Of Silver and Green

Ch 01 Watching from the Shadows

She was staring at him for the third time that day. Something about his pale grey eyes just drew her gaze. Stone grey eyes, just barely bordering on blue. His eyes were so cold and unfeeling, and gave the distinct impression that their owner was not human. She would have been inclined to agree, had it not been that upon closer inspection it had been discovered that there existed a faint glimmer, which seemed to imply a deeper warmth, one that dare not show its presence in its owner. His eyes also sheltered a great deal of pain. She believed that this overabundance of pain was what made his eyes so nondescript. But there was something else present in those stormy grey eyes, something she simply could not place. They were hiding something, some inner turmoil, and it seemed to be tearing him apart, from the inside out. She could almost feel his pain, coursing through her head. It was sharp and throbbing, whenever she gazed into his eyes. She could not even conceive of what this kind of pain must feel like for him. Bland and unfeeling, every time his eyes met hers, although they seemed to lock, she knew he was unseeing. No spark of recognition shone in his eyes, and the knowledge of this saddened her.

No matter his facial expression, she could always read the truth behind his emotions from his eyes. They spoke to her in a way that could not be described in words. He had everyone else fooled. They looked no deeper than the characteristic smirk that always graced his full, pouting lips. The way his elegant eyebrows hoisted or furrowed to portray whatever fleeting emotion he was experiencing at the moment. But within the shadowy orbs, she could always sense his true feelings. Sadness and anguish above all ruled these innate emotions.

She knew that it was pride alone that prevented him from expressing these emotions. Pride was the driving force in everything he did. Showing any emotions other than anger or hatred was a sign of weakness. His enormous sense of pride prevented him from displaying even a moment´s weakness. He was hardened on the outside to protect all of the vulnerability he felt on the inside, aching to be released. Only his eyes told the tale.

She had to admit that despite the horrible sarcastic attitude almost certainly put on as a defense mechanism, he was really an extremely handsome creature. Divine really. Everything about his child-like face, from the gentle slope of his nose to the delicate curve of his jaw, screamed fragility. On the rare occasions during which his face was completely expressionless, there was an apparent innocence about him that made even the worst of his enemies feel the slightest twinge of compassion towards him before being replaced with the hatred that had been harboured previously.

The line of his neck was graceful and smooth and met with round shoulders at his torso. He had a swimmer´s body, slight, but well defined, with little or no body fat. His chest was slightly muscled, his stomach flat, and with well-defined obliques. She imagined that he was what the Ancient Greeks and Romans were attempting to portray when they were sculpting the perfect human form. With a body like his, it deserved to be immortalized in marble. With his broad shoulders and narrow waist and hips, he cut a nice figure. He was the epitome of a Greek god.

However, his crowning glory was quite literally his hair. Spun gold so fair it was almost nearly white. It was long, perhaps chin-length, though no one could actually tell due to the fact that it seemed permanently slicked back and down the nape of his neck. It was partly due to this glorious head of hair that he had earned the title of "Slytherin´s Golden Boy". Mostly, though, it was for his embodiment of the ideals of Salazar Slytherin himself, the founder of Slytherin House at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Ambition, cunning, a certain disregard for the rules, he seemed absolutely perfect to play the part. Except that was exactly what he was doing: acting out a role for the benefit of the people around him.

He didn´t want or need any of the people currently surrounding him, leeching from him his popularity and status, she just wished he would realize. She wished she could tell him, not that he would listen to her even if she did, how strong he could be on his own, without all of his "friends" to control him. Unfortunately, he wasn´t the type who would actually listen to her. She was going to have to seek out more drastic measures. Even if the face and mouth failed to recognize her, she knew his unseeing eyes were pleading to her for help, because his pride would never let him ask. But before she could even begin to form a plan of attack, she needed much more information about his condition. This would require some work. He was the suspicious and secretive type, not easily watched without his knowledge. She was up to the challenge. Whether he knew it or not, she would do anything for him, and she wasn´t even sure why...

