It's been a long time since I've been here. Sorry everyone, this article is too long and needs to be overhauled. I'll start updating it next week, and it should be weekly updates from now on...
It's not that I don't love it, it's that I can't love it. My child is in a boarding school and will be in the third grade of junior high school in the second half of the year (crying in the storm). I probably won't be able to write when I get to the third grade of junior high school, but I won't give up (firm)!
Here is the introduction:
Sylvia's first day at Hogwarts was not a good one. She looked at the slugs crawling on her bed, and then at her two roommates who were pretending to be nonchalant. She narrowed her eyes and smiled softly:
"I really like the gift you carefully prepared for me. So, as a return gift," he pulled out the family inheritance "The Art of Death" from his sleeve and handed it to the two roommates, "I want to give you a beautiful ending."
Sylvia walked around in the Slytherin cellar, as depressed as a lion. She was not welcomed on the first day...
As a result, she bumped into a dark gentleman, and Sylvia sincerely extended an invitation:
The moonlight is just right, can I enjoy it with you?
Snape's original plan was to go outside to catch a few Gryffindor trolls to deduct points for fun, but he met a pitiful Miss Slytherin and wasted ten minutes on a useless moon for no reason.
The night is humid, the ground is damp, the air is still, the woods are silent.
Under the moonlight, Sylvia was fascinated by Snape's profile.
I love you tonight.
The night is wet, the ground is wet, the air is silent, the woods are silent, I love you tonight.
Sylvia fell in love with this night, her soul was trembling, it was so beautiful, it would be great if she could stop time, let herself stay on this month and night, on the cold fingertips, on the pulsing heart, on... Your breath.
I wish, a moment is eternity.
Under the moonlight, the girl wants to pick up the handkerchief, but I just want to hold up your face, and then do nothing.
Intention: The moon will not come to me because I have already caught it