"He stood in the doorway for a second, watching her as she walked about the room, throwing off articles of clothing and letting them lay where they fell–an earring here, a sock there, and then her dress, which was deposited on the chair in the corner . . . .

She snuggled into a large shirt (one of his by the looks of it) and then turned to him. Her long hair was fanned around her shoulders and he felt that she was some ethereal goddess glowing in the moonlight, with eyes of silver stars and pink lips of roses. She was everything in the world, everything living and good; she was the trees, the ocean, the skies. She was winning that Quidditch game against Slytherin, or the Chudley Cannons making it to the World Cup. She was that feeling he got when he told a funny joke that made everyone laugh, or when he beat Harry at chess, or when he did something right.

Not that those particular words actually entered into his mind; his only coherent thought, at that moment, was: Merlin, she’s gorgeous." --excerpt from Hands, Ch 7.

Current obsessions: Ugly Betty, Twilight

I'm nineteen years old. I live in Florida. I sometimes write fanfiction about the characters I love.
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