The jet-black nighttime, speckled with tiny stars, gradually began to lighten. From the east, a soft gray began lighting up the sky; spreading like split ink over parchment. Soon the sky's canvas was completely gray; blank and untouched, it lay ready for the unseen artist to paint the dawn. A sudden burst of gold filled the sky, as though a yellow paintbrush had been swooshed across the void. More golden rays joined the first, and were soon joined by ribbons of pink, red and orange. Dancing in the sky, the colors spun together and pulled up the sun, creating a masterpiece of the former night sky.

Warm light poured through the open window of Professor Orlando Lorenz's modest dormitory as the man lay sprawled comfortably on the small sofa, jean-covered legs dangling off the end with a contented smile plastered on his face. The soft sunlight gently ran over his face, lighting it up and causing his eyelids to flutter for a moment, and then to open.

Rolling over, the man was more than a little surprised to nearly fall off the couch as he was used to having more room on his bed. Quickly placing a foot on the ground, he was able to stop himself from falling too loudly. It took the man a moment to remember exactly why he hadn't slept in his bed last night. In fact, he didn't realize that the dream he'd had while he was asleep had actually happened until his eyes caught a glimpse of Faithe, asleep and still clinging his pillow, lying in his bed.

On one hand, the fact that everything he'd dream had truly happened was nice. After all, he had had a wonderful time. On the other, however, it was horrible. Thoughts began running through the man's mind at a mile a minute about how wrong what he had done was. His conscious tore at him. Suppose he had gotten carried away last night and something more had happened?

Although that worst-case scenario hadn't transpired, he had still dreadfully wronged the girl. He had broken the fragile formality of the student-teacher relationship between the two by taking her up there. It had been his doing alone; after all, who could expect an eighteen-year-old girl to realize the complications that would ensue if that formality had been broken. Not only had he brought her up there on a sort of "date", but he hadn't been able to resist the temptation to kiss her, and, more than that, he had allowed their relationship to continue manifesting into something more by bringing the girl back to his place. Granted, he hadn't asked her to meet him out there with such morally repugnant intentions, but it had happened as such anyways.

Her smile had been intoxicating, and her eyes had only furthered his high. With the stars taking their own mystifying effect on him as well, he had forgotten about his obligations to her as a teacher. Even if he had been completely sincere last night, what he had done still was inevitably wrong. She deserved neither the drama nor the turmoil that would most certainly reach her if they were to continue as such. If they had come that far in one night, then how far would another day in Fantasy Land get the pair? What a horrible, horrible mistake he had made.

And, now, he would have to rectify it.

But, how to do so? Glancing about the room, his eyes noted the time- [b]7:02[/b]- as they darted back to the sleeping girl. Gnawing on his tongue as the idea came to him, he quietly crept over to his dresser and snatched a T-shirt off the top of it and flung the clean shirt onto the couch as he grabbed some parchment from an end table. Yanking his gray shirt over his head, and throwing it gently across the room, so it ended up in a pile with the rest of his dirty clothing, he pulled the clean one on and snatched his black wizard's robe off the back of a chair, hurriedly putting it on himself.

Leaning over the small end table, he began hastily scrawling a note for the girl when she woke up.

"Miss Cunningham."

His quill had barely scribbled these first two words onto the parchment when, once more, he paused. The words were so cold and formal. Then again, writing her name would have made their situation worse. He had to resort to formality; it was his only chance at keeping his emotions under control. Now, then, how could he say what he had to say without hurting her? It was impossible. Deciding to forgo tact, as he didn't know when the girl was going to wake up, he just began writing; straight-to-the-point.

"Last night should never have happened. I knew I wasn't being exactly conventional when I asked you to meet me, but I never dreamed that I would overstep my bounds as a teacher like I did. It was terribly wrong, and I'm sincerely sorry for wronging you like that. As fond as I am of you, this can't happen.

-Orlando"

Glancing down at his words, the man shook his head. He wished he had had more time, but Faithe could wake up at any moment. Creeping over to the bed, he fought the urge to plant one last kiss on her lips and laid the note next to her and whispered a quick spell to make sure she found it.

Tiptoeing away, he stole one last look at the young woman and quietly exited the room. Gently shutting the door behind him, he leaned against it and took a deep breath, not quite wanting to leave yet.

A dark stage. Black curtains, black backdrop, black floor. No lights, no sound, no people; no people, save Isabelle Faithe Cunningham. Walking cautiously, her dark eyes stared intently into the black abyss, trying to see what may be there, or who. Turning cautiously, her eyes widened as the bright twinkling sparkles that only the stars could bring met her eyes. Looking around in awe, her breath caught in her throat.

A cold chill ran through her body as she realized that she was not on a stage, but Faithe was in the heavens with the stars her company. Feeling herself falling downwards, she opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. Clawing the air, a feeling of familiar dread flowed through her veins as she fell deeper and deeper, picking up speed. Closing her eyes, she anticipated the sickening thud that she knew would accompany her body hitting the ground. Alas, nothing came.

Opening her eyes, Faithe found herself facing the ground, whose presence was becoming steadily closer to her. Flinging her arms out in front of her, the scream that had been edging out finally broke as she saw the ground fill her eyes as her was an inch away...

Being jarred from her sleep by the nightmare, Faithe sat up almost as stiff as a board, the small scream emitting from her. Breathing hard, her body had broken out in a cold sweat, and her skin was ghostly pale and her body was shaking horribly. Covering her mouth, Faithe sprinted for the bathroom on wobbly legs, making it in time.

About ten minutes later, any food that had entered her body had exited. Searching his bathroom, she located a small bottle of mouthwash, and quickly washed her mouth out. Looking at herself in the mirror, she grimaced at the pale, sick looking figure staring back at her. The fear that she had felt in her dream was still evident by the terror that shone through her eyes.

Walking back to the bedroom, she realized exactly where she was. Checking the clock, she realized she needed to book it to her dorm to get ready for class. Furrowing her eyebrow, she spotted a piece of paper on the bed, a yellow glow around it. Sitting down to relieve her shaking knees, she picked up the letter from Orlando, still feeling slightly sick to her stomach.

After reading what he had written, and comprehending it, Faithe sat there for a moment, feeling paralyzed. Her stomach felt all the more sicker from the words that echoed in her head. Feeling as if she had indeed fallen, Faithe stood up, her body still trembling from the night fright and getting sick.

Refusing to cry, she threw the letter down on the ground, wishing it would burn. Walking towards the door, she practically threw it open as she stepped into the hallway, closing it softer than she intended. Feeling as if she may be sick again, the pale Athenian turned to walk to her dorm, only to find Orlando still there.

As the man leaned against the wall, eyes closed and head in his hands, Orlando heard the door fling open. Mentally scolding himself for not leaving when he had had the chance, he kept his eyes low for a moment, trying to think of what to do, and finding that, in soothe, he hadn't a clue.

If he could have, the man would have simply taken her in his arms and kissed her right then and there. Then again, if the circumstances were skewed in their favor, he would never have left the room. Instead, when he woke that morning, the man would have silently crept over to where the girl lay and woken her with a kiss on the forehead and a brilliantly boyish grin as he whispered the words "Good morning, beautiful" to her. But, alas, that wasn't how things were. He wasn't free to act how his heart desired. He was older, and it was his job- his obligation- to make sure that those unwritten rules of society were followed.

The door had flung open. Obviously, the girl had found his note and was hurt by it, as he well knew she would be. This was precisely why he had wanted to make a clean getaway to the Astronomy Tower while she had been sleeping; he knew that once she was awake and that once he had seen how hurt she was, he would feel that longing to take her in his arms and make everything better again.

His head gradually lifted itself and his brilliant blue eyes stared at her for a moment, with a look of remorse in them. She looked horrible, not ugly, but sickening. Her fair skin was now overcome with stomach-turning pallor, her mien pained and almost bitter, and she looked as though she was about to fall over. The man felt a pain of guilt plummet through himself as he witnessed what he had done to her, or, at least, what he thought he was fully at fault for.

