Beautifully and powerfully written as always, and I did think it was Ginny until I remembered who the author was -- the one so often like Robert Frost's guide, "who only has at heart your getting lost." So I said to myself, "Self, this is PR1, and if she wants you to think it's Ginny, then it ain't Ginny." The line about the son put me in mind of Narcissa (and offered an explanation for why Lucius ends up with the diary). But of course I wasn't sure until the end (because you could easily have doubled back on us and made it be Ginny after all.)
The whole piece is so evocative. You get across the sightlessness so well, and I wish I could write lines like this: He had taken her before, swept her into timelessness and into submission, kept his fingers tight around her throat and her soul, not releasing her until her will had slid into blackness.
And "young, leather-bound Lord" really tickled me. Layered, that line.
The whole piece is so evocative. You get across the sightlessness so well, and I wish I could write lines like this: He had taken her before, swept her into timelessness and into submission, kept his fingers tight around her throat and her soul, not releasing her until her will had slid into blackness.
And "young, leather-bound Lord" really tickled me. Layered, that line.