Challenge: Quidditch League

Prompts: [Dialogue: "Your father and I disagree; you are forbidden] [Sentence: The clock on the wall seems to be ticking backwards.]

Note: I'm sorry if this seems disjointed/rished/doesn't make sense. It was written very late at night

Most women were ecstatic on their wedding day. Most women got a wedding better than any fantasy they dreamed up when they were just little girls. Most women couldn't wait to walk down the aisle and into the arms of the man who would be their forever. But Dorea Eleanor Black felt none of that.

Instead as she looked at herself in the mirror, dark hair cascading in loose curls contrasting with the pure white of her satin gown, she wished she were anywhere but here.

Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick.

Dorea sat anxiously in the parlour, awaiting her father's call to join her, and her mother, in his study. She felt like she had been sitting there for eons, the clock ticking backwards, almost mocking her. Her anxiety built up with each tock tick of the clock, had she unknowingly shamed her family? Was her father about to punish her? She searched her brains for any action that could have been deemed dishonourable. Had they discovered her secret letters to her disowned brother, Marius? Her breathing quickened.

Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick.

Time seemed to be slowing down, the clock on the wall seemed to be moving backwards it was moving so excruciatingly slowly.

Finally Sunny, their house elf, appeared and ushered her inside. Dorea walked in, with her head held high, steeling herself for whatever punishment awaited her. She knew she was being punished as her father never requested a formal audience unless it was to punish her. In fact, he rarely had anything to do with her, or her siblings unless it involved punishment.

She entered the study and her father gestured for her to sit down. She did so nervously, trying not to wring her hands in her lap. Her mother would have something to say about her manners if she did.

"Dorea, I am sure you are wondering why your mother and I asked to meet with you," her father, Cygnus Black, began. He glanced briefly at his wife before continuing. "As you know, you recently graduated Hogwarts, and as a result you are now old enough to furfill your duties to this family and to get married."

Dorea froze. Married? She was barely two days over seventeen, she was still a child! This couldn't possibly be happening. Except she knew it was, she'd seen it happen to all of her siblings. Her sisters were married at seventeen, her brothers a few years older. It wasn't fair.

She seethed silently, knowing that her father would not tolerate any of what he would percieve to be insolance.

Dorea plastered a pleasing smile on her face and murmed her agreement.

Her mother smiled.

"We know you value your independance, Dory," Dorea tried not to wince at the nickname, "But I help your father choose your future husband, and we both agree that you'll like him. Maybe even grow to love him."

Dorea could not hide her distate fast enough, for her mother, Violetta, caught it and sent her a look telling her to behave.

"These things take time, Dorea. His name is Charlus Alexander Potter - I think he was a year or two older than you at school? He was a Gryffindor, Head Boy too I believe."

Cygnus nodded his agreement. "The Potter's are a very respectable pureblood family, almost as old and wealthy as we are. We hope you will make us proud, Dorea. There is to be an outing for the two of you next week. It will be unchaperoned, so we are trusting you not to make a fool out of the Black family name."

Dorea felt her chest restrict. Charlus Potter had been two years older than she, finishing Hogwarts several years ago.

She didn't want to marry Potter, but she didn't have a choice. So she nodded. Her parents appeared satisfied, and she was excused.

"Lady Dory." Charlus had a smirk on his face as he greeted her. She disliked him immediately. He was the kind of boy that always got what he wanted, arrogant, egotistical, and a typical Gryffindor. He had none of the refined elegance of the Slytherin's she grew up with, and she hated it.

"I had planned on at least being civil, but if you're going to resort to childish name calling then I may have to reconsider," Dorea's voice was calm and collected, but Charlus did not miss the venom laced beneath it.

His smirk widened. "Looks like this is going to be fun then. One a date with an emotionless snake who is 'reconsidering' being civil."

A sliver of anger flickered on her face briefly before she recomposed her mask. Her eyes, however, were ice cold and showed him exactly what she thought of him.

