Contrast

by : epiphanies

She pained him, like ice between his teeth. She looked at him with the vigour of a broken tear. He dared not tear his eyes away.

She was bold. Standing out in a room full of people, common people that didn't deserve her presence. He didn't deserve her presence. And yet, in her magnificence, he could not stand the sight of her in the least. Pale skin, so baleful with a bluish tint that gave her an inhuman glow. Such a contrast to such sharp, vivid eyes that truly held in them nothing but a distinct contempt. Shallow and spiky eyes, with large black pools leading to the ultimate underworld.

One thinks of a child when they see her hair, soft and honey-coloured. A small child, growing her first head of hair. Silky and feathered and soft, framing such eyes that one could think, just for a moment, that perhaps she had a shard of mercy within her. Deceiving hair.

He had been sitting in the common room and she had come up, once, and placed her hand on his. Said nothing. He had seen her hand on his, watched it. Contrast. Her paleness made his own skin look positively tanned, and her bluish veins pulped up in tiny tunnels, creating a delicate aura around her wrists. Her nails, straight and sharp and long. Claws in their own right, and his were short and scrabbled, roused and used. As if he had ever done a bit of honest work in his lifetime. And yet, her hands made his seem worn and tired, like an old man's.

Some of the boys called her the Ice Princess, but sometimes he could get under her glowing, transparent skin and make her laugh a little bit, only in passing. They had, after all, known each other since before their initial births. The only connection she had to anybody of the outer world.

She was an entity in herself. An idol of Slytherin iron blood.

She was so lovely. The look of her made him wince. In attempt at imagining her smile, it pained him, like ice between his teeth.