The Colour of Death

“Albus has been improving greatly, since he came here,” Blaise says. Liar. It’s been getting worse.

I stare out the window. All I can see is hills. The room is bare. Shadows in the corner, hissing, “Demon-Slayer.” But I don’t want to fight demons. I don’t want to kill angels. “Evil eyes, cunning eyes, blood on your hands.” Eyes, the colour of death, staring up at me. Demon eyes. Human eyes. So, so similar. Demons are shapeshifters. Demon blood on my hands. A dead demon, on the floor. Blood, all over the floor. Blood on my hands. Mine. Theirs. People, nowhere. All alone.

“Snap out of it. Snap out of it, kid.” The ghost of a voice with the ghost of a smile and a whisper of bright understanding blue eyes.

Whispers in the shadows. “Feel.”

But I don’t feel much, anymore. What I do is with him.

And he’s not here, wherever ‘here’ is. He’s somewhere else, miles away. They want to split us up. They have split us up.

I’ve lost my constant, in this world. I’ve lost him.

I don’t want to me away from Scorpius.

I don’t want to worry him.

I don’t want to hurt. To hurt others, or be hurt.

I don’t want to feel. I can’t feel, I can’t snap out of it.

I rather like it, not feeling.

It is oh so so easy not to care. So so easy to stop caring where reality is.

I don’t care. Because it all is real, to me.

And I need Scorpius. My Scorpius. But he’s not here. He’s somewhere else, miles away. People, nowhere. I’m all alone.

But the screams just won’t stop. That humming in my ear. That voice in the back of my mind. And so many screams. Demon screams. Human screams. So, so similar. Demon eyes, human eyes. Dead eyes. Evil eyes, cunning eyes, blood on my hands.

Blood everywhere. On the floor. Wood. Stains. Blood on my hands. Human blood. Demon blood. My blood. Everywhere. 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 can’t help but feel, with him.

But he’s not here. He’s somewhere else, miles away. None of them are here. No worried green or sad grey. Not those hurt hazel eyes or the beautiful beautiful stormy grey, eyes that hide so much. Sometimes I see bright understanding blue. All so different. Yet all the same. All eyes. Dead eyes. Dead human eyes. People and people and dead eyes.

I’m glad I’m detached from it all. Switched off.

It is so so much easier not to feel. It’s easier to give in. To simply not snap out of it.

Score isn’t here. He’s somewhere else, miles away. I’ve lost my constant, in this world. I’ve lost him.

When will I see those eyes? Those beautiful beautiful stormy grey eyes. Eyes that hide so much. Fake so much. When will I seem him again?

I’m spiralling, again.

I’ve stopped caring about the answers.

~|~

Chocolate brown eyes. Hope hides in them, I can tell. New hope. There’s so little of it, these days. There’s too many dead demons, on the floor. Blood, all over the floor. Blood. Wood. Stains.

Talking. Screaming. So much screaming. Make it stop.

Humming, in my ears. I can’t think, anymore. And not with that voice, at the back of my mind. Or those whispers, in my ear. And the shadows which hiss. Hissing with human voices, demon voices. So, so similar.

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.

“Come back, Albus. Whatever you can see and hear is not real.” Soft voice, chocolate eyes. But it all is real, to me, “You’re in Asgard, with me. Blaise. Blaise Zabini. You know me, come back, Albus.” Soft words, chocolate eyes. Soft sad chocolate eyes, “Can you tell me what you hear?” I think I nod. Am I nodding?
“Screams. Swords. Whispers, in my ears. A humming, a constant humming. People talking, so much talking. And the shadows, hissing. Demons in cages. Demons hissing.” Stop. Why can’t it just stop?
“It’s just us here, Albus. Just you and me. No one else. No demons, no people. Focus on the quiet. Focus on my voice.” Soft sad chocolate eyes. “What can you see? Look, Albus. Really look. What can you see?” I look,  see. How could I not see before? Eyes, staring at me. Dead eyes. Dead human eyes, dead demon eyes. Evil eyes, cunning eyes, beautiful beautiful stormy grey eyes.
“Where’s Scorpius?” Not here.
“It’s just us two. Scorpius is at Beauxbatons,” Blaise replies, “think about him.”
“But he’s not here.”
“Shh, Albus. Calm. You need to get out of this, to see him.” But there’s so much blood. “Look, Albus. Really look. What do you see?” I stare at him. His soft sad chocolate eyes.
“Eyes, the colour of death. Dead eyes. Demon eyes, Human eyes. Worried green, hurt hazel, sad sad sad grey eyes, bright understanding blue, beautiful beautiful stormy grey, soft sad chocolate brown. All dead dead eyes.”
“Whose eyes? Who do those eyes belong to?” Why so many questions? I don’t care about the answers. Soft sad chocolate brown eyes, looking at me. Hope, hidden in them. New hope. There’s so little of it, these days.
“So, so many people. So many dead eyes.”
“Can you name some of them?” Just stop asking me questions.
“Father. James’s hazel. Draco, Score’s stormy beautiful eyes, Theo’s understanding blue. Your soft chocolate.”
“Good, focus on them. Pull it together, for them.” Something different in Blaise’s voice.
“But there’s so much blood.” And I’m shaking again. My hands are trembling.
“There’s no blood, Albus.” Blaise says gently. I look down. But there is. It’s everywhere. “There’s no blood, Albus," he repeats, catching my eyes with his soft sad chocolate. “There’s a way out. Theo found it, the clever bastard.” That snaps me out of it.
“What?”

