Even as I pulled away

His eyes burnt holes like fire

Despite their cold relief

Pain etched his features-

I am the sculptor, see my works-

An Emerald Universe I was sucked out of as I pulled slowly away.

His eyes bore into mine, but they were the mark of sadness- almost a relief.

Pain may etch his features, his mouth in a grimace, his lips slightly parted as if to say something, but a cold, sad hole was created between us, which no sound could breach.

They never did say anything, those lips; I would hear nothing.

His eyes said more than anything else could have.

The grip he had on my shoulder relaxed slightly as I moved away- the numb shock was retreating and he settled into the pain.

As a tear rolled down my cheek a single drop of blood moved over his dry lip, leaving scarlet in its wake.

A deep red- the true colour of a gryffindor, ironically.

He fell, a sudden movement of blurred black hair.

He slid down the wall, dragging me with him, for I made no attempt to stay standing.

There was no resounding or even strangled cry from him, no valiant last effort, he was resigned to his fate.

I hadn't moved my hand, holding the shining crimson blade, from where I had put it-

Up to the hilt into in his heart, that courageous heart...

A heart we once had shared, but he had given to another.

A heart that had ceased it's thumping.

I stood, and here he was, the boy I had once known as my brother, dead at my feet.

The handle of the dagger was still protruding abruptly from his chest, amidst a blossom of red over his shirt.

His hand had fallen from my shoulder, and looking down, I saw him truly for the first time.

In him, I saw truly what I had done.

The lost, hopeless but accepting grimace playing his features was contorted with pain.

I was expecting that.

The fact he moved no more- the boy once so full of life who, no matter what he had been feeling, had never stopped moving-

I knew and had expected.

It was his eyes that did it.

Open, glassy, managing to stare directly through my own straight into an already heavy soul, nomatter where I stood.

The emptiness of those electric eyes, the dulling of that infinite jade beacon, echoed louder than any shout he could have issued.

A cold nothingness was left in my wake, and someone had surely removed my stomach, for there was a final emptiness in my chest.

As I dragged my lead-filled feet away from him, I was concious of those eyes boring into my back, knowing I had left the boy-who-lived as the boy-who-died.

I brushed a shock of red hair off my forehead and a tear from my eye, wiping my other hand clean of blood on my jeans.

A laughable prophecy- neither survived, in the end.