Author's Note: Sorry this chapter is kinda short. But I didn't want to go too far, because then it'd been super long and no one would read it. I rather like this chapter, because of some of the flowery words I popped in.

I hope this story is original- after being told that someone had already done this idea, I got rather disheartened (I pride myself in creating imaginative plot ideas). But I hope I come up with enough plot twists to make it creative.

A knock on the window.

A persistent tap, like a bird pecking on wood.

At first Raven ignored it, even though it had rudely woken her up. She knew it was too early to even attempt getting up. She refused to awake early, ever since Cyborg and Beast Boy began using the phrase 'early bird gets the worm'.

But still it knocked.

Groggily, she rolled over to zap whatever was bugging her. It took a long, slow moment to realize what was at her window.

A boy.

It took another second to let this information sink in. It was just a guy, not too muscular, but with a well-defined chest and limbs. He had grabbed onto the ledge at the top of her window and was hanging there by a hand, waving to her with the other. It was hard to see what he really looked like, because her wore a full-face mask that hid everything besides his eyes.

The rest of this boy's body suit was a faint shade of maroon, with dark blue bands near his wrists. The whole outfit was skin-tight except for a ragged blue scarf tied hap-hazardly around his neck that was flapping in the wind. Clouded blue eyes sparkled as they stared at her, and she could see a faint impression of a smile beneath the cloth covering his mouth. Raven groaned, rubbing her eyes, hoping she was dreaming. Hesitantly, she looked back at the boy- yup, still there. He lifted his free hand and pointed upwards, obviously referring to the rooftop. Did he...want her to meet him at the roof? Blinking in confusion, wide-awake now, Raven moved her legs out of her bed, staring questionably at this complete stranger. He gave her one more smile before lifting himself up, flinging himself towards the top of the Tower.

As if in slow motion, Raven levitated her cloak on. As she clasped the cloth together at her neck, she stared blankly at the floor. So...their was a weird guy at her window, wanting her to come to the roof. They was no question about coming up there- she had to. But should she do it alone? It very well could be a trap. But she didn't even know what this guy wanted, and bringing the others might scare him off, and then they'd never know. With a hand on her communicator, she set it on voice-command, so all she had to say was, "Calling Robin!" and a signal would be sent to him.

Taking a breath, a little angry that she was being bothered this early, Raven summoned the demonic power within her, and flowed all of it to the outer layer of her body, becoming her soul-self. She glided through the ceiling, easily reaching the roof.

He was sitting on the ledge of the Tower's roof, perched precariously like a bird. He heard her solidify herself and approach him.

"What do you want?" she asked in a stern, gruff tone. He closed his eyes. Her voice reminded him of...crumbling leaves, uncontrollable waterfalls with rocks at the bottom, or the low rumble of thunder in a lightning storm that you know will ruin your whole weekend. Her voice must be one in a million. The given reason for this boy to be examining the sound of her voice was that he was an artist- and an artist must see things from all angles.

"I am here to teach you. To draw." He told her bluntly, still not turning around. His voice was muffled, so soft Raven had to move closer to hear him. He noticed her shocked, skeptical pause. It took her a while to respond.

"I don't know what you're talking about. You should leave. Before I make you." she replied, and the boy had no doubt she would carry out her threat. Still he didn't move.

"I will come at one hour past midnight tonight. Bring your canvas and painting utensils. We will begin your lessons then." he told her, his voice calm, collected, bringing to mind the simple breeze that ruffled her cloak. There was something so familiar about it...

"Hold on just one minute." Raven suddenly said, much louder, much colder. "Who are you? Why are you so interested in training me to paint? How do you know about my canvas? And how did you get here without being detected by our security?"

With faced so many questions he probably didn't want to answer, Raven hoped he would get frustrated. But instead, he took a long, deep sigh.

"Call me Amour. To answer the last three questions in one- Robin sent for me. He knows you're painting, and that you won't accept help from your friends if you can help it, and I'm the best there is when it comes to art." The boy (apparently named Armour) responded, slightly turning his head to look at Raven. She blinked, resisting the urge to call Robin right on the spot and chew him out. She regained control, consoling herself with the prospect of killing Robin later. She noted that the name 'Amour' had a French spin on it, and made a mental note to look it up later.

