Author Notes: I love writing like this, hope it makes some sense to others ^^;;

Some things are overlooked when placed beside something much larger. Fireflies become tiny points of little moving light next to the endless blanket of stars in the sky at night…..their magic no longer can hold you’re interest. You are entranced by the large and looming. Something that is beautiful and dangerous, so raw but gentle….

Like a lion, not in a cage but roaming freely, giving your body the once over….and not devouring you, letting you walk away unscathed.

So, even though I have seen reds of every shade….deep blues to dive into….bright yellows like sunshine….the black of night….the stark white of dreams I don’t understand….even colors merge.

Things deepen, to purple…to midnight blue….black bleeds to slate….yellow burns to orange than chocolate brown….so many hues swirling about, catching your eye.

One color so much better to look at than the other.

But perhaps I was living in monochrome. Or I just didn’t care to notice the subtle flow of it around me. I didn’t even see it upon me, laying so quiet….

On my robes, a wonderful Kelly green…bright, defiant and cool. I stood there, transfixed by it….of how I did not gaze at this before.

Then I was seeking it everywhere. But except for the Slytherin robes, no color matched it….just varying shades.

The rough green of grass as my feet crushed blades, the unearthly glow of potions in a vile, the light tint of it in a pool of still water.

As I walked down halls, silent in color-contemplation, I paused. My eyes narrowed briefly then widened.

I had found my stars in the sky, the wandering lion, the better than Kelly green…living green, vibrant and deep, it’s colors changing with the emotion….

They had always been there. I have looked at them yet not into them. That was the only way to avoid nagging doubts and battles with inner demons. It is so much easier not to see.

But now, now…I see it. Harry Potter’s eyes.

The Boy Who Lived, a living and breathing torture device…his voice, his face, his very existence became sharp knives to my throat. And I have begun to bleed.

A Malfoy should be able to cover such a wound. But I have not. Now, faced with his wary and questioning emeralds, I might as well let all my life drain out of me.

Those eyes. No hints of darkness lay there, hidden like in a forest…just many greens, so expressive and open.

Maybe that was part of what drew others to Potter, those orbs of complete innocence and compassion.

And maybe….maybe I have been caught by them from the beginning, before any of them.

So long have I watched this world move in a constant haze, the fog sometimes clearing into mirror-perfection vision….gray, silver, gray again.

My eyes lend to my image, unsettling people with it’s murky clarity. I, too, have entranced people….not with innocence but deviance, not compassion but apathy. It pulls the cruel in like moth to flame and repels the weak of heart.

Somehow, all those rules do not apply now. Not for he and I.

We’ve fought, we’ve tried to better each other, we trade insults, we trade fists, we push and pull, give and take….I keep him in the light and he keeps me in the dark.

But in this hallway, mundane students shuffling by and echoes of shoe heels on stone, I quiet the demons inside as they urge me to snarl and bite.

And he does the same, though his eyes betray his constant defense against me.

And I wonder if anyone sees this at all. The gray-silver pinned upon a myriad of shifting green, almost gazing, almost respectful, almost…..almost…..

       

I sit and look up, following a trail of faint smoke drift upwards, disappearing into black. The stars are out, covering every inch of the sky. But all I see is green. Confused and curious green….

And now all other colors mean little to me. Except for my own gray. They are my eyes afterall…I will not abandon them, even next to the jade Potter possesses.

In fact, the colors compliment each other well. Opposite sides of the same coin…the two of us seem to embody what makes up the world. Conflict. Contrast. Yet…we go so well together.

More smoke flying upward from the tip of my cigarette. And still I wonder about them.

What do you see through those eyes? During classes? Or at lunch? On the pitch during Quidditch? Does everything look happy and calm, light and airy…wonderful perfection?

Draco Malfoy chuckled to himself. Somehow, he knew that green did not give you that happiness-hued shine.

It just appeared that way to everyone, to all who saw but did not really see. Just like his own gray, reflecting evil and malice…whether it was there or not.

No one really noticed anything. They are blinded by the greatness, he is bigger than them all…a God for them to worship. And Draco is the hellfire they run from.

But God and Satan used to be friends. They used to talk and banter.

They were the closest of all, too close. And then they broke.

He tossed the butt over the edge and stood up. Then he felt his whole body bristle and he turned around quickly.

Green. On him like a curse. On him like a sword-point. Accusing. So damn beautiful….

And questions, unsaid, hurled back and forth between them.

Yet no answers. Nothing but the surrounding night. Crickets. A slight breeze. Shared breathing. The occasional whip of a robe.

And maybe Harry saw what Draco saw. They had started at the end of the story.

Now…now it was time to work back to the beginning.

To where gray and green become one.

END

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