A/N: My fanfiction debut! I don't normally publish things... I'm much too shy for that.
My inspiration came from a box. Well, not really. I have a box that I stuff about a hundred thousand fanfiction prompts into and pull one out when I have writer's block. This particular prompt (Country heather - Dominique, musings, riverbank, horizon) came from the 200 Flavorful Prompts list on Next Gen Fanatics. Truthfully, the prompts did not appear very strongly in my story. Ah well, it's a story. Cheesy ending, I know. Please enjoy anyway!
Dominique was a good little girl. She smiled and admitted a polite "thank you" when strangers complimented her seven-year-old beauty. She always let her mother style her reddish hair into a fishtail braid, without any complaints. She never broke the rules; she never saw a reason to do so.
Aren't little children innocent?
In the past ten years, Dominique had, to say the least, changed. Her well-mannered glamour had faded over the years, leaving a quiet but hotheaded teenager. "She's just like any other her age," Maman said. "Any other."
Except, obviously, Victoire. Pretty Victoire, smart Victoire, social Victoire. The perfect Victoire Cera Weasley, blonde and beautiful yet intelligent and polite, friendly and social despite an introverted, hard-working core. Wasn't she sweet? Wasn't she lovely? How wonderful, such a beautiful girl and yet still able to prove her intelligence! How amazing, a beautiful Hufflepuff at the head of her class! How spectacular, another Head Girl in the Weasley family!
Do perfect people really have friends?
Little Dominique looked almost exactly like her sister. Torie was seven, Dom five, but the pair of them were inseperable. With their nearly-identical fishtail braids, one red and one gold ("Gryffindor colors!", Dominique would exclaim whenever it was pointed out, often to a group of bewildered Muggles), and their handmade little girl dresses – some sewn of fine French silk by their grand-mère, Apolline, some of patched sackcloth by their British grandmother – the two could rule the world.
Shouldn't sisters always love each other, in the end?
Dominique wasn't Victoire's greatest fan – probably her worst, in fact, since everyone else doted on her. Victoire was nice to everyone, so perhaps it made sense that the oldest Weasley (of all Dominique's siblings, and of all the cousins) was the favorite of her teachers, her friends, her family. And perhaps Dominique wasn't always the friendliest to strangers. She stuck with her own group of friends, and she wasn't really the type to befriend those who weren't part of it.
Isn't it odd when girls so close grow apart?
Victoire would wear one of Mrs. Weasley's red-and-orange-checkered dresses, or one of her Grandma's purple knit jumpers. Apolline's silky dresses were usually the garments of choice for Dominique, with lovely pastel colours: pale blue, creamy pink, soft green.
Doesn't anyone notice the differences between friends before they're not?
It was a wonder, sometimes, that they'd ever been best friends. Maman had said so once, when Dominique was nine and Victoire was eleven and in only a week Victoire would leave for her first year at Hogwarts. As a child, Dominique had disregarded the comment. "But Maman, we're sisters! Of course we're friends," she'd said. Maman couldn't argue. Modern-day Dominique could.
Isn't it strange, how much people can change?
At the age of almost-eleven, Torie was a tomboy, and when she wasn't with Dom, she was having fun with the boys at the village a mile or two from Shell Cottage. Dom was one of the girly little girls who painted their nails and liked wearing dresses and their Maman's high heels; if Torie had to wear a dress, she'd wear one of Grandma's sackcloth ones, and otherwise, she'd be dressed in jeans and a Weasley sweater.
When people change, does it mean they can't be friends anymore?
Half of the boys Torie was friends with were sorted into Slytherin that September. And when they were Sorted into separate houses, it seemed, the rules of Hogwarts life prevented them from ever being friends again. Did Dom care? Yes. She cared more than she let on. Maybe Torie would spend more time with her little sister now that her friends were gone.
Once a relationship has deteriorated, can it be restored?
When Victoire and Dominique were tiny – still called by their old nicknames – they were inseperable. An age gap of over two years did not separate the pair whom everyone called Dom and Torie, if not just "Bill's girls." Torie would still comply with Dom's wishes to play with the expensive dolls Grand-mère sent them, and every once in a while, Dom would agree to go running and playing on the beach with her older sister, screaming "Bug! Torie, kill it! Kill it, Torie!" when she noticed so much as what was in her head a scary, dangerous, venemous, deadly ant.
