Disclaimer: I do not own the characters depicted here, as they belong to J.K. Rowling. Absolutely no profit is being made from this.
Predator and Prey
The boy is no longer angry – that stage has long passed. No longer does he hurl insults recklessly, regardless of target. Nor does he lash out at the closest body unfortunate enough to be near him, as he used to. He had made that mistake, once; intending me to be the mark of his rage, his guilt, his despair. I bit my tongue and absorbed his eruption. Oh, no, don't misunderstand – it wasn't because of any misguided feelings of sympathy for the boy.
No, I remained silent because I knew of what was to come next. A self-imposed isolation. Slowly, he would stop reaching out to his friends, and would start making himself extinct when various Order members would stop by for a few days between their assignments. His appetite would eventually lessen, and he would only appear sporadically at meals. He would soon withdraw until his whole world existed solely within the confines of his own mind, his heart heavy with burden of his godfather's death. Sleep will become a rare commodity, and his midnight forays in the house at Grimmauld Place would be more and more frequent. Fortunately, I rarely sleep too, and I'm sure a warm cup of tea would be calming to his troubled mind – even from his nasty, greasy potions master.
It is then that the slightest kind word, the barest comforting touch, would be grasped; like a drowning man would his rescuer. And it is then that I will be ready. As soon as the time comes, the boy will know my soothing words of comfort; he will know of my loving caress. "Shh, Potter, it wasn't your fault," I will tell him, and will I stroke his unkempt hair and shed crocodile tears manufactured from my blackened soul; and then I will gently guide him backwards toward the coverlet, as my kiss absolves him of all his sins.
A/N: First time writing anything, so any criticism is welcome- positive, negative, or neutral. Give it to me straight, doctor, I can take it!