Some parts of this can be awfully vague, but that's because I haven't established a lot of it and one day I do intend to write the prequel.

If your trying to make sense of this then I guess I could just tell you that Ryoma would be what stereotypes assume as the Golden Boy (Harry) in character, but he's not the one who is the Chosen One. That's Keigo. He's not brave or nice and he and Ryoma hated each other with a passion that could ignite hell, but he gets shit done, as Slytherin's tend to do.

For fun; pick a color. Red, silver, black, white, yellow, green, orange, blue, pink, brown. (Sorry purple was a no go. I wrote it but I won't put it in until later) Whatever one you picked is your color description below.

Warnings: Death. Lots and lots. Language. Kissing because Syusuke and Seiichi need to get a room.

Note: Try to guess who everyone is. Eiji's character in Harry Potter was not human. *coughs*

Ryoma is familiar with red. It's blood on his fingers. It's desire of flesh and passion of bone. A full glass of wine flowing down your throat.

It's the color of Eiji's hair and the lack in his cheeks. Somehow he is smiling, though. Somehow he looks fine.

"Tell him," His friend chokes and he wonders why there is no noise inside the hall. Everyone is fighting in another section of the school, but this isn't fair. The loudest person he knows shouldn't be dying in anything less then sound. "Tell him I still think he's the best person I've ever known. And I've never had better friends then all of you."

He watches the life bleed out, leaning over his friend's body with a harsh keen, and almost wishes for blood.

"Not that this unresolved tension hasn't been brewing for years, but do you think you guys could do this later. We are, you know, at war."

Seiichi and Syusuke just continue kissing in the concave. Ryoma shifts, and gives Keigo as look, but he's smirking. Which is interesting. The one who's supposed to be riding the world of Voldemort is checking his nails like there's no rush. He spots Momo pointing and laughing with Kaidoh and he shakes his head.

Finally, the two pull apart. They are bruised and torn, hurried. But their eyes are excited waves of the ocean, pulling each other together and apart. But still together. Seiichi smiles. "Took us long enough."

Ryoma rolls his eyes and says, before Syusuke can say anything back, "You've still got a long way to go."

Keigo's father dies. Slumped on the floor in the darkened shadows. The last thing said is, "You have your father's eyes." And Ryoma doesn't realize he's crying until the splatters hit the fingers gripped on robes. The tears appear green.

"Ryoma." Someone breathes behind him. Keigo. He's staring at the space where his father lies. His face gashes like a wound. Hardens into a soldier. Seventeen. Both of them are no more then seventeen and now-

Now.

"Don't die."

Ryoma doesn't know who says it, but it resonates and they're kissing each other messily right on the floor. Their wands are tight in hands still-just in case- and he thinks that is the saddest thing about all of it.

Tomo's hair is pink next to her husband Tezuka. It's a disgusting color. That annoying bubblegum Marui likes to chew loudly in everyone's ear. Fantasies and dreams that will never come true. Childish. Ryoma turns his back on it, taking in the sobs emitting from Sakuno's being.

Yes, childish. But her.

"When this is over I'm going to take Atobe's shiny broom and shove it up Yanagi's ass." Marui snaps and Niou coughs, dodging as a curse right before it hits him.

They're in the Great Hall, where most of the death eaters have conjugated. Ryoma has no idea where Keigo is, but he hopes he's not dead.

"I heard that."

"You were supposed to, twat." But both of the twins are laughing. He wants to tell them to pay attention but-

"Avada Kedavra."

A ray of silver targets Niou's chest. Ryoma jerks forward because Marui is screaming, face twisting horribly as his brother falls to the floor. Everyone is crowding beside the slowly paling body. He feels like he's waiting to wake up from a dream.

"No, no. No. Oh no." He has never heard anything more horrible then Marui's pleadings. His fingers are drifting low and high, trying to find an abrasion that is not there. "You can't die on me. You can't. You can't."

Yanagi is clutching unto his brother tight. "You're so stupid. You should've been paying attention."

There are spots of grey in Niou's hair and they look up. The ceiling is snowing, flecks of abnormally colored silver pouring down, and all of them shiver at the cold together.

Death smells of black. When Keigo dies, it is stuck in the back of his throat and he keeps spiting in hopes of it leaving. But it doesn't go. There is crying next to him. Taka is holding the sword in his hand loosely. Ann's head is down. Someone is gripping him, but he has no strength left to give.

Keigo is on the ground and Ryoma can't stop tasting smoke.

