A/N: Hello there, witches! Long time no see! I apologize for the (long) absence, but the ending of my Master's Degree is taking all of me. I'm uploading today so I won't leave you without a chapter, but I'm not sure when I'll be posting Chapter 19. I thank you so much for the patience and for the loving comments. I hope you enjoy today's chapter.

Chapter Eighteen - The Darkest Side

Sometimes the curiosity can kill the soul but leave the pain

And every ounce of innocence is left inside her brain

And through the looking glass we see she's thankfully returned

But now off with her head I fear is everyone's concern*

"I can't believe it," Talbott complained, lying on his bed with a cold cloth over his forehead. "I was supposed to be there with you… to protect you…"

"Tal, you're not seventeen yet," I said, caressing his hair. "I couldn't bear going there and knowing you were in danger too. I know that being sick sucks, but at least you'll be here and safe."

He looked at me tiredly, holding my palm against his cheek. Underneath my hand, his skin was burning. "Please, be safe. If anything goes wrong… transform and fly away, okay?" he begged. "I wouldn't bear… living without you."

I leaned over the bed and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. "I'll be okay. I'll be back before you even notice I'm gone."

I'm carrying the promise with me as I walk with Grandpa through the empty Diagon Alley. Out of business hours, the long street looks gloomy and cold. I wrap the long black cape around my neck, longing for some kind of warmth. Walking next to me, Grandpa is wearing a black panama hat and a black wool scarf around his neck, covering most of his mouth. He flashes me concerned gazes every now and then, his blue eyes sparkling under the torches. We walk towards a tall and svelte man, who's leaning against the wall of the Quidditch Supplies Shop.

"Good evening," Bill says with his voice low.

Bill's hair – long, shiny and ginger – is entirely invisible under a black beanie, pulled all the way over his eyebrows. He's wearing a turtleneck black sweater and a black hoodie on top, looking – under the dim lights and against the dark environment – like a burglar. He has his arms crossed, defensively, and is looking around with apprehension.

Grandpa looks seriously at us both. "I'll be watching you from a safe distance," he says. "At this time, you'll probably find Dung at the Moribund's Pub. It's a decadent place, just around the corner from Borgin and Burke."

"We'll try to be quick," I say.

"I hope," Bill says, grave. "Just the thought of entering this place… It gives me the creeps."

"Keep your wand ready, Bill," Grandpa warns.

Bill nods, tucking his hands inside his hoodie's pocket. We turn around, carefully descending the unlevelled alley between the Quidditch Shop and a second-hand bookshop. Our steps echo midst the stone walls and closed windows and they produce cracking sounds over the pieces of broken glass and brick. There are lot less torches to light our way than in Diagon Alley and the few ones launch our ghostly shadows in front of us. I feel like we are two black cats, venturing through dark streets and dangerous corners in the search of a slippery mouse. From time to time, I turn my head discretely, checking if Grandpa is still behind us.

We climb down a set of stairs, walking past stores with suspicious artefacts by the window and a potion supplies shop with pending glasses of human fingernails and pickled red eyes. Bill looks at me with hesitancy and I notice his shoulders are getting tenser.

"So," I start, trying to come up with some kind of conversation. "Was it your intention to look like a robber?"

He chuckles softly. "I wasn't planning on wearing the beanie," he tells me. "But I got a Christmas present that gave me one hell of a bruise."

He lifts a part of his beanie, showing me the purple marks by his hairline. I frown, looking at him with concern, but he simply shrugs.

"There was this opportunity for an exchange program between Hogwarts and the Brazilian witchcraft school, Castelobruxo," he says. "I've been corresponding with this girl, Luiza, and well… I think feelings sort of got in the way. She was planning on showing me all these amazing things and teaching me about all the curse-breaking spells they learn there. I was really excited about it, but when the memo for the program's expenses came… Well, it was out of question."

He looks at both sides before continuing. "I told Luiza about it and she seemed to have understood… I was happy when I got a present from her on the mail… I was thinking that maybe we could even meet in person, perhaps after graduation, but her present cleared things out. It was a remarkable pointy hat, made of a seemingly expensive leather. Mum was really impressed by it, but when I putted it on, it started shrinking. Fred and George tried to pull the thing out of my head, but the more they pulled, the smaller it got. Mum had to cut it out with scissors."

"That's awful!" I say, shocked.

"Well, I've had my share of dating wacky girls," he says.

