Harry Potter: Glory Bows to Me

She was silent for a few seconds, but finally reached out and gently put her arms around him.

She didn't comfort him or say anything extra.

She just stayed with him, standing by his side as always.

Draco's embrace did not relax at all, but became tighter and tighter, as if he wanted to embed her into the depths of his soul.

Then, he lowered his head, pressed against her neck, and spoke in a low and hoarse voice -

"…Let me be selfish for once, okay?"

As soon as he finished speaking, he suddenly raised his head, held her face, and kissed her without allowing her to refuse.

There was no hesitation, no temptation, no delay. The kiss came without warning, bringing with it the madness and collapse that had been suppressed for too long.

He kissed her without any method and with undisguised eagerness.

He had lost his mind, and all his suppressed emotions finally burst out.

His arms were tightly wrapped around her waist, as if he wanted to rub her into his body, as if he was afraid that she would push him away again, as if he was afraid that this fall was just a temporary illusion.

The breath was hot, and the temperature between the lips and teeth was so hot that it was suffocating.

Amanta closed her eyes, her heartbeat pounding violently.

Under my palm was Draco's tense back, and I could feel his almost desperate strength. His lips were warm and eager, and the kiss was panicked, without a trace of his usual grace, and even a little embarrassed.

She could feel Draco's loss of control, his fear, and the passionate emotions that had been suppressed for too long finally erupting.

He was now like a drowning man, desperately trying to grab the only piece of driftwood.

And she is her driftwood.

Her fingers grasped at his collar and she responded to the searing, intense kiss.

At this moment, their worlds were completely intertwined. All confusion, restraint, possession, and jealousy turned to ashes at this moment, leaving only the surging emotions that swept them down with them.

At this moment, there is no way out, and there is no need for retreat.

"Amanta..."

His voice was low and hoarse, a mixture of pain and anxiety, as if he was desperately grasping her presence in the darkness.

Amanta was slightly startled. She had never heard Draco call her in such a tone. The depression, desire and despair in his voice suddenly tightened her heart.

She finally raised her hand and slowly placed it on his back.

Her movements were gentle and reserved, but they instantly disrupted Draco's breathing.

He slowly opened his eyes, his blue-gray pupils reflected the faint moonlight, and uncontrollable emotions surged in them.

Amanta looked at him and said softly, "Calm down."

Draco's body suddenly stiffened, his breathing was still disordered, his fingers were still clasped around her waist, not loosening at all, as if he didn't want to hear these words.

"I don't want to be calm." His voice was terribly hoarse. "Amanta, do you know..."

His words stopped abruptly, his teeth clenched, as if he was trying hard to restrain something.

Draco buried his fingertips in her long hair and gripped it tighter and tighter, as if he wanted to hold her completely in his palm.

“…I can’t control myself at all.”

There was an audible tremor in his voice, and his forehead rested against hers, his breathing hot and trembling slightly.

Scared, yet extremely eager.

Amanta's eyelashes fluttered slightly.

It turned out that his jealousy, anger, pain, and even his current collapse were all because of her.

"……I know."

Draco closed his eyes, gently pressed his forehead against hers, and let out a long sigh.

His heart was beating wildly, as if it was going to burst through his chest, but Amanta's voice was like a breeze that pulled him back from the abyss of sinking.

He let go of her a little, his eyes still dark, his voice trembling slightly: "Amanta, what should I do?"

His voice was no longer filled with anger, but rather with an almost helpless exhaustion, revealing his truest vulnerability.

Amanta slowly reached out and gently clasped his fingers.

"Hold on, Draco." Her voice was firm. "Hold on, I'll work with you to find a solution."

Draco's fingers trembled slightly, but he finally held her hand tightly, closed his eyes, and laughed softly, his voice a little hoarse and bitter.

"Are you so sure that I can hold on?"

Amanta curled her lips slightly, her eyes calm and steady: "Because you are Draco Malfoy."

His breathing gradually calmed down, and he stared down at her with eyes so complicated that they were impossible to fathom.

"Amanta..." His voice was hoarse, as if he had used up all his strength, "Can you... come a little closer?"

There was almost a hint of secret begging in his voice, and a vulnerability that he himself was unwilling to admit.

"……it is good."

He knew he shouldn't go on, he knew he should let go, he should take a step back and regain his senses.

But he can't.

Amanta was standing here, in front of him, so close to him, but he still felt...not enough.

Not close enough, not real enough, not enough to make him feel at ease.

He couldn't bear for her to take another step back.

He suddenly stretched out his hand and pressed her into his arms again. This time, his force was even greater, almost making her crash into his chest.

His chin rested on the crook of her shoulder, and his arms were wrapped around her waist like an iron hoop, his knuckles turning white, as if if she broke free, he would be completely swallowed by the darkness.

"Don't push me away."

His voice rang softly in her ears.

Amanta's body stiffened slightly, she could feel it.

He wasn't just willful or angry, he was really afraid -

Afraid of losing, afraid of being abandoned, afraid that everything will collapse beyond my control.

He was not asking for warmth, but trying hard to grasp the last straw.

Amanta's throat tightened slightly, and she raised her hand, gently placed it on his back and patted it, as if to comfort him.

"You won't lose me," she whispered.

Draco just buried his head in the crook of her neck, trembling slightly.

He didn't dare to let her go, didn't dare to look up at her eyes, afraid that she would reveal her usual calm and rational look again -

The kind of restraint that drove him crazy.

He didn't want to restrain himself anymore.

He was jealous, angry, and anxious. He hated anyone who approached her. His hatred for Julius was not just because of his position, but because -

Julius might sway her choice.

And he was afraid.

He was afraid that she would leave, afraid that she would go down a path that he could not control.

Afraid that one day she would no longer belong to him.