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Grey and White

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Outside, the sea crashed against the rocks, a faraway, pulsing rhythm, comforting in its uniformity. A gull screeched overhead, swooped and dived and came back up, fish wriggling against its creamy beak. The sky above was filled with heavy clouds; soon it would snow. The hush had already started, waiting for the moment when the white blanket would come down to cover everything, mute the sound of the waves, the gulls, even the wind.

Two days until Christmas.

Two days until he came to visit, just as he did every year.

Draco wondered if it would be snowing by then.


Sometimes he wondered if grey was all he saw because the entire world had been bleached of colour. If it wasn’t just the stone walls, floors, his robes, the sea and sky outside, but everywhere else too. No more Slytherin green, no more Gryffindor red; just white and grey, everything grey and cold. Even his fingertips looked grey, wrapped around the ice cold bars, invisible wind whipping at the skin, the only part of him it could reach.

One day until Christmas.

One day until he would come, and let Draco see the green of his eyes, his red robes.


The world outside was filled with white, perfectly formed drops of crystallised rain. They floated, swirled, eddied, dipped and spun; a moment of revelry before the inevitable fall into the cold grey depths below. They landed carefully, and the world held its breath for a fraction of a second. Then they dissolved, disappearing to join the rest of their friends.

Christmas Day. Draco turned away from the cold white world.

Snowflakes in black, disarrayed hair. Red robes. Green eyes flashing behind gold-rimmed glasses.

Colour in the world once more.

Draco leaned back against the cold grey wall to drink it in.