Her eyes narrowed, but there was no anger in her expression. Only pain and hurt. "What? Making sure I leave?" Once again, though her choice of words was one of anger, her voice only depicted hurt.

Darting his glance away from her and reverting to the nervous habit of gnawing on his tongue, he soon tore a small gash in it and the warm, bittersweet taste of blood filled his mouth; the man didn't notice, though. He was too involved with Faithe to care about something as miniscule as a bleeding tongue. Her words hit him hard, and he bit his tongue again.

[I]No, just can't make myself leave you.[/I]

Once more, the words he wanted to say remained in the depths of his mind. Continuing to mutilate his tongue, he gazed back at her, this time with a hazy, ambiguously glassy look in his blindingly blue eyes. More than anything he wanted to scoop her up in his arms and apologize for being a jerk, but he couldn't, and that fact nearly killed the man right then and there.

She felt weak physically, and not in the mood for a confrontation. Shaking her head, she lowered her eyes that were beginning to fill with tears. I should have known. There's always something wrong with me. Taking a step towards the direction of her dorm, she tried to sidestep him. Against his better judgment, he slowly walked over towards her, not stopping until he was less than a foot from her. His cold, vacant eyes melted into ones that clearly spoke what he could not say.

"No," he replied, quietly and softly.

"I haven't the right to ask for forgiveness, but I would like to think I still have the privilege to apologize to you.

"I'm sorry, Faithe."

There, it was done, now he could turn around and walk away. Somehow, though, he just couldn't do that. He needed to let her know that he was doing what he was doing not because he didn't care for her, but because he was obligated to do the right thing.

Slowly his arms moved to embrace her and his head buried itself in her shoulder. After gently kissing her neck, his lips moved up to her ear.

"I'm not supposed to feel like this about a student; I'm not supposed to hold you in my arms like this; I'm not supposed to kiss you like this."

He paused for a moment and kissed her lips with undeniable passion, then continued whispering in the girl's ear:

"It's wrong, Faithe. I'm wrong for feeling this way about you, and I have to stop this before I do anything worse. I don't want to hurt you, but this has to end before I get you in over your head."

Sighing, he gently recoiled his arms from the girl and took a step back.

"I know I have not the right to ask for forgiveness, and I won't. I just needed you to know that I'm sorry."

With that, he turned and slowly began to walk away at a speed not much faster than that of a turtle. Another sigh escaped his lips and he put a hand to his face, burying his head into it as he walked. Why was the world so unfair as to deny him that which he desired so?

Regretting the words as soon as they had rolled off her tongue, Faithe silently scolded herself for the bitterness her words and tone portrayed. Part of her truly wanted to admit that his view on the circumstance was right, and they couldn't continue where this was leading. He was indeed the teacher, and she was indeed the student. However, that little voice in her head popped up pointing out the fact that he was only three years older than she was.

As he walked over to her, she felt her body tense up at the closeness of the two. Closing her eyes as she felt his arms slide around her and felt the soft weight of his head on her shoulder. Reaching up, Faithe instinctively laid her hand on the back of his head. Shaking her head as she felt the warmth of his lips on her neck, Faithe wanted to scream. This was torture. Life was being cruel to her. Why would fate and destiny place Orlando into her path, and allow her these feelings if the two had to simply walk away.

Practically melting into his arms when he kissed her, two tears slipped silently down her cheeks. Thankful that she had used some of his mouthwash, her eyes reflected the same sense of longing that his did. How could he do that? How could he dump her and treat her so wonderfully at the same time? Faithe's head was beginning to spin again, signifying that she was about to be sick again.

"Orlando," she turned towards him to speak. Her voice sounded rather weak, but there was a desperation in her voice. Stepping forward, she felt her emotions on her face, but aside from those two tears, she had yet to break down in front of him. Opening her mouth to speak, Faithe stopped herself abruptly. Placing her hand over her mouth, she ran quickly back into Orlando's room, heading straight for the bathroom.

Luckily, she made it just in time. Retching ((for lack of a better word)) once more, she flushed the toilet and leaned back against the wall. Thinking better of it, she laid down on the floor. Feeling the coolness from the bare tiles, a small shiver ran through her body. Faithe rarely got sick, but when she did, she got -really- sick, despite what triggered the illness. She assumed it was from the lack of food and lack of sleep, but was triggered by the jarring nightmare.

Walking down the hall, he could almost feel her fingers caressing the back of his neck (and their tingling touch that send shivers down his spine), her lips upon his own, and her body fitting perfectly against his own as she melted into him. A quiet, mournful breath escaped his lips as he closed his eyes.

Since Demeter, and every day Orlando had been longing for someone to play her role in the drama of his life. A hand to entangle his fingers with; a body to lie next to as he watched the stars; someone to hold and to hold him... Now, slightly less than a year later, he had found the perfect person who didn't have to act the part; she [i]was[/i] the part... but he couldn't have her. Well, he could, but having her would come with inconceivably bad consequences.

As he silently cursed himself for feeling so strongly for the girl, and beginning this whole mess, he heard her call his name. '[i]Don't turn around[/i],' he mind warned, '[/i]You'll never turn back, then someone will see you with her. It'll all be over and you'll have caused both of you more grief than it was worth.[/i]'

Stopping mid-step, he turned his head to reluctantly correct the girl. After all, they could no longer be on such an informal "first-name-basis" with each other. "Professor Lorenz," he was about to say when her face was contorted will paleness once more and her legs sprinted back into his room.

Not quite understanding, but worried about Faithe nevertheless, the man hesitantly followed her back into his room. Hearing the unpleasantness accompanied by a toilet flush, his mind figured it out. Of course, he didn't quite figure out that the girl was sick, he thought she was just upset about their situation. Hearing her slink to the ground, he hesitantly pushed the door open and stood halfway inside the small room.

"Hey." he said quietly, maintaining his distance, but not staying so far away from her as to appear distant. "You alright?"

With the coldness of the tile chilling her back slightly, she pushed herself back into a sitting position. Placing her hand over her forehead, Faithe almost didn't hear his voice. Well, she had heard his voice, but it took her a few moments of silence to comprehend that he was talking to her. Lowering her hand, she looked up at him with that same pained expression.

"What do you care?" The words were out of her mouth before a second thought went through her mouth. They were words spoken from bitterness that came from being sick and edgy. As soon as her own words hit her ears, an apologetic expression crossed her face. This wasn't her. Faithe did not get bitter; however, she did have a bad habit of things 'slipping' out of her mouth when she was feeling rather unpleasant. "I am so sorry, Orl...professor."

Holding onto the sink, she pulled herself to her feet. Her stance was rather unsturdy, and she rested her hand lightly on her stomach. Turning towards the door, she raised her eyes slightly. "I need to get to my class." A true Athenian. She was on the verge of fainting, but Faithe still refused to miss a class. Taking a few unsteady steps, her gaze fell back down on the tile. "I do have one thing to say though. Don't make this decision based on what you think I can or cannot handle. I wasn't going to be stupid enough to let what happened last night at the nova slip to anybody. If this is what you truly want because you have different feelings because we are no longer under the stars, that's one thing, but don't make this decision based on technicalities that can easily be gotten around." She felt sick again, but it wasn't the same sickness that involved the toilet.

Faithe had only opened up to three other people in her entire life, and at some point in time, they had all betrayed her or shoved her aside. As familiar a feeling as this had become in her life, this was the first time that these feelings of affection had ever been involved. Sighing, her hand flew to the sink to keep from falling. The sooner he moved out of her way, the quicker she could go to potions.

Her sneering words came as quite a shock to the man, prompting him to cringe inwardly. He truly hadn't meant to turn her from a sweet girl into a bitter one. Although her consequent apology softened what had been said, the way she corrected herself got to him. Hearing her voice refer to him as "Professor" just didn't sound right. He had always adored the way she had said his name, the inflection that had always come with it, especially. And, though the same exhilarating voice spoke it, the word "Professor" just didn't give him the same feeling. Then again, that was a good thing. Wasn't it?

