A/N: There is something in this chapter that seems a bit Mary-Sue-ish to me (you'll know when you get there). But I've been planning for it to happen for ages, so I can't retract it at the last moment. Alrescha is an odd, archetypal Mary Sue in a way, but I think she's not totally vomit-inducing. She is Darcy and Selena put together, in my opinion. And I said in the first chapter after the prologue that Darcy and Selena were basically two halves of a whole.
The Scribe's Resurrection
Part Five: Chapter Thirty-Two
Monday, July 3, 1995
The magic on Sirius and Selena's house was decaying. She felt it when she walked in the door. How strange it was, Selena thought, that this place used to hold so much joy. And now, here it was, filled with dust and memories. Life was changing again. This place, this beautiful old home, was just so melancholy now. Years ago- almost fifteen years? My how time flies- this home would've been filled with laughing friends, half-empty butterbeer bottles, and the sound of rich music.
Selena set to doing maintenance on the house while Alrescha made sure all of the entrances were sealed tight. Selena felt so angry about this house, this place that was so close to her heart. This was the place that she first made love to Sirius, this was the place that she lost Raphael, and this was the place that she'd known she'd lost Lily and James. Her anger rose, not because of the sadness that still pervaded the house, but the happy times. Wasn't the house suffering too? Didn't it also miss the giggling babies and the stupid jokes the Marauders made? Somehow, Selena felt like she'd failed her home. Like she failed to reassure it her love. She'd come back, dear house with no name. Don't worry- one day, somehow there would be new lovers with hopes in you, new children growing and hiding in your arches, new friends making toasts in your living room. Selena patted the threshold of the home.
"I love this house," Alrescha spoke. "I love all our houses, but this one… This one seems different, like it never got a chance."
"Yeah. Let's get a move on."
The next house, the Knox Manor, confused Selena. Alrescha knew it better than she- the young woman visited every other weekend. She knew all about the Knoxes now. That Darth and Delano Knox did not ever visit- they lived in London. Of course, they didn't know about Alrescha, and Alrescha did not want them to. But this home had a special place in the hearts of Alrescha and Selena. Though Darcy was not born here, it was the place where she began her trek to becoming a songstress. All of her old tapes and records and notebooks were here. Her old piano and guitar and gramophone. Her old dresses and shoes and ribbons. Her songstress life lived here. It was going to become a safe house for the Order, one that people could stay in when they were on the run.
Selena noted that this house had a different kind of melancholy. It was of empty promises, this one. This house had intended to be so much, and it had never experienced anything. It was happy with what it had, but wistful because it could have been so much more. No friends had visited, no babies, no anything. No lovers, even. Darcy and Regulus had been living in Brighton when he'd gone missing. The house had shrunk in size, frankly, only because the lonely Darcy had been living in it. However, it was full of light when Darcy was living in it, one could see. But now, there were patches of dust covering the windows, making a rather speckled light come in. Broken promises. The house had wanted to be so much. Don't you worry, Knox Manor. Alrescha will take care of you, Selena thought. You'll have that young family, one way or another.
They did not speak in this house.
The last house they visited before retuning to Grimmauld Place was the Belladonna Estate. This house, Alrescha had decided, was the strongest of the three. It stood since before the early sixties, and it would stand for much longer than that. It had bore everything so far with a ferocity that was so like Selena. Murders, births, deaths, funerals. It had never decreased in size, even though it was far too big for the Rivieras when they had lived in it. Alrescha admired its resilience.
Selena knew why this house was sad. This house was a reflection of her. It was hidden away, just watching life go by. Even though she could live in other houses, Selena always returned to this one. Always. It was a secret house. The perimeter around it had been expanded to a half mile. There was room for a lot of things now, and the house seemed small on its property on paper- but it was too majestic, nestled in its little burrow of trees. This house was Selena's favorite. It knew everything. Seen everything. Heard everything. The people she loved were buried here. Her parents, baby Raphael, Darcy. Selena wondered just how many more people she loved would be placed into the Belladonna Estate's earth.
"The belladonna plant," Alrescha began, "aren't it's roots the most poisonous?"
"Yes. That's why people don't like the plant. If it's strong enough, it can poison the soil. The berries can draw in babies and little kids who don't know any better. They eat them, and they die. Just two berries can kill a baby."
"But it's used in the Wolfsbane Potion."
"Yes, I know. I told Damocles Belby about its properties, actually." Alrescha nodded.
