AN: I would like to thank my Betas thorn, Darknesswriter666ebil and skulblaka. They really helped me out in some tricky sentences and rather lacking comma use.


I had always admired my Silver Prince. He was always calm and collected, he had an impenetrable barrier against the world that no one could break through or even see through. At times, even I couldn’t tell what he was thinking or feeling.


The day he told me it was over my heart broke. I couldn’t understand why he could stand and look at me with his silver eyes and tell me calmly that the choice between the Dark Lord and me wasn’t really a choice. I remember clearly how he had leaned against the wall and folded his arms. He had seemed like the very picture of serenity and peace, while I stood with my fists clenched and my heart pounding.


I will never forget how I flung myself into a rage. I screamed at him for not being brave enough to stand against evil and brutality. He only stood and gazed at me with a mild interest. I begged him to reconsider and he didn’t even bat an eyelid. I had pulled out my wand, hoping to get some reaction from him but he only raised his eyebrow and gave me a look that spoke loud enough for me.


You would never curse me…


He was completely right of course. He was always right. I loved him too much, and as I saw him turn around and stride decisively out the door my heart ripped itself in two.


The worst was yet to come. Over the following week, the two torn parts of my heart exploded, shattered, splintered and then dissolved into nothing. I found myself becoming an empty shell, without my Silver Prince I was nothing. No one noticed how I withdrew into myself, they were all preoccupied with their own lives. Their own loves and fears.


Life became a meaningless routine. I got up every morning with a sense of gloom hanging over me like a black veil of mourning. I would find myself eating because I had nothing else to do to fill up the time between sleep and work. Work was just another tedious distraction from my inane existence.


Basic everyday practices were fulfilled only when my body was wracked with pain and at the point of perishing. I couldn’t understand what death was; I didn’t comprehend what a finality to all dreams and expectations it was. I wasn’t scared of death, but I wasn’t going to seek it either. I was past caring for anything in the world - except perhaps my Silver Prince.


Every morning I would read the newspaper and search for a mention of him. I would search from the breaking headlines of the war on the front page, to the obituaries on the last page. There was never any mention of him.


The defining point of my existence came later. The Dark Lord had triumphed over the wizarding world. All who stood before him fell. At times I appreciated the decision of my Silver Prince. No matter what would happen to the wizarding world, at least he wasn’t dead.


Ministry Officials came to my home one evening. They told me to disappear; the Dark Lord was coming after all the muggleborns. They were terrified that one-day he would come for them too. They offered me sanctuary in some of the old Ministry buildings, but I refused. Why would I care to hide from a group that my loved one had joined?


The Daily Prophet didn’t arrive very often anymore. It came perhaps once a fortnight, and I kept scanning it for mention of my Silver Prince. There were no mentions of him, no indications that he was even alive. It reported mass Muggle killings, the deaths of more muggleborns. None of it really sunk in.


I was reading when it happened. A loud crash sounded from my hall. I pulled my robe tighter around me and stepped through the door to my unknown visitor. My Silver Prince was leaning against the wall, calmly and collectedly as usual. He looked like he had always been there, standing and looking at me from under a raised eyebrow.


He told me to leave the house. He told me to run and hide. He told me that they were ordered to kill me.


He said that he’d come with me, help me escape. We would travel to another country and start a new life. We had embraced and then I felt the floor move away from under me. The entire house rocked under a barrage of spells being aimed at the front door.


The Dark Lord had realized that he had betrayed him, and he put an end to my Prince’s life within seconds of entering the house. He didn’t have time to say goodbye; he didn’t have time to change his expression to one of fright. He had died like he had lived - aloof and emotionless.


Now the Dark Lord stands with his wand pointed at me and he asks for my last words. The bigoted, narcissistic autocrat insults me in a way that is befitting a ten year old with his insistent use of the word ‘Mudblood’ I have nothing to say except for this tale of my lover and I. I have learned from our lives together and most of all from him. I am going to go to my death like he did. I will remain emotionless and aloof. I won’t let the Dark Lord see my grief at watching him fall. Let my last words haunt his conscience for all eternity.


“My Silver Prince.”


AN: Please review. Did you love it or loathe it? Should I write more fictions or should I fling my keypad out of my window?