"When? I've never seen you with anyone."

He shrugs. "I'm very discrete about it. I don't like being dramatic or calling unnecessary attention to myself, but I did get hexed a few times after break-ups."

"Damn," I say. "I don't think I'd hex a guy if he broke up with me."

"That's because you're not completely bonkers," he says. "Here. Borgin and Burke. The pub must be right around this corner…"

The store has the same architecture of Ollivanders, but the ghastly green light that emanates from the interior tells me that there will be no sweet old man in there to welcome us. The strange objects lying over velvety cushions make me feel uneasy, but strangely curious. Bill's hand on my back warns me to keep walking, so I take my eyes out of the dark shop's window and continue my way around the corner.

Grandpa wasn't lying: the Moribund's Pub surely is a decadent place. The tavern's sign is dusty and accumulating spider webs and the sidewalk is in desperate need of a sweep. The windows are so dirty than we can only see shadowy movements inside and the faint light of what must be candles.

"Let's get in for a drink," Grandpa says, darkly, a few feet away from us. "Don't engage in unnecessary conversation."

I swallow hard as Bill reaches for the door and opens it. The sounds of loud laughter and drunk conversations instantly fill the air. We step into the booze-smelling pub, looking for a place to sit. The only available spots are the ones along the bar, so Bill and I sit side by side in one corner, and Grandpa sits on the other side, rapidly ordering something to drink.

"What can I get to you two?" the bartender asks and the ugly greenish moles all over his neck make me instantly clench my jaw.

"Some fire whisky," Bill orders. "And some sherry for her."

I don't reply, trying my best to maintain a dark, taciturn expression. The bartender hands us our drinks and I take a sip from the sherry, pretending that it isn't burning my throat as I swallow it. Bill drinks his whisky slowly, looking around discretely with a serene expression. His eyes look for mine and he makes a swift gesture indicating one of the corner tables.

Sitting in it it's a tall and lean man, with a long black beard and a raggedy top hat, talking hastily to a short bald man. The tall one hands him a little dirt bag filled with what must be money and the short one gives him something in return, underneath the table. The tall man nods and gets up, exiting the pub right after.

"Follow me," Bill says, walking towards that table.

Bill slides swiftly over the L shaped bench, stopping right next to the short bald man. He gestures for me to do the same and I find a place on the other side of the man, trapping them in between us.

"Do you mind?" the man says. "I'm expecting someone."

I flash him a killer stare. "We won't take much of your time. Cooperate with us and we will be gone in a second."

Dung frowns, getting nervous. "Who are you guys?"

"I'm Gerard Shadow and this is my sister, Selene," Bill says, sharply. "We are looking for something called The Marauders Map. We've been told that you were the last one to see it."

"Who told you that?" Dung asks.

"A friend of Peeves," I say, simply.

He scratches his baldhead, looking a little nostalgic. "Ah, Peeves… I miss that dodgy little poltergeist."

"What do you know about the Map?" Bill insists.

"Why would I tell you?" he asks.

Bill and I touch the tips of our wands against to his thighs, under the table. He flashes a frightened gaze at us.

"Please, cooperate, Mr. Fletcher," I say, softly. "We don't want to resort to violent actions."

Dung nervously takes a sip of whatever he's drinking. "I've heard Peeves had it. Interesting artefact, truly. So, I had one of my connections work out a trade and get it out of Hogwarts for me."

"Do you have the map or you don't?" I ask, coldly.

"I did, but someone attacked me and bleeding stole it," he says. "Attacked me from behind, the coward."

"So, you don't know what he looks like? You didn't even hear his voice?" Bill asks.

"He might've said something before he left," he says. "I'm sure I could remember something if I had some Memory Potion…"

I press my wand against his chubby leg. "Do not play with me, Mr. Fletcher. I have no time for this kind of shit."

He gulps, looking at me with watery scared eyes. "There's no ne-"

"I'll curse you if I have to, Mr. Fletcher," I hiss. "Give us the information we asked for and we'll get out of your way."

He turns the glass in his hands, apprehensively. "The man who attacked me disappeared shortly after robbing me, but he didn't Apparate. I know Apparation sounds when I hear them. No… He transformed into something small…"

"Like an Animagus?" Bill asks.

Dung nods. "My sources told me that he got the map back to Hogwarts somehow."

"Why?" I insist.

