What if I'm not beautiful?

Pomona said to himself, feeling extremely depressed.

After a while, she felt herself lying down again, moving very gently, as if she was a princess in a fairy tale.

When her head hit the pillow, a burst of warm breath hit her face.

My lips felt numb again, but it quickly disappeared.

"Life is short, fall in love, girl, while your red lips have not faded and your blood has not cooled down. Tomorrow there will no longer be such a good time."

She heard a moving voice read, and then felt a lightness next to her, as if that person was leaving.

She didn't think too much, she just didn't want him to leave like that, so she stopped pretending to sleep and grabbed his hand.

"I had a nightmare." She said in a hurry.

"What dream?" he asked with raised eyebrows.

"I was forced to marry a Roman," she said seriously, "and it was a commercial marriage."

"Then what?" He looked at her with judgmental eyes.

"I ran away, but they were chasing me." She squeezed his hand tighter, "I'm scared."

"What are you afraid of?"

"If I fall asleep, I will continue to have that dream."

He smiled, as if laughing at her naivety, but did not leave.

"Come over here." He ordered.

Pomona moved inside, and he lay down in the space she vacated.

The black cloak just covered her body as a blanket.

"You don't read anymore?" Pomona asked.

"Sleep." He said with his eyes closed.

"You don't even wash up!" she said disgustedly.

He was impatient and his eyebrows were furrowed.

So she closed her eyes knowingly.

In fact, Oscar Wilde once said a famous saying: Never love someone who treats you like a normal person.

So his question was too difficult to answer. Why didn't he tell her what he thought first? Instead, he asked her for it.

She is not his patronus (patronumu).
Chapter completed!