My father was always keen on forcing me to marry her. As a young boy, I never wanted to have anything to do with her. Her parents would often bring her over for a 'play date' and I always sat in the corner of my room watching her decapitate bugs she would find in our garden. There was this smile, her smile, after she'd pulled the head off of one, that made me curious.
I'd ask her why she liked to kill bugs, but she never told me why. I remember her giggling while smuggling them up to my room, knowing that if she were caught, it'd be another beating. But that didn't matter, once the bug was in her hands, it fell victim to a brutal decapitation.
It wasn't until years later that my curiosity turned into infatuation. We were on the train to school, and it was then I recognized her for what she was: perfect. She had never been known for her good looks, and it wouldn't surprise me if I was the only one who appreciated her dark hair contrasting against her alabaster skin. We were both 14 then.
She played hard to get.
We always knew we'd be together. It never mattered what happened between, because in the end, we were to be married. And I never looked forward to anything more.
Whether or not she saw me in the same light never crossed my mind. I knew she did. And all those late nights could only prove that. Sure she had her fun as a teenage girl, but it was always me who got the last kiss.
It was never bound to happen. Her death was a mistake, and if I could have prevented it, I would have done so in a heartbeat. But the Aurors were merciless that night, couldn't tell a coward from a loyal follower. Unfortunately, she was mixed between the two, and her life was taken.
And I ended up here: dreaming of what could have been, praying to see her again, and stuck in a loveless life.