A/N : Hello, guys. It's been such a long time since I post a new chapter – uh, you know dealing with real life and stuff. Life in university is crazy! And awesome, too! But let's not talk about me – let's talk about this fic. I am so grateful to the people who read this and gave positive reviews because it really makes me happy, seriously, you made my day.

Though I have to warn you guys, my, err, style of writing change again – hopefully better, I guess. It's been too long since my last one which was in 2015…?

Sorry!

So…enjoy this chapter!

To NewBlueTrue : Real life, that's what happened. I'm sorry. And my computer too. It's broken, I will never get back those drafts that I made. I'm actually saving money to buy a laptop – but, well, university demands too much things that need to be paid. Thank you for keep reviewing, though. Have a great day!

To Reaper8439979 : Thanks for reading! About the quarter and half thingy, I think even I got confused (but I'm too lazy to correct it – later, though), sorry – Henrikas (Herkus) is a half Creature, quarter Wood Nymph and quarter human. I'm glad you enjoy this story. Have a great day!

To ruinedsandwich : Firstly, welcome to the fandom, my friend – I'm glad that you liked it. Second, about the pastry chef, um, actually I had written it, got lost, written it again – and got lost again. I'm waiting for my inspiration to come, again. Sorry. Thanks for the review. Have a nice day!

To hellkiss : I don't know French much, but I do know this – merci beaucoup! I mean, thanks, for the review! And have a great day, my friend!

To Willpup : I hope you're reading this, Willpup (cute name!). I'm so excited reading your review, you know, it really makes me feel that it's worth it to post this story. Thank you very much! Have a nice day! And I hope you enjoy this one too.

To Part-Time Irish : Beta reader?! Um, oh, wow! I'm flattered! Is your offering still up? *fidgeting* I don't know if it's a good idea though, having one, because I don't know how frequent I update – and I don't want to be a bother. One thing you should know – I really appreciate your offer. Enjoy reading, and have a nice day!

To .Evans, Pacifistic Brat, Guest, IG-imda.g.o.a.t, Rokkis, KyRa-ChAn008, help does wonders, Catz4444, LunaSunFlowerLily, myshitistogether, angelgobad05, Baow, Falling Right Side-Up, bloodedlife94, Steph1215, Bochord of Leaspell, Jay, WeirdCornChip, allisondasher, Cereza101, Readigagain, brightsun89, Alianna15, lilyoftheval5, kairenayui, jayswing96, kitty tokyo uzumaki : Thank you for sticking to this story – it means so much to me. I hope you can forgive me for the very late update – life can be so demanding sometimes. Every time. I hope you enjoy this chapter and have a nice day!

General warning : Swearings, past child abuse, mention of rape, slash, cannibals, dark creatures.

Pairing : Hannibal/Will

Disclaimer : I do not own Harry Potter and Hannibal series.

Chapter 14 : Mixed Feelings

As Henrikas groggily climbed his way out from the hazy depths of slumber, he became distantly aware of the clatter at his right. He blinked blearily into the room, trying to collect his thoughts, and stiffened when memories of the previous night flooded his mind in a rush – first there had been the guest, he and Hannibal had sat side by side at the dining table and then later, he took another bath to keep himself awake, Hannibal came by, bringing him tea and later still, Hannibal read him a story till he had fallen asleep.

That memory in particular made Henrikas' stomach clench, warm and pleased, at the same time that it set his heart thudding anxiously against his ribs, cheeks flushed with shame and embarrassment, recalling how clingy he was towards Hannibal.

"Herkus? Are you awake?"

Henrikas swallowed, glancing at his right to discover Hannibal was looming over him. The man was already in his suit, pristine and proper like an aristocrat, though his briefcase wasn't anywhere near his person. Smell of food wafted out into the room, Henrikas noticed rather belatedly, coming from the tray that was half hidden by the psychiatrist's form.

"Hannibal?" he said quietly, confused, "You're early."

The psychiatrist chuckled, "Early? Am I?"

Henrikas sucked a hard breath through his nose, a sudden realization occurred at the offhanded comment, and pushed himself up, wiggling out from underneath the duvet. He glanced at the clock and blinked when it read 8:17 AM.

"The dose proved to be too much for your body," Hannibal spoke, voice deep and steady. "Do not worry about being late, Herkus. You'll be spending time with Mrs. Kelly today."

Henrikas frowned and nodded his head, gesturing at the tray with his hand. "What's with the breakfast in bed?"

"I thought you would appreciate it," Hannibal said, face carefully blank. "What with the excitement the other night."

He smiled weakly, doing his best to settle the embarrassment that tangled up in a knotted mess in his belly. "Right."

"You can sleep in if you like, after you eat, of course," Hannibal continued, "If you're planning to do something else than sleeping – I believe that Mrs. Kelly have surprises for you. I already gave my permission, but if you have no intention to do what she wishes, it's understandable. Also, I will be home late today."

"Uh, okay," he murmured, sliding down to the comfortable mattress again, shifting here and there to get cosy. "How late?"

The psychiatrist cocked his head slightly to one side, "We are not going to have dinner together, if that is what you're asking." Henrikas frowned, mouth soured at the notion of not seeing Hannibal for most of the day. "I will try to be back before you sleep to tuck you in."

Henrikas spluttered. "I don't need you to tuck me in!" The jumbled mess of emotion fluctuated in his chest, squirming in denial.

Hannibal nodded, a hint of smile graced his face. "Of course."

He huffed in exasperation, staring at the russet eyes with narrow-eyed, as he shifted a little underneath the duvet. "You're going to be late," Henrikas pointed out.

That made the psychiatrist chuckle.

Henrikas ignored the teasing curl of Hannibal's smile as he faced away from him, frowning when he noticed a weight dipped on the mattress behind him, as warm, calloused palm rest on his head. He stiffened when soft, chapped lips brushed against one side of his temple.