~|~

It is a simple deception. But it involves me talking to father. And not spiralling half away through. All we need to do is persuade him to let me stay with Theo. It shouldn’t be too difficult.

Yet I’m standing outside the door with a light tremble in my hands. Blaise has a hand on my shoulder. It’s comforting. The door opens, and we enter. A table. Chairs. Father and James are in two of them, Draco and Score another pair. Theo’s leaning back, the ghost of a smile on his lips, watching the Potters and the Malfoys engage in a glaring match. Still arguing, all these years later.

And suddenly Scorpius is in my arms and I’m engulfed in his smell. I’m staring into those beautiful beautiful stormy grey eyes, and I’m home. He’s back, my constant, in this world. He pulls back. Why couldn’t it last longer? I have a deception. A simple deception. But it is so hard. Because Score is here, and I can’t help but feel, with him.

“Hey, kid. You holding up?” Theo asks, with bright understanding blue eyes. Evil eyes, cunning eyes, blood on my hands. So much blood.

No. Keep it together. There’s no blood. No dead eyes. No shadows hissing in the corner.

“Yes," I reply, nodding. Because father needs to think I am. Sometimes lovely little lies are better than terrible truths. A simple deception.
“Good.” A ghost of a smile on his lips. I can feel James’s eyes on me. Sad hurt hazel eyes. Pity, in those eyes. I don’t want to hurt. To hurt others or be hurt. But I can’t help but feel, with him. With Score, my Scorpius.

We sit down, between Draco and Theo.

“Where’s Lily and mother?” I ask.
“Home.” Their home, not mine. My home’s with Scorpius, my constant. Blaise clears his throat.
“Albus has been improving greatly, since he came here,” Blaise says. Liar. It’s been getting worse.
“That’s good to hear.” Father nods as he speaks.
“I think it would be good for him, now, if he did his training as a Warrior from home, and I visit regularly.”
Father raises an eyebrow. James is still looking at me, with pity in those sad hurt hazel eyes. Sad sad grey eyes. They’ve seen so much, those eyes. Felt so much. Hurt so much.
“And what do you think, Albus?” asks father.
“Yes. It would would be good. For me.” Don’t think about the eyes. Those dead dead eyes.
“We can’t home-train him. Not with our work.”
“You don’t need to," Draco says, and father understands.
“I’ll train Albus,” Theo interrupts before an argument can break out. I look at those bright understanding blue eyes in thanks.
“You—” father starts.
“Just face it, Potter,” interrupts Draco, “Albus’ll do better with us. We can help him, more than you. We’ve been dealing with his problem for generations.”
“Are you saying my son needs to be fixed? By you?” Father only ever calls James ‘son’.
“It can’t be fixed, Potter! It’s just how he is. Albus is not broken.”
“All we can do is help. Support. Be there.” Theo speaks in a far calmer voice.
“You stay away from my son.” Father is furious, he has that look in his eye.
“No." It's James, with his sad hurt hazel eyes. Pity, in those eyes. And… hope? Why can’t he just not care? “Dad, I know you hate the Malfoys, I do too, believe me, but you need to do what’s right for Al. Put aside our rivalry, just for this. Please?” Draco looks at James with a new appreciation. Maybe even respect. Father hesitates, before sighing.
“Okay. Okay, fine. But if anything happens, call me at once,” he agrees.
“Of course," Theo promises. Lovely little lies. A simple deception.
“I’ll get the paperwork," Blaise says, standing. He leans in, a whisper in my ear. “Just a bit longer, Albus.” Whispers in my ears. Shadows hissing. The humming at the back of my mind. Demons hissing. Evil eyes, cunning eyes, blood on my hands. Scars on my hands. So. Many. Scars. Daggers in my hands. Blood on my hands. Evil eyes, cunning eyes, beautiful beautiful stormy eyes.
“Hey, Handsome," Score says, softly, “Hey, we lost you for a bit, there.”
“I… sorry. I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about, kid,” bright understanding blue eyes, “and it’s improving.” Lovely little lies. A simple deception.

