Lips red as blood,
Hair black as night,
Bring me your heart,
My dear, dear Snow White.
Each night has been an accurate repetition of the former. Harry could barely remember the last time he had felt free of the nightmares. The same compelling voice echoed in his dreams, bringing him ease but at the same time, luring him into an endless slumber. Not a word missing or out of place.
The boy rose from his cramped bed, his long hair dragging behind him. He went to lean on the window of his room. Looking around, there isn't much to say about his home. After all, it was just an immensely tall tower in the middle of nowhere. He was all alone… the humming birds being the only proof that there was life outside of his own little cage.
Harry allowed himself to bask in the scarce sunlight before finally turning around to sit on a couch stacked with nothing but books. He sank to the soft cushion and started flipping through the pages, coming across an illustration of a lady dancing with a beast. His fingers unconsciously traced the image, as if memorizing every detail.
In reality, Harry didn't know what he looked like. He wasn't aware of his milky white skin, his bright green eyes and raven-black hair which elegantly trailed his back. It's such a shame that no one has ever laid eyes on such a beauty, not even Harry himself.
Then something unthinkable happened, it could've just been his imagination but he could've sworn that he heard a voice.
"Hello?"
Harry whirled around abruptly and peered outside the small window, only to find no one.
Ha! It was impossible… who was he fooling? He must have been hearing things.
"You there!"
No, no, no… his mind was just playing tricks on him...
Without a second thought, he stomped back to his bed, ignoring the nagging voice in his head. Apparently, his mind seemed to be struggling to provide him with company although Harry thought that he was just doing fine on his own…but then again, who was he fooling?
Lips red as blood,
Hair black as night,
Bring me your he…
He-? That can't be right.
Harry shifted and turned to face the wall.
He both hated and loved his sleep because it's the only time he heard a voice aside from his own. So when it gets interrupted and gets accompanied by a sudden unreasonable headache, he just starts panicking that something might've gone horribly wrong.
Well, of course there is something wrong.
To see is to believe, so when his eyes snapped open to reveal a stranger sitting beside him while tugging his very, very long hair, the most obvious reaction would be to scream.
Thankfully, Harry didn't. He just stared at the man, the only words he could muster was, "What the hell?"
Apparently, this is not a fairytale of unbelievably beautiful and meek princesses who aren't allowed to cuss.
After all, that'd just be too cliché, right?