"I'll see you later, Herkus – don't forget to eat your breakfast," Hannibal said, at the same time the weight lifted away.

Henrikas watched numbly as the psychiatrist went to the door, legs moved gracefully across the floor, as he absently touched his temple. His ears buzzing loud, blood pounding against his head rhythmically as his stomach twist in a funny sort of way.

He stared at the door, which the psychiatrist had just exited a moment ago, with a shaky breath.

'What was that?'

~X~

Henrikas decided to go downstairs around noon, managing to get a couple more hours of sleep uninterrupted despite Hannibal's strange behaviour moment before, to find Mrs. Kelly in the middle of making baked goods.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Kelly," Henrikas spoke, mouth-watering scent of baked cookies made him drooled a bit, "Is that chocolate chip cookies?"

"Oh, good afternoon," Mrs. Kelly said brightly, "I'm about to wake you up for lunch, but I guess you wake up on your own… or maybe because of the smell of the cookies?"

"Guilty as charged," Henrikas said with a sheepish smile as he climbed the stool with practiced ease. "May I have one?"

Despite having quite a late breakfast, Henrikas felt the familiar hunger gnawing deep inside his stomach – the tantalizing smell of cookies didn't help easing the rumbling either.

"It's still hot, honey," Mrs. Kelly chided, "Here, have a cup of milk instead."

Henrikas glared at her, mouth frowning. He waited until the woman placed another batch of cookies on the cooling rack before getting her attention. "Hey, Mrs. Kelly?"

The woman turned. "What is it – "

He immediately latched on her eyes, mouth curling into a smirk as her form slackened. "You will not call me 'honey' – or any other term of endearment – " Henrikas quickly added when he recalled that he had done this before to Mrs. Kelly, except he just only banned her from calling him 'dear', " – and give me cookies."

Henrikas smirk widened as sharp heat sparked his chest in deep satisfaction when Mrs. Kelly pushed some cookies towards his direction. He absently grabbed one and nibbling it, noting that it wasn't as hot as Mrs. Kelly had made it out to be, his other hand curled around the glass of milk, alternately dunking the cookie and drinking the milk.

"So," he started as he licked his lips, pleased, after he had eaten three more cookies, "what's the surprises?"

Mrs. Kelly chuckled, "Well, you'll have to wait after lunch, I don't want to spoil your appetite because of your excitement."

Henrikas sighed before staring her in the eye – this time he didn't even need to get her attention as she was already facing him. "Tell me about the surprises."

Her eyes glazed. "We were supposed to bake cookies together if you had woken up earlier – " Henrikas arched his brows in surprise. " – and Dr. Lecter had given me the permission to bring you to the playground."

His stomach sank, gut clenched painfully as he recalled the last he'd been to one.

"Which playground?"

"Near here," she answered tonelessly.

It wasn't that playground, Henrikas let out a breath that he didn't realise he was holding – the one that haunted him was near Hannibal's office.

He swallowed, unsettled, trying his best to settle the jittery roil in his chest.

"Who gave you the idea – " Henrikas sucked a deep breath as a sudden sharp curl of pain spiralling out across his head, lodging itself at the back of the skull. Gritting his teeth, he continued, " – who gave you the idea to bring me outside?"

There was a beat of silent, then, "Dr. Lecter."

He frowned in confusion, there was an uncomfortable pressure building in his chest.

'Of course,' he thought bitterly, when the realisation dawned, 'that would make sense.'

Hannibal wasn't the kind of man that gave his affection freely, he didn't know if the psychiatrist even had the capability to have that emotion, every action that he did had its own purposes, and Henrikas wanted to laugh at his own idiocy to believe that Hannibal had actually care –

Henrikas shook his head, hunching his shoulders tightly. A cold, jagged-edged spine of betrayal forced its way up through Henrikas' chest. He remembered watching Hannibal smile, remembered the chuckle that he gave, the teasing curl of his smile as he riled him up. He thought of how easy it was to see the manipulation, now that he knew to look.

He glared at Mrs. Kelly and ignored the throb that followed, "You'll follow my orders at the playground."

~X~

The playground was louder than Henrikas preferred, as a teenager-turned-kid who took comfort in his solitude and only put up with a certain amount of noise, but the place was wide open and there were bound to be a spot that was relatively quiet or quieter.

He scowled in distaste, paying no attention to a group of children gambolling near the sandbox, and walked through the gaggle of humans with Mrs. Kelly dutifully trailed behind him. Henrikas gritted his teeth as a particular screech grated on his nerves, avoiding the children who ran on his way, as he searched for a less populated area.

'Why did I come here again?'

'Because you just couldn't say no to a certain psychiatrist', Henrikas thought darkly.

Henrikas scanned the place one more time, benches packed with humans – elderly people and children alike, before deciding that there were no spot that he could claim as his. Sighing, he glanced at Mrs. Kelly, who had been silent since they left the house, and pulled a face at the blank eyes.

"Is there any other playground around here?"

Mrs. Kelly shook her head, "…no, but there is a park two blocks from here."

Henrikas thought for a moment before nodding, "Lead the way, Mrs. Kelly."

"Yes."

It didn't took them long, a couple of minutes at most, when Henrikas saw the mostly abandon park. The park was void from any humans, with the exception of three teenagers – no doubt ditching schools as it was still weekdays – lounging around the sign that read 'No littering', which situated quite far away from where Henrikas was standing. Henrikas rolled his eyes at the accumulating mess near them.

"Mrs. Kelly," Henrikas said, "Go to my home."

"But Henrikas, I shouldn't let you alone by – "

"Go to my home," he used his power as soon as he made eye contact, feeling a bit faint when something drained from him, but satisfied when it took its effect almost immediately.

