The Colour of Death

Score sees them. He looks at me with beautiful beautiful pained stormy grey eyes.

People and people and dead eyes.

Scorpius is still worried. He tries to hide it, but I can tell. His hands are calm, despite everything. Mine won’t stop trembling. Why can’t they just stop?

His hands are on my sleeve. Undoing the buttons. Pushing up the fabric. No, no, no. He’ll see the scars. He can’t see them. He’ll worry. Score sees them. He looks at me with beautiful beautiful pained stormy grey eyes.

People and people and dead eyes.

I pull my arm back, away from him.

Evil eyes, cunning eyes, blood on my hands. Scars on my hands. So, so many scars.

I cut, I bleed, but it doesn’t hurt. It is strange, not hurting. I rather like it.

I like him. His smell. His laugh. Those beautiful beautiful stormy grey eyes. His hands. Hands reaching out.

“Please, Handsome. Let me see.” I hesitate. He knows I hesitate. But I show him. He’ll worry more, if I don’t let him see. I don’t like worrying him. I don’t want to worry him.

I shrug the shirt off. I don’t look. He does. Scars. So many scars. Blood everywhere. Wood. Stains. It shouldn’t come out. But we’re wizards, so it does.

“Oh, Albus," sighs Score. And he’s calling his dad. Draco Malfoy. Father hates him. I don’t.
“Albus,” Draco is worried, too, “what happened?”
“Nothing.” Everything. He doesn’t believe me. They never do. Lovely little lies.
“Liar. Evil eyes, cunning eyes, blood on your hands.” I can still hear the whispers. Why won’t they just stop?
“Oh, Albus.” Draco is sad. Sad grey eyes. No fear, in his eyes. “Was it you, or was or him?” I tilt my head, confused. What does he mean?
“I…” how to say? Would they understand? Maybe, “I cut, I bleed, but it doesn’t hurt. It is strange, not hurting. I’d wonder why, but I rather like it, the not hurting.” The Malfoys exchange a look. So much said in one look. They are talking, but I can’t hear them. Why can’t I hear them? It is all so confusing. I don’t know what to think.

I can’t think. Noth with those whispers in my ears, at the back of my mind. “Evil, they call you. Evil eyes, cunning eyes, blood on your hands.” Dead eyes. Demon eyes. People and people and dead eyes.

I’m lost, again. Score gets me out of it. He always does. Gets me out of this delusion. But it doesn’t feel like a delusion. Where is reality? I don’t care. It all feels real, to me. All of it. Score’s my constant. He always has been. Ever since we met, all those years ago. It feels like a lifetime. It feels like a moment ago.

“I want you to meet someone, Albus.” Draco is saying. What is he talking about?
“His name is Theo. He’s an old friend of mine.” I nod. Just so long Score is there. They can’t split us up. I don’t want them to split us up. He’s my constant. I need him. He needs me. “I think it’s best if you two talk alone.” No, no, no. I need Score.
“I’ll just be next door, Handsome.” Scorpius says. Just next door.

~|~

Theodore Nott is fascinating. He somehow just gets it. He says it runs in some Pureblood families, this delusion of mine. The Black Family Madness, some call it. But I’m not a Black, I’m a Potter. Am I, though? A Potter? Who am I? What am I? I still have no fucking clue.

Madness.

Am I mad?

Theo asks me if it really matters, if I am mad or not. No, I reply. Nothing much matters.

But the eyes. I can’t get them out of my head. People and people and dead eyes. Beautiful beautiful stormy grey eyes. Bright understanding blue eyes. Worried green, sad hazel. And fear in their eyes. Dead eyes. Dead demon eyes. Dead human eyes.

And blood everywhere. Blood on the floor, staining it. It shouldn’t come out. But we’re wizards, so it does. Daggers, in my hands. Blood on my hands. Scars on my hands. So, so many scars.

Talking and talking and whispers, in my ears. And daggers, in my hands. And shadows, in the corners, hissing. Demons in cages. Blood everywhere. Fear in their eyes. Dead eyes. Dead demon eyes. Dead human eyes. Bright understanding blue eyes, watching me. A ghost of a smile on his lips.

Maybe I am mad, after all.

