BEATER 2: Write about Dorea Black.

Optional:

7. Tap on the window

14. And she was the first beautiful thing I ever got stuck on. – Neil Hilborn, OCD

In my first year I'd made the mistake of letting him sit with me on the train. At least he was a pureblood, from a decent family, even if they were all Gryffindor's. He had sat across from me, and spent nearly the entire train ride prattling on about all the wild adventures his older brother went on, and on about his Gryffindor family and their Gryffindor insanity; charging headlong into life-threatening situations. It was only when the train had begun to slow; pulling towards Hogsmeade station that he asked me my name.

"Dorea Black."

His face fell into a frown "But you'll be a Slytherin."

"Obviously."

"I can't be a Slytherin. My family would be very angry."

"Why would you want to be a Slytherin Potter? You'll never get to go on adventures like your brother then."

"You should try to get in Gryffindor with me! Then we can go on adventures together."

"Absolutely not." I patted down my skirts and left the train, steering myself towards a boat that was nearly full, surely he wasn't such a fool as to try and follow me. I was a Black after all, a family infamous for raising dark witches and wizards.

I was sorted into Slytherin, as I always knew I would be, many minutes passed and they reached the P's, I watched him lazily, feigning disinterest. His lips moved angrily, tracing words too quickly for me to read. Finally, after the longest sorting of the evening, the hat almost sighed "Slytherin."

A triumphant grin lit his face as he sauntered to me, plopping himself down across the table.

"What are you doing here?"

"I made the hat put me in Slytherin."

"You'll be eaten alive here Potter."

"I know, but I'll get to be with you."

"That's the most Gryffindor thing I've ever heard."

"That's what the hat said."

I did my best to ignore him over the years, but Potter could simply not take a hint. In second year he'd badgered me relentlessly to study together, I'd given in out of pity for him only once, he truly had not a single friend in Hogwarts. Being a Slytherin ostracized him from any Gryffindor's or Hufflepuff's he might have gotten along with. He wasn't interested enough in his studies to get along with any Ravenclaw's. As for Slytherin's, well, he was a Potter.

In third year he'd dragged me into an alcove, struggling not to burst into giggles, then told me about the Gryffindorish joke he'd pulled on his dorm mates. The next morning he was in the hospital wing, I grudgingly deposited a chocolate frog onto his bedside table. For some reason he took it as an offer of friendship. Soon he was dragging me off at all hours of the day; I was his unwilling companion in more adventures than I cared to have. I don't know how he'd managed to rope me into an acquaintance with him, but it allowed me to notice the smaller quirks of his person.

He never stepped on cracked floor stones, given the thousand year old castle this often resulted in him having to leap quite far to avoid mistake. The seats he chose in class were consistently the third row back, and the third seat to the left from the center aisle. When going down stairs he'd always begin with his right foot, and end on his left, even if it meant jumping the last step.

He had the most annoying habits, in fourth year I caught myself jumping past the last step of an odd numbered staircase with him. He smiled too brightly when he noticed. I barley indulged it; I only jumped the final step when I was walking with him, only then to make him smile again. He didn't have any friends, he deserved to smile. In March he seemed a bit downtrodden, but I didn't pay it any mind until he finished an odd numbered staircase on his right foot. I dragged him into an empty room and glared at him, "What is wrong with you Potter?"

"My brother." He stared at the floor "He's in St. Mungo's."

"He's always in St. Mungo's. He goes on too many Gryffindor adventures to avoid injury."

"The healers don't think he'll be okay this time."

"He got his leg burnt off by a dragon three months ago Potter, what could be worse?"

"A nundu."

In the summer before our fifth year his brother died, now he seemed even more subdued than before, but instead of the loss of his brother working against his quirks, it amplified them. He shut each door many different times until he got it just right. Every meal was eaten with a prime number of bites. Essays were written, and re-written, over and over until every letter was in flawless calligraphy.

When he was with me, a number of his habits dropped, he lounged lazily in the common room, allowing his tie to hang crooked. In the library while we studied his books were placed haphazardly on the desk, no longer aligned in neat piles based on subject matter. One day his fingers brushed against mine, and he didn't even rush to wash his hands.

In the summer before my sixth year I woke in the middle of the night. TAP, tap, taP, t-tap, tap, TaptaptaPTap, … tap, taptAP, ta-tap, tapPIty TAp, tapp, tappep Tap TAp, - I opened my window with a scowl, "Potter, what are you doing?"

He froze by my window, embarrassment lighting his features, "I, um. Sorry to bother you."

"You have not answered my question."

"I was trying to get your attention, but I couldn't get the sound right."

"So you stab incessantly at my window? Dozens of times?"

"Sorry."

He was hovering at my window on a broom, staring awkwardly into the sky.

"What do you want Potter?"

He jumped, turning to look intently at my face "We should court."

"Why would I court you?"

"Because you're beautiful, and I'm happy when I'm with you. I mean, come on, I forced the hat to put me in Slytherin for you. The world around us doesn't feel like it matters so much when you're with me. That is to say, I think I could make- make- make- make- make- make you really happy, and I know you'd make-"

"Will you stop rambling if I agree?"

"Anything for you."

He seemed sincere enough, "On one condition."

"Yes?"

"You fly back home right now and pretend this never happened."

"But then I'd have never asked you to court me."

"Have your parents talk to my parents about this, they'll work something out I'm sure."

He grinned and flew away. I didn't think my parents would actually agree, thankfully they did. No one else would have married a Slytherin Potter.