Henrikas stared at the retreating back of Mrs. Kelly in curiosity, finding it strange that she resisted when she had followed his orders without using his power just fine before arriving at the park.

'Maybe,' he thought, 'it only applies to specific orders? I did say that she had to follow my orders at the playground. So, the park didn't count then? That's good to know…but why do I feel so tired?'

"That is interesting."

Henrikas stiffened, anxiety sparked in his belly at the thought of someone had caught him red-handed during the display of his power. The anxiety churned into dread as the fatality of the act sank, muscle pulled taut and tense, and Henrikas slowly turned to the owner of the voice as several scenarios how the scene would play out flashed before his mind.

A boy who looked about three or four years older – another stray away from school – stood mere metres from him and stared curiously with, Henrikas noted with distant interest, grey eyes. He had one hand holding a paper bag, the other curled to a purple coloured tumbler where water sloshed heavily when it was tilted sideway. The boy wore his hair fairly long, the mane past by his neck but stopped short before his shoulders, some strands curled around his ears in a cute, messy way, darker than the red jacket he had fastened around his hips just below a brown vest.

'Shit,' Henrikas thought. 'This is bad.'

"Hey, you okay?" the boy asked, frowning at him. Henrikas swallowed, unsettled.

"Why do you ask?"

The boy's frown deepened and he waved a hand in front of his nose, flapping it back and forth.

"Your nose is bleeding," he explained.

Henrikas considered this for a short moment, lips pressed into a thin line. That was the reason why he was feeling light-headed and tired, he thought with a detached amusement. It must had been a particularly bad one, the nosebleed, by looking at the boy whose face had paled rapidly.

Henrikas barely felt his knees touched the ground when he blacked out.

He curled on the cold tiles, face wet with tears as he took a shuddering breath, gasping for air. His nose was blocked because of the blood, the familiar tang of copper could be tasted in his mouth, and his chest filled with deep ache, pulsing in tandem with the erratic heartbeats.

Harry cradled the broken hand to his chest, the movement sent a hot, searing white pain that sparked throughout his body. He gasped, the agony momentarily sent his head reeling, and choked back another sob.

"…more," he panted, vision swimming as he dragged himself forward, " – just a bit more."

Harry flinched at the unexpected sound of his door opened loudly and accidentally moved his injured hand. He yelled out in pain and quickly bite his lips to muffle the sound – anxiety and panic writhing together in his belly. Ducking his head, he made himself smaller, protecting his broken hand, and whimpered when the sound of the rapid footsteps stopped just in front of him.

"Sorry, sir. Sorry. I promise to be quiet… p-please don't hurt me, sir," Harry spoke wobbly, body trembling, and clutching his hand, "I'll be real quiet, please, please – don't."

He jerked when something touched his shoulder, breathing quickened, and shied away from the unfamiliar touch. The panic doubled when the touch roamed all over him, searching, probing, until it stopped at his chin.

"No – please! D-don't hurt me, please. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please, no, I – sorry, sir, please, please, no, please!"

" – rry, Harry! Harry! Stop! It's me!"

Harry ignored the voice as he continued to apologise and shifted away, "No, please, don't! I'm sorry sir, I be real quiet, I promise. Please…"

He wanted to scream when something held his face in place, but the scream died in his throat, fear that the person would only hurt him more if he resisted or make a noise, as James would've. Harry moaned when a sudden sharp pain throbbed in his hand.

"Sshh, it's okay, Harry. Sshh," the voice said in a choked voice, "Oh, God. I'm so sorry. I-I don't know, Harry, please forgive me. I'll make it all better, I promise."

"Please…" Harry whimpered, confusion tucked in his chest.

Harry stiffened when his injured hand felt warm, pulsating with magic, and gasped when the pain lessened, leaving a dull throb in its wake. He sobbed in relief.

"Harry. Harry, listen to me, we have to go – now," the person said in a tone that held urgency in it.

He swallowed, rubbing his eyes using his good hand before lifting his head warily, hesitant, to see the owner of the voice – the person who had healed his hand.

Harry gasped, "You're – "

Henrikas woke with a jolt at the same time a yelp was heard in front of him. He sat bolt upright, wincing at the sudden throb in his head, and frowned at the red jacket that covered half of his body.

'What the bloody hell happened?'

"Are you okay?" the same boy he had seen before he passed out disturbed his line of vision. Henrikas blinked, confusion fluctuating in his mind, and stared at the frowning boy who held three fingers in front of him. "How many fingers am I holding?"

"Three," Henrikas replied without thinking.

"Great!" the boy smiled, "I thought you had hit your head when you fell – which would've been bad because you can get a concussion. It's not fun to get one, y'know?"

Henrikas stared at the boy oddly. There was something niggling at the back of his mind at how strange the boy's speak, but his awareness was still a bit fuzzy from the newly gained memories that he had just unlocked.

"Oh," Henrikas said, lifting the jacket, "Is this yours?"

He blinked, surprised, "Yeah. Hey, are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm…"

"Harry. Harry, listen to me, we have to go – now," the person said in a tone that held urgency in it.

He swallowed, rubbing his eyes using his good hand before lifting his head warily to see the owner of the voice – the person who had healed his hand.

Harry gasped, "You're – "

Henrikas blinked, unsettled, "…fine. I'm fine."

He immediately shoved the jacket to the boy and get down from the bench, steadying himself when he stumbled on his feet. Taking a deep, shaky breath, he nodded at the boy. "Thank you for your help, but I have to go."

"Hey wait – "

Henrikas ignored the boy calling for him as he sped through the street, mind racing at the thought of his memory.

'Someone had helped me,' Henrikas thought shakily as he ran, 'Someone had healed me when I was still Harry, when I'm at Potter's manor…'

Panic, confusion and anxiety mingled together as one entity, coiling like a thousand snakes in his gut, lashing, writhing, as his stomach churned painfully.

