but he didn't dare to look in that direction, for fear that the terrifying gaze that could tear a person into pieces would torture him to death.
Draco raised his head slowly, as if carrying a heavy burden.
His eyes were a little dull, and there was a hint of imperceptible fear in them.
The man sitting behind the desk was tall and straight, his facial features casually carved in light colors on the marble, like a bottomless icy lake, looking down at Draco.
On the tall oak wall panel behind him hung oil paintings of his family ancestors. Their eyes were cold and deep, as if they were examining the shivering souls at his feet for him.
"Yes! ... Master, I ... am ... willing ... to serve you."
But because he was too nervous, even his voice was trembling.
The corners of his mouth were pulled upward desperately, like rusty gears turning with difficulty.
The stiff muscles lose their ability to respond to the brain's commands, making the corners of the mouth look crooked, like the failed lines casually painted on the canvas by a poor painter.
The unconscious trembling of his lips was destroying the already crumbling mountain with every passing moment.
The bright eyes sparkled, as if in the next second, this disguised smile would completely collapse, replaced by surging fear and tears about to burst out.
The demonic pressure on his body, like Mount Tai, suddenly disappeared, and black smoke slowly rose like mushrooms after rain. A face that looked like snake skin pasted on a marble mold appeared in front of Draco.
Draco nearly screamed in fear, but fear got there first and covered his mouth with his hands.
There was only a pair of wide-open eyes, staring at the face so close to him. His whole body was stiff and his mind was blank.
"Very good. I hope that next time I see you, you will bring me a bigger surprise."
The man's slow and gentle voice brought back the temptation, and footsteps were heard again in the darkness, accompanied by a low sound of metal friction, which was particularly clear in the empty room.
Draco collapsed on the carpet as if exhausted.
The heavy breathing was like a blower that was constantly running.
Trying to calm the emotions was like a drop in the bucket, only relieving the pain a little.
Draco didn't have the energy to continue sorting out his thoughts. The pain of constantly turning over his memories eroded Draco's sanity to the point of collapse.
Harry...
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
