Had he not been so blinded by his own greatness, maybe he would have seen the mistake he was making. Maybe if he had looked into the boy's eyes and seen the unnatural and magical green, if he had seen the stillness with which he laid in the blankets...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
.... I can help, if you'd like...
.........why?........ you don't know me
.....Don't worry just take my hand
Trust me......
Harry woke up sweating. Every night dreams hunted his peaceful relaxation and every night some different memory would wake him up. That night was no different. Really he had no idea why even the good ones startled him. Years of living in a horror movie might be the answer.
But he wasn't there anymore. He was safe, in the most luxurious manor Britain had to offer. His room was absolutely massive , decorated with magnificent works of art , the dark elegant furniture complemented the light gold wallpaper beautifully. But Harry loved his bedsheets the most - gorgeous emerald green , his favorite color. The fact he had his own room was still an alien concept to him, so different from his life there, and sometimes when he woke up he had to remind himself of where he was now and calm down. He wouldn't want to cause an accident.
Getting out of bed he knew an important day was ahead - July 31th, his birthday. Even more importantly today marked the one year anniversary since his new family took him in. He quietly entered his bathroom and decided to treat himself today to a relaxing bath. He remembered the first time he walked into the room. Looking around at the white marble, the gold bathtub and sink and more shampoo bottles then he could count. Although what left him speechless weren't even the marble statues ,which where used as decoration, it was the absolute enormous size of the room. Looking around he noted I think it's bigger than the dining area in the orphanage.
Putting on fresh clothes he looked at himself in the mirror attempting his daily task of taming his hair. Even though it has gotten much better since his days on the streets ,Harry still couldn't quite manage getting it to slick back straight like had seen so many businessmen do. Instead his hair fell down in gentle silk like weaves covering the red scar that wouldn't go away. The scar bothered Harry as it was the only "problem" the doctors hadn't manage to fix. Even his poor vision had gotten much better after the laser surgery , so much so that glasses were no long a necessity for him. However the scar remained big and ugly, beginning from the middle left side of his forehead and ending just above his left eye. It was his only imperfection, a reminder of his own humanity.
While making his way towards the kitchen he saw most of the workers running around and getting everything ready for the party in the evening. He knew why they were stressed out. Mr. Ratcliffe , the man in whose manor he currently resided , was... interesting , and no one wanted to disappoint him .A titan in the business world and the richest man in Britain, many called him cold, unapproachable, unreachable but Harry knew his one weakness. Amare . His love and light, his first and only daughter.
