She'd established a routine by the time the fist week was done. Dorcas did her schoolwork during lunch. After classes she found her way to the Tree and read until it was dark, at which point she hurried back to the Ravenclaw Common Room – inconveniently located in a high tower - and finished whatever schoolwork she had left.
It was perfect.
Tuesday morning she made her way down to the tree, Pride and Prejudice in hand. The sun was shining and the air was still filled with summer, no trace of the coming autumn.
Then she saw him. Sitting in her tree, on her branch, he was reading a book.
She panicked. Dorcas wanted to turn and run, relinquish control, just let him have it. Going and sitting down would lead to questions, talking, having to defend herself, possibly even an argument.
But then again – it was the Perfect Tree.
She walked around to face him. His face was bent down, obscured by neatly trimmed black hair, silently reading.
She took a deep breath. "Ex-excuse me. Um. Do you mind if I, you know, sit here – well, over there – and read?"
He looked up. An oddly shaped nose, fairly defined cheekbones, grey eyes. He looked like the fourth year Gryffindor who had infiltrated the Ravenclaw table yesterday, sitting beside her for about ten minutes, giggling with a boy wearing glasses, before they simultaneously inflatedthe Ravenclaw prefect's head.
The boy squinted at her. "Sorry?"
Dorcas was regretting the whole thing already, poised to turn on her heel. She saw the Slytherin emblem on his robes and swallowed. "Do y'think, maybe, I could sit here too?"
He raised an eyebrow and she felt the urge to explain herself. "I've been sitting here every day for the last week, well, you know, 'cause it's a good place to read, and I could just sit on the other side of the tree. I'll be quiet. I just want to read, that's all."
He looked at her. "What's your name again?"
"Oh, I'm Dorcas – Meadowes. I'm, uh, a first year."
He muttered under his breath, trying to remember something... "Meadowes, Meadowes, Meadowes, Meadowes - " Suddenly he grinned. "You're a pureblood, aren't you?"
"I guess so," she conceded.
"We're third cousins by marriage. My dad says it's okay if I talk to Purebloods."
"Who's your dad?" Dorcas asked.
"Orion Black," answered the boy. "You've probably heard of him. We're pretty rich."
She didn't want to lie, but something told her she shouldn't offend or cross him. "Mmm, I guess so. Do you think he would mind if I sat here?"
He searched her face for a trace of sarcasm. Finding none, he cracked half a smile. "I don't ask him about everything. I'm a second year already. I say you can sit down."
"Thanks," she said and scooted out of his sight to plonk herself down, glad the ordeal was over with.
"One more thing," came the boy's voice, soon followed by his face and lanky frame. He smiled at her again, a very polite smile. "My name is Regulus."
He shook her hand.