Written for the Hogwarts Lineage Studies Class- Write about an earlier member of the Potter family. I chose Charlus Potter and Dorea Potter nee Black.

Prompts used: Kissing his/her best friend, crimson, family-tree, marriage.

Charlus Potter stared forward, wringing his hands together in apprehension. The deputy headmaster had left the first years to prepare for their sorting, but Charlus found no comfort in the other loud and obnoxious first years.

"Nervous?" A smooth voice said, cutting through his thoughts effortlessly.

Charlus turned around to see Dorea Black standing beside him and smiled politely. Dorea was a sight to behold: black, curling locks falling to the lowest point of her back and neat, pressed robes with the black family crest. Charlus's smile became even more forced.

"Maiden Black," Charlus answered back, reaching down to kiss Dorea's hand. "You look as beautiful as always."

Dorea smiled tightly. "Thank you, Heir Potter. It is pleasant to see you, as I do find the company around here rather lacking."

Dorea gestured to the rest of their classmates and Charlus's lip curved up slightly. "Yes, to answer your previous question, I must admit I am rather nervous."

"And why is that?" Dorea questioned. "I was under the impression that Potter's have been in Gryffindor for centuries now."

Charlus nodded at her. "They have. My father was one, so was my grandfather and his father. There's never been a Potter male who's gone anywhere else. My father even reminded me of that this morning at breakfast."

Dorea snorted decisively. "What a terrible pressure to put on a child."

Charlus stilled at the dig at his family. "You must excuse me for the insolence, but I quite remember hearing about the upheaval following Melanie Black's sorting."

Dorea took a step back in shock, eyeing him in assessment and Charlus added a mental point to his tally. "That is quite correct, Heir Potter, however, I meant born Blacks. Melanie was a McMillian before marrying into our noble house and a descendant of Helga herself, none the less. "

Charlus nodded reluctantly, evening out the score in his head. Dorea was sharp, he could tell that even in the brief time he had known her. He was so caught in his thoughts that he missed his name being called.

"Heir Potter," Dorea said, a hint of impatience in her voice and Charlus could tell that she had been calling him for quite a while.

"Charlus," He said back. "Call me Charlus."

Dorea nodded. "Very well. I must insist you call me Dorea then."

Charlus nodded back.

"Charlus," Dorea said, stretching out his name like a predator stringing along her prey. "Would you consider us friends?"

Charlus felt his face scrunch up in confusion. Blacks didn't do friends, he knew that. They were dark and deeply ambitious, but not friends of anyone. However, he couldn't say no. Not when they ran in the same society circles.

"Yes Dorea," Charlus said back. "I would consider you my friend."

Dorea smiled lazily, twirling her wand in her hands. Charlus watched the sparks with growing apprehension.

"Well then, Charlus Potter, I would like you to not consider us strangers, even if we don't end up in the same house."

When we don't end in the same house, Charlus wanted to say back, but settled on an easy, "Of course."

(Lie.)

Like Charlus expected, they ended up in different houses. Dorea was sorted in Slytherin within a minute of perching on her stool, where she reigned with a combination of flattery, batted eyelashes and the sort of blackmail the Black family was known for.

Charlus himself got sorted into Gryffindor in an even shorter period of time, where he made friends and ruled with the same measures, no matter how much he pretended otherwise: his charming way of setting people at ease, his notoriously good looks, and a cruel way of making the people he disliked into outcasts.

By all appearances, the two seemed completely different, Gryffindor's notorious prankster and Slytherin's ice-queen. Sometimes, however, when a muggleborn kid asked a particularly stupid question about magic or one of their fellow purebloods showed his inbred stupidity, Charlus met Dorea's stormy eyes across the room and felt something akin to kinship in their shared condensation.

It was Ancient runes classes that brought them together. Charlus walked into the nearly empty room with a bored expression, sighing to himself in disgust when he saw the lack of students.

"It's a shame, isn't it?" A voice asked conversationally and Charlus turned, trying to ignore the feeling of Déjà vu.

"Hello, Dorea," Charlus said upon seeing the source of the sentence. "What's a shame?"

Ignoring his greeting, Dorea continued her rant. "It's all the ministries fault, their way of appeasing Dumbledore's faction and the pureblood crowd. Back in my grandmother's day, there weren't all these ridiculous classes such as care of magical CREATURES! What a ridiculous world we live in where kids prefer to comb hippogriffs and predict the future using numbers instead of learning runes!"

Charlus's mouth went dry. It couldn't have been. There was no way in all of magic that he agreed with Dorea Black, out of all people. But there it was, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he could do anything.

"Well, Divination in general in is a load of horse dung."

The world seemed to freeze for a second, and Charlus's blood roared in his ears. When he finally felt himself breathe, Charlus saw Dorea's contemplating expression and then-

"We should study together," Dorea said, tilting her head to look at him. "Saturday morning in the library."

He ended up in the library that Saturday, under the pretense of needing a book. And the Saturday after that. And every Saturday for the rest of their Hogwarts years until they were inseparable, from Charlus and Dorea to CharlusAndDorea.

Charlus slid onto the comfiest chair he could find, recklessly pushing aside the books that had been there previously.

Dorea looked up from her writing and raised an amused eyebrow. "I take it that your parents' subtle attempts to find you a suitable marriage have failed once again?"

Charlus glared at her but there was no real heat in it. "They tried to set me up with Isabella Abbott."

Dorea twirled one of the rings on her fingers until it reflected the light from the ceiling, nearly blinding him. "Oh? And that is an issue because…?"

Charlus scowled. "Because I don't like her in that way, Dorea."

Dorea cackled. "Marrying for love? You are such a cliché, love."

Charlus rolled his eyes, ignoring his best friends' amusement. "Dorea, cliché does not begin to describe you."

Dorea's laughter faded. "Do you really want to talk about clichés, dear?"

Charlus started at her. The air around the two felt electrifying until he was leaning in, closer and closer until their lips were meeting. Dorea kissed him back intensely, slipping into his lap until they were body to body, lips locked together hard enough to draw blood.

Dorea glanced down, admiring the necklace looped around her neck. "Well for a courting gift, you don't do subtle at all, love."

Charlus started back, his eyes scrunching up in confusion. "And what do you mean by that?"

"A crimson and gold accessory- a little possessive, don't you think?" Dorea winked.

Charlus rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, I'll make sure the ring is better."

"I hope you will," Dorea said, tracing the necklace with an elegant gesture he wished he could capture and remember for the rest of her life.

Charlus's mouth went dry and he nodded, unable to do anything else.

"Marriage contracts?" Dorea said disgustedly, looking down at the papers her family had send along. "What a bore!"

"They want you to marry within your own family?" Charlus asked worriedly.

"Within my own branch of the family tree to be specific," Dorea said idly, seemingly unconcerned, but he knew better. He knew her better than anyone else and he could see the fear in the way she clutched his hand tightly, as if afraid to let go.

"I won't let that happen to you," Charlus said fiercely, not caring about the scene he was creating. Reaching down into his pocket, Charlus pulled out a ring box and fell to his knees.

"Dorea Black, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?" Charlus asked desperately.

Dorea leaned down and slid the ring onto her fingers silently, admiring it. Charlus watched the light slowly return to her eyes.

"I will. Forever." Dorea said and Charlus pressed her tightly against him. No matter what, they would make it work, they had to, because they were CharlusAndDorea and it was always them against the rest of this lackluster world.