Silver and Cold

Silver & Cold

*Prologue*

(Written by: A.F.I.)

I, I came here by day
But I left here in darkness
And found you, found you on the way.
And now, it is silver and silent.
It is silver and cold.
You, in somber resplendence,
I hold.

Your sins into me,
Oh, my beautiful one now.
Your sins into me.
As a rapturous voice escapes,
I will tremble a prayer
And I'll beg for forgiveness.
Your sins into me,
Oh, my beautiful one.

Light, like the flutter of wings,
Feel your hollow voice rushing
Into me as you're longing to sing.

So I, I will paint you in silver.
I will wrap you in cold.
I will lift up your voice as I sink.

Your sins into me,
Oh, my beautiful one now.
Your sins into me.
As a rapturous voice escapes,
I will tremble a prayer
And I'll beg for forgiveness.
Your sins into me,
Oh, my beautiful one.

Cold in life's throws.
I'll fall asleep for you.
Cold in life's throws.
I only ask you turn away.
Cold in life's throws.
I'll fall asleep for you.
Cold in life's throws.
I only ask you turn
As they seep into me,
Oh, my beautiful one.

Your sins into me,
Oh, my beautiful one.
Your sins into me. (Oh oh)
As a rapturous voice escapes,
I will tremble a prayer
And I'll beg for forgiveness.
Your sins into me.
Your sins into me.

Your sins into me,
Oh, my beautiful one now.
Your sins into me. (Oh oh)
As a rapturous voice escapes,
I will tremble a prayer
And I'll beg for forgiveness.
Your sins into me.
Your sins into,
Your sins into me.
Your sins into me,
Oh, my beautiful one.

Silver & Cold

Chapter One

The Day After

[A memory]

The warmth of the dungeon walls was making him sweat. He unbuttoned his robe, removing the sweat-drenched garment and carefully placing it on the back of a chair. His white shirt clung to his fantastically wet chest. He had arranged the chairs and tables to occupy the back of the classroom.

A table for two with a white lacy tablecloth and pewter candleholders stood in the middle of the room. Sterling silver dining utensils sparkled on the table waiting their time for usage. He anxiously paced about the classroom. Would she show up? Did something disastrous happen to make her run so late?

You are a fool! A fool to think she, of all people, would agree to this! She's not coming. He gritted his teeth at the thought. He hated the feeling of uncertainty, of being tied down helplessly.

He took one of the two chairs and slumped on it. He waited, clinging to the last shred of hope; he absent-mindedly played with the fork, once or twice stabbing his fingers.

"So, let it be," he sighed aloud, slowly getting up. "She's probably celebrating her birthday with her friends instead. Of course, you're a bore!"

Taking a gulp of air and wistfully looking around the room, he took his robe and placed it on his arm. However, before he could say the counter spell to make the dining table vanish, the classroom door swung open.

"Severus!" exclaimed a distressed female voice. "I'm so sorry!" The girl pleaded, running towards him and embracing him.

"So many things happened at once, and I couldn't get Narcissa off my back," she whispered in his ear, her warm breath lightly caressing his neck. He was melting under her touch. He would forgive her practically anything. He loved her and he would do anything to protect her.

**

If it weren't for her human form, Hermione would resemble a stealthy cat.

The students laid in deep slumber. Hermione had lost track of time, once again, in the library reviewing for her Charms test tomorrow. Professor Flitwick had greatly emphasized the increment in the level of difficulty in preparation for the N. E. W. T. s. next year. It was merely mid-September, and already sixth year promised to be quite hectic. All I've done is study, study, and study! She thought to herself. Hermione had studied for her Charms test all day. She had relaxed her studying patterns lately, but now she was back to her usual obsessive nature.

Hermione felt as if she'd been ran over by a truck. Her buttocks were numb, and she was incredibly tired. She desperately needed her bed. Ah, the thought of the comfort of satin sheets and feather-down comforters and pillows, and the liberty of sprawling lazily on her bed, forgetting the ordeals and tension of the day. This was truly priceless for Hermione.

"Yes! What I need is a warm bath to ease my aching body," said the Gryffindor prefect, humming a song all the way up the Grand Staircase.

She reached a deserted fifth floor. The only sign of life came from the flickering torches aligned down the corridor. Hermione scanned the passage in search for the statue of Boris the Bewildered. This would be the first time Hermione would make use of the exclusive privileged.

"There you are! Boris, you look awful!" she said chuckling.

She swished passed the statue, and stopped to face the fourth door. She gently pressed her hands against the door and whispered the password--Mountain Spring. The door immediately cracked open, sliding up into the ceiling.

She stepped inside to the prefects' bathroom. The Fat Lady's screams had finally subsided.

The bathroom was uninviting; the air was cold and icy, and the dampness magnified the emitting odors, which were difficult to identify. Even so, she entered and started unbuttoning her robe.

"Perfect," she said aloud, flinging her heavy book bag against the opposite wall. The bag landed with an unexpected loud thud. Hermione quickly turned her head, her puffy hair taking much longer to finally move the same direction as her head. She had forgotten the bag contained her cauldron.