His brilliantly blue, yet penitent, eyes watched as she struggled to lift herself up and turn towards him. As she near-stumbled towards him, his arms instinctively reached out to support her, yet he quickly backed off when she regained her stability and began speaking.

Faithe's words were beautiful- beautifully idealistic. As much of an optimist as the man normally was, even he knew better than to think they could get around technicalities. Even if they could, the technicalities would still be in place, and, for the most part, rules weren't meant to be broken; they were meant to keep order and prevent bad things from happening. If they overlooked the rules, then who knows what sort of chaos would befall them?

As he was older than her, Orlando had much more experience with these sorts of things. He knew what went on in relationships; fueled by emotional highs, physical interests would begin to take hold and, if they weren't handled with immaculate prudence, ruin it all. He was the elder, and it was his responsibility to make sure the rules were followed. If he allowed himself to continue exploring this opportunity with Faithe, there were so many things that could go wrong. If their relationship went wrong at any time, Faithe's education would be jeopardized, to say the least. And, even if their relationship should happen to go well, if the school body, any of the staff members, the Head Mistress, or, Merlin forbid, the Daily Prophet, got wind of it. No, it was too much of a risk.

'I have my faults, but deception isn't one of them," he said quietly, after she had spoken, "This isn't what I truly want, and I think you know that. It is what's best though, Faithe. I'm not making this decision based on technicalities, but rather on right versus wrong. Three years isn't a large difference in the real world, but as long as you're my student and I'm your teacher.

"There are too many risks- too many ways this can end badly. I don't want to hurt you."

His mind rewound to her earlier comment "different feelings because we are no longer under the stars" irked him. Didn't she understand how much he cared for her? If she hadn't gotten the message last night, one would think that, at the very least, the kiss he had given her in the hallway would have demonstrated his affection quite well. The whole reason that he was putting an end to what they had before it could grow was because he was trying to save her; everything he did was for her good.

Orlando's thought process was cut short as his eyes caught sight of Faithe's hand reaching out for the sink in an attempt to steady herself. Taking a step forward, the man tentatively wrapped his arms around her waist, supporting her.

"You're sick. You're not going to class, Faithe," he declared quietly. "At least not until you can walk under your own power," he added with the slightest hint of a smile upon his lips, "I'll get you excused somehow; don't worry about that."

Hoping that either she had regained her trust in him or that she would be too weak to fight him, the man gradually lifted the girl into his arms, wrapping one arm around her back and placing the other under her knees. Carefully, he carried her out of the bathroom and back to his bedroom, nonchalantly kicking the infamous note under a piece of furniture on the way, where he laid her gently down upon the bed.

"What can I do for you?"

Faithe's eyes narrowed at his insinuation, "Deception? You think I'm trying to deceive you?" Scoffing, she shook her head, almost in disgust. How could he think that? The very sound of that word made her skin crawl. Shaking her head again, she made an attempt to push him off as he wrapped his arms around her. She couldn't handle the feel of his touch. It made everything worse. Her feeble attempts to brush him off failed, however, as he lifted her into his arms.

She didn't want to be in his bed. His pillows, his sheets, his comforter, it all had his smell, his essence. Sitting up, her body swayed slightly from dizziness. "This can't be right if it feels so wrong." The words came out softly, but they hadn't been meant to come out at all. Wincing slightly, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, standing up. Taking a few moments to catch her balance before she fell, Faithe turned her brown eyes on him.

"Stop saying you don't want to hurt me! What do you think this is doing? Filling me with explicit joy?" Angry with herself for the shakiness that was intertwined with her voice, Faithe felt her eyes well up with tears. "Orlando, I thought about the risks last night. All of that went through my head; spontaneity is not a personality trait of mine." Shaking her head, she looked away from him in an attempt to calm her emotions down. Rather than feeling the tears disappear, she felt a single drop slip down her cheek. "I would drop that class in a heartbeat if it meant that we could be together. I would graduate early, because I have the credits to do so, if it meant I could be with you. If the fact that you are my teacher is the only thing standing in the way, I can guarantee that the problem can be fixed."

Finally forcing herself to look back at him, she scolded herself for sounding so desperate. "I don't trust people very easily, Orlando, but my instincts were telling me the I could trust you, and that I could be open with you. I have only felt like I could trust three other people my entire life, and you would think that I would have learned by now." Lowering her eyes once more, she took a few steps towards the door, but stopped in her tracks. Turning her head, her brown eyes skimmed over his face, "I guess I learned that I should just keep my head in the books." Turning her head, she took a wobbly step towards the door.

Watching her fight him, Orlando's bright blue eyes grew small and a touch of gray could be seen in them. The man's morals were slowly losing the battle to his heart. His eyes never left Faithe's trembling and shaking figure as she sat up and began walking across the tiny room. She was so incredibly sick, he could tell, and, yet, so determined.

As Faithe gradually increased the distance between herself and him, Orlando timidly matched her pace. Stopping at the footboard of the bed, he placed a hand on it and resolved to stay there and hear her out, yet was ready to bolt for her if she should be on the verge of collapsing.

Listening to her, each word struck down another soldier in the man's moral army. Bit by bit, his resistance was torn down. Though she had barely known him a month, and not truly known him until the previous night, Faithe was willing to give up her life for him. In one sense, he was creeped out, and began gnawing on his tongue again. But, on another, deeper level, there was something complementary to her feelings in his own soul. The gnawing ceased. He didn't know what had made him so confident last night; he had felt so comfortable with her. There was something unexplainable between them.

'[I]I [/I]don't[I] want to hurt you,[/I]' he wanted to say, but he knew that words would mean nothing at the moment. Actions spoke louder than words.

Moving a gait somewhere between walking and running, he made his way towards Faithe, never letting his eyes leave hers for a moment. The gray had faded from them now, and their brilliant bright blue color had returned. The smallest of sheepish smiles began to cross the man's face as he reached a hand around her waist, turning her towards him as the other hand reached up and ran down the girl's jawbone; his eyes never left hers.

Urgently pulling her close to him, his eyes took one final stare into hers before closing themselves. His head tilted ever so slightly and his lips met hers, kissing her affectionately. If she still thought he didn't long for her after that, then there was most certainly no hope fore the girl.

Reluctantly pulling back, solely due to a lack of oxygen, the man allowed his hand to slowly move from her cheek to around the back of her neck, running his fingers through her hair.

"Oh, please don't do that," he entreated, still holding her close to him, "Look, Faithe, I'm sorry. I just didn't want to force you into anything, but, if you want this as much as I do..." His voice trailed off as his lips found hers again for a short moment.

"You don't have to give up your life for me," he said, looking into her beautiful chocolate eyes, "We'll find a way to work this out, somehow. Trust me, I'll never hurt you on purpose. I was just scared that somehow I would, inevitably, I mean."

Her arms wrapped instinctively around his neck when he kissed her, feeling herself melt against him. A small, reluctant groan left her mouth when he pulled away, a slight pouty expression visible on her face. "I wouldn't be giving up anything at all. I originally had planned on graduating early, but I guess I became too enthralled in my Astronomy class."

Her eyebrows came together in a slightly puzzled expression as he babbled on. Reaching up, she laid her first index and middle fingers lightly on his lips, signifying him to stop talking. "Orlando, I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do, or be involved in something you don't want to be involved in. I just don't want you to make decisions based on things that can easily be gotten around, or based on what I say. I don't want you to feel obligated."

Opening her mouth to say more, her stomach churned inside of her. Pulling away from him quickly, she raced back to the bathroom. Falling to her knees harder than she had meant to, Faithe took a deep breath, but luckily the sickness passed. Groaning, she sat back, wishing desperately for this to end. Burying her head in her hands, Faithe felt herself trembling as if she had indeed gotten sick. Despising that blasted nightmare, she closed her eyes in an attempt to block out the spinning room.

"Faithe," the man interrupted softly, "I do want to be involved with this. I don't feel obligated; trust me, I." Feeling her pull away from him quickly and watching her dart back into the bathroom, he half walked and half ran after her, concerned.