'Who?'

~X~

The night was particularly pleasing to the eyes.

The full moon radiated light through the highway, penetrating the thin fog that formed when the sun had disappeared at the horizon. Similar to viewing the world in a thin film, the ghost of mist wavered in and out of existence when his car sped past it, destroying the beauty of the nature before it resuscitate itself in the silent night.

Hannibal slowed his car when a familiar sign appeared at one side of the road, putting it on park when the sign became readable.

His mouth curled into a smirk, remembering that such sign had not existed a month ago, when Herkus still didn't include in his life, when his charge had ran away from his guardians, and later, had been found by Hannibal in this deep, thick forest.

The blood stain was long since gone, switched with the sign, which displayed a poorly representation of a fox crossing the road. He chuckled at the originality of it, finding it amusing that only fox was depicted when in actuality, there were other animals living inside the forest.

His tablet pinged.

Hannibal grabbed the tablet and lifted the cover before switching the gadget on. He tapped on the favourite, curiosity peaked when it showed ' ' had an update, and immediately opened it. Hannibal glanced briefly outside the window, noting the road was silent as were the other nights before looking back at the tablet which had finished loading the article.

The enlarged face of Will Graham took his attention first, as was its title.

IT TAKES ONE TO KNOW ONE

The FBI isn't just hunting psychopaths, they headhunting them too, offering competitive pay and benefits in the hopes of using one demented mind to catch another. Sure, we're familiar with the stereotype of the FBI profiler swaggering onto a crime scene, fitting the pieces together like a master puzzles with his 1000 piece jigsaw. In reality, these profilers should be likened to –

Hannibal made a displeased noise at the back of his throat, frowning at the implication towards the profiler, as he continued reading the article, finding several other rude remarks that sparked his irritation to life.

"You are naughty, Miss Lounds."

~X~

Mrs. Kelly was standing outside the house when Hannibal entered the compound. The caretaker smiled when she saw him exited the car along with his briefcase, greeting him, which he returned in a polite courtesy.

"Is he asleep?"

"Oh, no," she shook her head, "Henrikas is still reading in the library last I'd seen him, Dr. Lecter."

Herkus was quite taken when he first showed his personal library to him, eyes shining wide with excitement at the extensive collection of books from all over the countries. They were mainly about medicines, but extended to mythology when Hannibal realised that Herkus had a peculiar affinity towards the genre. It never fail to impress Hannibal how a four year old could understand a heavy reading book, but his charge was nothing but impressive – a genius.

Hannibal chuckled before tilting his head slightly when he noted the paleness on Mrs. Kelly's face.

The bags beneath her eyes seemed pronounced against her pale skin. Her eyes appeared to be reddish in colour, but Hannibal couldn't confirm his speculation as the lighting wasn't reliable for proper consideration.

"Are you alright, Mrs. Kelly? You look quite ill."

"I had a slight headache, nothing to worry about," the woman smiled, "Now, may I be excused for the night?"

Hannibal nodded, "It is best that you get some rest, Mrs. Kelly. There is no need for you to come tomorrow."

Mrs. Kelly nodded, smiling that made the eyes crinkling at the corners before walking to her car.

Hannibal locked the door after he had entered – the lingering scent of Mrs. Kelly's perfume, dinner, and something sweet penetrated his nose.

Prowling to the kitchen, he switched the light on, finding the utensils and appliances were placed accordingly despite the evidence of them being used.

A single jar of cookies was located on the counter top, intention clear, and Hannibal placed the briefcase beside him before unbolting the lid.

Tasting one, Hannibal hummed in approval – Mrs. Kelly had heeded his instruction to make it less saccharine that Hannibal had found most people wasn't so fond of. Licking the rest of the crumbs, Hannibal washed his hands and turned the light off after taking his case.

He made his way to the master bedroom on the second floor, opened the door, and switched the light on as he waited for several second for the light to flicker to life. Placing his briefcase on the table, Hannibal opened the wardrobe and hanged the suit, loosening the tie with one hand as the other undid the knot. He was unfastening the cufflinks at the same time a clatter sounded.

"Herkus?"

His charge didn't answer.

Hannibal took off his vest before striding across the hallway, stopping in front of the closed door of the library and knocked, waiting for an acknowledgement. The muffled voice of Herkus was what he heard first, before the soft footfall ceased, door creaking loudly in the silent night as his charge appeared between the gap, face scowling and frown etched on his face.

"Mrs. Kelly I don– " Herkus started before stumbling on his words, face flushing when he finally took note of Hannibal, "Oh. Hannibal."

He arched an eyebrow, mouth curling into a smirk, "Are you expecting someone else?"

The boy huffed a laugh before opened the door wider, letting him to step inside. "No," he shook his head, "You're just earlier than I expected."

Books were strewn all over the ground, several of them were opened at specific page, dictionary appeared somewhere among the chaos – Hannibal could envision the boy was sitting on the floor, focused in his reading with a concentration that no four years old should've been able to possess, lexicon in one hand, with books laid all over him. There were a number of books stacked up near the clutter, most probably the cause of the loud thump Hannibal had heard just before.

"Sorry about the mess, I'm just about to place them back," Herkus said, ducking his head as he rubbed at the back of his neck, embarrassed.

"As long as you handle them with care, I have no opposition for you to read them." He picked up one, 'Dream Interpretation' it read – others being closely related to it with one or two depicted about hypnotism and meditation. "Hypnotisms – trying to be a magician, Herkus?"

The boy snorted a laugh, but his muscle tensed a fraction at the comment didn't escape his eyes.

"That's funny, Hannibal – hey, you've eaten yet?"

It was the most unsubtle way to change a topic and by watching the reaction of his young charge, the boy seemed to realise it too, but determine enough to ignore his questioning gaze.

