His eyes are green. Wide vivid green behind a pair of cheap glasses that were taped together. It's the glasses Will doesn't like instead of the kid's green (not blue) eyes. They tell too much.
Despite the years of being in law enforcement and looking at what eventually Will became (that's the thing of empathy that no one but Hannibal understood, empathy was a door and Will could enter a serial killers' minds but they could enter his - see?) Will's hands curl into his palm, nails digging into, along with sliding down, the sweaty flesh.
His father had never laid a hand on Will but Will had not been popular in his youth. The only occasion where kids had been kind to Will was when they had wanted him to distract the employee of a drug store and that hadn't ended pleasantly. Thankfully his father left town soon after because there had been no more boats to fix left for him to work on and Will had never been more thankful to leave a town before.
Will had came for the other boy's dog. The brutish and loud (rude) boy who reminded Will of a pig that was too spoiled by his parents to be gotten onto for being both neglectful and abusive towards his bulldog.
He'd broken in and taken of his shoes and socks so not to wake the family up only to find the little boy in the dark kitchen.
Only a small amount of food on the kitchen table (take only a little, they'll notice otherwise) that the boy had scarfed down just like Wiston once had when Will brought him to his home. Will knows if he was to check the boy's stomach he'll see the kid's ribs.
It's sickening.
Funny, Will thinks but isn't really humored, it's been years since he's felt sick. Even when he touched Hannibal's letters years ago before burning them and washing his hands before he even touched Molly Will never felt sick by them.
"My name is Will," Will introduces himself to the kid. He's already broken into the house so he's not going to bother with a hello and you know being polite.
"Harry, Harry Potter," the kid introduces himself instead of being wary. Despite having turned off his flashlight after accidentally shinning it in Harry's eyes, Will can't help but take in how spotless the kitchen was. It, the state of the kitchen, would be something Hannibal would have liked. Will likes strays. They're together (despite everything and perhaps because of everything along with Will's husband being his friend) so the kid will never have throat slit. Will doesn't even need to close his eyes to imagine the blood pouring out of Harry's neck and onto his new, clean, and expensive clothes that will actually fit him as his vivid green (not blue) eyes become empty.
"Would like some more to eat? My husband is a great cook." Will doesn't make a pun. Ever since they fell off the cliff and stayed together since then they've influenced each other but Will hasn't fallen that far.
A/N: Years, later Albus visits them and gets eaten for knowingly leaving Harry to his abusive relatives. They live a happy ever after as much as a murder family can.
The end.
(Originally posted on ao3 under the pen name of youngjusticewriter.)