Cringing as he heard her knees fall hard upon the cold tile flooring, he rushed over and knelt behind her, gently pulling his hands on her shoulders. [I]What could be wrong, now?[/I] the man wondered. He had presumed that the reason she had been sick earlier was due to nervousness about their own situation, but, now, with that, mostly, resolved, he was at a loss. If she was sick, then why hadn't she been sick last night?

Sitting down behind her, he felt his hand moved as she leaned forward to bury her head in her hands, trembling.

"Hey." he cooed softly. His arms tenderly wrapped themselves around her, lifting her slightly as they pulled her back into his embrace, nearly onto his lap. "What's wrong, Faithe? Talk to me."

Slightly startled that he had followed her, Faithe's body jumped slightly as she felt his hand on her shoulders. As he pulled her closer to him, she rested her head against his chest, keeping her eyes closed. Feeling her body relax against his, her shaking became less jittery.

"I just..." What was she going to tell him? She had a nightmare and it made her sick? He's going to think I'm some twit. Shrugging to herself, she decided that she couldn't lie to him. However, she didn't necessarily have to tell it to him in detail.

"I had a nightmare right before I woke up. Well, it was more like I was reliving something in my dreams, and I woke up sick." That was all he needed to know. At least, she felt that's all he needed to know. With her eyes closed, the vision of her nightmare flashed before her eyes, causing her eyes to shoot open. Shaking once again, she snuggled into him. "I don't get sick very often, but when I do, I get really sick. It's not contagious though."

She hated how weak and pathetic she sounded. All her life Faithe had been so brought up against sounding as if she had a weak voice. If she was sick, she still had to perform, and it had better be good.

Nodding as she spoke, the man slowly pulled her closer to him, and gently stroked her hair. Tightening his arms around her when she began shaking again, he kissed the top of her head as she snuggled against him.

A small, quiet laugh escaped the man's lips as she made a point of her sickness not being contagious. "Even if it was, I'd still be here with you," he replied with a smile.

"Not to prod," he whispered hesitantly, "Because we all have bad memories that aren't exactly pleasant to discuss, but what'd you dream? You said it was as though you were reliving something."

If she didn't want to tell him, that was fine, but the man's curiosity had indeed been sparked. Of course, now that he had mentioned everyone having "bad memories", she'd probably want to know about his. '[I]Way to go, Orlando[/I],' the man thought sarcastically.

A small, weak smile flickered on her face for a moment as she looked up at him. Her eyes being opened, however, was a mistake: the room was still spinning. Feeling herself tense up slightly as his inquiry, Faithe's eyes opened again. Tilting her head up, her dark eyes ran along his jaw bone until they finally stopped at his eyes. Those eyes; those bright blue eyes. The very sight of them caused Faithe's heart to flutter, and she knew that there was no way she could keep anything from him.

"It was...well..." Sighing, she didn't really know what to say, or how to say it. "Have you wondered -why- I am so terrified of flying? When I was thirteen, I was outside with my brother and some of his friends, playing quidditch. Well, after the game, some of us were just flying around, and some of his friends were still playing around with the quidditch equipment." Swallowing hard, a shiver ran down her back at the memory of what was to come. Closing her eyes, she tried to throw out the bitter taste that was in her mouth, and fought the tears that were wanting to break free. Taking a rather shaky deep breath, she opened her eyes once more, her eyes glazed over.

"We were about eighty feet in the air, when one of the boys hit a bludger, only it didn't go where he meant for it to. I didn't know it was coming until it hit me, in the head. I fell." Turning her head, her eyes stared down at her arm, remembering the pain from the bludger, and the pain from the ground. Her voice was starting to get emotional the more she spoke, and a lone tear slipped down her cheek. "I landed on my head and my neck. I was paralyzed for almost a month in a hospital bed. For two weeks of that month I was in a coma. They had to realign most of my spine, which helped bring feeling back into most of my body. I spent about a year and a half in rehabilitation, building up my muscles again."

Burying her head back in his chest, Faithe closed her eyes, allowing a few more tears to spill down her cheeks. "I had the dream about the fall, and that's what made me sick." Her body was trembling again, but she was proud that she hadn't completely lost control of her emotions.

Meeting her gaze, Orlando's eyes radiated nothing but compassion and understanding, emotions that they retained as she spoke. Her weak voice carried an undercurrent of fear to it, and he could feel her begin quivering again. Normally such a strong, independent young woman, it was evident that she was truly terrified while she retold the story to him. Listening intently to her tale, his protective nature, when it came to Faithe, intensified with every word she spoke.

Although it wasn't quite the same, her story revived feelings lost inside him from his own childhood experiences- bad memories, meant to be forgotten. Coming home from school every day (at least before his fourth year, when he had finally been allowed to attend Rosencrantz) with that feeling of utter dread lingering in the pit of his stomach- the eternal fear that loomed inside every crevasse of his soul- as he wondered what sort of beating he would be put through when at last he reached his home. Rather than walk straight home along the roads, the boy would choose to saunter along the sandy coastline; it took him longer to get home that way. When at last he reached the porch steps, he recalled lingering, and taking two steps to get up each stair, slowing himself down as much as possible.

When he was slightly more than halfway up the stairs, the back door would open, and his mother would promenade out with a look of utmost disappointment on her face. It never changed, either. Every day she would still be ashamed of him, no matter what the young boy did. She would furrow her eyebrows and cross her arms over her chest, waiting impatiently for him. He'd hurry up the rest of the stairway, stumbling upon the top step and tumbling onto the ground, backpack spilling over the porch. He'd apologize and quickly gather his things, but it would make no difference. Silently walking into the house, the door would close and the terror would begin.

Although it wasn't quite the same, the intensity of the fear paralleled both their accounts.

He was at a loss for words. Then again, there was nothing he could say to make it all better for her; what had happened had happened. He hadn't had a clue last night of how horrendous her broomstick past had been. Now that he knew, the fact that she had been able to be so relaxed in the sky last night, or even to get on the broomstick at all, simply amazed him. She obviously trusted him more than he had thought to allow him to take her up there. A small happy, yet sad, smile crossed his face, reflecting the mélange of emotions stirring within him.

"Oh, Faithe." he breathed, running a hand gently along her back. "I'm so sorry."

Faithe shook her head slowly. "There are worse problems in the world besides mine." Relaxing against him, she felt her trembling start to fade away as his hand rubbed against her back. Feeling sick again, she took a deep breath, swallowing the nausea. "I didn't even find your...letter until after I had gotten sick the first time." Hesitating at the memory that had been reality only moments before, Faithe snuggled into him even further.

"Do you have a class?" The thought just struck her that he had probably been on his way to the Astronomy tower when she had walked out of the room. "I don't want you to be late because of me." Guilt settled over her that she had probably caused him to be late or not be where he needed to be. The last thing she wanted to do was be a burden to him, which she felt she already was.

Watching her shake her head at him, a sympathetic smile appeared on Orlando's face.

"Perhaps," he replied, "but they don't seem to matter much to you, do they?" Though the words could be interpreted as sarcastic, the inflection of his voice would lead one to the conclusion that the problems of the world didn't matter to him either. If children were starving in India, then, of course, he believed it was a shame, but he wasn't going to get worked up about it.

Choosing to ignore her remark about his hastily scrawled letter, he simply let his sympathetic smile melt into a wide grin as she snuggled closer into him. Nearly feeling her tense up as she randomly asked if he had a class, the man himself was slightly startled. Immediately, his brilliant blue went to the watch upon his wrist. Not wanting to relinquish his grasp on Faithe, he ended up twisting himself in an awkward fashion to see the time.

[b]7:53[/b]- class for both Faithe and himself began in seven minutes.

Seven minutes in heaven, then an hour in hell. Well, not quite "hell", but, fairly close. There was almost nothing more irritating to the man than the manner in which his first period class chose to behave. As a teacher, he understood the fact that not every student would be as interested in astronomy as himself, and that not every student would be as gifted with astronomy as himself, yet the fact that those who cared not to learn disrupted those who wished to. That fact sincerely irritated him.

"Yeah. The both of us do, in fact," Orlando replied with a forlorn sigh, laying his "Not for a few minutes, though."

