They had met in third year, in astronomy, back when she was just another Black princess and he was just another muggleborn Hufflepuff. He had set up his telescope beside hers because Amos had dared him and he had wanted to see what she would do. Her older sister was awful, and the younger one was not much better, but not much was known about the middle Black girl; she seemed to fly under the radar. Amos said that she'd hex him, Darryl was sure that she'd chuck him off the tower. But she didn't. She had barely even glanced up from her star chart. But when class was over and it was time to go and she had bumped into him accidentally, she had spoken. "Excuse me, Theodore." Three words and he was hooked. She knew his name, that alone was amazing, but the way she said it was what truly mattered. "Theodore." Slowly, sweetly, like the words were chocolate melting on her tongue. It made him want to know her just a little bit more.
He competed against her. Always vying for the top grade. He would tease and poke and prod until she told him to stop. Then he'd just wait five minutes and start again. They studied together in the library, enjoying each other's silence. He could make her laugh and that was alone was enough. But he understood why they couldn't really be friends, why no one could see them together being happy, being normal. And that made her like him just a little bit more.
She knew everything about him. She knew that his middle name was Davis after his grandfather. She knew that his father owned a bakery and that his mother liked to paint. She knew he hated anything beige, including his hair, and that he nearly fainted at the sight of blood. She knew that she was his best friend. She knew that on some level, he was in love with her. She knew all the things he wanted to say but never could. It made him want her just a little bit more.
He always beat her in potions. He was incredibly untidy and never combed his hair. Her sisters hated him, her housemates hated him, one or two of her professors hated him; he didn't seem to notice. He was far too cheerful all the time. He preferred vanilla to chocolate, which was, simply put, just wrong. He was a cat person. He wasn't supposed to be good enough for her, but he was everything she had ever wanted. He was such a good person that it made her feel guilty all the time. He was the only person who understood her. It made her hate him just a little bit more.
She made the first move, however small it was. It was spring and they were sitting under a tree by the lake, studying for a test that neither of them really needed to study for. Out of habit he had started to move out of site as a group of Slytherins passed by, and she, tired of it, had grabbed his hand to keep him beside her. She had also made the second and third moves. Kissing him on the cheek in the library and then later cornering him in a corridor. She was far braver than she gave herself credit for. It made him love her just a little bit more.
On their first real date he took her for a picnic in a muggle park. And as they sat there eating sandwiches his mother had made, drinking strawberry wine, feeling tremendously grown up, he was so nervous that she could feel him shaking when he gave her a flower that's he'd picked from someone's garden. That alone made her love him just a bit more.
She gave up her family for him. All of it, even the sisters she loved and the younger cousins she worried about. In the early days they used to sit together and look at the sky and she would show him all the stars and constellations that were the Blacks, the stars that were a part of her. He had learned all of their names as well as he could, but her constellation was the only one he could place without looking. She could picture them all, pick out the history of the Black family amongst the inky darkness. But she gave it up for him. He didn't know if he could have done that had their positions been reversed. He hated himself just a little bit more because of it.
They had decided to name their baby girl Marie, he was sure of it. And then he had gone to the vending machine for ten seconds and when he returned his daughter was named Nymphadora. She didn't tell him why. He simply accepted that she did crazy impulsive things like that. It drove him nuts, but it did make him love her just a little bit more. After all, he was one of the crazy impulsive decisions too.
Nymphadora inherited her father's clumsiness and his untidiness, his hatred of beige, his squeamishness, his love of snow. She had inherited her mother's bravery, her fear of dragonflies, her love of chocolate, and her talent for astronomy. She was a perfect mix of them both, and they loved her just a little bit more for it.
It was her fault he was in danger. It was her crazy sister that was coming after him. She knew that he would leave to try and protect her and their family and that, chances were, he probably wouldn't come back. The thought of life without him scared her so much that she found it impossible to breathe. And when he did leave, he left quietly in the night, as to avoid a tearful goodbye because they both knew that she wouldn't have let him go. It was for her own good, but it still made her miss him just a little bit more.
Towards the end, he thought of nothing but her. When the Death Eaters finally caught up to him her name was the last word upon his lips, her smile and the way she said Theodore, were the last thoughts to grace his mind. In the split second before the green light enveloped him he felt nothing but her warm hand clapped over his, squeezing to get him to stay by her side. It didn't make death any easier, but it made him love her just a little bit more.
Pointless? yes. Cute? perhaps. Should you review it? most definitely. Disclaimer: I don't own them :(