I don't love my father as I wish I could. I don't think he deserved mum. I don't think anyone could have made mother truly happy. I've been told so many times how love is my power against darkness and that only through love can I be victorious.
I don't know what kind of love I need more; mother's…or Ginny's.
I picked her because she smiles to me and doesn't ask if I suffer. She sees that I suffer and she is quiet, she puts her head on my shoulder and suffers with me.
But I picked her because my mother lives in her, at least a little bit. When I see her in front of the fire, with her hair covering her face, I think of summer days when my mother lay with me in bed after I had been born and played with me, looking in my green eyes.
I don't think I deserve Ginny, just as my father didn't deserve my mother. I think I will ruin her smile and joy and her life will be shadowed by my departures and returns.
Sometimes she closes her eyes and I can see my mother. But when she closes her lips on mine I jump from her embrace, as if burnt and I shrug away the madness.
'What's wrong?'
'Kiss me with your eyes open.'