In Love
How do you know if you are really, truly in love? How do you know that there are no doubts? That you trust this person with something greater than your life? When you trust them with your heart? How do you know who is the person you want to spend your happily ever after with? How do you know you are in love?
We were in the middle of a field. The grass was soft and smelled sweet. The sky was pure blue, without a trace of white in it. The bright sun was warm on my face, but there was a light breeze that challenged it and balanced the temperature. There was the soft chirp of a bird somewhere in the distance. The flowers were blooming into colors that I could never imagine. Shades of reds and yellows and oranges danced around us. The sweet smells coming from them, just contributed to the beautiful scene. Happiness seemed to be radiating from every corner of the earth, a moment in time where no evil can penetrate the shell of goodness. It was the perfect spring day. One that you only hear about in books.
Books. They were the only thing I could rely on for so long. They told you facts, never lied. They would always be there for you, waiting for you to uncover their secrets. I never had many girl friends. Girls were always so catty and mean. I was already an outsider the second I got my letter, so many years ago. Never knowing as much about this world as everyone else. Dubbed one who was "un-pure" and needed to be erased by many. They were the first ones who truly accepted me. First the one who everybody knew the name of. A boy with a scar, a story, and a destiny that made him famous, and yet he saw me, chose me to be his friend, and I will never be more thankful for anything in my life. The other was more reluctant, and we never got along as well. Me more stubborn than anyone else on the planet, and him as fiery inside as his red hair was outside. Nobody believed we would mix well. Yet, I was more happy to be friends with him than anybody on earth.
The three of us were brought together by one adventure, and were brought closer and closer through many others. Adventures that others would ran away from at the thought, but they always seemed to follow us, and we always faced them head on. There were times that I doubted my good fortune of meeting the two best friends anyone could ever have, but they always came through for me. Both of them saved my life many times, and I will be forever grateful for everything they have done for me. So, when the time came to choose between books or them, to go with them and leave the school, I knew which one I would choose. I knew where I belonged. Books didn't satisfy me in the same way as they used to. I needed something more. I needed my friends.
When we were younger we were the best of friends. We played games, partnered up in classes, laughed, caused more trouble than most teachers can manage, knew each other better than anyone else, told each other secrets. Every year promised something new and exciting from attacking a giant troll to winning the Second Wizarding War. We also argued and fought a lot. There was a time where I didn't talk to the two boys for weeks. The boy with the fiery red hair was madder at me than ever. But we never let these times get in between us. The three of us balanced each other out. We went through our younger years at school together, not completely carefree, but happily.
Something changed, throughout the later years. I don't know exactly when it happened, but I do know something new was there. Something was growing inside of me. Something I never felt before. When I saw the boy with the fiery red hair kiss the girl, something broke inside of me. I was miserable beyond belief every time I saw him with her, touch her, kiss her. At first I told myself it was just because he was my best friend, so I would naturally think that no girl was good enough for him. But I knew that wasn't it, when I couldn't even bare to look at them without feeling a stab of pain to my heart, a pain more unbearable than anything else that could physically hurt me. Still to this day, I cannot look at the color purple without feeling a little pain in my heart. Like I was reminding myself of how easily he could hurt me.
The next year was worse. He tore my heart into more and more pieces. I was starting to think that he never really thought of me as more than a friend. It was just us three, the boy with the scar, the boy with the fiery red hair, and me. We were on our own, trying to accomplish the unaccomplishable. Trying to survive against all the odds. He didn't seem to care what would happen to me if he left. He only cared about himself and his selfish anger. He ignored my pleads for him to stay and the tears that I shed over him, stamping my heart into the ground through his neglect. He took my heart and threw it away once more, when he came back. He crawled back, saying he was sorry, and expecting to give him forgiveness with no consequences. But how could I forgive him? He who tore my heart into more pieces than I can pick up.
Then, there was a moment. A moment when I felt fear surge through my veins as the murderer, a girl who served for the dark side, who had bloodlust permanently locked into her eyes, singled me out. He screamed for them to take him in my place, and seeing the bravery and the evident fear for my life in his eyes brought some of the broken pieces back together. A moment where I was drowning in pain as the murderer carved into my skin with her knife. She tried to pry away information that I didn't have, as she tortured me. I thought I was going to die, when I heard him. The boy with the fiery red hair called my name. He screamed my name over and over and put more and more pieces of my heart back together. Just hearing the pain in his voice, a pain that was brought on from my torture. Just hearing his voice in general gave me a reason to survive. It gave me a reason to push through the pain. I needed see him one more time.
