Ginny stared into the mirror on the dormitory wall. Her face was clean and innocent, dotted by freckles and luminous in the moonlight.
If only they knew.
Brown eyes stared at their reflection. How long had it been this way for? How long had they kept the secret?
Her mouth was quiet and restful. Only moments ago, it had been busied with kisses and "I love you"s.
What would they say?
Why was it a secret?
He had often told her she was beautiful and she could see what he saw now, innocence that clashed with sinful actions, creating lightning and a deadly fire, strangely seductive. He liked to play with fire.
What would become of it?
It was a game, perhaps, but an all-enveloping one, pitting the two against each other in a duel which held its danger only in discovery.
"Shhhh," he whispered, "hush, baby…"
She'd come to him limping, wounded, over and over but he managed to fix the scars. Sometimes she worried that he would hurt her.
I love you.
Joy and pain. Lovers sharing a soul, both needing the other. To invite joy, you tempt pain. If you intend to fully experience joy, you must risk the pain.
As they did every night.
Separation. Worse than discovery, for seeing the light had made the night seem blacker. When his face was unilluminated, there was only darkness. Darkness that shrouded and scared Joy to hide behind uninhibited pain.
I love you.
Words for the moment. The future may have carried uncertainties, but the present was so convincing, so distracting. They forgot the past even as they left it and he marveled in her innocence. He didn't care if he was stealing it with each gentle kiss.
I love you.
Somehow eternal. The moment was everlasting, slow in it's passing and to be lived over and over again. She did that, her eyes not really seeing what was in front of her in favor for her memories.
Love.
Cynics denounced it every day, and the two of them were there to prove them wrong. In secret, they laughed at others' crazy ramblings. Had they never tasted love's sweet liqueur? Gently sliding down your throat, it manipulated all your senses…
Her face was delicately composed, like a nocturne for a single violin…
Innocence, long stolen, still rested there only to flee with the last passing note.