The Handsome Dark Lord[Comprehensive]

He touched the wine glass in Voldemort's hand, regardless of the other party's reaction, he raised his head and drank it down, and let out a breath of satisfaction.

The melancholy had crept back, hauntingly, when he was just beginning to relax.

Harry wrinkled his nose and rang the small bell on the table to call the waiter for a refill.

"Exchange him for the whiskey," Voldemort's voice chimed in, adding before Harry could retort, "I'll take it on me."

The waiter was obviously very happy, did not give anyone a chance to repent, and couldn't wait to take the order and leave.

Because what Voldemort ordered was three times more expensive than Harry's.

"I can't drink that strong—" Harry muttered dissatisfiedly, "and I'm rich, Roald, I'm not—I'm not a pauper drinking away my sorrows and don't need your handouts."

"If you want to get drunk, that's the more efficient route," said Voldemort objectively. "Besides, I can't think of anything so unkind."

"I call this modesty." Harry snorted, noticing the wine in the man's hand, "You also order whiskey, want to get drunk quickly?"

Voldemort said, "I'm different from you. I don't feel anything when I drink those soft drinks."

Harry didn't hear the sarcasm, but instead asked, "How do you want to feel?"

Voldemort was a bit stumped by the question, originally he just said it casually, but when Harry asked this question, it seemed that he really lacked a practical and accurate answer.

The waiter brought a new order of whiskey at this time, Harry took it absent-mindedly and took a sip, his expression immediately wrinkled.

"Ahem..." He tried in vain to cough out the acridity and stimulation of the alcohol, but in the end he only blushed.

Voldemort stretched his arms, and before he knew it, he was patting Harry on the back, helping him catch his breath.

His movements suddenly froze in mid-air, not only because of the terrible fact that the Dark Lord was helping the Savior, but also because of the familiar force he felt when he came into contact with the Savior——

magic.

He could hardly maintain his superficial composure, and slowly covered Harry's trembling back again, silently feeling the power returning to his body.

The liquid in the wine glass trembled slightly, setting off a violent storm in my mind.He touched it with some fascination, intoxicated by the incredible return of magic power, and discovered a fact that he had never noticed for the first time.

The savior was surprisingly thin.

Harry was immersed in the intense stimulation of whiskey, and it took him a while to notice the hand behind his back. He was a little surprised by the length of the other's arm, and suppressed the feeling of coughing awkwardly, "Thanks...cough...thank you, it's all right..."

He removed the opponent's hand and sat upright again.

The magic is gone again.

There was something about Harry that made their contact briefly restore his magic.

Voldemort frowned deeply, and the matter became very serious.And when he lost it, Voldemort realized that what he had felt before was relief.

He unconsciously sipped the liquor in his hand.

Harry's eyes widened as he gulped down the same strong drink as if it were water.

"You... don't know how to drink this wine without feeling it?" Harry said in awe.Another success in pulling the Dark Lord out of deep thought.

"You're still a boy, Harry." Voldemort paused, and suddenly he smiled charmingly, his attitude subtly becoming more positive, "When you're mature enough, you might be able to taste the bitterness and spiciness in these wines. the taste of."

Harry asked curiously, "Then what other flavors have you tasted besides bitter and spicy?"

Voldemort said: "Rotten wood, the cellar . . . and perhaps some dead rats."

Harry's look of disgust amused him.

"I don't think these things can be tasted with a human tongue." Harry convinced himself, staring at the drink in front of him, "at least they didn't put rats in it." He couldn't imagine any rats in what he had just been drinking part exists.

The man opposite laughed softly. "Of course not." Harry glared at him, and he shrugged. "I just thought your reaction was funny."

"Nasty," Harry snorted.Not so happy this time.

They chatted one after another, and Harry felt a lot easier without knowing it.Perhaps the high alcohol content of the whiskey played a part, too, and he felt great.

Roald on the opposite side is like a famous painting embedded in the darkness, and the rare corners caught only by the corner of his eyes are very attractive. When he himself is so intriguing and subtle, there is no reason for Harry not to enjoy this extravaganza. Flying together by chance.

He never thought that Muggles could bring him so much relief, but at this moment, it seemed that only Muggles who knew nothing about the savior and war could.He'd better give Roald an Oblivion Charm before leaving, lest he bring him any danger, Harry thought with some gloom, their friendship was doomed to be short-lived and only he could remember it alone.

"Roald, I will remember you," said Harry.

"Of course." The other party's voice did not fluctuate, "I usually impress people."

Harry giggled. "That's a shame. But you're right."

When he smiled, a corresponding melancholy crawled out, entangled with short-term happiness.

Harry took another sip of the wine, almost getting used to its choking bitterness, he had already coughed up moist liquid from the corners of his eyes, and his mind became more and more dizzy.Harry felt like he could fall over at any moment.