"I think I should probably change clothes," looking down at her yellow pajama bottoms, she shook her head slightly. Making an attempt to sit up, she groaned at the dizziness that washed over her, quickly leaning back against Orlando. Taking a deep breath, she released it slowly. "Then again, maybe I'll just trudge to class like this. Would you call me for disobeying dress code?"

A slightly pouty expression crossed her face as her bottom lip poked out slightly, "I do too care about other people's problems." Making an attempt to cross her arms, she felt extremely weak and decided against it. Forcing herself to sit up straight, she leaned her back against the wall, her hand raising lightly to her forehead. Swaying ever so slightly, she groaned again, swallowing the sickness that was struggling to rise again.

Laying her hand back in her lap, she glanced at him with a weak smile on her lips. "I didn't do my homework last night. I was distracted."

A slight chuckle escaped the man's lips as he thought of the ever-Athenian Faithe showing up to class in her pajamas. As she tried to get up, his arms relinquished their grasp on her, yet, as he felt her weaken against him again, they quickly found their way around her.

"You know I would," he replied with a grin, "...call you 'gorgeous', that is."

Seeing her put a hand to her forehead, his momentary humor ceased. Scooting along the floor to be in front to her, Orlando rose up onto his knees and kissed the top of her forehead, placing both his hands upon her shoulders to steady her.

"Distracted?" he repeated, with mock confusion in his voice. Though he was still concerned for her health, he couldn't help but joke a bit with her.

"Don't worry about that," he added, "You're not going to class anyways."

Standing on his feet, but keeping his knees bent, he took one of Faithe's arms and slung it around his shoulder. Moving his other hand down, he tried to find an easy place to slide his other arm beneath her, but couldn't.

"Try to stand up just a little bit," he implored, smiling at her, "I can't get my other hand under you like this."

"Ha!" A sarcastic laugh escaped her lips at his comment. "Maybe gorgeous for a donkey on a bad hair day." Reaching up, she placed her hands on her cheeks, shaking her head, "I must look like such a mess right now. I'm sorry you had to see me like this." As he moved in front of her, she gave him a truly apologetic expression, closing her eyes when he kissed her forehead.

"You? A distraction?" Her voice was filled with jest as she a small grin spread over her face. "You are a horrible distraction. A horribly wonderful distraction." As he placed her arm around his shoulder, Faithe's head tilted slightly, resting lightly below his shoulder. When he asked her to try to stand, she repositioned herself, managing to bring herself to her knees. Groaning at the sudden dizziness, she wrapped both her arms around his neck, her head laying down on his shoulder.

"I have to go to class. I can't just...not."

Rolling his brilliant blue eyes as she made a futile effort to convince him she wasn't gorgeous, a smile crossed Orlando's lips and he shook his head. Why did all beautiful women refuse to admit that they were attractive? Sighing inwardly, the man supposed that that was something he'd never know.

Hastily sliding his arm behind her knees as she raised herself up for him, Orlando lifted her into his arms. Wincing as the groan escaped her lips, he offered a sympathetic smile. That right there was precisely the reason he wasn't about to let her go to class. Although he did understand that longing to go to class no matter what, as he held that same trait, he could see she was in no shape to do so. The poor girl couldn't even sit up without being overcome by a wave of nausea/weakness. More than that, now that he knew was had caused it, every time he would imagine himself back on the staircase to his house; that fear, that completely pure terror. no one should have to feel that.

Pulling her close to him and laying his head slightly on hers, he carefully stood up and walked out of the bathroom, into the main part of the room, if one could call it that.

"You're not going to class, Faithe," he insisted quietly, "And you can too 'just. not', especially since I'm not letting you leave my side until I feel you'll be alright.

"Well, actually, I should at least make an appearance of sorts in class, but, you're staying here for the two or so minutes it'll take me to do that." he babbled on, pretty much just thinking out loud.

Snuggling closer to him as he picked her up, her eyes closed as she felt his head next to hers. It was probably a good thing that Faithe was relatively light, the effect of all those years dancing. Still, she couldn't help but think she was being a major inconvenience.

"You especially can't miss class, Orlando. I can make it through class," even as she spoke, her voice was coming out soft and drowsey. She felt herself trying to slip back into sleep, but opened her eyes in an attempt to keep herself awake. Lifting her for a moment, Faithe looked him in the eye, "I'm feeling better. Really. Please let me go to class." Poking out her bottom lip purposely, she laid her head back down, this time more on his chest than his shoulder.

Faithe sounded more like a seven year old who had played hookey from school trying to convince her mother that she was feeling better in order to play with her friends. However, she was trying to convince Orlando to let her -go- to class.

Closing her eyes, she listened to the monotonous rhythm of his heart, feeling the soft thump against her ear. Mmm... I could easily fall asleep like this.

She was really quite adorable, lying in his arms like that, the man thought to himself as a smile crept onto his face. Yet, in spite of that, she was undeniably weak and in no condition to attend class. Her weak voice was getting to him, and she felt nearly lip in his arms.

"Darling, you're not going to class," he whispered quietly, "I'm not letting you out of my sight until you can stand under your own power, at the very least.

"And don't worry about me. I [i]teach[/i] the class; I assure you, I'll find someway to get around not being there..."

[i]'..I just haven't figured that part of the plan out quite yet.'[/i]

Then again, he hadn't exactly figured out [i]any[/i] part of the plan. If neither Faithe nor he showed up to class, it would look bad. On top of that, Faithe's roommates would certainly notice that she hadn't fallen asleep or woken up in her bed. Questions would start to be asked, and, soon enough, they would be caught. All sorts of heinous scenarios began to fill the man's mind- scenarios that had been the primary reason he for his action's of about an hour ago. Frightened as he was of what could happen if the two were ever caught, he had tried to break it off and found that task impossible to go through with, and, more than that, Faithe was in no condition to deal with that type of stress.

Reverting his mind back to exactly what he could- or rather, had to- do at the moment, he found himself at a loss for competent thoughts. Suddenly, a thought struck him: although he couldn't cancel class, he could postpone it.

"I've got it all figured out," Orlando concluded after a moment of pensive silence, "I'll postpone class and, instead of a lecture, tonight, around 8:30, we'll observe some astronomical phenomenon. I don't know what right now, but there has to be something spectacular happening tonight..."

Rambling on, his voice got faster with every hastily desperate word. Walking quickly towards his small desk, the man bent his knees so that the hand that was underneath Faithe's knees could reach the quill. Scribbling a note to the class, he bent his wrist up and handed it to Faithe.

"Is that believable at all?" he asked with a grin. "Because, if not, we've got about..." Pausing, he glanced at his watch, "...three minutes before class starts. So, that'll probably equal about two minutes to think of something else. I do believe this is the one time in my life that I'm actually pleased to have a class where practically every single student is tardy every day..."

"Put you down?" Orlando repeated, "Never."

As she regaled him with the information that a stardust shower would occur that evening, all doubts in his mind ceased to exist. Lighting kissing the top of her forehead in gratitude for solving his problem, he gently took the note back from her hands and placed it between his fingers.

"I'm sure you will be alright," he agreed, awkwardly retrieving his wand from whereeve it was that he put it last. "But, really, you're not impeding on me. I'd rather spend an hour with you, even a sick you, than try to motivate a class full of people who don't want to be there.

"But, they still will probably show up within the next minute, so we're going to have to go put this note up."

Pointing the wand at himself, and Faithe as well, as she was still in his arms, he grinned.

"Hold on tight."

Whispering the apparation spell, the two were instantaneously transported to the inside of the astronomy classroom. Quickly "swish-and-flick"ing his wand, Orlando stuck the note to the board and then transported himself and Faithe back to his room.

"Done and done," he declared with a grin. "Now you've got all my attention."

Tightening her arms around him slightly, Faithe's stomach lurched as they apparated. Partly because of her being sick, and partly because of her uneasiness that somebody could have just as easily already been in class.

Letting out a deep breath once they were back in his room, Faithe looked up at him with a you're insane expression written clearly on her face. "That was really risky Orlando."

