Obligation
I'd much rather be with someone else. Sometimes, just sometimes, I get the feeling she does too. I can tell in the way she looks at me, but it's not like she's looking at me, it's like she's looking through me, or past me…looking for something, someone better. Sometimes, just sometimes, I wish that I could be what she needed, well, wanted rather. I'm all she'd ever need, the prophesy told us that, but it didn't tell us that our hearts wouldn't allow it.
I'm not in love with her, nor have I ever been. I know the woman I love and she knows that I'm obligated, obligated to be in this relationship, obligated to be with a woman I don't really love, but no one know why, no one except me and my wife. I'm obligated to watch the woman I do love, be with a man that loves her dearly and fully and can show it in ways that I cannot.
I think we both know; my wife and me, that we've been unfaithful in thoughts, never in body, even if I don't love her, she's still my wife. We couldn't care less anymore. I long for the hair that sets my world on fire, and so does she. I see the way he stares at her, and the way he's been cold to me. I miss him, my friend, I'd tell him if I could, but I can't, the prophesy wouldn't allow it. Instead, I'm sure he hates me, curses my name everyday and wishes me dead. Sometimes, just sometimes, I wish myself dead as well. Anything has to be better than this tortured life I'm living, currently.
There she is, she's so beautiful, with her bright red hair and her chocolate eyes, and her hour glass figure. I've fantasized about that figure, many times when I was making love to her, my wife, my obligation. I've pretended it was my red-haired beauty that was making those sounds under me, that the body that lay beneath me was one plagued with freckles, and smelled of vanilla, rather than ink and parchment. I've wanted her so much, I've longed for her. I can see her now, she's in a green dress, to anyone else it would just seem that she's being festive, but I see the suggestion in the way the material clings to her every curve. And, dear Merlin, is my mouth watering? Even as a grown man I'm still belittled to a blubbering fool whenever I'm within ten feet of her presence. I should have said 'screw the prophesy' I should have skipped town and taken Ginny Weasley with me, but did I, no. I listened to Dumbledore like the good little hero I am and married my best friend and screwed my other best friend over.
He loved her you know, more than I could ever care for her, I've tried, but I can't get out of my attraction to red.
She's my obligation, and I know she'd much rather be with Ron, but we never discuss it. We pretend to be happy in the presence of others, but I know she's told Ron she's not, I know, because I've told Ginny about a thousand times and I have more control that she possesses. Ginny's asked me why I won't leave Hermione and come to her bed, but have I told her the truth? No. I can't, No one can ever know or they will all die. So says the prophesy. It's my life, my curse, my obligation.