Hannibal let it rest. For now.

"Of course. It's already half past nine," he said offhandedly before pining the young cannibal with a stare, "which, coincidentally – past your bed time."

Herkus grumbled under his breath, muttering a soft 'not a kid' which Hannibal pretended not to hear as the boy picked up the books. Hannibal gently extracted them from him, feeling a tug on his lips when Herkus stared at him in surprise, green eyes widened, making him appeared as young as his age had been.

His charge had always seemed far too mature for his age, proper and polite, though there were several instance where his childish behaviour shone through, but they were a moment of relapse from the boy – giving Hannibal the impression that Herkus was holding back his childlike personality.

"Let it be," Hannibal spoke, "I'll do it – you should get ready to sleep."

The boy stared at him oddly, "But, I'm the one that make a mess, I should be the one to clean it up."

He wondered if Herkus' previous guardians had set that rule, while it seemed appropriate in age wise, Hannibal knew that Herkus had suffered under their care. One fitting rule didn't mean that the others were fitting as well – the emotionally stunted and touch deprived Herkus was the evidence of it.

They must have been a cautious and careful one, to go unnoticed by the authority for so long – but then again, Hannibal had his qualm towards authorities, finding them to be one of the most irritating, if not amusing, for not handling most of the cases with excellent care. Hannibal had the fortune of being acquainted with several people who worked in higher department, during his surgeon years, and most of them were greedy and could be bribed easily that it disgust Hannibal.

"It's alright. This is an exception." Herkus' mouth pressed into a thin line, frowning, and nodded unsurely. Hannibal draped his hand over the boy's shoulder, feeling the muscle tense beneath him, and gently facing Herkus to the door and pushed him lightly. "Do not forget to brush your teeth."

The familiar pink flushed on Herkus' cheeks, "I know that, you don't need to remind me! I'm not a child!"

"Herkus," Hannibal chided, "do not take that tone with me."

"Sorry – I, I apologise," Herkus' irritation deflated, peering at him with expressive emerald eyes that Hannibal had come to love to observe, "I know that I have to brush my teeth, you don't have to remind me," he hesitated, "I'm not a child."

"A child also do not need someone to remind their bed time," he commented, watching with amusement as the cheeks turned redder.

Hannibal hid his chuckle when his charge childishly let out a soft 'hmmph' and produced a louder footstep than he usually did – which could be considered as stomping for Herkus, as the young cannibal had a silent, soft footfall like him, though Herkus still made some noise if he became too anxious or excited, which gave him away for most of the time.

He knew that he should have discouraged the rude behaviour that Herkus just displayed – for if it started to fester, it could be problematic in the near future, but Hannibal had faith for his charge to behave politely. Most of the time he didn't have to correct his charge's attitude as he had been respectful towards guests and Hannibal himself, so Hannibal pardoned the slips he had made – it helped that Herkus was never excessively insolent, just cheeky and mischievous. Herkus also apologised properly for his mistakes, which was very mature of him, as Hannibal had encountered adults who wouldn't acknowledge their own blunders.

Children were meant to learn from mistakes, learning the moralities while slowly growing up to adulthood – but Herkus had learnt, had the knowledge, far too extensive for a child his age.

Herkus had to grow up before his own time, far too quickly – which had not been a bad thing to consider, but it had left Herkus scars, just like Hannibal, and the boy became wary for every slipups he had done.

Hannibal took his time arranging the books properly on its own rack, following its genre and categories, and noticed one thing that didn't belong in the room – a green strap bag.

He briefly remembered seeing Herkus holding it during their meeting in the forest, when he followed Hannibal to his house. It was nothing unusual except for the initial 'G.K', the strap was worn out in the edge, and there seemed to be nothing inside it. The bag was the only possession Herkus had brought along with him, the others buried deep inside the woods.

Hannibal went to Herkus' room, knocking before entering when the boy granted his entrance, to see Herkus was making his bed. The boy peered at him suspiciously and climbed the bed, pulling out the duvet, patting, until he was satisfied with the arrangement.

Hannibal gave him the bag and Herkus hastily snatched it, clutching it on his chest as if it was a treasure.

Hannibal would've reprimand the boy for his rude gesture if not for the green eyes staring at him accusingly, wary and guarded, as he checked it carefully. Herkus had an attachment towards the bag, Hannibal came to a realisation.

The boy seemed mollified after a moment when nothing was amiss.

"Thank you," Herkus said, hesitantly, shoulders pulled taut beneath the grey silk pyjamas Hannibal had bought for him a fortnight ago. "What are you doing here?"

"I did promise this morning to tuck you in," he said, noting how the boy paused at his remark, "So, tell me about your day, Herkus."

The boy swallowed, "I-uh, I went outside. To a playground and, uh, a park."

Hannibal was pleased to hear that.

It wasn't healthy that Herkus had kept himself indoor. The lack of social interaction, especially among his peers would be a disadvantage for him at a later date. Herkus would've no clue on how to act among children and Hannibal had hoped the boy could familiarised himself among them as Herkus would have to attend the kindergarten soon.

Perhaps he could arrange to place Herkus in a higher level of education – Herkus was more advance than the other children, quick thinking and brilliant mind.

It was one of the topics that he had not broached to Herkus yet, as Hannibal had an inkling that there would be objections from the boy regarding the subject. He desired for Herkus to be acclimatized to his surrounding first before ambushing the boy with what would be expected from him.

"I believe that it is quite an experience?"

"Yes," Herkus nodded, green eyes staring oddly at him, "It was loud, there are too many people and – " he swallowed, clenching his fist, "Why did you ask Mrs. Kelly to take me outside? Is there a reason?"

Hannibal cocked his head, interested at the change in demeanour of Herkus, and stared back in kind.

"Of course I have a reason," Hannibal spoke carefully, curiosity peaked when Herkus' expression became carefully blank, "I was hoping that you would make friends."