Score’s hand in mine, under the table. My home, my constant, in this world. Hazel eyes, watching. Pity in those sad hurt hazel eyes.
“I want to help,” James says suddenly, “I’m Blue Rank, and Captain too. I want to help, Al.”
“Why?” Why do you care?
“You’re my brother, Al. Of course I care.” Sad hurt hazel eyes.
“Okay, then,” a smile tugs my lips. A quiet dry chuckle.

Blaise is back, with the papers. We all sign, and it’s done. Just like that.

All it took was a simple little deception. Lovely little lies.

~|~

We’re walking. All of us, along one of the trails. Why? Theo thought it would be good ‘bonding time’. Between whom, I don’t know.

Their eyes flick to me, every now and again. Hurt hazel, worried green, soft chocolate, bright blue, sad grey, beautiful beautiful stormy grey.

Fear in their eyes. I can see it. Fear in my eyes, maybe. I can’t feel it. I don’t feel much, anymore. What I do is with him. And he’s here, with me. Whispers in my ears, humming at the back of my head. Daggers in my hands. Shadows, hissing. “Demon-Slayer. Evil eyes, cunning eyes, blood on your 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.

And my hands won’t stop shaking. Then his hands are there. His hands are calm, despite everything. “Calm, Handsome.” His voice is quiet. “It’s okay.” I lean into him, away from their eyes. Too many eyes. Too many dead dead eyes. Bright understanding blue eyes.
“You back, with us, kid?” Theo is asking. I nod, not looking at him.

It’s raining. When did it start? We should be soaked. But we’re wizards, so we’re not. It’s raining, but there’s still so much blood. Everywhere.

A hand on my shoulder. Theo. “Snap out of it, kid,' he glanced around, leaning in, “think about Scorpy, think about me. About Blaise, and Draco, and Potter, and James.”
“Scorpy?” I ask, quirking a lip. Scorpius laughs, such a beautiful laugh. Theo joins, and now we’re all laughing. Smiling.

When was the last time we all laughed like this?

I don’t remember it. But James does, remember. His eyes are sad, so sad, afterwards. Pity, in those eyes. And hope. New hope. There’s so little of it, these days. All because of a simple little deception.

Terrible truths are better than lovely little lies.

~|~

Malfoy Manor is just as I remember it. It’s quiet, here. I don’t know if I like it. Score does, though. And I’d do anything, everything, to stop Scorpius from hurting. It’s currently Spring Break, so he’s here, with me. But then he’ll leave. I don’t want to be away from Scorpius. I can’t be away from him. My home, my constant, in this world. I don’t want them to split us up.

Draco doesn’t sleep in the Master Bedroom. He sleeps in his old room, the one next to his study. Theo’s in his own room, too. His old one. I didn’t know he even had a room. Blaise’s is next to Theo’s. He’s been staying at the Manor for a while, apparently. The room opposite is locked. It always has been, according to Score. Our rooms are the next floor up, opposite to each other. The one next to Score’s is locked, too.

A knock on the front door. Draco puts his cutlery down and draws his wand, standing up. “I’ll get it," he says, leaving. A few moments of silence, before— “BLAISE!” The doctor is on his feet, and out of the dining room, in a blink.
“Theo, get the murtlap essence!” Blaise shouting, now. Theo looks to Score and me.
“Don’t get in the way," he says, with bright understanding blue eyes. We follow him quickly down the stairs to the entrance hall. A young man is lying on a conjured stretcher. Blood is everywhere. Spilling across the floor. Blood, on my hands. Scars on my hands. Shaking hands. Why won’t they stop shaking? Then Score’s hands are there. His hands are calm, despite everything.
“Get Albus out of here,” Blaise tells Scorpius, who pulls me away from the scene gently.
“Hey, Handsome. Focus on me, yeah?” There’s fear, in his eyes. Those beautiful beautiful stormy grey eyes. He presses our foreheads together. “Focus on me, Handsome. It’ll be okay.”

