Like Salvation


The candlelight serves to make her look even more like a beautiful, fiery angel. The diminishing glow is enough to pick out every tiny freckle on her pale face. I sit and gaze upon her, enthralled by her beauty and the soft sounds she makes in her sleep. My mind is clouded by happiness and a false sense of contentedness. I know both will be gone by the morning.

Because it's only by candlelight that she is mine. In the harsh light of day, I feel corrupt and disgusting for what I've done. For taking someone so ethereal and rare and sullying her, bringing her down to my level. She deserves so much more than I can ever give her.

And I know this is wrong even though it feels like perfection, like salvation for me.


She is Ginny Weasley. My sister, my love, my insatiable desire. The deepest, most wonderful crack in my heart.



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