They all hold their breath.

Horio. He regrets many things. But, he never regrets anything more then not caring. The younger boy was always taking pictures. Wanting some semblance of positive attention from anyone. Because.

He was just a boy.

Ryoma walks past the short stature and boyish hair, body distorted somewhere in the corner, with his eyes closed.

Ryoma dedicates the color brown to children.

"You're not overly brave. Or loyal. Intelligent. Prideful. You're just-"

But the world isn't divided into only four categories. Not everyone is just brave, loyal, intelligent and prideful. Some people are sarcastic and loving. Irrational and courageous. Impulsive and wise. And why does it matter, anyway? He's Ryoma. That's what counts.

"No offense, Ann, but what the hell are you talking about?"

Ann smiles airily, tapping his nose. He's struck with how beautiful she always looks. Dreamy, though she is. "You have pretty eyes. Gold. The color of royalty. The color of history."

He blinks. But, she just shakes her head and skips away. Her high voice floats back. "I'm off to find Taka. Give Seiichi and Syusuke my congratulations."

Ryoma ponders that. Congratulations on what?

He awards Sakuno yellow.

The color of light streaming through your window. Of dancing through the water in the morning on the beach. The sweetest song you've ever heard. It's the color of strength. Perseverance.

Years and years, and she never held it against him. She smiled as he and Keigo kissed, pushed them back when they were drifting. It didn't deter her, she just loved him more. And she never asked for Ryoma to love her back.

"I want to fight."

Her eyes are flints of determination. He wants to tell her no. That it's not safe. That none of it is safe. Their lives are crumbling brick walls. There is almost nothing left.

But he sees a dandelion in her hair, laughing in the middle of the destruction, and he tells her, with his hands on her arms, "Stay safe."

"I will." She smiles softly, and she shines.

Taka is orange branches of fire. The spark had always been there, it just needed time to breathe. But for a while he is a dull roar, encouraging everyone to be the best. Keeping you warm. He is safe. That is all everyone knows.

Until they watch him running up the staircase more then ready to destroy a Horcrux, screaming, "Burning! I love you Ann."

Syusuke laughs from beside him. "Burning, indeed."

White is the color of peace. Not of moving on, or getting over. Just-

Peace.

He doesn't understand death. He doesn't understand why it sweeps beneath you feet and trips you over. But he accepts it, because that is all there is to do.

The funerals are almost unbearable. He wants to run away, but Keigo grounds him. They are not the type to coddle, but every once in awhile, they're fingers brush and he knows that he can be okay.

White. It's the color of parchment (well, the good kind). Rooms of a house you've just moved into. He sees Seiichi and Syusuke's hands intertwined in front of them. Oishi's cheeks spilling with tears. Marui's knuckles clenched tight.

Ryoma thinks it means another chance. That doesn't mean it hurts less. It doesn't make the pain go away. But there is a beginning for you. A place to try again tomorrow. It's there. You just have to want to, and you can.

White is the color of now.

"You didn't die."

Ryoma smirks a little, pulling Keigo forward by his tie. "Neither did you."

His boyfriend's eyes are dark and tired. He will mourn forever. It's a burden he carries gracefully, but it will always be a weight on his shoulders. "Slytherin's are known for their self-preservation."

"And Ravenclaw's for their aversion to drivel."

"Love doesn't allow for self-preservation." Keigo whispers and he steps back.

"Love is foolish, Atobe." He points out. What are you saying?

"Don't die."

His lips part, baffled. The bed is behind him and if he were to fall a little he would land on comfortable bedding. But he doesn't want comfortable. He wants elaborate House Prank Wars and snippy banter. He wants to walk by the lake while everyone whistles. He wants to be teased a least once a week for dating The Boy Who Died Once Or Twice.

He wants the color of their life to reflect who they are. Because there are so many shades of them all and he doesn't want to stop looking.

Ryoma lets his fingers stroke the aristocratic planes of his boyfriend's face. Keigo's eyes flutter half way shut. "One day, I am going to die. One day, you are going to die. But that doesn't mean the book ends on the last page. The story never dies. It's always living, isn't it?"

There's a second when he thinks his boyfriend is crying and he starts to swipe tears, but onyx eyes just light and a thin mouth quirks into a smirk he's been the recipient of since they were children meeting for the first time. Keigo's voice is nothing more than a drawl.

"Dear Merlin, Echizen. I though you said Ravenclaw's had an aversion to drivel."

I shall be back with more soon. Cheers, everyone. :)