"Weird how the plant by itself is so deadly that it can kill, but when it's with other things, it's so helpful."
"People only see certain things as units. Individual units."
"Hm." Alrescha paused. "How come we came here last?"
Selena didn't answer aloud, only because she knew Alrescha already knew the answer. Alrescha was making a point. They'd gone to the Belladonna estate last because it was the most important- they'd gone to all the houses in their degree of importance.
Saturday, July 8, 1995
Privet Drive in Little Winging, Surrey
Alrescha adjusted her hair and blouse before ringing the bell of the Dursleys' home. The basket she cradled was more or less full, and she was definitely ready to put it down. Alrescha had gone from the Underground to here, by bus and by walking. Little Winging was a very odd sort of place, she thought. All the houses, prim and orderly, seemed to be copies of one another.
"Hello?" A thin, sallow woman answered the door. She looked Alrescha up and down, and then decided to give a strange, somewhat forced smile.
"Hello. You must be Mrs. Dursley."
"Yes."
"I'm Alrescha Black. I'm here to visit Harry Potter- your nephew."
"…I'm sorry, you must have the wrong-"
"No, I don't. I'm his godsister. I thought I told your husband, Mr. Dursley, that I was coming back at Kings' Cross. I thought that he would've told you."
"I, er-"
"I do love your hydrangea bushes, Mrs. Dursley. Such a lovely shade of blue. Are they terribly hard to keep?" Alrescha was being oh so very proper.
"Why thank you- and not at all. They're quite-"
"Petunia, who is it?" She heard a call from inside the home.
"Um-" Alrescha only smiled.
"Alrescha?" Harry came into view. "You came!"
"Hi, Harry!" Alrescha pushed Petunia aside gently and entered the house. She half-hugged him, as she had a basket. She winked at him as she stepped back. "Mrs. Dursley, I brought you some flowers." She pulled out a small pot of petunias.
"Oh, oh thank you."
"You're welcome."
"Petunia, I said, who is it-?" Mr. Dursley entered the foyer and eyed Alrescha suspiciously. "Oh, you."
"Nice to see you again, Mr. Dursley. Looking well. I brought you something too." She pulled out a bottle of brandy. "I'm told it's a nice year-?"
"Well." Mr. Dursley nodded. "Thank you." Harry was practically suffocating with laughter; she was killing them with kindness, and they couldn't simply throw her out. She'd worn her regular attire, which today consisted of tapered, floral shorts and a very billowy blouse with a cardigan. She looked too put-together for them to deny her, and well, what would the neighbors say if they had? She was even taking off her shoes in the house.
"So, how're you?"
"As good as can be expected, I guess." Alrescha nodded.
"Where d'you sleep?"
"Upstairs. C'mon." She followed Harry up the stairs and into his room.
"Blimey, it's teeny, Harry."
"I know." Harry sighed. "I don't mind much, though." Alrescha set the basket down on the dresser. Harry had the strangest urge to clean up a bit, but that'd do no good, and besides, Alrescha was used to clutter. Harry had never had a guest before- well, other than the Weasleys, but that was short.
"I brought you food," she said. "I know they don't feed you. They never feed you. It's from Mrs. Weasley, actually. Very liberal with the portions." Alrescha chuckled lightly to herself.
"You've been to the Burrow?"
"Just came from there this morning. But I probably won't be going back for a little while." Alrescha couldn't talk about Grimmauld Place. "But you should be able to see Hermione and Ron soon. I mean, once everything gets arranged and the Ministry quiets down. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley have been really busy." Alrescha sat on the bed. "So, what's up with you?"
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Trying to get a piece of news from somewhere, anywhere at all about anything."
"I didn't bring a Prophet for you, I'm sorry," said Alrescha hesitantly.
"It's fine."
"Oh! Bulgaria's winning again- I saw in one of the Quidditch magazines Fred and George've got, and-" She shook her head. "But you know who's coming up?"
"Who?"
"Spain." Alrescha sifted through the basket. "I think I brought the magazine, actually. Yep!" She handed it to him.
"Thanks! Oh, how are the twins doing anyway?"
"They're working like crazy, actually. They've got tons of new things, bought books on business, and they're- keep this quiet- thinking about getting premises. They dunno where yet, but probably in Diagon Alley or the next one over."
"Really? The gold getting them far?"