Lovely little lies.

~|~

The young man is asleep, in the once-locked room opposite Blaise’s. Malfoy Manor is a magic house, of course. Our names appear on the doors to our rooms. So, I go to the room. I just want to know the young man’s name.

It’s Oscar Fiddle. He’s called Oscar.

“Hello,” a voice says behind me. I turn, and see Oscar standing there, “you must be Albus, yes?” Careful amber eyes. They’ve seen a lot, these eyes. He looks worn, and so very tired. He’s leaning on a cane, wincing slightly every now and again.
“Should you be about of bed?” I ask. Blood, on his clothes. Hands, the colour of death. Blood on my hands. Scars on my hands. So, so many scars. Blood everywhere. Spilling across the floor.
“Albus, Asp.” Scorpius is here, now. Hands around my shoulders. “Come back, Handsome," he whispers, in my ear. And I’m back. Curious careful amber eyes, watching, “Oscar,” Score greets him with a quick nod, “good to see you’re up.”
“It’s good to be back,” Oscar says, and Score tilts his head.
“Back?”
Oscar gestures to the door at Scorpius’s question. "My old room.”
“But…” Score trails off, confused.
“I’ll explain over dinner,” Oscar promises. Terrible truths or lovely little lies? Which will it be?

~|~

Bright understanding blue eyes. Soft chocolate brown, beautiful beautiful stormy grey, sad sad sad grey, and curious careful amber. All watching. Watching me, watching each other. That Slytherin glint, which only we have, lingering in our eyes. Evil and Slytherin. Evil eyes, cunning eyes, blood on my hands. Daggers in my hands. Scars on my hands. So, so many scars. And so much blood.

I’m spiralling, again. I don’t know how to stop.

So much for the simple deceptions. Lovely little lies.

“I suppose you’re both owed an explanation,” begins Theo. Our heads turn to him, “but you need to focus, kid. Listen to all of it.” Bright understanding blue eyes.
“Back, when we were younger, Slytherin was a cursed house to be in,” Draco talking, now, “and so Slytherins stuck together. We’re all broken, in one way or another. We can’t be fixed. You’re father wouldn’t understand."