"How am I supposed to know why?" he asks, nervous. "After he got the map, he only said 'I should've never let this slip thought my fingers' and then disappeared."

"If you are lying to us, Mr. Fletcher," I growl. "I swear that I'm going to hunt you down and end you."

He gulps, watching me get up and Bill follow me. I flash him one last killer stare before leaving the pub, meeting the quiet and dirty street again. Bill guides me a few steps away from the Moribund's Pub with a concerned expression on his face. When he finally stops, eyeing me seriously, there's a load of despair inside his eyes.

"We discovered nothing," he says. "We have no way of finding a random person at Hogwarts who might or might not have the map we're looking for. This was all for nought."

I rest my hand on his arm. "Bill, think for a minute. I know we won't be able to help Penny and end the curse just with the information Dung provided us, but he gave us a clue. Professor Snape was wrong. When the Dark Wizard attacked Ben and me at the beginning of the school year, he didn't use a Portkey. He transformed. All these methods look similar to the eye, so it's easily misinterpreted. What Dung told us leads me to believe that it's probably the same person. The Dark Wizard is his attacker. All we have to do now…"

"Is wait for him to manifest again," Bill completes.

"And he will," I say. "It won't take long. He'll probably find out that we're looking for him."

"Okay, but let's wait for him far away from this place," he says. "The more we stay here, the more nervous I get."

"Not so fast, dear," a high-pitched voice echoes behind us.

We turn around, startled. The woman standing in front of us is ill-looking pale, with dark circles around her deep, black eyes. The mean grin on her lips is enough clue for me that whatever she wants will not lead to a bed of roses. From the corner of my eye, I can see that Bill has his wand in a tight grip.

"You can your friend still owe me some money," she says.

"For what?" I ask.

"For a safe passage through Knockturn Alley, of course. Terrible things have been known to happen around here…"

"We have nothing to give you," Bill says.

Her grin intensifies. "Everyone has something to give, dear. Blood… fingernails… eyes… All are quite valuable to a proper connoisseur."

She takes a soft step towards us, but before she does anything else, her eyes rolls back into her head and she falls heavily onto the floor. Standing behind her, flashing us a serene gaze, is Grandpa.

"Are the two of you all right?" he asks, putting his wand back into his pocket.

I sigh. "We're fine. Thank you, Grandpa."

"Did you get what you were looking for?" he asks.

"Not exactly," I tell him. "But we've got enough information."

"Good. Let's discuss this at home."

"Athena, write to me if you find out anything else," Bill says. "I confess it was weird seeing such different side of you tonight. You're a fierce witch. If anyone can put an end to the Cursed Vaults, it's you."

One second and a loud snap later, and he is gone. Grandpa looks at me with a much softer expression and offers me his hand. There's more to be done than to just wait for the Dark Wizard to show up again. The next steps towards the Cursed Vault will be even more dangerous now that he has the map to Hogwarts grounds. I'll have to study more… practice more… I'll do what it takes to become stronger than him. I won't let him hurt any of my friends. Above all, I won't let him get in the way of me finding my brother.

I'm coming for you, Jake.

I'm almost there…

It's been a long time since I had an uneasy dream. Back in first year, they used to be cold and icy, but little by little progressed into prophetic ones, and I know best than to ignore them.

It starts in my father's office. I'm standing in front of the fireplace, admiring the little marble hippogriff that my mother gave him after they got married. Next to it, there's a beautiful family picture, of my parents, Jake and I, standing over the warm sands of South Hams, with the beautiful blue ocean behind us. For some reason, my eyes linger upon Jake's face much longer, until his moving image stops waving at me and, instead, winks secretively. I bring the picture closer to my face, watching his lips part softly, whispering something for me.

Follow me.

Jake moves towards the picture's frame, disappearing from sight. He reappears on the painting next to the fireplace, walking behind the still life composed of pears, apples and grapes. He walks to the front of the painting, his hands reaching for the frame. I watch them get three-dimensional, exiting the painting and coming to life, right in front of me. He sticks one leg out, stepping soundlessly upon the carpeted floor.

I want to reach out and touch him, but, for some reason, I find myself unable to move. I open my mouth to speak, but Jake looks at me with a smirk and takes one finger to his lips, gesturing for me to stay quiet. I look at him apprehensively, watching him head to my father's desk and open the first drawer. He grabs something from inside and shows it to me: a black eraser. Then he moves to the bookshelf, running his fingertips over the spines of the book before withdrawing one. It's a big tome of a deep purple colour, with shredded edges and fading title. He touches he bookmark that is placed almost in the middle of the book and winks again.

