Playing House
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns the characters, I own the plot.
You lie awake at night in bed while your boyfriend sleeps peacefully (for once) beside you and you contemplate your life. Playing house, that's all the two of you are really doing, minus the marriage and babies bit; you wonder if you want it to be different.
You have been living together for two years and dating for three (since the war against You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters ended) and you are playing such a wonderful little game. Yes, that's what you think of your situation, that it's just a game between the two of you where he almost always loses. You win simply because you're able to pretend more that the past, with the Dark Lord, never happened; he, on the other hand, likes to relive it all, and really, it's not his fault because you would relive it all too if it was you.
But it wasn't you, so you can move on past it. Sure, there was the year that you were possessed by the Dark Lord with a diary, but that's all just in the past. You don't like to think of every little bad thing that has ever happened to you. Every day, you wash away the day before by draining it down when you shower. You only like to look into the future, not that you like Divination, because you hate to think of the battles of your youth, it's just not fun.
And you like to play games.
Because when you play games, like house, you're allowed to be in perfect denial and nobody can call you on it. They'd like to, but everyone knows that even if they do mention it to you, you'll just hex them because you believe in the lie so much that it has become a truth for you. Sometimes you wonder if he thinks of your relationship as just a game, but then you forget about it because you know the answer.
And it scares you.
When you were younger, you would have done anything to get with him; you even dated around to get his attention. You wonder why this is; was it because of the stories your mother told you or was it because he saved your arse when you first showed up at Hogwarts or was it because he was something you figured you could never have? You don't know. Maybe it was because he was famous; you've always liked being the centre of attention. You're used to it; when you were growing up, you received a lot of attention from your parents because you were the only girl in the family, and at school you got a lot of stares from peers because of your looks. You know you're a gorgeous redhead, you're lucky that way, and that's why he and you go so good together. You're both attractive and can pass as a good-looking couple.
So when you're out, you like how everyone looks at you. You know he hates it, but you don't care. He's lived in the spotlight all his life; he can share it with you, you don't mind in the least. He puts up with it because he knows it makes you happy, and because you promised that one day you'll provide him with the huge family he's always wanted; you've just never said when that would be because you know you're not ready to have kids, and kids are just too big of a gamble when you're playing house, which is ironic because playing house should include children.
You hardly know the truth about anything anymore. You don't know who you exactly are anymore; you hide behind too many different empty faces. You don't even like to ask yourself anymore who you are. What you do know is that you are one half of a perfect little couple that the public adores, which you are alright with.
Sometimes you like to break out of the mold of your perfect couple picture and go crazy at various clubs and bars by dancing circles around all those that check you out. That's the only time you start to lose the game because you let everyone see how you wish you could be. It hurts him when you act like this, not because it damages your reputation (he doesn't care about his own), but because he believes you to be a sweet, innocent (or as innocent one can get after they partake in war) little girl, although sometimes he decides he doesn't like that image and you both start winning at the game.
You put on the mask of the confident and sweet little woman (you refuse to be a little girl again) just for him, because it's part of the game. You're the damsel in distress and he's the hero. It's always been that way, ever since the Chamber of Secrets was opened. It's a small price to pay because you like to pretend that you can be innocent again, even if it's only for the day, before night comes when you turn insecure about everything.
The night is the one time during the game that you hate the most because you aren't allowed to believe in your lies when you start to enter the new dimension of dreams. Truths aren't revealed to you, but the night reminds you that what you are doing is really just a perfect lie that you're comfortable (for the most part) living with. During the day, from the time of your cleansing until you slip into bed, you're alright with the lie that you and others believe because you have others to remind you that you are indeed playing house. But during the night you're alone, even when he's right beside you, and you're reminded that life shouldn't just be a game.
And when that thought enters your head, you decide it's time for you to sleep so you roll over and wrap your arms around his waist, taking in his sent of freshly cut grass.
When you wake in the morning, he's already left the bed. You look at the clock that is on his side of the bed and notice that it is ten in the morning, meaning he's already at your brother's new joke shop in some little wizarding community and that you're glad it's Sunday. You crawl out of bed, slip on your fuzzy pink slippers and head to the kitchen. In the kitchen, he's left you a plate of pancakes that have a warming charm on it and you smile at his generosity. You eat the breakfast while reading the Daily Prophet, there's no mention of either of you. Since it's Sunday and you don't know of anybody wanting to visit you, you decide to stay in your pajama pants and T-shirt.
You head to your office that you two share and sit at your desk, thinking you might be able to finish up your article for the Quibbler. At your desk, you have two pictures; one of you, your brothers and your parents, and the other is of you and your boyfriend. You decided a long time ago not to have a picture of your brothers' significant others. You look over at the wall that is beside his desk across the room and take in his pictures; he has the same two you have, one of his parents from his photo album and one of her – the only female that is as important to him as you were. You know they're just friends, but sometimes you wonder if there's more. But you know there isn't because when you play house the right way there is no cheating.
You sigh and look away from the pictures, pulling pieces of parchment, a quill and ink towards you. You read through what you have already wrote and are busy adding more to it when you hear a small pop coming from down the hall. Confusion does not sit well with you as you leave the office to head to the kitchen where the noise had come from. You smile when you see his back towards you as he finished preparing lunch. He turns and looks at you with shining green eyes as he hands you a bouquet of daisies.
On days like this, when he goes out of his way for you when he does not need to, allows you to think once more about the game and what you're doing. And in that brief instant, you want to continue playing house, that you don't want it to be any different, even if it's just for one more day.
Author's Note: Hopefully it was obvious who this was about. Please leave a Review or a Flame! (I love critism)
-Magical Love
