A gift fic that can be read either as a shippy ifc or a none shippy fic. I don't mind.
Fear not, sweet child, the devil inside of me,
fear the heavenly bodies who will not let you see.
He stood over the boy, watching him asleep, his bed illuminated by the pale moonlight. The boy looked so innocent while cast into the arms of Morpheus. Leaning down slightly, he brushed a hand through the ashen colored hair, a soft smile forming on his lip-less face, a small, quiet chuckle passing from him as the boy moaned, the feeling of his touch hurting him, even while his mind was cast out into the sea of dreams.
Their wicked ways cast through their delusions,
their priests and their monks who live in seclusion.
Looking around the room, his face darkened. The boy had trapped himself away for far too long. He'd watched him, day after day, night after night, being eaten apart by a guilt that had been gnawing itself into the boy's gut, now a lasting companion. Continuing to look around the room, his eye was caught by a glint of something peeking out from under an upturned book.
The prayers whispered high will never be heard,
to be carried away by one dark little bird.
Taking it carefully, he winced, feeling it cut into his hand and moving closer to the window, his face darkened even further. There were dark blotches on the blade of it making themselves known as the rest of the blade glinted. Turning back to the boy, he eyed him, spotting areas that in his sleep, the boy's body was trying to protect. Inching closer, he let a hand move aside a piece of the cloth covering the boy's arm, a silent gasp of horror passing through him as he gazed at the marks resting on the boy's skin.
The Ravens soar down from the moonlit sky,
unseen and unheard by those who pass by.
Moving back from the boy, dropping the knife in the process, he shook his head. Why do this to yourself, little one? Raising a hand ot his face, covering it from the eyes of infinity, he felt himself falling to his knees. Feeling something hot treck down his cheek, he pressed a finger to it, pulling away and examining it in the moonlight, the substance clear. Was he...Crying? It was something he had not done as a child but if the boy could make this emotion in him...
The truths the dark carries are not to be heard,
when questioned by light they are considered absurd.
Feeling his injured hand bump into something lying on the floor, he picked it up. Another book. Opening it, he let his eyes scan over it, the pale blue light illuminating the words of the boy fast asleep, a boy whose knife was being torn apart by a guilt of a man he had no choice but to face. Coming to an empty page, he slowly placed the book onto the boy's bed. He would stay and watch.
But truths all the same will come yet again,
and the cycle continues with no happy end.
Far too quickly, the golden beams of luminescence slowly started to wake up the world, stepping once more over to the bed, he let his uninjured hand do as it did before, roaming it over the boy's hair. Feeling the boy starting to stir, he carefully took the flower from his robe, resting the rose on the bedside table. Merry Christmas, Harry. He muttered as he once again dispersed into the light. A new day finally come.