The disconcerting impassive face of Herkus thaw like the first spring, and the cold, detached emotion gradually disappeared as confusion painted across the young cannibal's face.

"…friends?"

Sighing softly, Hannibal sat at the edge of the bed, placing his hand on Herkus' covered leg.

"Herkus, I realise that you're not a normal child," Hannibal noticed the flinch and patted the lump beneath his palm, "That is not necessarily a bad thing, Herkus – Herkus, listen to me," he said sternly, taking the boy's chin in his hand and gently guided it to face him, "You are a very special boy, you are very advance for someone your age – we both know that, but people did not know better. It is sensible if you learn how to insert yourself in the society to avoid unnecessary attention in the future, and I believe that you could practice that by having a friend – or an acquaintance, if you must."

Herkus shook his head, pushing his hand away and hugged himself.

"Herkus?"

The young cannibal was quiet, sending a small amount of concern to Hannibal's chest at the sight of Herkus' stillness. His hands hovered over the petite body, apprehensive if Herkus would unwelcome the touch and lashed out.

"Herkus?"

"I don't need friends," Herkus said in vehemence, poison ran deep in his words, green eyes flashing dangerously. "I'm fine by myself."

"Every person needs someone to talk to – even me."

"I have you," Herkus pointed out.

Hannibal felt warmth tingled beneath his sternum, pulsing in pleasant surprise.

"Yes, you do have me," Hannibal assured, shifting closer, "but the one that I meant is someone your age, your peers – children."

"I don't – " Herkus sighed raucously, arms hugging his own lithe body loosened, falling to his side. " – they will not understand me, Hannibal."

"Have you ever had one before – a friend?"

The boy gave a bitter chuckle, "They weren't my friends."

"They?" Hannibal asked, intrigued. Herkus had never showed any indication for having any friends – the boy guarded his secret tightly that Hannibal had to pry it open one by one, but Hannibal had always attracted to mysteries, curiosity.

His charge would share what was on his mind when he felt like it, most of them were blunders – much like he had done just now. On occasion, Herkus would gave out information freely, though when inquired further, the boy would clamped shut and deflected – which Hannibal had tried to avoid most of the times. Hannibal didn't begrudge the boy for his action, Herkus was wary towards people, though he had fondness towards Hannibal – just like Hannibal held affection towards his charge – and Hannibal would use them to get his means.

Herkus stiffened, fist clenched tightly on the duvet. "…nothing. Forget what I just said," Herkus spoke quietly, "Please?"

"I will not ask you about them," Hannibal said carefully as Herkus relaxed by a fraction, "but I want you to understand the importance of having acquaintances or friends."

"Do I need to?" Herkus said petulantly, green eyes stared at him in exasperation before it dulled into grudging acceptance after several seconds ticked by in silence. "Fine – but don't blame me when I kill them because they're too loud or annoying."

Hannibal huffed a laugh, "So violent, Herkus."

"Sure, I am," Herkus replied cheekily before sobering up, gaze determined and curious as he spoke, "Why do you keep insisting me to make friends?"

"It is important, Herkus," Hannibal said, "Like I stated just now, you're a special boy, and I don't want you to be – " he trailed off as the sudden rigidity surrounded the boy again. "Herkus? Are you alright?"

"Stop saying that," he mumbled.

Hannibal frowned, "To what you are referring?"

"Being special."

"Herkus, there is nothing wrong being a little unique," Hannibal assured, reminding his own childhood where most adults abhorrent gaze addressed to him when they realised he was different than the other children – even then Hannibal was no near to Herkus' comprehending level, and he was older than his charge at the time. "Are you not proud of the gift that is bestow upon you?"

"Gift? Gift? I don't ask to be unique, alright? I'm sick of people using me because I'm special – all they see is something they want, something they need, t-they don't even know me! What good is being special? All it gave me was pain and misery for a long, long time," he seethed, "In fact, if I'm not special, Mama and Tėtis wouldn't have – "

Herkus stopped mid rant, red-faced, eyes misty with unshed tears, body trembling like a new-born foal as he took a shaky breath, face looking a shade paler than usual that sent concern spiralled across Hannibal.

"Herkus," he said, alarmed.

"I-I ca-an't…breat..he," Herkus choked, gasping incoherently as his eyes widened in fear, panic unbidden.

Herkus was hyperventilating.

Hannibal immediately caged his face with his hands, heart constricted at the tear streaked cheeks. The boy's eyes were confused and panicked when Hannibal hushed him gently. "Listen to me, Herkus. Take a deep breath – what you are currently experiencing is called panic attack. Follow my breathing."

Herkus shut his eyes, eyelashes heavy with tears, "C-can't…Ha-Hanni..bal..!"

He shushed him, picking the boy and placed him on his lap, his back against Hannibal's chest, and Hannibal took a deep breath, "Take a deep breath, Herkus. Try to match your breath with mine – breathe in, breathe out, in, out, in…"

The boy clawed his arms, shaking, desperate, as he gave out a choked, gasping noises that made Hannibal's heart thrummed in anxiety. Hannibal needed to distract the boy from the panic – something that would calm Herkus.

He stumbled across an idea when the whimper increased.

"…Ein Männlein steht im Walde ganz still und stumm," Hannibal started, slow and steady, "Es hat von lauter Purpur ein Mäntlein um. Sagt, wer mag das Männlein sein, das da steht im Wald allein mit dem purpurroten Mäntelein?"

Herkus' trembling eased slightly, the grip loosened, but his breath was still too shaky for Hannibal's liking. He murmured the rest of the song, carding his hand over the soft, inky mop of hair, and kissed on top of his head in a comforting manner.

Minutes stretched into eternity before Herkus' breathing stable, the clear sound of him inhaling alleviated most of Hannibal's apprehension.