Next thing I know, I'm opening my eyes to my bedroom's ceiling, feeling a strange sensation all over my body. It's a mixture of cold, warmth and curiousness. The world outside my window is still dark and a faint snow is falling from the sky. My feet meet the cold floor and I walk as silently as possible, crossing the corridor towards my father's office door. My hand wraps around the knob and I open it slowly.

The room, with the curtains shut, is drowned in darkness. I lift my palm gently, producing a faint light right above it. I follow the same path as my brother, reaching for the desk's first drawer. The sound of the wood gliding echoes all around, bringing my heart to a race. My eyes rush to the door, listening attentively to any sound coming from my father's bedroom. In the distance, I can hear him snoring.

I sigh nervously, proceeding to go through all his stationary items, looking for the black eraser that Jacob showed me. I find it between many regular erasers and some new pencils, and as soon as I touch it, I can feel the magic that it emanates. I take it with me to the bookshelf, running the globe of light in front of the book spines, reading the names of Maverick Bingley, Maddock Discord and Marvin Latimer before finding the purple tome with the peeled name of Maerwynn Montfort. I withdraw the old book from the shelf and take it to my father's desk. Just as Jacob showed me, there's a red bookmarker approximately in the middle of the book. When I open it, I notice the pages are completely blank.

I flip some pages, finding no words or images whatsoever. It is tempting to cast Revelio on the pages and as soon as the thought crosses my mind, the eraser seems to throb in my hands. I open the book on the page it was marked, and rub the eraser all over it. The words of Maerwynn Montfort start to appear, telling me about ancient magic techniques and mythical beasts. The illustration of a dragon adorns the centre of the page and, right on the bottom of the image, I discern my brother's penmanship.

"If you ever find a portrait of a vault, destroy it. I begged them to, but they were too greedy. Too afraid. I have to see it through, but I'm the only one who realises that none of us will ever truly be unburied," I whisper, almost being able to hear Jake's voice in my head. "Is this message for me, Jake? Why did you write it under an image of a dragon? Does this have something to do with the next Vault? The portrait of a vault… Will it take me there?"

The silence doesn't respond. I devolve the book and the eraser to their rightful places and return to my bedroom, my head swirling with thoughts and questions. The objects I found on the previous vault… the dragon portrait and the tiny sweater… How are they connected? Does this dragon has anything to do with my oncoming meeting with Alistair Fidgen? Does the sweater, which could easily fit an elf, has anything to do with my detention time in the kitchens? Is Dumbledore, once again, playing me like a pawn in his wicked chess game?

I fall heavily onto my bed, watching the night become day, thinking restlessly about how I will ever put an end to the vault when I barely understand how the pieces fit together.

Alistair Fidgen… What information does he have on my brother? Will they even be helpful? Will I find myself engaging in more subtle conversations that will lead me nowhere?

I sigh, watching the faint rays of sunshine peeking through the curtains. There's nothing I can do but prepare myself as best as I can. I already have a good arsenal of spells, but I don't know if they'll ever be enough. I hide my face in my hands, hating the feeling of self-doubt. Did Jake ever feel the same? Did he feel the same desperation and hopelessness? Did he feel lonely but secure at the same time, knowing that Olivia and Duncan had his back?

"There's nothing else you can do, Athena," I tell myself. "Be prepared for the worst."

Talbott's fever breaks by the end of the morning. I make him a Pepper-Up potion and spend the day with him on the couch, watching The Breakfast Club, Halloween and Grease. Our quiet day looks sweet and innocent to Phil and Dad's eyes, which makes Talbott feel a little less nervous with the thought that they might find out what we do every night after they fall asleep.

On the next day, Talbott feeling like himself again. His eyes as sparkly and he is full of energy, preparing a huge breakfast for everyone, consisting of buttery muffins and pancakes.

"I think I added too much peppermint," I say as he refills everyone's cup. "You're really energetic."

"I hate being sick," he says. "And now that I'm feeling better, I can finally take you ice skating."

Phil grins softly. "You make an adorable couple. I'm happy that you'll spend the New Year with someone so wonderful, Talbott."

"You speak as if I've been spending New Year's with a lot of different people," Talbott says.

"Better than spending it hiding somewhere with a poetry book," Phil replies.

