"Harry" indicating speech
'Harry' indicating inner thoughts
Laughter echoed between Harry and Ilya as happiness enveloped them. Abruptly, rain descended, drowning Ilya's voice as she shouted, "We must get inside!" Harry, hand in hers, sprinted towards safety, the building looming ahead. Yet, the figure at his side released his hand, halting him in his tracks. Worried he looked back at her, "Come on Ilya we have to go!"
With a resigned smile, she uttered, "Let me go, Harry," just as his body moved involuntarily, no matter how much he struggled his body wouldn't listen even as he was forced over the threshold, despair gripped him as she vanished leaving him alone.
"Ilya!" Harry gasped upon awakening, sunlight filtering into an unfamiliar room.
The room was grandiose; the bed could fit almost ten kids from the orphanage. Suddenly, memories came rushing back, interrupting Harry's scrutiny of the room. 'she can't be dead, she can't I refuse to believe it'. Staggering, he rose from the bed, tumbling down the bed, he dragged himself up using the side table, gripping the furniture he pushed himself up and weakly started to move towards the end of the room.
he made it almost a meter before willpower alone was not enough even as he tumbled to the ground
An alarmed girl rushed in, the same one he had saved. Gasping, she cried out in highly accented English, "You shouldn't move; you haven't recovered yet. I told them to inform me when you were up immediately, nâthel gollaths." She cursed, very concerned, unsually so even if the boy had saved her life for it to be normal,
Not in the state of mind to register anything else, Harry grabbed onto her and anxiously asked, "Was there anyone else alive, a girl with white hair?"
She didn't meet his gaze.
That was answer enough for Harry. He collapsed, adrenaline, the only thing keeping his exhausted body moving, replaced by grief as a tear escaped his eyes, even as unconsciousness took him again
This time when Harry woke up, there was but a single lamp as the light source in the room. He felt defeated, barely registering that his hand was clasped by the girl he had saved. She sat by his bedside, and as she shifted to get more comfortable, he tried to remove his hand, only for her to grasp onto it tightly even as she stirred. Blue eyes opened, and Tatiana Demidova, or as she preferred it, Tanya, looked up at the boy before her. He was quite simply the prettiest boy she had seen.
Maroon hair cascaded down to his shoulders, high cheekbones, and a slim nose to couple with it. His eyes, which had captivated her the moment she saw them, looked... dead for lack of a better word. They were green, a deep green with amber specks, but... they didn't look right. The green wasn't as vibrant as it was when she first saw them, 'I don't like it,' she mentally decided, vowing to fix those eyes.
"Eat something," she whispered in heavily accented English, only to receive a small shake of the head from the boy. Taking a spoonful of porridge, she held it out next to his face. "You haven't eaten since the incident at the cave; that was almost three days ago. Eat," she said sternly, with a hint of worry.
Harry didn't respond again. Tatiana raised an eyebrow and stubbornly kept her hand, grasping the spoon beside his face, looking at Harry expectantly. He was stubborn, but nothing stopped her when she made up her mind, prepared to hold the spoon for hours if that was what it took. His grief turned into anger, and there was a perfect target who had drawn his ire next to him.
"I don't want to eat your bloody food," he exclaimed as he batted it away with his hand.
Harry couldn't tear his thoughts away from Ilia, 'How can I eat when I failed her!' mentally anguished Harry blaming himself for his best friends passing
His outburst appeared to be just what the black-haired girl had anticipated, and she smiled softly. Without a word, she reached around to embrace him.
"Get off me," Harry bit out, still angered.
"No," Tatiana said, holding on a bit tighter. He had been bottling it all up, but now his sadness was being expressed in the form of anger, he needed to express himself before it consumed him from the inside.
The boy seemed indifferent and oblivious to her intentions as his voice grew heated. "Get off me; I won't say it a third time."
Tatiana sensed that Harry had reached his breaking point. She released herself from his grasp, though her arms remained around his shoulders. As she locked eyes with him, she observed a myriad of emotions—anger, sadness, and frustration—now accompanied by a renewed spark of light. Disregarding his earlier warning, she embraced him again.
"Let it all out; it's not your fault," she whispered gently.
Harry's anger, seemingly at its peak, dissipated as sobs overcame him. He released the pent-up emotions that had tormented him for days. Grieving the loss of a loved one, the first person that had been by his side, taken from him cruelly, he found once he started he couldn't stop it all came rushing out and the tears wouldn't stop, they flowed relentlessly while Tatiana offered a soft smile, patting his back in silent support, a comforting reminder of her presence.
Harry wept, releasing the torrent of emotions that had been bottled up. Tears cascaded down his cheeks, and his nails dug into his palms in anguish. "I'm sorry, Ilya... I'm so sorry. You must have been in so much pain. I couldn't do anything..." he sobbed, burying his face into the crook of the girl's neck. "I'm so sorry."
His emotions cascaded into a wail, tears falling freely until exhaustion claimed him, all the while cradled by Tatiana, who remained with him, silently supporting him throughout the process .