"That was Tėčio – my father's favourite song," Herkus said after a moment of silence, voice rough around the edge.

"I heard you sing it at the forest."

Herkus chuckled weakly, "I remembered – you said 'spectacular' for my performance. Just like – just like me when my Mama sang it to me for the first time."

"Herkus," Hannibal said, alarmed at the fresh tears that flowed on Herkus' face. The sight was truly pitiful, the boy was staring aimlessly with a blank stare, skin puffed around the eyes, as he laid motionlessly – broken and haunted. "Henrikas."

"Sorry," Herkus said softly, not meeting his eyes, "but can you leave me alone. Please?"

Hannibal sat for a moment – for the first time since eternity his heart stuttered to a halt, hesitant, at someone's request – and gently lifted Herkus onto the bed, covering the boy with the duvet.

Herkus was eerily silent.

He went to the bathroom, taking several minutes to search a small towel and basin, and filled it with warm water. Hannibal returned to the bedroom to find Herkus in the same position Hannibal had left him – already sleeping.

Carefully, he placed the small basin on the drawer beside the bed, wetting the towel and gently dabbing the track of tears and shushed softly when the boy whimpered. Hannibal soaked the towel again, squeezing the water out, and covered Herkus' eyes with it to lessen the swell.

Hannibal let out a relieved sigh when the sound of soft snoring emanated from Herkus, absently watching the rising and falling of chest each time he took a breath.

"Aš atsiprašau."

~X~

When Hannibal went inside Herkus' room in the next morning, there was a prominent 'lump' situated at the centre of the bed, still and unmoving.

"Herkus?"

The 'lump' jumped in surprise, and continued to being motionless. Hannibal strode across the floor, closing the gap, and bent down to the height of the 'lump' – but didn't make any other motion.

"Get ready in half an hour, you'll be spending time with Alana today."

There was a beat of silence before small hands lifted the cover, green eyes peering curiously underneath, "Why?"

Hannibal was relieved to see that the boy seemed to be in his usual self and not the emotionless husk of a person he was last night.

Herkus would have been too embarrassed about yesterday's event – which would make him avoided Hannibal for the rest of the day until he finally regained his bearing. Hannibal intended to evade an unnecessary spectacle, and decided that this was the best course of action.

When Henrikas had recovered, Hannibal would have another conversation with him – one that was long overdue.

"I have some works left."

"What about Mrs. Kelly?" Herkus questioned.

"She is ill," he explained and took note at the stiffened form of Herkus. He seemed to know something about Mrs. Kelly welfare, but Hannibal decided not to pursue it further. "You can also come with me, but I will be busy with my work," he spoke carefully, "I believe a change of place and face will be better for you."

Hannibal gave him a choice. Should Herkus chose to stay with him, Hannibal had implied that he would let him be as his work would dominate his time – which should be fine for his charge, assuming that Herkus didn't want to see him, at least, until he could sort his composure properly. He wouldn't begrudge the boy if he decided to stay with Alana, as the boy seemed to be at ease with her best among other Hannibal's acquaintances.

There was also, of course, Will Graham, but, despite the profiler's fondness towards Herkus, and vice versa, Hannibal couldn't let him take care of his charge as the special agent had only met with him once – to call in favour seemed tactless.

Herkus shook his head, burrowing deeper underneath the blanket. "I-I don't. I mean, you – you're not mad?"

"There is no reason for me to be mad, Herkus," Hannibal said softly, patting the covered curling child, "You should get ready, I will let Alana know that you desired her company."

"Hannibal," Herkus called out when he was halfway to the door. Herkus had relinquished the cover, hair messy and cheeks flushing as his green eyes averted from his eyes, "Thank you. I-I," Herkus stuttered, a habit that he had gained when he was nervous. "I'll answer your questions. S-some."

Hannibal blinked, surprised. The boy finally had the courage to stare at him in the eyes, determined, body defensive, and Hannibal found himself smiling softly.

"Later."

Herkus' eyes widened a fraction and nodded slowly, hesitant, "Later."

"I am looking forward to it."

~X~

His mind still buzzing when Hannibal had left him with Alana. The guilt roll in waves for 'leaving' the psychiatrist, even if he had gave Henrikas the choices. Herkus must have been transparent to read, because the cannibal seemed to know the reason why he had difficulty to make eye contact with Hannibal.

He was mortified that he had poured his troubles – not to mention the panic attack he had – to Hannibal, between the insecurity and doubt towards Hannibal's manipulation and the two memories that he regained yesterday, it was very easy to let it all out, as the confusion and frustration tend to make his mouth ran faster, unfiltered.

Henrikas was thankful that the one that he had slips out weren't that much of importance, except his parents, else Henrikas would've dig himself an early grave. His heritage and abuses were cans of worms that he never wanted the psychiatrist to open and poke at.

He grimaced at the future conversation that he wanted to be no part of. His parents were one of the taboo subject that he didn't want to revisit, but he had to because Henrikas had slipped it out in front of Hannibal – the cannibal would definitely ask him about that. It didn't take a genius to guess what he tried to say before the oxygen was deprived from him, and Hannibal wasn't stupid.

'Now why did I have to open my mouth and say that…I should've stick with saying thanks.'

"Are you okay, Henrikas?"

"Huh?" Henrikas startled, hands curling on the lukewarm cup of tea. Alana was staring at him with concern, and he inwardly grimaced before pulling out his best smile, "I'm okay."

She grinned, "So, it's fine with you, right?"

Herkus flushed, feeling like someone had caught him when he wasn't paying attention – which was true in this case. "What?"

"Are you still sleepy?" Alana laughed. She didn't seemed to take offence at his dazed state. "Don't worry you can continue sleeping at the hospital."

"Hospital?" he queried.