After offering him a rather stern look, she couldn't help the smile that finally broke out on her face. Shaking her head, she buried her face into his chest. Looking back up at him, she tilted her head slightly, "I'm really hungry, but I don't think that's a good idea."

"Yeah, probably," Orlando agreed, grinning, "but it was the quickest way to get the job done without letting you down."

Though he played it casual on the outside, the man was silently grateful that there hadn't been anyone in the classroom. That would have been... awkward, to say the least.

"I don't either," he said, reverting to his concerned self, "You don't need to be regurgitating anything anymore today."

Gnawing on his tongue slightly, his mind began to get thoughts in it. He had gotten her out of first period, and, although he didn't have a second class, he was sure she did, and, if she wasn't better, she'd have to go to the infirmary to be excused from class. Though the nurse was a gentle- hearted woman, Orlando didn't exactly want to ditch Faithe like that. Although he'd never exactly been a potions master, perhaps there was something he could mix up to help Faithe out. Then again, he reminded himself, she wasn't sick due to an actual sickness, it was just the recurring fear.

"I'll get you something to nibble on," he said, sitting down upon the couch and laying her down so that her head rested upon the arm of the couch and her back was on his lap, "But only after you've calmed down a bit... gotten your mind off the nightmare, y'know?"

Readjusting herself slightly to make her back a little more comfortable, she tilted her head to the side slightly so she could see him. "I think I am all right now. I hate it so much when that happens. It's not so much the memory what happened, I don't think. It's always the type of nightmare where if I hurt in my dream, I hurt in real life. You know what I mean? Then it's complete muscle memory, and it's so much pain that I think that's why I get sick." Shrugging lightly, she closed her eyes.

"Do you always treat all your girlfriends like this?" Opening her eyes, she offered him a mischevious smile. "Seriously though, how does somebody as wonderful as you not have a million girlfriends? I know you said you've only had one." Looking at him curiously, she began to absentmindedly run her index finger back and forth on his collar bone. "What happened with that? I just don't see how somebody would just...let you go."

"Alright, then, darling," Orlando replied with a smile, stroking her hair.

As she continued speaking, though, he gradually became more and more uncomfortable with each prodding question that escaped Faithe's mouth. He knew where she was leading, and it was a place he'd rather not revisit. Then again, he didn't exactly want to keep anything from her. Gnawing nervously on his tongue, his brilliant blue eyes darted wildly about the room. Inside, he was screaming; outside, he just looked a little unnerved.

Closing his eyes as she ran her finger along his collar bone, Demeter's face flashed through his mind. Those blindingly emerald green eyes, the soft cherry lips, and her long, chesnut curls surrounding her pale face.... How many times he had run his fingers through her cascading tresses, gazing into her eyes as they laid below the crystal night sky. And, then, that one particular night, the way her eyes had held that burning fire...

"I love you, Orlando..." Her breathy words echoed through his mind, reviving lost memories that were much better off locked away.

Sighing, he opened his eyes and looked away from Faithe.

"I don't know what happened," he whispered, nearly inaudibly

Her eyebrows furrowing at his reaction, Faithe felt his body tense, saw the edgy look in his eyes. She would never want to pry into anything he wasn't willing to talk about. At the same time though, it may do him some good to talk about it. Using the couch, she pushed herself into a sitting position, pushing her tushy into his lap. Wrapping her arm closest to him, she reached out with her other hand. Lightly touching his chin, she diverted his face back towards hers.

"Hey," Faithe's voice came out soft and soothing, a reasurance tone, "Talk to me Orlando." There was nothing evasive or pushy about the way she said her words; it was a suggestion more than a direction. Moving her hand softly from his chin to his cheek, there was a deep look of concern in her dark eyes. She didn't like seeing him like this. Those eyes that always held a sparkle, a mischief to them, the passion. All that seemed lost for the moment being, and was replaced with sadness. Maybe regret?

Though he allowed Faithe to turn his head back towards her, his eyes continued to look past her, holding that ever-vacant, ambiguous look in them. His normally smiling lips had fallen into a blank stare. Slowly, the glaze melted and he looked into her eyes. He could see that she didn't want to press him, but that her curiousity was innocent, holding the same serenity that she herself did.

"It's not a fairy tale, exactly."

His relationship with Demeter had started out well enough. In fact, for the time it had lasted, Orlando had woken up every morning with a grin plastered on his face. Truly floating on air, nothing could ruin the wonderful mood that loving her, and being loved by her, had put him in. Engrossed and enamored with each other, life had been perfect. At least, for the time it had lasted...

"What do you want me to tell you?" he asked quietly. "Everything? Or just what you'll be able to handle?"

Her eyebrows furrowed together slightly as uncomfort settled in the pit of her stomach. She didn't like the idea of his not looking her in the eye; moreso, she didn't like it that he didn't feel he could look her in the eye. Stroking his cheek lightly, she felt the hair on the back of her neck prick up when he finally did look into her eyes. She could tell there was a void, and she was surprised at the mixture of emotions that she felt.

"Life isn't a fairy tale Orlando." Knowing the words brough no comfort, Faithe's eyes fell to the couch as she allowed the hand on his cheek to slip down. "Tell me as much as you're willing to tell me." Looking back up at him, her face held an expression of unrelenting concern. "I don't want to push you into opening up to me sweetheart."

"Alright."

Biting his lip for a moment, Orlando's gaze retreated to the distance and his head turned away from her once more, only slightly, this time, though. Telling her of his sinful past, he felt ashamed. Young, stupid, and in love, there were so many things he had wished he could have changed. Yet, what was done was done, and there was nothing that could change it now. Besides, Faithe deserved to know the truth.

"Her name was Demeter Elisabeth Lawrance," he said quietly, "and from September 14 of our seventh year here until last July 20, she was my world."

Casting a wary glance back at Faithe for a moment, then reverting his eyes to the wall past her, he continued.

"We had met back in fourth year, after we had been partnered up in Herbology, but, save that project, we didn't really speak to one another until seventh year, in the library one day. Professor Argonite had just assigned a rather extensive potions project, and, evidently, I had checked out the very book she needed. We ended up working together, and the relationship ended up growing from there."

Sighing to himself, he paused a minute to swallow the lump in his throat.

"She was a nice girl- sweet, pretty, fun to be around. I was completely enamored with her, as much as she was with me. But, being in love and young, equaled idiocy, and, eventually, we did some things, or rather, something, we shouldn't have. And, after that, when I realized how wrong it had been, I tried to rectify it, but Demeter didn't see things the way I did.

"I don't blame her though, she didn't know any better. We were both young, and stupid, I suppose. She thought I didn't need her anymore, that I didn't want her anymore. I did, though, I really did. But I couldn't make her understand what I was feeling, and she couldn't make me understand what she was feeling...

"I don't know how, and I don't know why, but, somehow, we had lost that connection we'd had. The way we'd been able to communicate absolutely everything to one another by just looking into the other's eyes... it was gone."

Orlando's voice was quiet now, sorrowful, even, and he spoke slowly, with a somber undertone in his voice.

"And so, she and I just faded away..."

Faithe listened intently, feeling slightly awkward. She could understand his hurt, but she couldn't sympathize with how it had felt. Her entire eighteen years on Earth, being in a relationship hadn't been anywhere on her priority, or even her possibilities list. This was sad though. His love, his life, all of it disapeared.

At the same time though, she couldn't picture Orlando doing something like that. It just didn't seem like him, but then again, there seemed to be a lot the two didn't know about each other. The very thought of his being with another female made Faithe feel very uneasy, but she had asked. She would never admit it, but she felt a small hint of jealousy and anger towards this woman. How could she just let him go over something as stupid as that? Orlando was the most remarkable person she had ever met, and he was certainly the most compassionate, and she just gave him up.

"Do you miss her?" It was an honest question. Despite the many prospective motives that she could be accused of for asking this question, she was asking more as a friend than anything else. She hated seeing him so forlorn. Of course, the idea of him being still in love with his ex- girlfriend made her feel incredibly uncomfortable, but she'd rather see him happy than anything else.