"Are you calling me a hermit?"

"Not anymore," Phil says. "Athena clearly managed to eject you from your cave."

Dad flashes me a suspicious stare, making me blush from head to toe. I stuff my mouth with an entire muffin, trying to come up with something different to talk about.

"So, Tal," I say. "You never told me you know how to ice skate."

That's because… he doesn't. Not that I'm particularly skilled in it either. I'm much better at flying, with either my wings or my broom, and gliding on top of ice with sharp blades isn't as easy and as intuitive as flying. Not that I thought that Talbott and I were going to star as guests at the next Ice Capades, but I didn't think we would end up falling on our arses every time we tried to move a few feet forward. He tries his best to be supportive, but without any balance, we end up falling together thrice as much as any other skater at the Pavillion. It's fun beyond measure and every time I fall into his arms, making him lose the speck of equilibrium he's been trying to gather for half an hour and fall heavily onto the ice, he flashes me a handsome mischievous smirk.

"I love it when you fall into my arms, my beautiful fallen angel," he says, softly.

After a while, we start to get the hang of it. By the end of the morning, we're gliding a little bit better, just well enough to circle the Pavillion a few times without getting our knees all bruised. Some long kisses and a cup of hot cocoa later, we decide to have lunch at Diagon Alley.

Under the sunlight, the place looks a lot different. When we walk past Knockturn Alley's entrance, the street doesn't seem so scary. It still looks gloomy and engulfed by shadows and it surely feels warming to walk right past it, without acknowledging the illicit and dark activities that might be going on in there. I wonder if that psycho witch would still recognize me with the bubblegum pink sweater I'm wearing, looking like a walking Barbie doll.

I finally stop by Gringotts, withdrawing the amount necessary to pay the shadowy wizard with the dragon egg.

"Are you sure you want to spend so much in an egg and a handful of doubtful secrets?" Talbott asks me when I put the stuffed bag of cash inside my purse.

"If it takes me to Jake faster, I'm willing to pay any price," I tell him.

We sit at Barlow's Butterbeer & Burger, finding a nice table outside, under a big purple and orange umbrella. We order two cheeseburgers and eat together, enjoying the sweetness of the last days of holiday before we have to return to our chaotic Hogwarts.

"I thought we'd be able to get back to school and, perhaps, make out in your brother's old secret room," he says, drinking his soda. "Now I'm thinking we won't have the time."

"You make us sound like a couple of horny teenagers," I say, biting my straw.

"We are a couple of horny teenagers," he replies. "We opened Pandora's Box and now we have to face the consequences."

I smirk. "Which are?"

He grins back, his skin glowing bronzy under the sunlight. "The fact that I can't keep my hands off of you."

"Then I guess we'll have to find the time."

"I don't know how," he says, thoughtful. "With all your duties and studying hours, the rest of your time you'll spend sleeping. And I don't plan on harassing you while you sleep."

I chuckle. "Why not? Carmilla used to do it with Laura."

"Carmilla was a vampire," he punctuates.

I bite my lip. "Yes, she was."

"You are impossible," he says, amused. "Want to grab a sundae?"

I run my foot along his calf. "Only if I can taste from your lips."

Drapes of a cold satin fabric falls along my body, enveloping me in a flowy dance of lavender as I lift a glass of Ginger Ale to my lips, standing by a tall shefflera in a golden vase. I tap the tips of my rose gold shoes on the marble floor, enjoying the rhythmic Celestina Warbeck song that is playing on the radio. All around the room, people in beautiful dresses and impeccable tuxedos talks about the wonders that will come with the year of 1989. Two nines in a single year must mean something, after all. In numerology, the number nine means the ending of a cycle and the beginning of a new one.

The penthouse that my Aunt Agrafena owns, in the heart of London, looks as luxurious as ever. Her long deceased husband, Galahad Rosenberg, was the inventor of the Magi-Fridge, the Muggle refrigerator magically adapted to work perfectly without any electricity. He died because, well, he was over a hundred years old and that's the cycle of life, but his legacy is present in almost every magic family across the world. I think he was around sixty-something years old when he married Aunt Agrafena. The fact that she was twenty and he was already extremely rich is a whole other story.

