20. Colorless
When he had first seen her that clear day in spring it was as if he had finally seen the light shine through the veil that had covered his life until that moment. She hadn't looked at him, just smiled and laughed as she played with her older sister, swinging her legs back and forth to gain height on the swing. The older girl would shout to her to slow down, go lower; don't get hurt, Mummy told you not to! But the little girl simply laughed her beautiful laugh, the one he would dream about years from then and jump from the top of the arc, squealing and landing so softly every time. He caught himself holding his breath sometimes, watching her gracefully land, her eyes snapping merrily. Her eyes. Her beautiful eyes.
Her sister would scold her, but he would silently thank her. Her flying red braids and lovely green eyes brought the color into his world. When he saw her, as he peaked from that bush a few times a week, it was as if the rainbow had come to his feet. He wanted to speak to her and he would convince himself to, but she had to be a dream. She was so perfect. So perfect and colorful and everything he had missed in the first few years of his life. He was used to dark corners, dark faces, dark hair and eyes. The little girl was something different, though. She was beautiful in his young eyes and what was more she was like him.
She did strange things that she couldn't explain. She was scolded for doing them when she had no control, but she did anyway. She made nature dance in her hands and flew through the air. That day when he had stepped from behind the bush that had hidden him he had stepped into something greater than her eyesight. He had stepped from the dark world of hidden secrets and fights into another world; into her world. A world of color and life, joy and smiles. He told her what he had been dying to tell her as he had watched her but she dismissed it, following the sister that scolded her for being perfect. Her let his curtains of greasy dark hair cover his face. She left him, taking the color along with her.
He tried again to tell her and she smiled at him, accepting his words. The color came back to his life and he wanted to touch her, to make sure she was real but she had to leave. Dinner, she said before waving and calling his name before running back to number four. His hand froze in the air where her cheek had been and forced himself to smile at her, turning his awkward hand into a wave as she left. He screamed at himself in his head. How could he need her this badly already? He couldn't mean this much to her, and it cut into him. He turned, hair covering his face again as he began the slow journey home.
He had gotten through to her and they met normally, covered by a blanket of leaves. But it wasn't dark there. No where could be dark when she was with him, laughing at what he said, beautiful eyes widening in shock and surprise, her innocent questions he could answer a million times over. Then it was shattered, the magic surrounding them was shattered when he older sister, the person who was always between them, came in. He accused the girl of spying on them, when she had only taken away his time with her, what he treasured most in the world. The branch fell and her eyes, the green eyes he loved filled with tears. "You hurt her!" He couldn't make an excuse. He had hurt her. He had broken the bond they had, who would want to see him when he was a monster who hurt the only people he cared again? She shook her head and turned, red hair following her as she went toward her house
again, the place he could not penetrate.
And the day came, she had forgiven him, but he was left again to look from the sidelines as she defended him. It was obvious she would jump to that when she had to. She would stand up for him, and he didn't know whether to thank her or not. She was giving him everything; protection, company, life itself and he felt as if he could give nothing back to her. Nothing that matched how he felt when she looked him in the eye and smiled, using the nickname she had since their first friendly meeting. He loved the sound of it on her tongue. She waved to her parents and sister, stepping onto the train. He mumbled his own good-byes and hurried after her. He was leaving all of that behind and going with the only thing that mattered, going to a place where they didn't already know his name, his reputation for being dark. He had his source of light to hide from the darkness with him.
He hated being like this. He wasn't anyone she could count on like he could count on her. He couldn't stand up for her like she did for him, though she seldom needed it. Many people seemed to take his thoughts about her. She was beautiful, through and through, inside and out. He watched boys lay down their hair, and one fluff it up, every time she walked by and she would comment about how they had asked her to accompany them to the village that weekend. She would tell him how she had said no and he was smile at her comment when she told him she was going with him. He tried to remember it as the messy haired boy and his friends would torture him, try to remember that she preferred him still, to the toerag holding his by his toes. He tried to remember it but on that day he couldn't.
How dare he humiliate him in front of her? How dare she come to his rescue as she always did? How could she be so damn perfect? He couldn't stop himself and as soon as he had said it her face changed and she wanted to take it back. Wanted to crawl on his knees to her to forgive him, he was a foolish person, but his pride kept him from doing what he wanted in front of all the people, laughing and jeering. Who cared about Snivellus, anyway? he thought miserably to himself. How would she prefer him, the greasy haired boy everyone picked on, over him, the popular Quidditch star? Even if he hated the boy it was obvious she wouldn't forever. She was a girl, a popular girl, and the Quidditch git fancied her. It would only be a matter of time before she fancied him, as much as the idea repulsed him. He wasn't good enough for her, but neither was the arrogant prat, though he knew he couldn't meet her standards. He tried half-heartedly to win her back but resigned. It was for the better, after all his path seemed to be much different from hers.
She was fading from his life; the colors that had made his life good once haunted him because they were just out of his reach. He shouldn't have needed her this badly and when it happened, when the note came in the mail, telling him the time and date he couldn't stand it. In her neat handwriting that had scrawled note upon note to him she had written the date and time she would no longer be the girl he loved. She would belong to him, the Quidditch star he couldn't stand, his enemy, and the boy he knew she would belong to in the end. Mr. and Mrs. They burned his eyes and he made to throw the note in the fire before sitting it down.
It was done. They had kissed to seal the deal, kissed to promise themselves to each other and he knew
she would keep her promise to him. She would belong to him; love him, everything with the man who wasn't him. When he learned of her pregnancy he knew she would keep her promise to the letter. She had the boy and named him with her husband's name, loved him and treasured him. He saw the family a few times but then learned they had gone into hiding. Hiding from what he was.
But then it happened. Happened so quickly he couldn't do anything to stop it. Happened and in a flash she was gone, gone from this world. All that was left of the woman he had loved was the flesh image of her husband, the man he had hated and she had loved. He hated the child for living when she had died, for living in her place. He had no right to walk the earth when she was gone forever. She was gone and the few colors that kept him alive vanished, leaving him in the hole of darkness he had been in before, only this time he had the sense of lose and guilt. She was gone, never to return, and he was to blame. It was his fault she couldn't live to love her son like she would have wanted, his fault he had only a picture and page of words to remember her by. He had created this hole for himself and now he was forced to live in it. Forced to live when he wanted to die. The rainbow had left his life, the color had left, and he was left behind, forced to live in a world he hated. Forced to live colorless.