Work Text:
Severus makes room for all colours. His clothes are black, his thoughts grey, his furniture brown, his house green, his awards golden, his crockery and skin white. He makes room for all colours but one.
When the sun turns red he steals his eyes away, when red flowers bloom in his garden he poisons the bush, he detests tomatoes and red chillies have no place in his meals.
For red is the colour of her hair that won't ever grey, red is her blood sprayed on his hands like Lady Macbeth, red is his blush at her touch, red is her rage and red is her hatred.
Then there is Harry who wears not a stitch of red but whose mouth is ripe, whose cheeks are flushed, and whose red blood was saved. Red is his food, red is his sun, red is the press of his lips against Severus', red is he.
Severus has no need to bring red into his life for red, is his love.