But he still didn't want to give up the last trace of sobriety.

After all... It feels so good to talk to Roald.

Unfortunately, someone broke into their small room at an untimely moment.

"Hey guys, can I join you guys?"

The person who came shaved off the lower half of his hair, and the blond hair on the top of his head was blown into the shape of a small mountain range, fixed with mousse into a fashionable hairstyle, with three small earrings on his right ear, and a black tattoo with fangs and claws on his neck.He and a few other prodigals watched outside for a long time, and then inquired from the waiter about how the two got along, and thought it was time to act.

Under Voldemort's cold gaze, the visitor tried to say relaxedly: "You know, there is no room outside. Just now the waiter said that this handsome guy is sharing a table with you, I wonder if I can be added?"

The waiter appeared behind him in due time and apologized repeatedly.

Before Voldemort refused, Harry readily agreed: "No problem, come in and sit down."

His voice was drunk, and he got up a little staggeringly and moved to Voldemort's side, and sat down next to him, facing the latter's terrible gaze.

The visitor took the opportunity to sit in quickly, pretending to ignore the vacant seat opposite him naturally, sat down on Harry's right hand side, and said courteously, "Thank you, handsome boy. I'm Nichols. In return, I'll treat you to a glass of wine." .”

Harry was still a little dizzy, and he muttered in a daze, "Isn't it a weird custom for Muggles to introduce themselves without saying their names..." He didn't notice the death of the Dark Lord who was next to him as a Muggle line of sight.

Voldemort was by no means happy.His frown hadn't been loosened since the moment Nichols showed up, and anyone who could do that - Muggle or wizard - should at least suffer the Cruciatus Curse on the floor right now.Unfortunately, given his current special situation, the only thing the Muggle Dark Lord can do is kill with his eyes.

... He is indeed still thinking about what tools he can use to physically kill people, but the results are not so satisfactory.

Maybe a little concession can be made.Like not killing people.

Although I am not very satisfied, the gaze of Voldemort's wind knife and frost sword is actually very deterrent.

Nichols originally wanted to hook him up more, but when they actually sat together, his rich experience told him not to provoke the man with a gloomy expression.

He was also considered a veteran at the riverside, so after observing, he chose to concentrate on attacking Harry.I directly ordered a champagne tower and invited the two to enjoy it.

Voldemort and Harry declined in cold and polite manners respectively.

Nichols was not discouraged, and pretended to be a warm friend familiarly. While drinking, he talked to the two from time to time, and made friends with each other.

Harry's green eyes, which were becoming more and more blurred under the influence of champagne, confused Nichols. He moved closer and closer to Harry, and quietly reached out his hand to the drunken teenager.

Harry didn't really notice Nichols' approach, his alcohol-filled brain was a little dizzy, and his only poor sanity began to suffer after sitting next to Voldemort.

Harry admitted that he had some selfishness. When Nichols wanted to join, the first thing he thought of was not to stay away from Muggles. On the contrary, he was pleasantly surprised to find that he could take this opportunity to sit next to Roald.The non-disturbing aura of the other party made people afraid to approach him, but after he actually sat down, Harry realized that he had longed to be close to him from just now.

It seemed weird, but Harry understood the feeling.

Just like when I first met Qiu, the girl's beauty and temperament silently attracted Harry. This metaphor is a bit misplaced, but Roald undoubtedly has a stronger attraction than Qiu, and it doesn't even target gender, it's natural Let Harry be happy just being near the center of the attraction vortex.

It wasn't until Nichols put his hand on Harry's thigh that Harry suddenly realized it, slapped Nichols' hand off, and exclaimed, "What are you doing?!"

Unexpectedly, Nichols' hand seemed to be cast iron, and Harry didn't even move it, he could only push him vigorously.

Nichols didn't take it lightly, Harry's limp strength proved his drunkenness, and the prey at this time had no strength to resist.The smile on his face is no longer courteous, revealing the true face of greed, the green-eyed boy in his mind has been stripped naked, his delicate face and naked skin must be as smooth and soft as a freshly baked cake.

Nichols moved his hands from Harry's thighs to his cheeks, and moved his head along with him, his eyes glistening, only his voice maintained the illusion of innocence: "Relax, Harry, I won't hurt you ..."

A big hand suddenly came across, snatching away Harry's unconscious face. The man kissed Harry's lips, his black eyes slashed coldly, and the bloody red light suddenly flashed in the cold light environment.

A layer of shuddering cold caressed Nichols' spine, pouring down from head to toe like a basin of ice water.

"He's mine." Voldemort let go of the dumbfounded Harry, and said coldly to Nichols, "Stay away."

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