"Yep," she nodded, smiling, "Maybe it's a bit boring for you, but I want to visit a patient there – we'll bring snacks and books, and I'll even bring my tablet, so it'll be fun, okay?"

Henrikas hid a laugh at the enthusiasm that she shown, but couldn't help feeling a bit affronted at the way she talked to him – Hannibal had never kiddy-talk to him, God forbid, and Henrikas appreciated the gesture.

"Okay," he replied.

"Okay," Alana beamed, "Now, you just finish your tea, I'll be back after I pack our foods. You'll be okay if I left you for a minute?"

Henrikas resisted the urge to let his head fall to the table.

He already missed Hannibal's company – sans the impending conversation.

~X~

Henrikas' mouth curled in distaste at the piercing smell of antiseptic – he had forgotten how intense the smell was.

The sudden rush of scents mingling together nearly made him gag and he quickly tapered his sense down, shoving it deep, deep, inside him – a trick that he had just learnt a couple of days ago. He let out a relieved sigh when the smell became bearable, and started to pay attention to his surrounding now that he wasn't overwhelmed by the odour that lingered in the air.

Alana was holding his hand, humming a tune that he didn't recognise, as they entered the empty elevator that which she pushed '3'. Henrikas stared absently as the light indicating the floor level changed from '1' to their destination, stepping out along with Alana and watched with recognition when they padded along the familiar hallway, where he had first met Mr. Will – where the girl resided.

Henrikas' deduction proved to be correct when they stopped at the room 408.

He watched in confusion when Alana let go of his hand and put a finger on her mouth, winking, before silently took off her heels. It was when she pointed on the sofa that realisation dawned on him – Mr. Will, Mr. Will, was sleeping on the sofa, pillowed by his own jacket, unaware of their arrival.

'How did I missed that?' Henrikas thought, stunned.

Henrikas became distantly aware of the soft rustling sound. Alana had placed their belonging – like she had promised, snacks and books – against the sofa, padding forward to grab a flimsy piece of cloth that could generously be called a blanket, and draped it over Mr. Will. The man had continued on sleeping, ignorant to the slight disturbance in the real world.

"This must be your first time meeting him, Henrikas," Alana said softly, "He's a friend of mine. His name – "

"Mr. Will," he continued, mentally berating himself for disturbing someone when they were speaking – Hannibal would've been disappointed in him – as Alana stared at him in surprise.

"You've met?"

He nodded, smiling, "Yes. Here, in fact. Hannibal was also present, along with her."

Alana stared at him oddly – Henrikas inwardly winced at his own blunder – before it quickly vanished, mouth curling into a soft smile, "Really? It must be fate that you meet at the same place again." He nodded, amused, carefully not to supply any comment that would made Alana suspicious of him. "Come here, Henrikas. Let Will sleeps a little bit longer, yeah?"

Henrikas bit his lips, eyes alternated between Alana's outstretched hand and Mr. Will's sleeping form. "Um, can I sit next to Mr. Will? I'm still sleepy."

"Oh," she blinked, "Sure, but – "

Henrikas hastily climbed the chair where Alana had took the blanket, the single chair that probably wouldn't make an ideal place to sleep, but that wasn't what Henrikas after – he wanted to observe Mr. Will.

" – that works too, I guess," Alana huffed a laugh. She padded softly towards their belonging, pulling out a floral pattern blanket – Henrikas didn't notice she brought one – and engulfed Henrikas with it. Alana smiled gently, "Alright there?"

Henrikas nodded and she patted him on the head.

He paid no intention when Alana walked to the girl. Sighing softly, he stared at Mr. Will. He looked the same as when Henrikas had first met him, though the profiler appeared to be younger when he was sleeping, as there were no frustrated lines marred across his forehead.

Mr. Will seemed content.

Henrikas jolted in surprise when he realised his own hand reaching out to the sleeping man, anxiety pooled in his belly as he hesitantly checked over Alana, who didn't notice anything, and sighed in relief.

'He's not Mama, stupid,' he flinched at his own thought, curling even tighter on the chair, 'He is only interesting because he started the nightmares.'

He recalled the recent memory of his mother – they, Henrikas and his mother, were lying on a ground in the middle of the woods, near a clearing, and listened to the sound of the nature provided as they lulled them to sleep. He remembered his mother's hand carding through his hair – much like Hannibal had done – and murmured soft words that flew gently through the breeze, content, as he snuggled closer to the warmth.

Henrikas clutched his hands to his chest, sharp pain pierced beneath them, and stared at Mr. Will's sleeping face only to see it wavered into his mother's for a split second.

He clutched tighter.

'I miss you, Mama.'

Not too bad – I hope?

I know that I promised the third episode of Hannibal in this chapter, but I, uh, kinda got sidetracked?

Oops.

Anyway, I tried to portray Henrikas to be having a really ridiculous mood swings/emotions (which also affecting his power and sensation – I have my own good reason why he act like that; hence the Hannibal cares me, Hannibal cares me not, Hannibal cares me, Hannibal cares me not), having doubt about Hannibal's manipulation (if you read previous chapter, I wrote that Henrikas didn't mind much about the subtle influence), feeling extremely confused at the unknown person who helped him during his captivity (want to try guessing?).

Next chapter will be the continuing of the second episode of Hannibal and maybe, the starting of the third episode (if I'm not sidetracking!). There will be a lot of fluff in next one.

P.S : Who watched The Magnificent Seven? The one where Chris Pratt act as Joshua Faraday – I just fell in love with the movie, I tell you, it's so, amazing, and devastating at the same time! If you haven't watch it yet, I highly recommended it. By the way, Vasquez/Faraday is my jam! Ooh, that cowboy getup though – they left me to a drooling mess, just like Hannibal's three piece suit.

Translation :

Aš atsiprašau – (I'm sorry)

Tėti – (Father)