A/N: Written for the Pairing Set Bootcamp challenge, 30. Blaise/Parvati and for the Freeverse Frenzie competition, poem 122.
A Larger Poetry Collection
32. Foreign Tangles
She was pretty.
Even he had to admit that.
And he did.
Freely.
Because he wasn't British
or of sullied blood,
and neither was she.
They weren't a part of the war;
her parents took her from the country
when it broke through the dam wall.
His mother had pulled him out as well,
back to Italy, where they had yet to feel
the true horror of Britain's plight
And she was in India, where they hadn't even heard
the name: Voldermort.
He remembered her still though.
Remembered that pretty girl
who could have been like him
if she hadn't nestled in the lion's den
and he with the snakes
But both of them were foreign
and neither of them really
a part of that war.