Tatiana cradled him through it all, sensing his descent into unconsciousness. This time, he wasn't just physically drained but emotionally spent. She was often likened to a porcelain princess due to her rare magical traits, had been revered but unable to truly feel or express emotions—until she met him. His name was Harry, as per her father's revelation, and with him, she experienced a connection deeper than words could capture. 'I won't let go, not that I think I could if I wanted to, peering down at him, she brushed his hair to the side and laid a small kiss upon his forehead.
Cradling him in her arms, Tatiana, too, succumbed to weariness. After a while, she roused herself, gently extricating from the embrace and settling beside him. The movement seemed to stir him, and she met the gaze of his mesmerizing eyes as he awakened.
"I'm sorry," he muttered, his gaze softening as he looked at the girl beside him. Finally calming down, he found himself slightly stunned; 'she's really pretty'he hadn't taken stock before, but the girl at his side was undeniably beautiful. Long black hair cascaded down her back, framing stunning blue eyes and a face that promised to grow into its full beauty.
Tatiana smiled back at him, spooning another mouthful of porridge toward him. This time, Harry obediently opened his mouth, savoring the nourishment. As hunger asserted itself, he gestured for the spoon and bowl.
Tatiana smiled knowingly, offering him more at a measured pace. "If you eat too much at once after not eating for three days, you'll puke it all up later."
Harry harrumphed lightly, eliciting a giggle from the girl before him, breaking her poise.
"My lady... you laughed!" exclaimed a tall man in a black suit, his eyes wide with awe. Though he had entered the room a few seconds ago, Harry had ignored him in favor of his meal, while Tatiana focused on feeding Harry.
Harry looked puzzled, "Why is that so unusual?!"
The man explained, "My lady has never laughed or even so much as smiled a day in her life! To think it was for someone like you," he muttered resentfully under his breath, a sentiment Harry caught to his surprise; it was clear the remark hadn't been meant for either of them to hear.
Tatiana, her voice now cooler, questioned, "Why are you here, Luthor?"
The man straightened up and met her gaze, "The Lord wishes to know how the boy fares and wants to talk to you."
Tatiana nodded, looking at Harry, "I'll be back in a bit. Make sure to eat, but not too quickly," she advised with a small smile. As she made to leave her chair, Harry unexpectedly seized her hand, eliciting an almost imperceptible hiss of anger from the man in the corner, a reaction seemingly heard by him alone.
"I still don't know your name," Harry said, causing Tatiana's cheeks to redden as she realized she hadn't introduced herself.
"Tatiana, but you will call me Tanya, clear?" she demanded.
The man in the corner gritted his teeth, leaving Harry perplexed. Nonetheless, he decided he didn't like the man very much.
"Yes, my lady Tanya," Harry teased lightly. He was still grieving, but her presence was soothing. It also amused him to see the light dusting on her cheeks turn a couple of shades deeper as he let go of her hand.
Tanya felt a mix of embarrassment and happiness seeing Harry return to his old self, even if only a little.
"I'll be back," she half-squeaked, still managing to sound regal as she made her way toward the door. Pausing at the entrance, her voice returned to its normal cool tone. "Stay here and attend to his needs," she instructed Luthor shortly. Without waiting for his response, she exited the room.
As Harry ate his porridge, his thoughts returned to Ilya, and a brooding expression overtook his face now that the only distraction had left.
Why their orphanage? Wouldn't it have been better to pick up street rats instead of a whole orphanage? They had also killed Ilya. Harry doubted that they were the ringleaders. From what little he gleaned from their minds, they were part of something bigger, and Harry wouldn't let sleeping dogs lie. That was a promise.
Before he could continue his thoughts, the man in the corner interrupted him, "Do not consider yourself superior just because the lady has taken what I'm sure is a fleeting interest in you," he sneered, 'he isn't worthy of the lady's affections, no lowly boy is.'
'What crawled up his ass and died,' thought Harry, not understanding the man's dislike for him.
The man continued almost ranting, "You saved the lady, and your magic was impressive, but you're a danger to her and yourself. Not to mention crying over a dead girl. I can only imagine what type of person she must have been to be so deeply associated with you. I would suppose we're lucky she's not here, and all we're stuck here with is yo-"
The man, quite frankly, was jealous. She was the lord's daughter and hadn't smiled or paid attention to anyone, not even the lords. But all of a sudden, a boy comes in, and by her standards, his lady is smitten. So, he took his frustrations out unfairly towards the boy, but he made a mistake.
The man was cut off, not by words, but because there was such a sudden increase in temperature that it left him scared. It was similar to lighting a match; your finger would experience the heat, but in this scenario, his whole body was experiencing the heat, and it was only getting worse.
Gulping, he took out his wand, his hand shaky as he looked at the boy. His hair was glowing, but it was the eyes that terrified him — deep green, with amber specks, glowing as fire started to drop into existence. The boy growled out,
"What did you say?"