Pressed up against the wall in the grasp of none other than the Queen of cold herself, their lips locked in a fiery display of passion, is Alastor. My Alastor. The very same Alastor that I pranced around with in meadows of lush green catkins in the summer, and scampered away from my mother when she caught us snooping in her meetings. The Alastor that threw open those curtains on the morning of my wedding and kissed me before in my wedding gown I was to be whisked away forever and into the hands of a boy I had never met.
The Alastor that came down to the depths of the Downside just to be with me. The Alastor who made a deal with the second best Devil.
My Alastor.
He doesn't much seem like my Alastor any longer.