~|~

I’m back at Beauxbatons. A room of red and black. It’s raining, outside. The clouds are grey. Grey eyes. Beautiful beautiful stormy grey eyes. Where’s Score? They want to split us up. The can’t split us up.

Where is he? Where is he?

People, everywhere. So many people. They’re talking. Why can’t I hear them? I don’t care.

Arrows. Blood, all over the floor. Wood. Stains. But no stains, because we’re wizards. It’s all so confusing. We’re in a lesson. It’s over. When did it start? Where’s Score?

So I’m running, running. So much talking. Whispers in my ears. And that infernal humming. Why won’t it just stop?

I’m there, now. With him. Converse shoes, the colour of death. Score’s wearing converse, again.

But there’s blood, so much blood. And its in the wood. Stains. Blood stained the wood floor, but it didn’t. And people and people and dead eyes. Blood on my hands. Scars on my hands. So, so many scars.

And it’s night, again.

Demons, the colour of death. Fear in their eyes. Dead eyes. Dead demon eyes. A dead demon, on the floor. Daggers in my hands. Blood on my hands. Scars on my hands. Blood all over the floor. Mine, theirs. Hands, the colour of death. Demon blood, on my hands. Human blood. My blood.

And people and people and dead eyes.

~|~

Theo’s here. Where is here? I don’t know. I don’t care. He’s talking to me. What’s he saying? I can’t hear him. Why can’t I hear him?

“Snap out of it, kid. Snap out of this delusion,” and I’m out of it. Back to wherever we are. “There you are.” A ghost of a smile on his lips. Bright understanding blue eyes.
“Where’s Scorpius?” Where is he?
“I’m right here, Albus.” His hand is on my shoulder. Who else is here? “My dad’s here. Yours doesn’t know yet.”
“Know what?” What did I do? There were people and people and dead dead eyes. Demon eyes. Human eyes. Dead eyes. Hands, the colour of death. Blood stains the floor, but it doesn’t. It’s all so confusing.
“You lost it, Albus. You snapped," explains Draco. Sad grey eyes.
“What… What did I do?” Fear in their eyes, I can see it. Fear in my eyes.
“You wouldn’t stop shaking. And muttering things. And there was blood everywhere. Your blood. And daggers in your hands. Blood on your hands. Scars, as well. You tried to kill yourself, Handsome.” And Score is crying. And I can’t look away from Theo’s bright understanding blue eyes.
“Where are we? When are we?” I ask. I can’t think. If I think, I’ll feel. And I can’t feel. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.
“Feel,” that voice whispers. The one in my ears, and the back of my head, “snap out of this delusion.” But I can’t. I can’t feel, I can’t snap out of it. Not the way they need me to get out of this delusion. Does it really matter? Nothing much matters, anymore.

Scorpius matters. My Scorpius. My knight. He’s not a warrior. I am. He laughs, such a beautiful laugh, and sings, and looks at the world with wonderful beautiful stormy grey eyes.

“We’re in the Head’s office. It’s the weekend, everybody is down by the lake, or in the forest," Score replies.
“We need to inform your parents,” Draco says, “I dislike them as much as you do, but they need to know.” I shake my head.
“No! They’ll see. They can’t see. They’ll take me away, from you.” They can’t split us up. I need my Scorpius. “I can’t leave you.” Am I crying? Tears on my cheeks. My tears, his tears. It’s strange, not feeling. I don’t feel upset. I can’t let them take me away from him.
“I won’t let them.” Draco promises. Lovely little lies. A hand on my shoulder. Theo’s hand.
“I get it, kid. I do. But we need to tell them. We’ll do what we can. But you might have to go somewhere else, for a while.” Terrible truths are better than lovely little lies. Theo gets it. I wonder why.
“I can’t lose you.”
“You won’t kid. Not if I can help it.” Bright understanding blue eyes.
“Okay.” I say. I think I say. Can anyone really hear? Draco nods and picks up the muggle phone from the table. Wood. Stains. Blood everywhere. Blood on my hands. Mine. Theirs. Scars. So, so many scars.

I’m spiralling, back into delusion.

What is real? Is it all just my imagination?

Where’s reality?

Do I even care?

Maybe I am mad.

~|~

Worried green eyes. Sad hazel eyes. Beautiful beautiful stormy grey eyes. Dead eyes. Dead demon eyes. Dead human eyes. They’re all looking at me. Fear in their eyes, I can see it. Fear in my eyes. They’re going to take me away from him. They can’t split us up.