"They haven't even put a dent in it, to be honest. They're just buying things they know they'll need now- you know, better cauldrons and potions kits- real high end ones. They've got encyclopedias, now, to tell them what everything's for."
"Sounds like they're studying now more than they ever did!"
"Haha, yeah. That's for sure."
The Next Day
Sunday, July 9, 1995
Alrescha bounced into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, quite keyed-up and holding a frayed, folded midnight blue pamphlet.
"Mum!" She faltered when she realized that they had company. "Oh, hi, Uncle Remus. Hi, Tonks."
"Wotcher." Nymphadora Tonks gave an amiable smile, while Remus replied to Alrescha's greeting with a very haggard half-wave. Alrescha turned back to her mother.
"Mum, I figured out what I want for my birthday present."
"Oh?" Selena stirred a pot of a viscous red substance on the stove.
"Alrescha, can you set the table, please?" Sirius asked, shifting in his chair, looking down at a copy of the Daily Prophet.
"Dad! I can't right now- this is important!"
"Alrescha, just set the table."
"Here, Mum." She pressed the pamphlet into Selena's palm and began pulling out plates from the cupboards, readying the table for six people. When she took the paper, Selena already knew what it would say, but she skimmed the words anyway, knowing where Alrescha had gotten the blue pamphlet from.
"Alright, then."
"Really?"
"You did say anything. But we've got to practice harder and in front of people. No doubt they'll put you in front of a whole panel and everything just to prove your strength."
"What're you talking about?" Sirius looked up inquiringly. His wife handed over the information packet. Sirius only read for two seconds before he voiced his discontent.
"No. Absolutely not. Selena, do you know what this is? What it requires?" Selena nodded, tasting the pasta sauce.
"Of course I do."
"What is it?" Remus asked. Alrescha only sat beside Tonks. Sirius couldn't tell her no- she wouldn't stand for it, and Alrescha would probably just ignore him. It wasn't even about Sirius, really, and while she was on the subject, Alrescha decided, it wasn't even about her. To be frank.
"She wants a WWN Extensor," said Sirius slowly.
"Blimey, Alrescha, you sure about that?" Tonks looked over at her cousin.
"What's that?" Remus did not pay very much attention to the Wizarding Wireless Network, only turned it on occasionally.
"It allows the user to connect their voice to the WWN with just a password that they say. It's like their own private channel, to be turned on whenever they feel like it. They could send secret messages or even set it up so select people can hear. It can also change your voice, widen the octave range. But the catch is you have to get an operation, and well, the last person to get it done a few decades back, his body rejected it and he lost his voice. Your voice has gotta be strong for that, and you're likely to receive a lot of press. That's why I ask, are you sure about that, Alrescha?"
"I'm very sure."
"Absolutely not, You've got school, not to mention it's risky-"
"Dad, I want it. I really do." She paused. "I want to help the Order, and I can. With my voice. People can be recruited or informed passively through subliminal messages in music. People take things easier if they can turn it off or laugh it off with comedy-" a nod to Fred and George's joke shop- "But they'll think about it late at night, play it, or sing it. They'll see the message eventually and take up arms. I can be the voice of the Order, Dad. The voice of those who fight. I'm not afraid. The Order of the Phoenix. The song of a phoenix gives strength and hope to those it sings for. I want to be that song, that voice." Alrescha needed something like this. It was asking too much, really it was, to be projected into the media at this point in time, to ask for something so drastic as an operation to extend her voice beyond the casual room.
"She's right," Moody stepped into the room. "We need someone like her. Alrescha can do what, say, Dumbledore can't. He can't get into the Prophet, or Witch Weekly. People think Dumbledore's a crock, a load of rubbish. But a young woman who plays Quidditch who does well at school who looks and sings like an angel! She's perfect, Sirius! And she wants to do it! I say let her. You can't deter those who want to fight. It's their fight too. Probably more so than ours." Alrescha beamed at Mad-Eye Moody, whose blue eye was fixed on her.
"Thank you, Alastor. That's exactly what I think." Selena gazed at Sirius, wanting him to understand that she couldn't deny Alrescha this. "Those who are able should fight. Any way they can."
"It sounds helpful to me," Remus whispered, surprised that even he agreed, "once you get past the operation part."
"Yeah! And I'm working really hard, Dad. Honest."
"Alright." Sirius knew the battle had been lost. He looked around, quite uncomfortable. "Er, let's eat."