"What if I don't want your help either? What if it's none of your darn business?" She mentioned calmly, crossing her arms over chest haughtily, her communicator forgotten since this guy was obviously not a threat. Inside, her indignation and anger were boiling to such an extent she could only barely restrain herself from stalking out of there and giving Robin a piece of her mind.

"You may not want our help, but you need it. And it may not be my business, but it's Robin's. He cares about you, and wouldn't make you do anything that you were uncomfortable with."Amour slowly bent his knees, lifting himself up and above all around him. His form seemed unearthly up close- his long, limber limbs hanging at his sides, his broad shoulders showing undeniable strength, his nimble legs representing liquid grace. And his eyes. When they turned and looked at Raven, it was like tumbling headlong into the deep blue of the ocean, and swimming effortlessly in the serene waters, letting the cool waves wash over you. She had never felt that sensation when looking at someone before- it unnerved her.

A moment of silence passed, a leaf surfing the breeze overhead, Raven contemplating what Amour said. He cares about you...

"So...say I went along with this stupid idea. What do you want out of it? Because I'm NOT paying you." Raven told him sternly, as defiant as a mountain, pointing a no-nonsense finger at the boy. She could see his mouth move behind the mask, curving into a smile, as he put his hands up in surrender.

"Let's just say it'd be in my best interest to help you." Before Raven could reply to that (not that she really could, at any rate- it was a rather vague answer), he continued. "See you at an hour past midnight?"

"You mean one in the morning?" Raven confirmed, taking the time to inwardly groan, dreading the thought of dragging herself awake. But at the same time, she knew that learning to paint would be worth it.

"Be punctual. Bye, Raven." Amour mentioned before bidding farewell, suddenly lifting himself on the tips of his toes and pushing forward, causing the rest of him to move backward. This sent him off the roof, falling (while, somehow, maintaining his atmosphere of untouchable grace) through the air, his scarf audibly whipping in front of his face. Raven rushed to the edge of the roof, a brow quirked, wondering how Amour was planning on not colliding with the ground. As if in answer to her thoughts, Amour pulled something out of his uniform, something that resembled a staff. Only this staff, when Amour twisted it at a certain spot, erupted into a reliable, purple hang-glider. And with that, the artist left Raven's sight with a flourish, the hang glider riding the breeze effortlessly, disappearing into the cover of the city buildings. She snorted to herself, thinking it was an awfully ostentatious exit.

Raven didn't leave the roof for a while, staring at the direction the mysterious Amour had vanished. The salty sea air caught in her nose, washing over her hair like mist as she gazed aimlessly, sending her into a deep state of melancholy. She suddenly felt inspired, energized, enthusiastic- making her desperately wish that she had painting skills right then. But such a wish could not be fulfilled.

With a curt turn, Raven began to stalk back inside, wondering whether to brutally murder Robin or tell him that she was actually looking forward to her lesson tonight.

-------------------------

-an hour later-

Surprise. Disgust. Amusement.

Such were the emotions that hadbobbed to the surface ofRaven's deep pool of mind as she sat on the floor of her room, staring at the open book in her lap. It was simply titled Learning French, the name of the author not important to her. She had been intrigued by Amour's choice of moniker, and, knowing where the name originated, decided to look it up.

And the results left herindecisive as to what tothink.

She sat there for a good moment, merely wonderinghow the meaning of hisname couldmake her view Amour in an entirely different light. Then she finally closed her book with stubborn emphasis, as if trying to convince herself that it didn't matter if his name meant 'winged fairy'- he was her teacher, and Raven trusted Robin to chose the right man for the job.

Speaking of which- she needed to speak to Robin, anyway.With this new revelation, Raven quickly got to her feet, making steady steps to her door. But before she greeted the more open atmosphere that she would inevitably expose herself to in the hallway, she glanced back to the innocent book that was the sole occupier of her carpet, leading to one last trail of thought.

Still, it is curious...that the meaning of the word 'Amour'...is 'love'.