Wrongful Infatuation
He didn't know why he loved her. It wasn't right to love her, not this way, not ever. He was respected and part of the family, god dammit! Why had he fallen for her, horribly younger than himself, and someone he could never be with, not even if their parents did consent. It wouldn't feel right, and he tried to separate himself from her, but it was hard. He felt like killing himself sometimes; when the pain just got too much, and his tears just never seemed to stop flowing.
Was it because he was entranced by her hair, so red, so fiery, so beautiful? Was it because of her eyes, doeful brown, framed by fluttering eyelashes? Or was it her laugh, a series of giggles charming his heart? He didn't know exactly why, but he did know this- he had fallen, head over heels, for the last person on earth he ever would have thought of.
Gods, she was eight years younger than him. He was lusting after a sixteen-year-old, something he never thought he would have done, not even dreamed of it. They would all kill him if they found out. He couldn't let them find out. The Weasleys were a nice, warm, cozy family, and he was glad he had been accepted into it, but he would dare take on all of her relatives, especially her father. Just the thought of her father sent shivers up his spine. And what would Harry say? Harry was like a father to him- in all sense of the world, he was his father. He was the one who had been there through the tough times, and supported him throught out everything he had done. He had been the one to sit down and tell him about his father and mother, the one to explain everything that had happened and shown pictures of his parents; smiling and happy, just like he had dreamed about.
He was just going to have to wait for this infatuation with Rose Weasley to die out. There was no way in the world he was going to act on his feelings.
They would go away, right?
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