"I'm starving!" Tonks rubbed her hands together, her hair turning a healthy shade of green. "Funny, the last person who applied to get a WWN Extensor was that famous songstress in the late seventies- Darcy Knox. I love her work so much- I grew up listening to her. It's so sad that she got that parasite on her heart- made her not able to do it. Ugh." Tonks shook her head sadly, thinking. Little did she know the gravity of her words on the people at the table, especially on Selena and Alrescha.
Tuesday, July 11, 1995
The Ministry of Magic was a place that Selena was both fascinated and disgusted with. And lately, she'd been going with the disgusted side. Fudge had initiated a new promotion, one to reassure everyone that Voldemort wasn't back. Something about "nationalism and unity between wizards and magic-folk alike." That included wrapping the Daily Prophet around his finger and "reforming" Hogwarts. This was one of those days where Hogwarts was being reformed.
Selena hobbled out of the meeting with Albus Dumbledore, shaking her head.
"That woman's just going to butt her way into everything. I wouldn't be surprised if she tried to surpass you as Headmaster."
"What can we do?" Dumbledore sighed. "Cornelius has placed Dolores Umbridge at the school to investigate me and how the school is run."
"He really is so afraid of admitting the truth." Selena shook her head. "Well, Albus, I'll be going now."
"Where are you headed to?"
"To seal Alrescha's archival records. When she formally announces her WWN decision, there's no doubt in my mind that the Prophet will make Level Ten's archives their first stop." Dumbledore nodded. He knew all about Alrescha's campaign for the Order of the Phoenix, and he had never said she could not do it.
"You risk much for her," Dumbledore softly said.
"She's one of the people I treasure above all else, Albus. You know what it's like to have that person. You want to give them everything before it all ends." The wizened man smiled sadly and gave Selena's shoulder a pat.
"I will see you later. Do not forget to create a curriculum for the Spell-Making extension proposal. I am sure it will go through, but it is always good to be prepared. I fear that we will even need to extend Spell-Making to first years at some point." Selena understood.
"Of course."
Saturday, July 15, 1995
Alrescha was going to go by herself, but the fact that she was taking the London Underground had lured Fred and George out of Grimmauld Place. She actually had tempted them with the prospect of getting away from their parents after Percy had gone off to London. A nasty fight had ensued with the Weasleys and the third eldest Percy, leaving a very electric, thin air around Grimmauld Place. After sending a quick owl to Angelina that the Twins were also coming and spending the night, the three friends headed out. The Twins marveled at muggle transport, and Alrescha could see the gears turning in their adventurous heads.
Angelina resided in a small muggle village not unlike Hogsmeade. It had its own hustle and bustle, as a college was the main attraction. As such, Angelina's town was filled with oddities that one can only find in college towns. Small shops, nightclubs, bookstores, and music stores were everywhere.
On the corner of the street, Angelina's house sat. Three bedrooms, one vacant due to her brother's recent move to London to work at the Ministry. Angelina and her parents lived quietly. Her father was a professor at the college, and her mother worked for the WWN's Ministry station.
When they got to the house, Angelina's parents welcomed them, paying very close attention to Fred (or what they thought was Fred)- Angie had talked about him a lot, apparently. George almost fell out laughing when Fred accidentally stated that he was "George, not Fred, I mean Gred, I mean-." And now they were in the living room talking by themselves- Mr. and Mrs. Johnson were going out for much of the night to a gala.
"Well, if it's what you want to do, I don't have a problem with it." Angelina shrugged, getting another handful of popcorn. "Just don't forget me when you get all famous."
"I'd never forget you, Angie." The grey-eyed girl smiled. Angelina was, no doubt, her best friend. She had to tell her that she had put in her application for the operation only two days before. And Alrescha felt so much better now that she had her friend's approval.
"We're leaving now," Mrs. Johnson announced, wearing a ball gown.
"Aw, Mum, you look great. You too, Dad."
"Thanks. We'll probably be back late."
"Alright."
"Bye, Angie's parents."
"See you, Mr. and Mrs. Johnson."
"Bye." Angelina shut and locked the front door after them and watched them drive off.
"Finally! Okay, time to get ready."
"I thought they'd never leave," Fred said, letting out a breath. He'd been on edge ever since he met his girlfriend's parents. "We're we going exactly?"