By the food table, Ambrosia is taking a white chocolate covered strawberry to his fiancée's lips. He bites is gently, flashing her a sweet smile. For years, I've seen Ambrosia living under Gil's shadow. She's always been timid and not at all concerned with her looks, probably because she knew all eyes would always be upon her cousin. However, finding love and having it look at her with delicacy and affection certainly changed her. She looks effortlessly stunning in her peach chiffon dress, with her long hair falling in curls over her shoulders. Unlike Gil, who's on the balcony fishing for compliments in his silver outfit, Ambrosia looks naturally beautiful, with the glow of love shining all over her.

I open a smile when I see Talbott walking towards me, all handsome in his burgundy shirt. His hair is flawlessly brushed back and he has that indecipherable smirk upon his inviting lips.

He hands me a lemon madeleine. "I would love to have the recipe for this," he says. "Looks like a good snack for our movie sessions."

I wink at him. "You look so dashing to-"

"Athena?" someone calls.

I turn around. A pair of bright blue eyes meet mine and the young man standing in front of me opens a heart-melting smile. He must be one of the most handsome men I've ever seen; one of those easy beauties, like James Dean or Gregory Peck. His hair, brown and short, is combed back, and his sharp jawline could cut glass. Unlike Talbott, who's dashingly reserved and mysterious, he seems to be thrilled amidst the cheerful party crowd. However, though it seems like he knows me, I have no idea who he is.

"Yes?" I ask.

"It's me," he says in a strong Russian accent. "Misha."

I scan my memory, squinting while trying to remember who he is. When my mind finally wraps around the distant memories, my eyes widen and my heart nearly stops.

Misha. The Russian boy who kissed my cheek at this exact penthouse, three years ago.

"Misha? You look so different," I say.

"So do you," he tells me. "I haven't seen you since we were twelve."

"No, there's no way that you are only fifteen."

He shrugs. "I grew a lot," he says. "Oh, who is your friend?"

Talbott wraps an arm around my shoulders and offers his right hand to Misha. "I'm Athena's boyfriend. Talbott Winger."

"Pleasure," Misha says. "Mikhail Zackarov. So, Athena. How are things back at Hogwarts?"

"Chaotic," I say. "And at your school? I'm sorry; I don't quite remember how it is pronounced."

"Koldovstoretz?" he says, chuckling shortly after. "Cold as always. Things aren't nearly as interesting as they are at your school, apparently. I've hear some rumours about curses ravaging the castle."

I roll my eyes. "All true, unfortunately, but we can handle it."

He winks. "I'm sure you can. It was delightful to see you again. Write to me sometime, will you?"

He runs his fingers gently along my arm, grabbing my hand in his and placing a soft kiss on the back of my hand. He then walks away, towards a couple that is talking with my grandparents. Next to me, Talbott releases an annoyed huff and proceeds to mumble unintelligibly.

I cup his cheek gently. "Are you jealous?"

He crinkles his lips, looking away. "No."

I wrap my arms around his neck. "You are so jealous!"

"Did you see the way he was looking at you? Ugh! I never wanted to hex someone so badly in my life."

I snicker, placing a kiss near his mouth. "I've never seen this side of you. I think I kind of like it."

"It's because no one ever gave me a reason for me to show it," he complains. "Where do you know him from, anyway?"

I shrug. "From here," I tell him. "I met him three years ago."

"He seemed pretty damn thrilled to see you again," Talbott mumbles.

I brush my nose against his cheek, stopping lustfully by his ear. "And I am thrilled to make out with you. C'mon, let's see if we can find a dark corner before the year ends."

His cheeks burn in all shades of red. I bite my bottom lip, entwining our fingers and taking him to a lonely and shadowy corner of the balcony, behind all the pending ferns. He rests his back against the wall, drawing me close.

"I couldn't care less about Misha," I tell him. "I see only you and this is how I want to spend the rest of my life. Completely dazzled by you."

He smiles softly. "I thought I was supposed to be the poetic one."

"Then bewitch me with your words," I say.

He pulls me closer, humming softly by my ear. "She's got eyes of the bluest skies, as if they thought of rain… I'd hate to look into those eyes and see an ounce of pain… Her hair reminds me of a warm safe place, where as a child I'd hide… and pray for the thunder and the rain to quietly pass me by."

I smile widely, feeling my heart melting like chocolate under the summer sun. I rest my lips upon his, kissing him the way he deserves. Like he is my whole world, the air beneath my wings and the blood that runs through my veins.

Sweet love of mine…

* Her Name is Alice - Shinedown