((On a completely random topic, I realized that there's quite a few inaccuracies in the Demeter story. First, in Supernova, I called her a Hufflepuff prefect and said they'd met that way. ignore that. Second, in the last post I made, it might have seemed like their relationship lasted from September of their seventh year until April of their seventh year, that's a mistake. It was from September of their seventh year, to the previous April before "present" day. Surry 'bout that. And, now, on with the plot!))

Faithe's words resonated through Orlando's head, bouncing off the walls of his skull. Inside an old filmstrip of memories played through his mind, reminding him of all the sheer magic that their relationship had entailed. The feeling of her straight, thin blond hair between his fingers, the sensation of her creamy skin against his body, the jolt he had gotten in his stomach every time her emerald eyes had stared into his, the way feeling her breath upon his neck had sent shivers down his spine.

Warm tears slowly began to fill Orlando's brilliant blue eyes, prompting them to shut in a futile effort to rid themselves of them. A small, almost mournful, breath passed through his lips as he returned his eyes to her.

Absentmindedly, his hand ran up her arm, to her shoulder, and then back down again. So young, so innocent, but so indescribably admirable. The look in her eyes, though it was one of concern for him, also held fear. She was scared- scared of losing him- and he could feel it. He was sure he had scared her, not only by speaking so fondly of Demeter, but also by speaking of things that the girl had yet to experience.

Seeing Faithe like that, though, so vulnerable, and yet, so willing to put herself on the line for him, Orlando felt his stomach grow weak with a combination of respect and desire for her. It was in that moment in which he realized just how deeply he felt for the girl.

"Yes, Faithe," he replied solemnly, "but the part of her that I miss is too far gone to dwell on. I've moved on; she's no longer my world."

Shifting his hand behind her neck, he gently leaned towards her while brining her face towards his own, until their lips met in a short, sweet, and gently kiss.

"You are," he whispered, opening his eyes to gaze into her.

After she had asked the question, she realized how awkward a position she must have put him in. Slightly regretting it, she reached up and touched his face lightly. Seeing his eyes fill with tears, she scolded herself. Running her thumb gently across his cheek bone, Faithe's look of concern only deepened.

She felt her stomach drop when he said 'yes,' but a look of understanding crossed her face. However, as he continued speaking, she couldn't help the flutter she felt in her stomach. The feel of his hand on the back of her neck sent a chill down her body. Had she been standing at that moment, she most likely would have fallen her knees felt so weak. Not a bad weak though.

"She didn't deserve you.' Whispering, she opened her eyes and looked at him, searching his face. The corners of her mouth turned up slightly, "I'm not saying I do because I think you deserve the best this world has to offer, but if she just let you go..." Her voice trailing off, she diverted her eyes to his shoulder, feeling her face turn slightly pink.

Though she had never experienced anything of the sort, she had a pretty good idea how he felt. She remembered the look on her brother's face, how he had been so hurt and pained. The only major difference between Orlando's situation and Jake's was that Jake had landed a child. Still, she hated seeing Orlando in so much pain. Jake had moved on from everything, but everything was still fresh in his mind...in his heart.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that Orlando. You didn't deserve it."

Faithe's little speech brought a blush to the man's cheeks, and he shook his head. If there was anyone in the world that was so worthy, it certainly wasn't him. He had his faults too, more than he'd care to have, and he certainly didn't regard himself all too highly. If anything, the man underrated himself.

The way Faithe spoke gave Orlando the idea that she saw him as infallible, and, that wasn't exactly true, especially not in his own mind. The end of the relationship hadn't been completely Demeter's fault, yet, it wasn't completely his either. After they had slept together, he had felt differently about it than her, and, not accustomed to having differing feelings, whatever had held them together had vanished into thin air.

Of course, he didn't know quite how to convey that to Faithe without making her feel uncomfortable, or to convey something so intense in a language as simple as words.

"Don't be sorry, Faithe," he whispered, stroking her hair as he spoke, "I'm not. Everything happened for a reason, and, for as much hurt as the end brought, there was twice as much elation while it lasted. Our youth and foolishness just got the best of us... We weren't ready for it, and we paid the consequences."

There, that was a nice, happy little conclusion. Orlando was quite proud of himself for being able to speak so calmly about something so painful, and, now that Faithe knew, he could move on.

"So," he said, no longer whispering, "you said you were hungry."

His eyes had returned to their typical brilliant blue and the sorrow in them had vanished.

"What would you like me to fix for you?" he asked with a grin. "I'm quite a chef..."

Gah...I love it when he blushes. He looks so adorable...so innocent. So perfect. Shaking her head to herself, a small smile played on her lips. Nobody was perfect, that was for sure. Just as all little girls had done when they were little, Faithe had imagined the picture of her Prince Charming, her Ken. Never would she have thought it possible for him to really exist, but here he was. Here she was, sitting in his lap and feeling nothing but adoration for the man.

Biting her lip at the thought of food, she shrugged modestly. "I don't want to put you through any trouble. Something light though, that's for sure. I really have no desire to see it again once it goes down my throat, and I'm sure you wouldn't be too thrilled at the prospect of it either." Grinning, she slid across his lap to sit next to him. Resting her head on his collarbone, her hand drifted up and rested on his chest. "You're too wonderful to possibly exist."

As she slithered off of his lap and, instead, leaned against his chest, Orlando smiled. Blushing again at her comment, he shook his head.

Mock-yawning, he laid his arm around the back of the sofa, just barely letting his hand drape over her bare shoulder as he leaned into her a little.

"Faithe," he said, rolling his eyes a little as he looked at her, "You're not putting me through any trouble. Besides, it's my fault you missed breakfast."

Slowly, and rather reluctantly, he moved her hand off of his chest, kissing it gently before returning it to her. Tapping his fingers upon her shoulder, he eased himself off the couch and made his way over to the pathetic excuse for a kitchen, which consisted of a small refrigerator, a counter, and a tiny two-burner stove.

"You like French toast?" he called back to her as he began to mix the eggs and milk together in a glass bowl.

A contented sigh escaped her as he draped his arm around her, laughing silently at the corny-ness of the yawning move. A whiny groan escaped her mouth as he slowly wiggled out from under her, poking out her bottom lip, she made her lip quiver. Turning her big brown eyes on him, she gave him a look that said You're leaving me? Smiling as he stood, she watched him walk into the kitchen. Standing up, she followed him into the kitchen.

"You'd better hope I say yes, or you would have just wasted milk and eggs." Grinning, she winked at him to show that she was kidding. "French toast would be mahvelous, my dear. As long as there's no butter or syrup on it." Smiling, she picked up the cinnamon bottle, turning it in her hand. Running her fingertips along the wood, a small smirk crossed her face.

Pouring a small amount of the dusty, brown powder, Faithe looked up at him while he stirred the contents of the bowl together. A mischievous glint in her eyes, she reached up and dotted cinnamon on his nose, the left side of her lips turning up into a smile.

Feeling the soft powder upon his nose, Orlando turned to Faithe, raising his eyebrows as he placed his hands upon his hips. She was just too cute.

Stopping stirring the batter, he pulled the spoon out of the bowl and flicked it at Faithe with a grin, spattering a bit of batter on her cheek.

He pointed at the cinnamon on his nose.

"You'd better clean this off," he said, leaning towards her with an undeniably impish smirk upon his lips.

Chuckling as he put his hands on his hips, her laughing stopping short as he flung batter all over her. Her jaw dropping to the ground, Faithe let out a rather loud gasp, a smile playing at her lips. Closing her mouth in a playful scowl, Faithe furrowed her eyebrows, amusement in her eyes.

I hope he didn't have his heart set on breakfast this morning. Reaching into the gooey batter, she grabbed a handful of it. Throwing it on his outstretched face, she made a special move to rub some of it on his nose. Laughing, she pointed at him, "There! I got it off!" Giggling uncontrollably, she took a few steps back, standing outside the doorway. Should she need to, Faithe was prepared to take off to the bathroom and lock herself in.