"Muggle party," replied Angelina. "C'mon. I can show you where you're sleeping while we're upstairs." Upstairs, at the very end of the hall were two doors that led to two bedrooms that were connected by a shared bathroom. On the left was the room Fred and George were to share. On the right, Angelina's room was going to be shared by the two girls.
"I brought these," Alrescha said, taking clothes out of her bag.
"Ughhh," Fred and George, in synch and on cue, groaned.
"The inevitably bloody long time-"
"That girls take to put on clothes."
"We do not take a long time," Angelina muttered darkly. "You know that's Katie and Alicia."
"If you have a problem with it, you can go wait downstairs, you know."
"Yeah, yeah. Can we use the shower first, then?"
"Sure." Angelina waved them out the room.
---
"They're not home," Angelina said, whispering to the other three. "Geez, that party must be really wicked." She unlocked the side door, letting them all in. They moved to the kitchen.
"That was brilliant," said Fred.
"I didn't know Muggles knew how to party." George took the bottle of water Angelina handed to him.
"I didn't know either until last summer."
"The band was great," Alrescha said. "I've never played with people before, improvising like that."
"You were awesome, seriously." Angelina chomped on one of the cookies that was out on the platter in the kitchen. "Everyone in there was really into it."
"Thanks. It was fun."
"And when you started singing to the guitarist, that was well bad," chuckled Fred. "I thought he was gonna piss his pants."
"He was cute," Angelina mumbled to Alrescha, nudging her.
"You're awful." Alrescha giggled behind her hand. "Blimey, don't think I'm tired in the slightest."
"It's three in the morning!"
"I know, it's bad!"
"We should get ready for bed anyway."
"Yeah." The four trudged up the stairs. Alrescha began musing, wondering why George was being so silent. Of course, out of the two, he was the quieter one, but still. Had she done something? He was perfectly fine when they left. He'd held her hand all the way to the house party. It was bothering her, especially when he didn't give her a goodnight kiss. He even gave her them in Grimmauld Place. And didn't stop when the portraits whistled, either.
"Rescha."
"Hm?"
"You keep zoning out."
"Sorry. What'd you say?"
"I asked if you wanted me to put it up."
"Sure." Angie sighed, putting the brush down after she put Alrescha's hair up into a ponytail.
"What's on your mind?"
"Nothing- well, did I do something to make George mad?" Alrescha looked at her friend in the mirror, clutching a pillow that she'd brought from her house.
"I dunno. You were looking really happy onstage with that Muggle bloke, but Fred almost never gets jealous, so I'd think George wouldn't either." Alrescha's bottom lip stuck out a bit. That was it.
"He's very much the jealous type."
"Really?" Angelina shrugged, snuggling under the covers. "Hm."
"Angie." Alrescha turned in the bed.
"Yeah."
"How far have you and Fred gone?"
"You definitely know the answer to that."
"Yeah, but I mean, when? How long had you two been dating?"
"Well, first time was the night of the Yule Ball. So… six months off and on, six months of straight dating."
"Oh." Alrescha wanted to ask more, but she felt like she was prodding into things she shouldn't ask. Like when she asked her mother about her own love life.
"It's fine. We were each other's first. Fred was kinda freaking out because George had gone farther than him already."
"With who!?" Alrescha asked, whipping her body around.
"Erm, a girl in Hufflepuff. She graduated already. Irene Comfrey."
"That Hufflepuff Keeper?" Alrescha buried her face into her pillow. "Ergh. I didn't even know they'd gone out."
"Technically they weren't dating, if that makes you feel any better."
"It doesn't."
"Hey! George wasn't well into her like he's with you!"
"When?"
"I think it was during our fifth year."
"Hm." Two years ago, and she hadn't even known.
"Alrescha, that was a long time ago."
"I know."
"We should go to sleep, Rey." Angelina cut off the lamp. "It's alright. Don't dwell on it. They hardly knew each other, and George loves you, not her."
"Night…"
"Good night." Actually, that wasn't the point, thought Alrescha. First of all, it was the fact that she didn't know. She could forgive that, though, there were a lot of things the Twins did that she had no clue about. But second- how could he have those relations (Alrescha couldn't bear to think the words "one night stand") with someone he didn't intend to stay with- no, that wasn't it. Alrescha could quite possibly be jealous. She slipped out of the bed with her pillow.
"I'll be back," she mumbled.
"Mkay." Angelina sighed. She'd regretted telling her.
Alrescha walked out of the bedroom and ran straight into someone.
"Ouch!"