Do inseparable friends always remain inseparable?
Victoire and Dominique's relationship wasn't the same anymore. Dominique had told herself she didn't care, back in September two years ago, when Torie kissed Teddy.
No! Wait!
When Victoire kissed Teddy. Victoire wasn't Torie anymore.
How is it that best friends become mere acquaintances?
Torie left for Hogwarts in two-thousand eleven, and Dom was left with her six-year-old brother and her cousin Molly, who would be Dom's age in March. Louis was annoying (aren't all little brothers?), and Molly was just too quiet. She preferred reading and writing to acting and dolls.
In short, Dom was alone.
Is it normal for best friends not to be friends anymore?
It was a Tuesday morning, and Dominique had woken up early to watch the sunrise. A dirt path led to the riverbank that stretched across the highest part of the area, giving the seventeen-year-old a spectacular view. She sat down on the bank, her toes dangling precariously near the peaceful-looking but surely swift current.
How do two girls attached at the hip suddenly become attached by nothing but blood?
The Teddy kiss was the last straw. Ever since Dom's Torie had become Victoire, the older sister had become closer friends with other girls, and even closer to Teddy. Dom was too young for Miss Perfect Victoire Cera Weasley, Head Girl and Head of the Class, Pride of Hufflepuff and Pride of Hogwarts. Victoire would tell her little sister that wasn't true, she was still Torie and she and Dom were still friends, but Dom was angry with her sister for having friends other than her. She knew it was unreasonable. She told herself it wasn' then there was that fateful day, back in Dominique's third year: the day Dom became Dominique.
Can ex-friendships ever be repaired?
Dominique waited for the sun to peek out from the horizon, staining the clouds in pale pinks and oranges. She used to come up here all the time in the summers – just her and Victoire. She was Victoire by then, but she was still kind of Torie, not a prefect or a Head Girl or any of those stupid Hogwarts inventions created to tear sisterly love apart.
Who ever thought best-friendship was a good idea, anyway?
It was a cool Monday in November of Dom's third year when she became Dominique. Victoire was with two of her friends: she and the dark-haired, dark-skinned one were trying to convince the brunette that "Andersen isn't right for you, Georgie, honestly. He's an idiot for breaking up with you, but because he broke up with you we know you're too amazing for him." Dom had added, walking behind her sister and hearing their conversation, "Andersen Yoxall? He seriously doesn't deserve someone as awesome as you. He needs one of those annoyingly pretty girls who everyone hates, and you're obviously not one of them," at which point Georgie burst into tears again.
Dom hadn't meant for her attempted reasurrance to imply that Georgie wasn't pretty; rather, she'd tried to say that she was friendly and pretty. But the damage was done. Victoire looked pleadingly at her little sister, slowly articulating a simple "Dominique?" Dom – no, Dominique – could tell she wasn't wanted and sullenly left, saying nothing more to Victoire or her heartbroken friend.
It was the first time Torie had ever used Dom's full name.
It's a strange thing, sisterhood, full of ups and downs and sidewayses. No?
The sun was surely just below the horizon line. Fluffy purple clouds seemed to glimmer against a warm backdrop of pastels. Dominique didn't take her eyes off the scene before her as she sat there among the pink-tinted heather out in the barely-inhabited country, but she let her musings wander and set her mind free.
Why is there this friend-finishing metamorphosis?
Torie had left Earth years ago, abducted right after her arrival at Hogwarts and replaced by mature, lovely, flawless Victoire. Victoire wasn't the Weasleyish tomboy she used to be, and even if she still wore jumpers and jeans, they were stylish and beautiful. What used to be Torie was at the top of her class and had a legion of friends. Dominique wasn't one of them. Not anymore.
Can't this stupid transformation… change?
Dominique didn't stop watching the sky.
A glimmer of sunlight spread across the horizon, slow, ever-growing, but powerful. It illustrated happiness, better days, and, best of all, hope. Hope that Victoire could someday be the tomboy that she used to be. Hope that she, Dominique, could be able to make friends in the absence of her sister. Hope that maybe, someday, two sisters would be inseperable once again.