He was sitting in the Great Hall, reigning like a prince over the Slytherin table. While all of his friends were talking idly, he was sitting, not paying attention to any of them, and looking rather bored. His two best friends appeared to be talking to him, and every so often he would nod his head or say something disinterestedly, but to her, it was quite obvious he was ignoring them. All of a sudden, he got up from his seat and left, his friends calling after him. No one made a move to follow, and after a minute they continued their conversations as if nothing had happened.

`Idiots,´ she thought, getting up to follow. His "friends" were the most oblivious of all. They were not deserving of him. They were most certainly using him, simply for his position. She snarled at the thought. Two-faced snakes, all of them.

As she left the Great Hall, she saw him turn the corner, headed towards the dungeons. Headed for the Slytherin Commons no doubt. She followed him down flight after flight of stairs until they reached the dungeons. He walked quickly and she struggled to keep up. It wasn´t that she didn´t know where to go, because she did, she just wanted, needed, to keep her eyes on him. Finally, he stopped. She was relieved. His pause gave her a chance to catch her breath; she´d run the whole way. He stood before the entrance and muttered, "Hail Salazar." The entrance opened, he went in quickly, and the door shut behind him.

She stepped up to the entrance, and repeated the passphrase. The door slid open, she stepped through, and felt a burst of wind behind her as the door closed. The common room was dark, and she had to let her eyes adjust before she could look around. To her dismay, the common room was empty. He must have gone straight to his room. She decided she would get a book form her room and sit in front of the fireplace to do her homework. First of all, she would have to pass right by his room, and second, she could watch for him to emerge from his room. She walked quickly up the stairs to the hallway that housed the fifth-year dorms. The door to his room was the first on the right. She turned and tiptoed towards the half-open door. She flattened herself to the wall beside the door and carefully peered into the room. What she saw shocked her.

There he was, lying facedown on his four-poster bed, his body wracked with sobs. It was horrible. Her heart ached for his. Suddenly, as if he felt her eyes upon him, he sat up, body heaving slightly, albeit soundlessly. He wiped his eyes on his large sleeve and turned to the door, just missing her as she tiptoed back down to the common room. She heard the door open upstairs as she sank into a large cushy armchair. As she settled herself and acted asleep, she heard the distinct creaking that indicated someone descending the stairs. She knew he wasn´t stupid, and that he would probably be able to tell she had seen him, but when he had come halfway down and saw her lounging serenely in the chair, he must not have put the pieces together. This was surprising; typically he was overly suspicious. Perhaps it was just the innocence her face portrayed, but whatever the reason, he turned and trudged back up the stairs. This time, she heard the lock slide into place as he closed his bedroom door. Idly she wondered why he hadn´t done that in the first place.

She got up and stretched. Then she made her way back up the stairs to her room, at the end of the hall on the right. As she passed his room, she put her ear to the cold wood of his door, but she could hear no sounds from within. She then continued to the room she shared with the four other Slytherin fifth-years. There she quickly snatched the Potions textbook from her bookshelf, grabbed a quill, a parchment, and a bottle of ink from her desk, and rushed back downstairs to the common room. She spread her things in front of her on the luxurious green carpet in front of the huge fireplace. She sprawled out and, keeping on ear listening for the door upstairs, began to do the homework for her favorite class. Unfortunately, even after the rest of the Slytherins returned from dinner, she didn´t hear his door open or the sound of his voice for the rest of the night.

As she went upstairs to bed later that night, she paused outside his room. Pressing her ear to the door, she listened for evidence of what he was doing inside. She thought she heard whispering, and a decidedly rodent-like squeak, and then nothing. `It´s late, I must be hearing things,´ she thought as she yawned and stumbled to her own room.

As she lay in bed an hour later, she decided tomorrow was the day her plans were set into motion. Drastic times called for drastic measures. If only she really knew...