Co-operate - 2/50 for Character Diversity. Also written as an entry for the "prompts" category in Lady Phoenix Fire Rose's "Lady's Writing School..." My prompts were: whispering winds, "I once had a life… but, sadly, that is no more," and timetables. Leave me a review to let me know what you think!

Rain splattered down from the skies, but Andromeda Black didn't hear it. She was lying in her bed, clutching the roll of parchment that had just changed her life forever. It had been hours since she'd received it, and still she could not understand how – why, when – it had happened. No one had seen fit to tell her, or ask her, or inform her it was a possibility!

Anger and refusal to admit what she knew to be true surged through her, though she kept a strong exterior. It would not do for anyone to see her lose control.

She dropped the contract she'd received onto the floor – one that had been signed for her, without any question of her desires or wishes – and left her dormitory.

Questions bombarded her as she appeared in all of her usual glory, albeit with red-rimmed eyes, but she waved it all off with a, "I once had a life and was free to answer those questions… but, sadly, that is no more." There was a sarcastic part of her that took great pleasure in saying that, because it was rude and she would not be able to say it if it were not true. In that moment, however, it was true. Officially, her betrothed had power over her, and she had no free will.

In her head, a million thoughts were sparking up at random.

Prevailing above all was, however, hurt. Pain, for how could her mother and father marry her off to some man she'd never met? How could they have agreed to such a contract, magically binding as it was? She was practically to be his slave!

Angry at the world and feeling reckless, Andromeda kicked open the door of the Common Room, stepping into the cold corridors of Hogwarts. Cold, whispering winds swirled and churned around her, but she forced herself to ignore them. The dungeons had always felt that way – as though a thousand people were crowded around the edge of the corridor, just out of view, ready to stare her down. Hairs raised on the back of her neck, but she kept it straight and held her head high.

She braved on, trying to grab hold of her temper. It would not do to seem so unbalanced.

Finally, she emerged from the castle, heading for the Quidditch Pitch. Though the Official Timetable stated she was not permitted to access the Pitch, as it was after curfew, Andromeda kept marching. She summoned her broom and mounted, kicking off with ease.

And then she was in the air, a ball of angry energy that whizzed around. She did not hover, nor did she go for leisurely flying. She was soaring around, dipping and dropping through the treacherous air around her. Maybe it was magical energy around her, making the space around her crackle, or maybe it was just the storm.

As it was, Andromeda was soaked to the bone. Visibility was low, risks were high, and Andromeda was angry. She continued flying.

The wind whipped around her. She felt strong gusts of wind push at her. Her broom wobbled. Andromeda pressed on, moving faster than ever. She cut through a cloud of fog, blinking water from her eyes. She flew toward the ground, the breakneck speed straining her muscles. A few metres from the ground, she stopped and pulled back up. Suddenly, she was spiralling up to the stormy sky that seemed to have sensed and mimicked her mood.

It was pitch-black around her, all wind and rain and danger. But she was not about to stop.

"I hate you," she shouted into the abyss that surrounded her, flying blindly now with no sense of direction. She could have been flying upside-down and she wouldn't have known it. "I don't want to marry that man, Mum. Dad, how could you?"

Her throat was already feeling hoarse from the little shouting she'd done, but it was cathartic.

"I don't want to, and I won't!" She vowed. "I'd rather kill the man with my own hands! I'd rather kill myself!"

Her threats left her and she slumped low to the broom handle. One of the Keepers' Hoops loomed into view, and she had just enough time to dodge it.

Breathing hard, she shouted, "I won't co-operate. I will not."

The rain was pounding down harder than ever. A flash of lighting lit up her surroundings for a fraction of a second, and Andromeda sailed over to where she'd seen the bleachers.

"If you think you can sign something so binding – in my name! – you two have another thing coming!"

She would never dare to say such things to her parents, mainly because her father knew how to use Crucio successfully, but her pent-up fury and resentment had been brewing for years.

"I refuse the contract," she said to no one, landing softly. She crumpled into a ball in one of the seats, shaking. It might have been the cold. She wasn't crying – at least she thought she wasn't, considering that her face was already soaked and she wouldn't notice another few tears. "I refuse the Black name. You know what? I refuse Slytherin," she sobbed harder, unable to form words – ah, so she was crying.

Moments passed and thunder shook everything around her. The ear-splitting noise cut straight through her, and she shot up. Her heart pounding, Andromeda took her broom in hand and jumped onto it.

This time, she flew with wide eyes, frightened of what she'd done. Had she really meant the things she'd shouted? It was almost as though it had happened years before, because many of the events that had transpired moments ago felt fuzzy when she thought on them.

Her resolve strengthened when she flew into the castle, drenched and dripping. She was done with this… farce of a life that had been spent in submission. When she stepped into the common room and no one cared to ask what she'd been doing and if she needed help, her heart felt harder. She was not going to take the treatment anymore, and anyone who tried would not be around anymore to see what had hit them.

But then she went to her bed to change out of the wet clothes – teeth chattering at a considerable speed. She caught sight of the contract on the floor, the one that had changed her life and future.

And for a moment, she crumbled. Inside, she was a sobbing, broken mess. If her own parents had sold her off to be nothing more than a common slave… who really cared about her? Was she really so worthless?

But then she felt stronger once again and instead crumpled the parchment in her hand. She ran to the fireplace – wearing only her underclothes – and tossed the offending paper into the fire.

Burn, she thought, smiling in satisfaction. The next day was going to be a pain, but she knew her plan now. She would simply not co-operate; family, threat of pain, threat of imprisonment, or anything that they could use to intimidate her could go to hell.