Harry Potter: This savior is a bit bad

Ron looked indignant.

In stark contrast to our joyful atmosphere, he sat alone in the corner.

I won't be too sympathetic. It's all his own fault.

Red-haired boy, you should accept the reality as soon as possible.

This time, Harry did not side with Weasley.

Malfoy will not give you any room to turn things around.

"I'm getting hungry. Let's go. I hope the leftovers from the Slytherin table can fill my stomach!"

Like a thousand times of reflex, I took Draco's hand.

After running a few steps, I realized that Harry was still behind me.

His expression was complicated and difficult to read.

He held the broom in one hand and the other hand was suspended in mid-air.

You mean, wait for me to hold his hand?

This is embarrassing...

"Harry, we're competing, and you have a broomstick in your hand! The last one to reach the door is the piglet!"

"Okay." He withdrew his hand, turned over and jumped onto the broom.

"Do you want me to give you a ride? I can win by riding a broom..."

His bangs were lifted by the breeze, revealing his full forehead.

That high-spirited look overlapped with James's photo.

"That's not necessarily true..." Draco and I looked at each other and smiled, then ran away.

"Hey, it hasn't started yet..." Harry had been left behind.

"It didn't say when it would start. Don't underestimate the enemy, Harry!"

I ran while shouting.

The braids swung rhythmically behind her.

The hair rope was bumped and fell accidentally.

The long platinum blonde hair cascaded down like a waterfall.

The hair tie that Draco tied for me disappeared, which made me sad for a long time.

It is woven with silver and green satin and was made by Draco himself. It is very commemorative.

It was a long time later that I learned that the hair rope was picked up by someone and kept as a treasure.

Snape received a message from Professor Hooch early in the morning, and with a stroke of his pen, he signed his name on the application for the use of the field for the Slytherin Quidditch team.

"Don't embarrass yourself."

He looked down at Harry's broom, said something, and turned away.

I believe he also saw James Potter's name.

"Aurora, Quidditch practice is going to drain our extracurricular life!"

Draco and Harry almost collapsed to the ground every time they finished.

The high-intensity physical training was too much for the two 11-year-old boys.

"Is this really training? Are they trying to tease us?" Draco complained in a low voice.

"Professor Snape is here too, the captain shouldn't dare." Harry moved his lips slightly, but if you didn't listen carefully, you wouldn't be able to catch his voice at all.

"Let me give you a massage... here... or here?"

Draco put his legs over my thighs.

“Ahhh… right here!”

Draco nearly cried out.

"The muscles are bunched together... You must not have stretched well before exercise!"

I massaged her lightly and heavily, and heard Draco sighing at the side: "Huh... much more comfortable... your skills have improved, Aurora..."

"It's all because of you. You always get bruised..." The bruises on the boy's extremely fair skin are particularly obvious.

"I can't help it..." He glanced at Harry subconsciously, "I want to be the best."

"You're the best. The best Draco, the best brother."

The boy's eyes are as bright as stars.

"Have you two rested?" Marcus Flint, then captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, shouted.

"Alright!" Draco seemed to be fully charged, "Aurora, you are the energy potion!"

What does this metaphor have to do with anything?