"There were eight of us,” Blaise continues, “rather large for a group of Slytherins. We started smaller, though. Certain… events led us to bond. We each had our own difficulties. Problems. Reasons as to why we were broken.”
“You need to say it, Blaise,” Theo says quietly, with bright understanding blue eyes, “and they need to hear it.” Terrible truths are better than lovely little lies. Theo gets it. "Ariana Fawley," he is nostalgic, "now she was a Slytherin, through and through. She just wanted to be free. But you know how hard that is, for people like us. Ari tried to kill herself, in her fifth year, during the Triwizard Tournament. We all knew He was returning.” Theo pauses, his mind lost somewhere else. Then he’s back, continuing, “Daphne Greengrass was so so close to breaking. Ari sent her over the edge. Daph was strong, but she still broke, like we all have. An Ella, kind compassionate Ella Flint, was left to pick up the pieces. Astoria held it together somehow, she was Daph’s sister. Stor seemed to believe she could save everyone, if only she tried harder. It killed her, in the end.”
“Then there was Theo and I’s… family issues.” Blaise says.
“Bei.” Theo’s quieter, now, voice pained. Blaise takes a deep breath.
“Our families preferred corporal punishment, and as we got older, it got worse. They showed us ways of doing things, cruel unforgivable things. Theo could see thestrals from ten. And there was no way out. Who’d take in a lost and broken Slytherin? We understood why Ari did it, all those years ago,” his voice broke, soft sad chocolate eyes distant, "but I could never… It was pathetic, really. Cowardly. You don’t know how many times I came close to…” a darkness, in those eyes. How did I miss it, before?
“I was, am, mad,” Theo’s talking now, Blaise’s hand in his, “sometimes it was worse than Albus. I can control it now, well, sort of. There are times when I can’t care enough to stop it.” It makes sense, now, why Theo gets it, “you see, unlike Blaise, I could bring myself to try. Many times, too many times. I was younger than you, when I went to Asgard. I lost myself there,” he tilts his head to the side, watching us with bright understanding blue eyes, “but Blaise got me out of it.”
“He’s your constant?” I ask. Theo nods, and Score looks at me with beautiful beautiful stormy grey eyes.
“I had the opposite to them,” Draco says, after swallowing slowly, “I was treated like a prince,” the disgust in his tone is strong, “I felt the pressure, to be the perfect son. So much pressure. To hate muggleborns, to only get the best grades, to follow without question. To take the Dark Mark. I didn’t want it. Scorpius, you know I didn’t want it. But it was that, or…” he trails off, with sad sad grey eyes. Eyes that have seen so much. Felt so much. “The Dark Lord asked me to kill Dumbledore. And I just couldn’t. The man was an absolute prejudiced arsehole, but I couldn’t kill him. I pushed everyone away. I was so alone, those days.”
“I was there, too.” Oscar begins talking. Curious careful amber eyes. “Their dorm-mate. I didn’t really talk to them much. Not until I found Theo…” his eyes flick to his friend, who’s looking back, “well, you can guess. I— I got him into Asgard. When Theo was out, and far worse than before, Blaise despised me for it. I did what I could, to help.”
“He saved my life," Theo adds, grateful even now.
“I found someone," says Oscar "somebody we all thought was dead. Mrs Malfoy—Narcissa, that is—couldn’t believe it. He still had the key, to his room here. Turned up one day, much the way I did, at the Manor. He was going to leave, soon. But I persuaded him to stay. To help Theo.”
“And it saved my life.” Theo again. “After that, what with the war and everything, we stuck together. Because the Dark Lord had returned, Malfoy Manor wasn’t safe anymore. But we couldn’t just leave.”
“Well, I did,” Oscar admits, “one of my greatest mistakes.”
“I… We all thought Oscar was dead,” Draco says, “and then he turns up here, seeming to have only aged a day.” A hint of anger in those sad sad grey eyes.
“Demons began coming into the world long before their first great attack,” explains Oscar, “we found the Tear, with the help of some other Slytherins. And we went through it, to the Demon Realm.”
“You did WHAT!” Draco nearly shouts. Please don’t shout. Please. I need to keep it together, just for a bit longer.

But the screams.

“We? Who was it, with you?” Score asks, intrigued.
“Six of us, in total. Daph went with us, and some of her friends. Andy Clock, and Terence Higgs,”
“Terence went through the Tear?” Draco asks, scowling. Oscar nods.
“Magnus Dragon helped us find it. One of his ancestors had found it before. Wrote clues in his journals.”
“Of course he did.” Blaise rolls his eyes. So many new names, it is so confusing.
“Our guide was Reg,” Oscar says, and Theo has hope in his eyes.
“Is Reg with you?” Oscar shakes his head. Who’s Reg?
“Regulus Black had been through the Tear before. His return to Malfoy Manor was to collect a magical artefact, to seal the Tear between our world and the Demon Realm. We left the Manor together, and happened across Daph and her crew. It was an easy alliance.” Regulus Black… I thought he died getting one of Voldemort’s Horcruxes.
“How many of you got out?” Theo’s hope is leaving his bright understanding blue eyes.
“Just Reg and I.”
“Where is he?” Not ‘what happened to the others?’
“Hogwarts.”
“Hogwarts?” Score is confused, like me.
“He didn’t say why.”
Theo is on his feet, now, already casting nonverbal spells, summoning supplies to himself.
“Come with me?” he asks, looking to me with bright understanding blue eyes. I glance to Scorpius, who nods softly.
“Of course.”

Oscar held something back. We can all tell. But we kept little secrets of our own back, as well. Lovely little lies. A simple deception, really.

I want to know more about these people. Ari, Daph, Ella, Stor, Terence, Andy, Magnus. Oscar. So many new names. I want to know how Regulus Black survived. Why it seems like Oscar only aged a day. What happened to the others, in the Demon Realm? And the magical artefact, which was meant to close the Tear between the worlds. What happened to it? Clearly they failed. So many new names, so much history. So many eyes, the colour of death. Dead dead eyes. People being people and dead eyes.

So much for the simple little deception.