08.24.1971 – Marlene McKinnon
Ever since I was little, I've known who I was going to marry. Sirius Black, heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, the person who will secure my family's place in pureblood society, the person who my parents arranged for me to marry when I was less than a week old. Supposedly, he'll make the perfect pureblood husband.
The only problem? I've never met him.
Seriously. I can tell you where the Black family's four vacation homes are and just how pure his blood is and the middle name of his great-great grandfather on his mother's side, but I can't tell you what he looks like. I don't know if he's tall or blonde or funny or smart or dull or manipulative or kind. I can't tell you what color his eyes are, how he takes his tea, or who his favorite Quidditch team is. I couldn't pick him out of a group of people if my life depended on it.
I know. What were my parents thinking?
I've tried for several years to get my parents to cancel my betrothal. Unfortunately, I haven't succeeded yet.
I have to though. I may not have ever met this Sirius Black, but from what I've heard of the Black family, they're not exactly pleasant people.
Why do my parents hate me so much?