The Dark Is Cold

The Dark Is Cold- Prologue

~Harry~

Sirius is dead, and I as good as killed him. Anyone and everyone can tell me over and over that it wasn't my fault, but I can see they don't believe a word of it. They need someone to blame, and it might as well be me, seeing as it was my idea in the first place. Even if it's only in their minds. Maybe that's worse, somehow.

Especially when it's Ron and Hermione. I wish they'd decide on their opinion: support me or blame me. But they linger somewhere in between, cautiously polite, sidestepping the issue. I need them more than ever now, but it's my fault they aren't here. I pushed them away, safe, and now they don't have to deal with this mess. This mess that is all I am now.

I don't feel anything much. Quidditch isn't fun anymore, but an unwanted reminder of how thing used to be. I don't live life: just watch it, like a muggle video. People are dying, and I witnessed the deaths of two of them. It's hard to worry about essays or house points when they seem so trivial. Nothing makes sense anymore, and I don't care.

Malfoy doesn't matter anymore. He isn't my nemesis, my best enemy. I can't feel hate for him like I used to, but then, I can't feel anything. Except a desire for vengeance, against he who took my parents and she who took Sirius. What is it they say, 'revenge is a dish best served cold'? Well, I'm cold. So cold that my heart has frozen even as I stare at frostbite I can feel on my fingers, which isn't really there.

I haven't spoken for days, nor had a conversation in weeks. There are things I'd rather keep to myself; layers of thoughts best kept hidden. And I'll conceal them, and maybe one day I'll face the world again. Like I ever could. And so, I probably won't.

~Hermione~

I can't remember the last time I talked to Harry. He isn't talking at all, I don't think. He doesn't do his homework, or say anything in class, or even care about the points he loses because of it. He never responds if someone says something to him. The last phrase I recall him saying was 'fuck off'. It broke Ron's heart the day Harry said that to him. That's what he's all about now. His whole demeanour is always telling people to go away, 'cause I don't need you'.

But that's the thing, because he does need someone. Someone who doesn't hold with all the Boy-Who-Lived rubbish; he hates that. Everyone wants the Boy-Who-Lived to be a saviour, but he can't save everyone, and he hates himself for it. I understand that, and Ron does too, on some level. Ron and I could give him that, and everything would be all right again. The three of us, the trio, best friends...wishful thinking, Hermione. Well here's some more: I wish it was that simple.

There's no feeling, no passion, in the way he lives now. He just goes through the motions: eat, sleep, play Quidditch. Except he doesn't get it quite right. He doesn't eat for ages, then remember he needs food and stuffs himself in the kitchens, and his sleep is disrupted. I asked Ron, and he said Harry hasn't got a full night's sleep in months. He's losing weight fast, and there wasn't much to lose in the first place.

~Draco~

Potter's been strange this year. I try sometimes to get a rise out of him, make him go red with embarrassment and anger like he used to, but he walks on regardless. I don't think he hates me anymore. Either way, it doesn't' work. The Slytherin Badass and The Gryffindor Golden Boy have to be enemies; it's an unwritten law. But is he the Gryffindor Golden Boy any more?

I don't exactly have an in-depth knowledge of Gryffindor House politics (though it wouldn't need to be in-depth - the Gryffindors' idea of a plan is 'on the count of three...'so their idea of politics can't be nearly as complex as the web of allies, enemies and subtle manipulation that is the Slytherin Court) but it doesn't look like it.

He doesn't eat, I haven't heard him say anything for weeks, he doesn't go with the Mublood and the Weasel anymore, and he acts like a bloody ice statue. But, I remembered Sirius Black. My father told me once he'd been Potter's godfather before he died. Doesn't take a bloody genius to work out that that must bother him.

"Sirius Black deserved to be murdered," I announced to the deserted corridor. Well, deserted apart from Potter, and his presence is a sure sign there's nobody else for miles, so 'deserted corridor' it is.

He stopped, and turned around slowly. I could tell he was angry - for the first time in ages - but not red-faced and clenching his fists like he used to (ugh - very unrefined). It was more his stance, which looked halfway contrived, and the absence of the cold stare he'd worn for months.

"What did you say?" he asked, is voice hoarse and almost cracking from lack of use. Bloody hell, he really hasn't spoken in weeks. Anyway, we both knew what I'd said, but I said it again for good measure, stupid idiot that I was.

"You'd better take that back," he said, dangerously, walking towards me.

"Why? No, I meant it. What, have I struck a nerve?" Okay, maybe I laid it on a little thick, but he hasn't got angry at me in ages, so I didn't expect him to hit me. Especially not that hard. It hurt. For a skinny idiot, he's pretty strong.

"Hear your father was there, Malfoy. At the Ministry when Sirius was killed." His voice cracked a little.

"But it was Bellatrix who..." Shit. I'm not supposed to know that.

"Yes, Bellatrix Lestrange, formerly Bellatrix Black. Sirius' cousin as well as his murderer, and your mother's sister. Tortured Neville too. Though it was Dolohov who cursed Hermione. I suppose Bellatrix had done enough damage." He spat. He hit me again, while I was still trying to get my head round what he'd said. That's not fair, that's a Slytherin thing. But I got up and hit him back, in the mouth. His lip started bleeding, and he seemed surprised. Then he ran towards me and picked me up, raining blows. I struggled, and got in an uppercut and a blow to his stomach, but he didn't seem to feel it, though I could see blood on him. He kept muttering, 'Sirius was innocent' and 'My fucking fault'

My worldview went from fuzzy red to grey, and I felt pain in my back when he dropped me. The world went black. Bloody undignified.

I never told them who it was, and it was my stupid fault anyway for provoking him that far.

~Hermione~

I didn't see Harry for days. He just disappeared, turning up neither in class nor in Gryffindor tower. I searched everywhere, but no one had seen him. I was on my way to ask Dumbledore, when I finally saw him. Talking to Cho Chang. And not fumbling around for something to say like he used to, or even gracing her with a few cold monosyllables like he has lately: I mean actually talking. Where the parties involved in conversing make witty, intelligent or interesting remarks. As I recall Cho did quite a bit of lash batting and simpering, to which Harry replied with complementary innuendoes and come-hither looks.

Within a few short weeks, Harry was in the top three of the 'Hogwarts' most shaggable' list. He did quite a bit of dating, mostly with different girls, and came back to the Common room at ungodly hours of the morning.

Is he really happy? He doesn't seem much like the Harry Potter I know, or knew, because he's changed so much in that past year I hardly recognise him. Certainly his enthusiasm for quidditch returned, but not just for quidditch, for life. Ron thinks he's all right, but...something's changed. Where's his shyness, his naïveté? The part that fumbled word when he was nervous, and valiantly attempted to save everyone? I hope this isn't just a cover, and that he isn't still berating himself over Sirius' death. If I follow logic, it can't be a cover, because Harry can't act or lie to save himself. At least he couldn't when I knew him, and anyway, logic doesn't seem to work anymore.