Father is worried. Mother is worried. I don’t mind worrying them. It’s Score I care about. I don’t want to worry him. They want to split us up. I don’t want them to split us up.

I don’t want to fight demons.

I don’t want to kill angels.

I don’t want to be away from Scorpius.

I don’t want to worry him.

I don’t want to hurt.

I don’t want to feel. I rather like it, not feeling.

But I can’t help but feel with him.

Sad hazel eyes. James’s eyes. Fear in those eyes. I thought he didn’t care. Why can’t he just not care? I don’t. It is oh, so, so, easy not to care. Care about the answers to the questions.

“Why do you care?” I ask. I think I ask. Can anyone really hear? James is taken aback.
“You’re my brother. Of course I care.” A smile tugs my lips, at his words. A dry chuckle. Pity, in those hazel eyes. Hurt, too. To hurt, or be hurt. I don’t, anymore. Feel hurt. I cut, I bleed, but it doesn’t hurt.
“I don’t." They are confused, my blood family. “Care, that is," I elaborate. Hurt worried green eyes, pity in those hazel eyes, sad grey eyes, no fear, beautiful beautiful stormy grey eyes, and bright understanding blue eyes. All watching. All watching me.

A hidden tear, a worried brow, sad sad sad eyes, a loss of hope, and the ghost of a smile on the lips. All so different. Yet all the same. All eyes. Dead eyes. Dead human eyes. People and people and dead eyes.

There’s blood everywhere. On the floor, staining it, but not. Daggers in my hands. Blood on my hands. Scars on my hands. So, so many scars. Demon blood spilling across the floor. Human blood on my hands. My blood. Blood all over the floor. It’s everywhere.

And my hands won’t stop shaking. Then his hands are there. His hands are calm, despite everything.
“Calm down, Handsome,” he’s whispering in my ear, “it’s okay. Calm.” His voice is soft, soothing, “It’s okay.” I lean into him, away from their eyes. Too many eyes. Too many dead eyes. Dead demon eyes. Dead human eyes.
“Snap out of it, kid.” Theo is talking, now. I can feel those bright understanding blue eyes on me. “Snap out of it.”

And I’m back, from the delusion in my head. I’m still stuck in time. How long has it been?

“Al?” Lily is scared. Scared of me.
“Yes?” My hands have stopped shaking. It’s Scorpius holding them. Please don’t let go.
“What happened?” Her eyes plead with me. Nothing.
“Eveything.”
“He tried to kill himself.” Draco says quietly, with those sad sad grey eyes. Father’s head snaps to the voice.
“What? Al?” He doesn’t believe it. “No, Al. You didn’t.”
“He did," replies Score.
“Al can speak for himself.”
“His name is Albus,” Scorpius snaps.
“And he can speak for himself! Al— Albus. Did you? Try to…”
“Kill myself?” I finish the sentence. Terrible truths or lovely little lies? “Yes, apparently I did.”
“Apparently?” mother questions.
“Yes, apparently," I, too, snap. I just want them to leave, “it is apparent if you actually care to look.” And now they actually look at me. Take it all in. Even Score and Draco, who hadn’t really looked. Not really. I shrug my shirt off, just to make a point. I just need to get them to leave. Without me. I need to stay here, with Scorpius. Why do they want to split us up?
“Hey, kid,” Theo says. I look to his bright understanding blue eyes. Because he had already really looked. “Go with Scorpius, and your siblings. Wait outside, will you?” I nod. James is the last one to leave.

We don’t wonder what they’re talking about, as we sit quietly. Score whispers to me. I don’t know what he’s saying. I think it’s meant to be comforting. James doesn’t say anything. I can feel his sad hurt hazel eyes resting on me. Now he’s seen he can’t stop looking. Lily is trying to do anything but look at me.

There’s raised voices. Father and Draco, mostly. Still arguing, all these years later. Why can’t they just stop. Stop screaming.

So many screams. Demon screams, Human screams. People being people and dead eyes. Evil eyes, cunning eyes, blood on my hands. Blood everywhere. Wood. Stains, but not. Blood on my hands. Mine. Theirs. People, nowhere. All alone. But eyes, the colour of death. Dead eyes. Demon eyes, human eyes. So, so similar. Demons are shapeshifters. Demon blood on my hands. Human blood on my hands. Demon-Slayer. Evil eyes, cunning eyes, bright understanding blue eyes. Staring at me. Talking to me.