"Ah!" The person looked down. "Sorry."
"'S alright. Is George still awake?"
"Yeah. Angie's awake, right?"
"Yeah." They passed each other and went into opposite rooms. "G'night, Fred."
"G'night, Rescha." Alrescha tupped into the dark room, clutching her pillow to her chest like before. She stumbled over the edge of the bed.
"Sheesh," she whispered to herself, crawling onto the covers.
"Hi," George said.
"Hello." The young woman arranged her pillow on the bed next to George's and settled in. It was silent before she said, "You didn't kiss me goodnight."
The room was devoid of noise. George knew Alrescha wasn't asleep, and Alrescha knew George was well awake.
"Why're you so quiet? Thinking about that singer?"
"AH! NO!" Alrescha shoved him.
"I'm kidding."
"I know." She took his hand and blushed upon noticing that he wasn't wearing a shirt. She pushed those thoughts out of her mind- she'd seen him change hundreds of times in the locker room. "Sorry about that. I was just singing for fun, George. That was just a quick song I made up just then."
"You write any songs about me?"
"Loads."
"Good." Alrescha fell silent, putting her head back on the pillow. She sighed. "Alright, what's wrong?" George sat up, propping himself up on his elbow. A spicy, herbal scent wafted over her.
"Hm?"
"Something's up. You're so transparent sometimes." Alrescha groaned, and George started laughing.
"Irene Comfrey," grumbled the grey-eyed girl.
"Oh."
"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I'm sorry I brought it up."
"No, no, I should've told you a while ago." George stroked her hair. A deep sinking feeling resonated within Alrescha, and she wished she hadn't said a word. She felt funny now. "Irene was just a fling, I didn't feel very much for her."
"I know."
"Do I sense jealousy?" George poked her stomach.
"Don't joke!" Alrescha buried her face into his torso. "You love me, right?"
"Of course I do." George perked up. "What is that noise?" Alrescha listened in. The realization of what was going on in the adjacent bedroom dawned on both of them. They both broke into peals of giggles and sniggers.
"Don't they know her parents can probably hear them?"
"I can't believe they didn't soundproof the room!" George chuckled, taking his wand off the bedside table. He waved it twice, and the sound from the other room ceased.
"You're such a good brother."
"Heh, I know. Still want that goodnight kiss?"
"Please." George drew her closer with his free arm, and his lips met hers. Alrescha's fingers made their way into his hair, making his body adjust to be on top of hers. She moaned into his mouth, making him smirk. Suddenly it felt like clothes were creating far too much distance between them; George's hands crept up her nightshirt. And she let him- his hands were so warm. Everything about him created so much heat. The warmth from his fingertips burned into her skin, causing her to squirm and shiver. And he knew it too- he thought it was hilarious how he could feel her body melt. Like chocolate liquefying in the mouth, but she tasted so much better than that. Oh, Merlin, she tasted so much better than that. His hand stroked her hips, right in that ticklish spot. She moved down to his shoulder, half-kissing, half-licking every piece of skin she touched. He groaned a bit, shivering- he wondered how she knew to do that, where she'd learned to do-
"AH!"
"OW!"
In their fervor, they'd fallen out of the bed. They laid there for a moment, stunned.
"Alright?"
"Yeah. You?"
"Peachy," replied George. He snorted and began to laugh. Alrescha followed suit and gave him a kiss on the jaw.
"You're squishing me!" The redhead pulled himself up with his arms around his girlfriend. She was still laughing as he put her on the bed. They calmed down, and Alrescha placed her head on his shoulder.
"Sing me a song," he suddenly said, yawning. Alrescha thought for a moment, and then settled on a melody that had been playing in her head the other day.
"Can't you see? There's a feeling that's come over me. Close my eyes- you're the only one that leaves me completely breathless." It was a simple tune, and Alrescha had never meant for anyone to hear it, but George was faintly smiling, even though his eyes were closed. She began making things up. "You're in my heart, the only light that shines there in the dark."
By the time she was finished, George was very asleep, arm wrapped around her waist. Alrescha stared a while at his innocent slumbering face, and then finally tucking her head under his. A tear rolled down her cheek.
Author's Ending Note:
Um, a lot of the songs I quote are real songs- I haven't made them up. Do you see what I mean about the Mary Sue bits? It's the WWN Extensor that makes it weird.
CAN YOU TELL THAT I LOVE LOVE ANGELINA? GAH, I love her. 3