Runaway Bride ━ James Potter

003: LIVING FOR THE THRILL

CHAPTER THREE: LIVING FOR THE THRILL
song of the chapter: would've, could've, should've, taylor swift

Professor McGonagall is a prude woman. She is the image of professionalism, in her forest green robes and strange hat. Her face is plain as she examines the sight in front of her, the young girl with a tear stricken face and bags under her eyes deep enough she could've fit a weeks food shopping into them and still have space. McGonagall almost feels sorry for her until she reads the headlines.

"Princess?!" The woman screeches, turning to face Anastasia with a horrified expression. "Are you entirely stupid, young girl? Today is your wedding day!"

Anastasia cannot think of the words to defend herself before she recoils into herself and begins to sob, pulling up the sleeves of her jumper to cover her hands and hide her face. She doesn't understand where it all went so wrong.

One minute she was walking down an empty street with a new life ahead of her, the next she was coerced onto a strange, contorting bus by a boy named Stan and next thing she knew, she was sat in a dingy old inn with a bowl of lumpy green soup in front of her.

She's practically dry heaving by the time that McGonagall can get her to speak, her hands splaying wildly around the room as she tries to explain the situation to the best of her ability- at this point, her best is null. She might as well be a mime whose hands are tied behind their back.

"Hamilton... Old... Dad... Screaming... Exile... Marriage. Consummation. Children."

McGonagall can hardly make sense of what the girl is saying. The gist of it seems to be that a man named Hamilton (her fiancé, so says the papers) is old, and her father has been screaming at her that if she doesn't not marry this man and consummate the marriage and secure an heir, she will be exiled.

She thinks.

Anastasia comes to her senses once more, bloodshot eyes staring blankly ahead of her. Raindrops slam against the window, the oncoming thunderstorm all but looming above them. She wonders how the outdoor after-wedding party would have gone on in this torrential weather, but then she supposes that her father would find a way to make it work. He always did.

"My father," Anastasia starts, her voice cracking as the tears well up in her eyes once more. "My father, he does not mean anything but the best for me. For the crown."

McGonagall crosses her arms over her chest, "And the best thing for the crown is marrying you off to a man who is twice your age?"

A sigh breaks past Anastasia's lips, "My father believes that in marrying me off to Duke Hamilton, his lineage will be firmly secured for the years to come. He has promised me that once my heir has been produced that I needn't have anything to do with Hamilton past annual public appearances. But I..."

The silence is all consuming as McGonagall ponders if she should respond right away or give Anastasia time to figure out what exactly she means to say.

"I simply cannot allow myself to forfeit my youth- my life, to gain my fathers appraisal. I value my sanity too much to let Hamilton consume more of my life than he has already forced himself into. The people in this Kingdom, the people who rely on us to guide them- I cannot let them think that this is the sort of thing that the Crown stands for."

"That's a very wise take on the situation, Your Majesty. Not many young girls in your position would be so selfless, yet so selfish at the same time, and feel little guilt for it. It is quite admirable."

The sudden formality strikes Anastasia from her daze, and she finds McGonagall kneeling in front of her, a gentle hand on her knee. She wonders what brought McGonagall here tonight, if it was a coincidence or all a part of Millie's master plan. She thanks her lucky star either way.