What was the colour of his dreams? Once he would have said that they were red. Lily Evans. He once plucked a red flower for her once- so long ago now. It seems like more like wishful thinking than a memory. Maybe it was. When he thinks of red now, he feels the slippery liquid seeping between his fingers streaking his fingers with guilt, cooling. The smell of copper makes him empty the contents of his stomach onto the floor until there is nothing but the taste of bile on his tongue. Behind his eyes he can see the swish of her hair as she walks out of his life. "Mudblood." He bites through his lip trying not to weep; he scowls down his nose on Potter's boy instead. Never Lilly's.
Blue is the colour of redemption. It is probably the only colour that he can't look at. When he talks to Dumbledore, he avoids staring into those eyes and their famous twinkle. He stares at the crooked nose and the small round glasses that perch on them. He remembers how he begged shamelessly for the life of his enemy's wife. He stared into those eyes and realised that blue was colour of hate- he wakes up screaming from it sometimes. The few times he stared into those eyes, he can imagine the blueness reflecting accusingly off his own- You did not save her.
What was the colour of Potter's eyes? Green. It is always green. It follows him like a stain on his hands, his tongue. Her eyes. He tells himself that he hates the colour green. It is a part of him. Slytherin. He has paved his life through this way. It would ultimately become his death. He would never be rid of it. Sometimes in his darkest moments he wondered if he did want to get rid of it. Green the colour of life. Lilly Evans. Of death. Lilly Potter. Of redemption. Harry Potter. To the ends of the Earth-
"Look...at...me..."
He sees green. It was always green.
"Always."