BartyCed

His eyes are grey.

That is the first thing you notice when you take the time to properly look at him, when you tell him to open the egg under water, knowing his ideas of fairness with cause him to tell Potter.

That's supposed to be it. It's supposed to be over. That should be the last time you talk to him, the last time you think about him.

But his eyes are grey.

.

His eyes were grey, the Slytherin boy you fell for oh so long ago. His eyes were grey and his hair was black and his features were oh-so-elegant. He looked poised and refined and aloof, but somehow, you were the exception.

He made you feel like maybe you were a part of something more, something bigger.

You knew that he was using you, but you couldn't bring yourself to care because for the first time in your entire life, you felt like you were a part of something because of you instead of because of your father. You wanted to distance yourself from the man that you loathed, and so you let him use you. You became whatever, whoever he wanted you to be, because you didn't want him to leave you in the cold.

He left you anyway. He died, and you were left stranded and alone.

.

Those eyes haunt you as his memory always has. You spent too long in Azkaban for the memories not to hurt — all you have left is the worst of him — but you know in your mind that there was more to him than that, because you couldn't have loved him otherwise.

You hate yourself for it, but you find yourself following those grey eyes in places you probably shouldn't be, because you cannot let things lie; it is not in your nature.

You soon find out that Cedric is not Regulus. Cedric is kind where Regulus was cruel, open where Reg was closed-off, friendly where Reg was hostile. They are entirely different people living entirely different lives, and yet you fall for them both. Or you fall for the memory of him. Either way.

Does it matter, anyway? You cannot tell him and he cannot reciprocate; he doesn't even know you, has never seen your face. He knows only the mask that you wear, the costume in this elaborate charade. He does not know you, and he cannot be allowed to. That is an unchangeable thing.

You will not sacrifice your duty for love. You won't do it. It is not in your nature, despite… despite your feelings.

And so instead you just tuck the wistful expression away behind the mask of gruffness and you allow yourself to fantasize and nothing more.

Grey eyes haunt you.