Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any associated characters. They belong solely to J.K. Rowling in affiliation with Bloomsbury publishing, Warner Bros, and anyone else.

Many say that the eyes are the window to the soul. They say that everything can be seen and told through eyes. But those people have never felt all the emotions that can be poured into a heartfelt kiss. In one kiss you can read everything about a person, you can find where their insecurities lies, what their fears are, what they thrive on, and what kind of person they are generally. It all started out as a game for me, an attempt to prove I wasn't insane, that I had full control over my past memories again. I could already read everyone I had met, it was an unfortunate side effect of a powerful memory charm and a faulty wand, everyone but Firenze. The Centaur. The unreadable. He who answered questions with questions in a paradox answer. I needed to know him, I needed to prove
that I was powerful, that I no longer needed to steal others accomplishments.

I watched Firenze for months as he pranced around the refugee house located in Chile, the only place Voldemort had yet to infiltrate and the only place that war survivors could hide while waiting for a new plan of action. Voldemort had taken over North America, a shock to everyone, two months ago. It was right after he had taken down Germany and France simultaneously. Great Britain, Bulgaria, Italy, the Netherlands, and Egypt had
fallen nearly a year ago now. Voldemort showed little mercy, his laws were strict, and pure bloods were imprisoned for the slightest wrong, while Half-Bloods and Muggleborns were killed outright. Firenze seemed unworried though, he'd just stare wistfully up at the star filled sky at night, a slight sad smile on his face.

I'd often ask him what the stars held, and he would answer me with general statement that would always sound so impossible and yet true. I needed to know though what the future held; it was part of what would prove me. I had to know who Firenze was; it would be a secondary goal that would build me up even more. So I set a trap. Centaurs can not resist mazes, especially mazes that hold moon grass at the center. By the moon grass is where I would wait for him to be captured by the magical rope. That was when I would kiss him, find out all the answers to the future, find out what made him tick, and find out what created that damned sad and wistful smile he had whenever he looked at the stars.

I didn't have to wait long before he showed up at the entrance of the maze. It wasn't hard to hear him; his footsteps had a distinctive sound. I listened to his every patter, the every clomp of his hoofed feet, waiting for the moment which he would come to the center and spring the trap. The dew lent cold to the night but I was to exited, joyous to prove myself and the get all the answers I wanted to shiver from the power of the colds breath.

At last his strong forelegs touched upon the slight glimmer of the magic ropes springing the trap. Within moments Firenze was hanging from his four legs his head down, his face reminiscent of a man gone to the executioner, and yet he looked resigned to his face. He never fought it as I stepped forward from the moon grass, though he did look mildly surprised at just who it was who captured him before the human eyebrows closed over those all knowing eyes. I leaned forward and with a gentle pressure our lips were connected. Thousands of thoughts rushed forward from the Centaur into my mind. Millions of triumphs laid in that one kiss. Within seconds I had more then I could bare from the Firenze.

Stumbling back, head full of so many truths the answers to all the riddles dancing like candy in my childhood dreams, there to examine to taste to fret over. I understood in that instant just why Firenze answered everything in riddles. I understood my own need to prove that I was the greatest wizard to ever have been borne and without having to use others accomplishments, after all that is not who I was anymore.

When I looked up at the Centaur sad eyes met mine.

"Now you know." His voice lacked the airy enigma it usually possessed.

"Yes."

"Was it worth it? Was it worth knowing that our end is in Azkaban where we watch each other die, but not until after we have fallen in love, until we have found solstice in each other." He seemed defeated he voice was flat and I couldn't watch him there anymore hanging upside down. Drawing my wand, with a few choice words I let him down.

I looked at him, now right side up, his eyes staring into my triumphant yet saddened ones. I could feel a smirk crossing over my face, my eyes crinkling up at the edges and I felt elated as I answered him.

"The end of love comes when the love has ceased to be new."

A smile lit his once somber visage and with a nod he turned away.

"And with death love is eternal." He threw behind him as he trotted through the maze knowing the way instinctively to his freedom and to his future. And, consequently to our destiny.

A.N. The line 'The end of love comes when the love has ceased to be new.' Is by the poet Rodney D. Coates. It can be found in the poetry volume: umoja, rodney c
A collection of poetry written by Rodney D. Coates