Then, thrown into battle after battle, I started to realize just how amazing he was. His bravery as he tried to save me from the murderer and when he gained the fangs that we so dearly needed. Tools we could not win without. When he finally made a suggestion about the house elves, a cause we both knew only I really care about, my heart was finally complete again. The boy with the fiery red hair broke it, but mended better than before, and I knew that he really cared for me. So I threw myself at him, and when our lips touched I knew that I would never be truly happy without him.
So I stood by his side, trying to calm him down, as I saw the pain in his eyes from watching his brother die in front of us. I did my best to keep him safe against all the odds as we faced each Death Eater together, the only thing truly getting me through was the that we would survive to grow closer together. Held his hand when we both thought our best friend, the boy with the scar was dead. I felt touched about how much he cared about those he loved, how much he cared about me.
The next few years were happier times. The moments that were sprinkled through them were also much happier. They were times of growing together and learning new things about each other. Times where we took everything slow and enjoyed every moment of it, because there was no reason to rush anymore. No reason to fear that we wouldn't make it to the next day. Our whole entire lives were spread out in front of us, and we loved discovering every new thing about them. Not once did he ever hurt me, during this time. He tried to make me the happiest person on Earth, but didn't realize he did this just by being with me. There was never a moment where I regretted choosing him.
Everything was perfect between us. We sat in the grass, without a care in the world. His house was somewhere in the distance. A house that I have learned to love. A place where I now consider to be m home. Where many memories, both sad and happy, lived. He was leaning against a tree that was providing a cool shade for the two of us. I was resting my head in his lap. I was reading a book, lost in a land full of facts and knowledge. He was playing with my hair with his strong hands, as he did so many times before, yet he never realized how much his small touch affected me. I would never tell him either. It was something special that I would forever keep locked within. There were no words spoken between us, but we didn't need words. I looked up at him, wanting to see his face for just a moment. He stared back at me, with a sparkle in his blue eyes that matched perfectly with the color of the sky. The boy with the fiery red hair was everything I have ever dreamed of.
"Do you love me?" he asked, breaking the silence.
How do you know you are in love? Is it the way he smiles, when he sees me? Or how he plays with my hair? Is it the way, he brings me gifts "just because?" Or how I still get butterflies in my stomach every time he touches me? Maybe it's the fact that it makes him a happier person when people see us together. Or because he still whispers that he loves me when he thinks I am asleep at night. Maybe it's the fact that I leap for joy every morning, when I wake up to him. Possibly it's because he knows how to make me happy when I am sad. Maybe it's because no matter how much I hate him at times, I know it will never change the way I feel about him. Or maybe it's because I only feel complete when he is by my side. Or because I know I'll never be happy without him. Possibly, it's the fact that I felt like the safest person on Earth when I was in his arms. Maybe it's because something breaks inside of me every time he is in even the smallest of pains. Or because I try to stay alive every day only to be with him, but would happily die for him, because the thought of a world without him was unthinkable.
He was the world to me. I told him that I loved him many times before, but how do you really know? It was the fact that I was willing to give him my life. I gave him my heart, and trusted that he would never break it again, even though I knew that he could do it so easily. Something I could never do with anybody else.
"I love you," I said, the solidness of my stomach and the fluttering of my heart both confirming the statement.
I wasn't satisfied with this statement though. For some reason, just saying it wasn't enough anymore. I have been feeling like this more and more lately. I didn't know why. I was scared at first, thinking I was falling out of love with him, but that wasn't right. I was more and more in love with him every day. There had to be something else. Something more. I needed to prove to him that I loved him more than I loved life, but I just couldn't find the right way. So as we sat in the grass, on the most perfect day of spring, I felt shame wash over me, so I looked away from him, knowing how would know something was wrong the instant he saw my face. I was unused to the feeling of not being able to do something. School and spells always came easily to me, but this was more important, and I was failing.
I looked up at him again, this time to tell him I was sorry, sorry that my words weren't good enough. But instead, I saw his face and the shame instantly went away. There it was, right in front of me. The ultimate test of my love. The way to prove that he was everything to me and more. I loved him all the more for the perfection of the moment, because there in the middle of his palm was a diamond ring. It was simple, but beautiful. It was the most amazing thing I have ever seen.
"Please, marry me?" he simply asked. There was no need for more than that. We both knew it. All his love and wanting was etched on his face. He was asking for everything. For us to spend the rest of our days together, to go into the great unknown called the future, hand in hand, to have children, grow old together, and live happily ever after. Books wouldn't give me the knowledge as to how it would all go. Books weren't enough for me now. I couldn't rely on them now. They couldn't tell me the answered to the scariest question of my life, but that didn't matter. I didn't need them. I was sure, more sure than anything else in my life. I knew my answer even before he asked the question, so I wasn't surprised when the answer slipped from my lips.
"Yes."
And with that short ten-worded conversation, the boy with the fiery-red hair and I knew that no matter what, we would always have each other.