"You disgust me."

"Good. Now allow me to escort you to dinner, I don't know about you, but I'm starving."

She didn't want to admit that she was as well, it was a battle of hunger versus pride, and neither side was winning. She bit her lip. Charlus groaned.

"Dory-"

"My name is Dorea, not Dory."

"I am well aware of that. Now as I was saying, Dory-"

"Dorea!"

"-don't be difficult. I'm starving, and you're starving but you're being a typical princess and too proud to admit. So I'll save you the trouble. Just hold my arm, and I'll apparate us to a good restaurant. Something a little more classy than the Leaky Cauldron."

Dorea scowled, but accepted his offered arm anyway, trying to put as much distance between the two of them as she could while still holding his arm.

He looked down briefly at her, "Ready?"

She nodded, and braced herself for the dizzying feeling of apparation. Dorea squeezed her eyes shut as her world began to spin.

She stumbled as they landed, and would have tripped had Charlus not caught her. She avoided looking at his face, and untangled herself from his grip as fast as possible.

"Where are we? This looks like Muggle London."

If he thought her voice was curt or that her brush off was rude, he didn't comment.

Charlus grinned. "Well, well, the high and mighty Princess Black knows what Muggle London looks like. This is a surprise."

Dorea hated him, she hated how he teased her, she hated how she was being forced to marry him. She hated his arrogance, she hated every little thing about him.

"I hate you."

"That escalated quickly. You've barely known me for an hour."

"I still hate you. You're rude, and arrogant, and have an ego the size of a house. You think you're better than me because you are a Muggle lover, and my family is neutral in the blood wars. I hate you."

She didn't try to hide the venom, her voice shook as she spoke.

Genuine hurt flickered on his face for a second before it became unreadable, like a shadow had passed over it. He span around to face her, coming so close they were almost touching. His fury was written all over his face, and Dorea almost cowered. If this was her father, he would have hit her by now.

"I do not think myself above anybody," he hissed, furious. "I don't care what your family believes, it doesn't make me 'above' you. You're just a spoilt princess who can't handle a little bit of teasing, so you stamp your foot and throw a tantrum. If anyone has an air of self importance, it's you. You're so determined to hate me on principle that you act like a child, with your airs and graces, aloofness and spoilt attitude. Let's just get dinner, and them I will take you home. Before you start whining, if I take you home now both your father and mine will ask questions neither of us wish to answer. And don't you dare whinge about this being Muggle London, or so help me Merlin I will leave you here to find your own way home. Your father told me you can't apparate."

Dorea's eyes widened, she wasn't used to such obvious displays of emotion. Numbly she nodded, and followed him to the restaurant. Part of her wanted to explain that she didn't hate Muggle's, she was just merely indifferent. Somehow she knew that would only infuriate him food was surprisingly good, but she would never admit that aloud. Part of her was ashamed at her outburst, but her pride won out and she spent the rest lf the evening sitting primly in her chair, eating quietly. He took her home, bade her and her father goodnight, and left without another word.

—

Dorea did everything she could to not be Mrs. Charlus Potter, including begging her parents for a change.

"Your father and I disagree, Dorea. You are forbidden from complaining about Mr. Potter again. He believes maybe we could reconsider your engagement, but you don't see your potential. Also, purebloods are a dying breed, Dorea, unless you wish to be engaged to Avery or Mulciber, your only option is Mr. Potter. You may think you hate him now, darling, but one day you will thank me. The wedding is set a few weeks from now, it is up to you and Mr. Potter to schedule any more outings before then, if you so desire."

Violetta smiled kindly at her daughter, before dismissing her. She wished that Dorea could just open her eyes, and look past Charlus's flaws into the man she knew he was. She sighed recognizing her own cursed stubbornness in her daughter.

Dorea numbly left her audience with her parents, and cried herself to sleep. How is it fair that she was to be condemned to a life with a man she did not love, but also hated? What had she done to deserve such a cruel punishment? Her mother truly believed that she could grow to love him, but Violetta Black did not know Charlus Potter like she did.

