There was a certain heartbreaking devastation ringing out from his eyes. It was a private devastation, but it spoke of a man completely blown down and destroyed by one burden too many. Much had been demanded of him, and he always answered his duty. But it was not an easy thing, and the toll had been too hard. He could no longer allow himself to grieve, not for himself, not for his lost love, not for the million could-have-beens, not for the pain mental and physical it took to do the right thing. It was all locked away, deep away somewhere in his mind.
Never before had he thought that he would find such comprehension from such a young person. Yet the youths vast experience belied his age, and his currently grief shadowed green eyes fit far better in a much older face. Yet there they sat, understanding and shared misery, weary unto death and a companions.
Both had suffered for their cause, both were painted in far different lights than their true position. One painted as dark, the other as light. Yes indeed, the evil "ex"-Death Eater who delighted in making the valiant Gryffindors miserable and encouraged the little Death Eaters in training. Spy! Guardian of the light! He was not black. Grey, dark grey most certainly. He held no pretensions that he was a hidden light, but he was not as mired in evil as everyone expected. Well, not everyone. Somehow no one had noticed their Hope watching, putting pieces together.
Ah, the seemingly blinding, brilliant light. Ironic, the tainting that came from the scar, the supposed symbol of his role as savior. Tragic, the color of his eyes, same color as the blinding light that ended his childhood. The 'child' was no such thing. How, why, when, he had realized that he had such a tremendous destiny, his professor did not know. His elders in physical age only did their best to keep him free, untainted and unburdened from the war that had swallowed an unsuspecting world. He was to be used, innocent to the very last. To his credit, the blinders they attempted to force upon him were thrown off-but secretly. Very Slytherin, truly. Yet another contradiction for the world! Their perfect Gryffindor was masking a Slytherin combination. Truly deadly, if one thought about it. No, the hero was not pure light. He was grey, just like his protector. Yet each hid in their assigned extremes.
It was a slight…relief to find that one was not alone in bearing, secretly, the world's burden. The two understood their roles, their situations, and accepted them. To throw them off would cause repercussions that would haunt them the rest of their days. Neither could refuse their tasks, not if the world was to remain stupid and ignorant and free. Stuck through until the end. How many 'few' had paid their highest price so the many could live on?
Yet meetings like this were rare, under the cover of detentions and Remedial Potions. They played the villain and hero parts to perfection around others, masking themselves flawlessly. Here though, there was no need for words even. They simply…were, and understood. Little to be said, perhaps an exchange of information, and explanation for a certain act that was more cutting than others. No apologies. Never an apology. They owed nothing to the other. The unsuspecting, manipulative, innocent, evil, they alone owed the two apologies.
It did not look good for either of them, not really. It was highly unlikely that either would survive, something both accepted with surprising ease. But both had been shaped for this role, had they not? No parents or caring family. A few friends, acquaintances, past romances. No childhood for either: scorn, derision, neglect, abuse. Prepared for pain from the start. They were laid on the altar by self appointed leaders, nothing truly belonged to either.
They promised each other though, that if by some miracle they did make it out of this blasted war alive, they would escape and never be forced to play charades again. New faces, names, lives, far away from the people who had bled them dry and then asked for more, loving (or pretending to) the whole time. But that was a distant future, one which would almost certainly never exist. But grey can still hope, can't it?
A few hours a week, no more, in which a forbidden friendship existed. After that they put their costumes and masks back into place, and prepared to strut the stage as directed, one clad in shining white, the other in bleeding black, hiding the grey underneath.
"Potter."
"Professor."
Angst and drama! I know. Overly so, probably. But I wanted to get across the sacrifice. What if Harry had been a little more...observant? I leave it to your imagination what a hidden alliance between the two could mean for the ending. I tried to keep the color metaphor running, but I think it just came across as repetative...you be the judge.
BTW, I do NOT own Harry Potter & Co. I just love them, hold them, stroke their fur the wrong way. Then I put them back with messy hair and run from angry authors who have to comb their characters hair again.