An incredulous gasp escaped Orlando's lips as he felt the gooey batter splash onto his face. The poor man had been half-hoping Faithe would lick the batter off his nose, but, then again, this wasn't so bad. Grinning, he wiped a hand down the side of his face, making a mental note to wash the batter out of his stubble before going to class later on.

Shaking his head at her, he took a deep breath... and a few steps towards her, losing the grin on his face and, instead, replacing it with a deceiving smile.

"You're adorable," he whispered, letting his brilliant blue eyes stare mesmerizingly deep into her dark ones. Slowly reaching up his hand, as to not draw attention to it, he gently ran his fingertips through her hair. Once the deed had been completely, he grinned again and squeezed the rest of the goo from his hand into her hair.

Hearing him thunder into the room, a wide grin spread over Faithe's face, covering the look of innocence that she had held in her eyes earlier. Shrieking as he tackled her onto the bed, her nose wrinkled at the messy liquid that now covered the two, and the bed. Looking up at him, she started giggling uncontrollably, reaching up and brushing away a piece of egg that was beginning to drip into his eye.

"You're such a mess!" Talk about playing Captain Obvious. Her giggling dying down, Faithe stared up at him, a smile of adoration and affection on her face. He's too perfect. He looks so adorable covered in...er...milk and eggs. Shaking her head, she couldn't wipe the smile off her face. "I told you I would be all right. It was just a matter of time passing."

Matching her grin with one of his own, Orlando just looked down at Faithe for a moment. His body was half over hers, yet his arms were still rigid, suspending him above her. Dark, unruly locks, covered with French toast batter, hung over his forehead, dripping it over his face, and, occasionally, onto Faithe's face. As her hand reached up and altered the course of one such piece of egg, his eye twitched shut for an instant.

"Yes, I am," he replied with a broad, boyish grin, "And it's all your fault!"

Laughing for a moment, then returning to just grinning, Orlando's gaze caught Faithe's again, and, this time, couldn't find the power to look away. Lost in her eyes, his grin melted to a soft smile as his elbows bent just enough to lower his lips to hers for a moment. For a moment, his chest rested atop of hers, not so that his entire weight was upon her though; then he pulled back, slowly rolling off to her left, his elbows bending entirely to accommodate such a maneuver.

"Good, I'm glad you're alright."

Propping himself up on his elbows, a smile permeated his face once more as his eyes flitted amusedly around the ransacked room.

"So, is this all a guy has to do to get you in his bed?" Orlando joked, "Try to make you breakfast?"

Gasping dramatically, Faithe covered her mouth, her brown eyes widening in a look of shocked innocence that clearly said I'm guilty. "My fault? I know nothing of what you speak!" Blowing a raspberry out of her mouth, she returned the warm smile to Orlando. Returning his kiss, she groaned slightly as he rolled off, the sudden weight of his body taking her off guard.

Turning her head to face him as he propped himself up, the gasp that followed his last comment wasn't fake. Slapping him lightly on his shoulder, Faithe sat up straight. "I cannot believe you would say something like that to me!" There was barely a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, but her comment was real. "I've never even so much as kissed a guy offstage until now!"

Raising her left eyebrow, she bit her bottom lip. "But I'm sure you didn't need to know that." Feeling her face turn a light shade of pink, she dropped her eyes to the mess on the bed. Offering him a weak smile, she looked up at him slowly, "Good thing you're a wizard. Otherwise you might not have too much fun cleaning this up."

As Faithe gasped disbelievingly, Orlando couldn't help the broad, boyish grin from taking over his face as a stream of chuckles poured from his mouth. After shooting her a mock-hurt look as her hand smacked his shoulder, he just shrugged, finding her incredulity, like most things about her, adorable.

The next bit that came out of her mouth, however, caught him slightly off guard. It wasn't that he had thought Faithe to be a licentious girl, or anything of the sort, but he definitely couldn't believe that he was her first real kiss. Blushing a bit, his cheeks matching the color of hers quite nicely, the boyish grin died down to a sheepish smile. Just as there was something humbling about that, there was also something shameful in a sense. Thinking back to the previous night, he gnawed slightly on his tongue, feeling bad that he hadn't tried to make her first kiss a little nicer to remember.

As what he wanted to convey had pretty much been accurately depicted through body language, Orlando chose not to verbally comment. Instead, his Orlando-y smile returned to his face and his hand reached up, and took Faithe's hand in it.

"Good thing indeed," he agreed, "Or else, [I]you'd[/I] have quite the mess to clean up."

Seeing him blush, her cheeks grew an even deeper shade of red. Covering her eyes, she shook her head, an embarrassed smile on her face. I cannot believe I just told him that. Feeling extremely stupid, she stuck her tongue out at him for his last comment.

"I don't think so. You made the mess! I had not gotte anything on your bed, thank you. You were the one, my dear, who came jumping onto the bed like Tarzan." Winking, she squeezed his hand gently. Standing up on the bed, she walked over to the edge and hopped off, almost losing her balance. Making her way to the bathroom, she grabbed a washrag, trying to make an attempt at cleaning up. "You punk! You got me all nasty!"

Smirking at Faithe's display of mortification, Orlando just shook his head at her little tongue gesture.

"Oh, really?" he retorted with a grin, "And, exactly who was it that poured the entire contents of that bowl all over me? Because, unless my logic is flawed, I do believe that's the reason why I'm covered in French toast batter, ma cherie."

Rolling his eyes as she hopped off the bed, Orlando rolled over onto his back, twisting his body so that his head hung off the edge of the bed, looking upside-down at her as she began wiping the batter off of herself.

"Punk?" he repeated, "What a word for someone of your intellect. And, for your information, Faithe, you were the one whose eyes were begging for me to jump on you."

Punctuating the statement with a wink, he procured his wand from the back pocket of his jeans and "swish-and-flick"ed it, murmuring a spell whose cleaning effect was immediately evident. His face was spotless, and the bedding was clean and batter-free.

"So, what time is it?" he asked randomly, curious as to how much more time he had with her before second period began.

Faithe turned and smiled at him, blowing a raspberry at him. Slapping herself in the forehead, she walked over to the edge of the bed. Sweetie, you're a witch. Poking her bottom lip out, she looked at him with her brown eyes holding a pleading look. "Do me, do me!" Wincing slightly, she smirked at how that came out.

"Will you please clean me off?" Scratching her head, she laughed lightly at how strange it sounded, even to her own ears. "I'm just going to stop talking now." Well, now that you have made a complete moron of yourself, my dear...

"I wouldn't say much about my 'intellect.' More about my lack of." Shaking her head, she plopped onto the bed, laying her head on his stomach as she laid facing his dangling head. "Second period starts in about fifteen minutes."

Sighing in response to her raspberry, Orlando's brilliant blue eyes rolled themselves amusedly, which looked quite peculiar, as his head was upside- down. A loud, amused chuckle rang out as Faithe begged him to "do her", and then to clean her off. It was strange how such simple, clean phrases had such dirty connotations. especially in the man's mind. He had been through so much as a result of such suggested actions, and yet could still laugh at a harmless joke like that.

Of course, although he did laugh, and did find it comical, there was a part of him that was slightly disturbed by it. Since he, as opposed to Demeter, had been the one who had really pushed for them to "seize the moment", he felt a slight pang of guilt as the thought of doing the same with Faithe crossed his mind, not only because of the effect on his and Dem's relationship, but also because the thought of corrupting someone so pure and innocent crossing his mind repulsed him in a sense.

Pointing his wand at her, he repeated the spell, and, instantaneously, Faithe was clean. Good thing, too, he thought as she lay her head down upon his stomach. Reaching up an arm, he draped it across her stomach, or, at least, as far as he could reach thataway. Regardless, he took extra care to make sure his arm landed between her chest and her hips.

Moving ever so slightly, he lifted his head back onto the bed, but kept it down on the bed, not really making much of an effort to look at her while he spoke.

"You are too intelligent, 'ma Foi'," Orlando replied, casually slipping in a little French nickname, "One of the most brilliant people I've ever met."