There were so many words he could use to describe his lover - all of them precious. Silver and emerald matched with alabaster skin – each an element that together wove a perfect symphony. A dash of angry red, barely hidden under his bangs – a twisted scar, jagged corners ripped across what could have been perfect flesh, which symbolized so much.
Letting his eyes continue to rove the sleeping, prone body beside him, his examination continued. Two twin indents beside the bridge of his nose, tell-tale marks of the lenses he wore when awake. With those glasses gone and his eyes closed, long black lashes rested against pale skin. His face was so much more relaxed now, free from the pain and struggles which plagued him during the day. It was during the light, complete with that harsh sun with the power to sear flesh that Harry Potter was hurt but at night, beside him, he was safe.
Pale lips, almost rose colored lips. How often had those lips whispered endearments to him? How often had they urged him on, forming mewls of pleasure before shouting out his name? The time they had together had been borrowed – they weren't fools, no matter what everyone else had thought – so they treasured it. They kept words to a minimum and said only what was real, those whispers in your soul which normally went unspoken.
A finger ghosted down the side of his lover's face, feeling the slight warmth still radiating from him. A tear falling from his eyes halted the examination. Slowly, locked inside his own private world, he wiped it away. A hand tried to pry him from beside Harry, but he ignored it, shoving the offending arm away.
Crystalline, salty, and unreal – it wasn't supposed to happen. He was their hope. He was everything good in the world. He was everything in his world…
And he was gone.
"Come on, my dear boy" a soft voice said, kneeling down and putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "There is nothing you can do for him now." That hand pulled him back gently, allowing someone else to step forward and Levitate Harry's body. A dismayed cry tore from his throat, his arm reaching up and catching a listless hand. He couldn't let them take Harry away, he still had to see him.
They were supposed to fade away, after it was all over. They'd fade away and have eternity to each other. After tonight – why did he have to win this one small victory? – they were supposed to be together. Harry wasn't supposed to be taken away from him, not by some maniacal wizard, and certainly not by anyone else.
"Let him go" the voice urged, even gentler now. He wanted to argue, to say no, but that was too much effort. His fingers released Harry's after a long pause, arm dropping down like dead weight. Harry floated off, directed back with flicks from a wand, and he stayed sitting. That comforting hand gave him a gentle pat on his shoulder now, as if saying he could turn to him for strength.
Instead of moving, silver eyes followed the somber procession back to the castle.