"Blimey, something broke!" Hermione frowned; all she needed was the destruction of the prefects' bathroom. She headed towards the bag while still taking off her robes.

By the time Hermione reached the bag, she was in her underwear. She stooped to observe the crash site. There were various loose tiles, and many more were broken.

"Joy! What a wonderful day this been," she said with a touch of sarcasm in her voice. She mechanically reached for her nearby wand, feeling her way across the clammy tiled floor. She was about to repair the damage when she noticed something very odd.

"What is this?" Hermione finished breaking a couple of tiles and reached for the hidden red object.

"A journal? But why would someone hide their journal in a prefects' bathroom, unless," she said suspiciously. Memories from the chaos Tom Riddle's diary caused, back in second year, rushed through her mind.

She carefully opened the leather bound journal. The pages were fragile and moistened.

"This journal must be at least ten," she said, her voice drowned in realization. There was no need to say more; the date on the opening page was enough.

"Almost my age," she whispered.

Unconsciously, Hermione glanced at the clock on the wall. "Bloody hell, it's five o'clock! Why should I even bother going to bed? I'll only sleep for three hours!"

It's better than nothing. A small voice argued with her.

She quickly ran the bath, and poured the bubble soap into the tub. The prefect's movements were awkward and rapid, clearly in a rush against time.

Hermione sluggishly laid in the warm bubble bath she created.

This is so soothing and so relaxing. She thought as her eyelids began to droop heavily. Her eyes slowly closed.

Hermione's soap-drenched body was slipping deeper inside the huge tub, submerging her deeper into the bubbly water. She jerked and quickly sat up. She could only hold her breath for so long.

Through the stained glass window, the golden sunrays permeated the bathroom, converting its coldness into blissful warmth.

"Good morning, Hermione," she said to herself in a rather lively tone. "It's time to tackle a new day."

**

[A memory]

He had awoken to the coldness of the dungeon floor. The fire he had prepared last night was extinguished. He suddenly noticed how light his right arm felt. Of course, he realized he was alone. Her body had rested on his arm.

She left. When will I see her again? He thought.

He opened the classroom door very carefully in order to avoid pestilent comments from low lives. He quickly made his way to the Slytherin dormitories. It would soon be time for his first class.

**

Hermione, Harry and Ron came out of Charms class with a copy of their exam. Ron looked like a zombie; he gave up reviewing the exam.

"I failed," he voiced, it was all Ron could muster.

"Not as bad as I did," Harry spat.

"Yeah, whatever, but if I really want to be an Auror, I have to bloody well ace every subject!" Ron said sulking.

"Well, at least you don't have Snape on your back! The slime ball hates me, but the feeling is mutual," Harry said disdainfully.

Hermione was closely following the conversation.

"Oh, please, both of you could not have failed the Charms test. It was really--"

"Stuff it, Hermione! We don't want to hear how the exam was so easy... blah, blah, blah... nor how you're sure you did stellar!" Ron stormed down the corridor, pushing past some second-year Ravenclaws, who in return gave him dirty looks.

Harry and Hermione were stupefied. "What got into him?" Harry asked Hermione, but never receiving an answer.

Hermione and Harry approached Ron in the Great Hall. His anger had subsided, though nothing, least of all an exam, could make Ron lose his appetite for food. He gave Harry and Hermione a weak grin.

"I'm... sorry Hermione," Ron whispered.

"'So okay, Ron," Hermione said earnestly while taking her usual place at the Gryffindor table, "remember, I'm an 'insufferable know-it-all' as Snape so kindly reminded me." The Trio remembered the incident in Defense Against the Dark Arts class third year.

"Right," said Harry, taking a spoonful of smashed potato, "but Ron here was your defending prince charming!" Harry glanced at Ron, whose face color was competing with his hair.

"Yes, I know," said Hermione in a wistful voice. She gazed at Ron and gave him a sheepish smile, which he returned timidly.

Meanwhile, Harry amusedly watched his friends, and started making kissing sounds.

"Muah!" Harry kissed the back of his spoon.

Ron and Hermione gave Harry identical glares. "Sorry, I couldn't help it," said Harry, chortling.

"Sure, um, Harry, want to work on the essay for Charms?" asked Ron, suddenly remembering the task.

"We c-could work in the common r-room," answered Harry, grinding on a stubborn piece of pork.

The mention of Charms and an essay brought to Hermione memories of last night.

"Ugh!" Hermione gasped. She raised a hand to her forehead. She had completely forgotten about the journal.

"You all right, 'Mione?" asked Ron, his voice full of concern.

"Yes, Ron, just that I recalled something decidedly important I must do," she replied, stuffing her books inside her school bag. I'll read the journal after lunch. Hermione told herself in a small and excited voice.

"Humph, she probably needs to read," Ron mumbled under his breath. Harry tried to stifle a laugh.

Hermione was running across the hall. She did not know why she was running, but she did know that she was shaking with excitement. She was heading towards the library, and she was going to read a secret journal. This surely went against her principles, but who knew what she would discover.

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