Naturally, no more dates were scheduled.

The bridal music began playing, and Dorea had to hold back tears. This was the beginning of the end of her life.

She had to admit that he looked handsome in his wedding robes, although there was something off about his appearance, and she couldn't quite pinpoint what.

"I love you, Dorea," her father whispered as he placed her hand in Charlus's.

She smiled tightly, holding back the tears that threatened to fall.

She surveyed her future husband, trying to pinpoint why she had this nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach. She locked eyes with him, and saw her own fear and nerves reflected there. He squeezed her hand lightly, and for some reason, she felt the inexplicable urge to reach up and ruffle his slicked back hair. It was usually a mess, sticking up all over the place and unable to be tamed. But now it was smoothed back, probably with magic, and for some reason she hated it.

If she was going to be stuck with this man for the rest of her life. he may as well look decent in the wedding photo's, she mused. So with that thought in mind, she reached up and ran a hand through his hair, never breaking eye contact. Emotions flitted through his hazel eyes, surprise, shock, relief. Strangely, both were somewhat comforted by the action. Dorea, if asked, would still flat out deny that she wanted to marry Charlus, but later on, both would agree that that was the turning point of their relationship.

Dorea was a slytherin, through and through, and on the night of her wedding she was engaged in a fierce battle of pride versus self preservation. Pride was telling her to ignore his out stretched hand, to ignore him and just hate, or pretend to hate, him for the rest of her life. Self preservation, and perhaps, an inkling of emotion, akin to a mild form of love, was telling her to compromise. Charlus had a tired smile on his face, he had been through the same internal battle that she was waging now, and had made his choice. Now it was her turn.

Was she really prepared to make her life harder, and more painful then it had to be just because she was proud? She knew if she kept up her exhausting attitude, that she would disappoint her idealistic, hopeless romantic of a mother, but Dorea had been proud her whole life, and it was not as easy habbit to break out of.

However, she was prepared to try. Not so deep down was the little girl that wanted a fairytale wedding, with a handsome, charming prince who would care for her, one that would allow her to be independent. She wanted someone to come home to, someone to call hers, and someone who would tell her he loved her. Maybe, just maybe, she could have that if she tried.

So she took his hand, and let him bring her into a gentle kiss.

"I may not love you now, but I could if you gave me the chance," he whispered against her lips. His hand was still holding hers, while the other ever so gently cupped her face. "I'm not perfect. I'm always going to tease you - only because you get so wound up, and your face goes all red. It's honestly adorable - and you'll always be Dory to be, no matter what your name is."

Her lips twisted into the slightest of smiles and she laughed. "I hate being called Dory."

"I know you do."

"Then why do you call me it?"

"Because it's suits you."

Dorea raised an eyebrow. He grinned.

"Fine, fine. It annoys you."

She smacked his shoulder.

"I never really hated you, you know."

He smirked. "Oh I know, I mean, who could ever hate me?"

"Prat. I just...you drove me mad. Not even my brothers tease me."

"You have too much pride, dear Dory. Makes you sensitive. You're like my little sister, Marie. Tease her even just a little bit and she gets offended," he grinned at her blush.

"I remind you of your sister?"

He looked at her, confused. She had a wry smile on her face.

"Need I remind you that I am your wife, and it's generally not good to have a wife that reminds you of your sister."

Charlus's eyes shone with approval. "Ah huh! The Black Princess has a sense of humour!"

Dorea smiled, and the mood turned sombre.

"I don't love you either," Dorea started. "But I'm willing to put aside my childish tantrums in favour of taking a chance that perhaps my mother is not as senile as I once thought."

Charlus pretended to sigh dramatically. "I suppose I can tone the teasing down, just a little, until you get used to it. But in all seriousness, some risks are worth taking."

With that, she held onto his hand tighter, and allowed him to lead her into the start of their new life.

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