Though it was mid-July, his body was cold as ice. His fingers stiffening at times, she wondered if it were the after-effects of the crucio. He never spoke about work, nor did he ask her about his research. He would come into the lab, but she always found him watching her with a look of admiration swirling in the silver of his eyes. Other times he would gaze at her with such possessiveness hidden in the solidity of the grey it was hard to differ the type of day he had.