“Come back, kid. Snap out of it.” Theo’s talking. Talking to me.
“The shouting. The screams. So many screams,” I whisper, shaking. So much blood. Daggers in my hands. Blood on my hands. Scars on my hands. Blood everywhere. Scars everywhere. Theo’s hands on my still bare shoulders. My whole body’s shaking.
“Calm, kid. Get out of the delusion. Snap out of it.”
“Come on, Handsome." Scorpius. I'm back, with him. I take a ragged breath. James hasn’t stopped looking. Now he’s really seen me, he can’t stop. Lily’s scared of me, I think. She doesn’t want to look. Sad hurt hazel eyes. Sad grey eyes, Draco’s. “Come back to me. Please.” Fear in Score’s voice. Fear in those beautiful beautiful stormy grey eyes.
“I’m here, Score.” Out of the delusion. But it isn’t delusion, is it? It feels real. It is real. To me, at least. Where’s reality. I don’t care.

I’ve gone mad. There’s no ‘maybe’ about it.

~|~

They’re going to split us up. Send me away. Where? I don’t care. It’s away from Score. Scorpius. My Scorpius. They want to split us up. Away from Score. I don’t want to be away from Scorpius. I don’t want them to split us up. Why do they want to split us up?

I know why, though.

I thought I’d stopped caring about the answers.

I thought I’d blocked them out.

But I can’t help but feel with him.

Theo and Draco did what they could. It wasn’t enough. Not when they were against Golden Boy, and Saviour of the World, Harry Potter. The best auror in a century. My father. Draco wanted to take me in, to stay at Malfoy Manor. He told father that Purebloods had been dealing with ‘my sort of problem’ for generations. At that, the mention of the ‘Black Family Madness’, father snapped. I’m going somewhere that will help me. His words, not mine. Draco was furious.

Theo had more luck. He’d accepted father’s decision, and made sure they’d send me somewhere called Asgard, which has a ton of subtitles I don’t care to remember. Because it’s away from Score. Away from my Scorpius. Theo even went as far as to recommend which doctor. I think father might listen to him. I hope father listens to him.

There’s so little hope, these days. People seem to be losing hope. Few of them gain it. New hope. I rarely hope. I have’t in a long, long time. Not since I realised that demons are going to kill us all, one day. That it’s a losing battle. A battle I don’t even want to fight. I don’t want to kill demons. I half want them to kill me.

~|~

Theo’s talking to me. Looking at me with those bright understanding blue eyes. And the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Hey, kid. Sorry, about all this.” I just stare at him. “Remember what we said, Draco and I. We won’t lose you. Or forget you. Blaise is a friend of mine, he’ll help. We’ll get you out of there. Just don’t lose yourself, kid. It is so, so easy to give into the delusions, when you’re there. Don’t. Don’t give in, kid.” His hand on my shoulder.
“Hang in there, Albus. We’ll get you out. We will. Never doubt it.” Draco’s talking. His sad sad grey eyes. They’ve seen so much, those eyes. Felt so much. Hurt so much. Hurt others and been hurt.
“I won’t," I say. I think I say. Can they really hear me? A nod from Draco.
“We’ll get you, Handsome. We will.” It sounds like Score’s trying to convince himself, more than me. I press our foreheads together, and look into his eyes. His beautiful beautiful stormy grey eyes. When will I see those eyes again?

Will I see those eyes again?

Please let me see those eyes again.

Those beautiful beautiful stormy grey eyes.

Worry in those eyes. Fear in his eyes. Dead eyes. Dead human eyes. Dead demons eyes. Evil eyes, cunning eyes, blood on my hands. Demon blood. Human blood. Mine. Theirs. Daggers in my hands. Blood on my hands. Scars on my hands. So, so many scars. Blood everywhere. Scars everywhere. Stains in the floor, but not.

Demon eyes, human eyes. So, so similar. Demons are shapeshifters. Demons blood on my hands. Human blood on my hands. Demon-Slayer. Evil eyes, cunning eyes, beautiful beautiful stormy grey eyes.

When will I see those eyes again?