Betrothed

                                                  Betrothed
                                               Pansy Parkinson

Marriage= Love, compassion, faith, trust, and Loyalty.

At least that’s what I as a young naïve Slytherin thought
And someday I’ll have just that.
Someday.

I very well hope that the someday I had always waited for will come soon. Though sometimes I have my doubts. Will the man I love, the man I am betrothed to, Ever be the material of a loving husband? I know the answer to that one: No. At least not right now.

The day I found out about our little engagement, I claimed I was happiest. Now that I think about it. I was in fact not happiest then; I claimed I was in love. But I was young, what did I know? Now standing at the age of 19, I know for sure I do love him. I do.

It was only last night I had found him sitting in the park with baskets of roses piled around her, when I, gotten a single. I had put that flower of thorns in my book to preserve it forever. Forever like my love for him.

I didn’t care if he didn’t return my feelings. I didn’t care if he was happy with someone else. I still don’t. Of course it hurts, hurts me every time I catch them. But the worst part is, its not one woman, it’s many. Am I not of satisfactory? Am I not enough?

Standing here, I look into his cold eyes, that never did and may never hold a love for me. Standing here, I am smiling a mile a minute, inside I am bleeding a gallon a second. Standing here I am about to be bound with the man I love, but knowing he doesn’t feel the same. It’s hurting me.

As we exchange our rings, I saw him glance at the crowd of people. Seated on his side were about a dozen beautiful girls. All of which I had caught with him. I followed his gaze, it landed on a beautiful brunette, a former Slytherin. I think her name was Kaitlyn? Jaslyn? I looked away, blinking away the tears.

I stand a 19 year old girl, short black hair, dull grey eyes, slightly chubby, but full of determination, full of life. Whoever said you had to be beautiful to be loved?

“You may kiss the bride” announced the priest.

I caught his face. The look on his face, the disgust, it was bringing back tears I had just locked away. Why did I do this to myself, better yet, how can I do this to him. Though he cheated on me, though he treated me as if I were nothing, though he never took a second glance at me. I still love him. And I had to see him happy. Even if his happiness would not be shared with me. 

I knew than I had to let him go.

Just as he leaned in, and our lips were only centimeters apart and as much as I wanted to kiss him, I turned away. I felt his soft lips brush my cheeks. Giving him one last look I ran.

I ran from my wedding, I ran from my husband, I ran from my childhood dream, I ran from everything I’ve ever wanted.

I couldn’t take this kind of marriage. I’ve convinced myself all my life that as long as I loved him it would be ok. But I know that was just a lie.

Maybe he would come after me, but the chances are low. Maybe he’ll love me. Maybe.

Someday.