Written for Valentine's Happens Year-Round.

& I've been writing so many drabbles lately. Sorry 'bout that. It's just I've hit a wall when it comes to writing, and when that happens...

"Some people come into our lives and quickly go. Some stay for a while, leave footprints on our hearts, and we are never, ever the same." - Flavia Weedn

With ruby red lips and a heavy load of mascara, Dominique stares blankly at the mirror in front of her. And because no one cares – not really, anyway – she waves her wand, her face now bland and naked. She blinks a few times, not recognizing the girl in mirror. Is this what she has become? Black rings under her eyes are the sign of next to no sleep, and they contrast her pale, sickly cheeks. Her lips are cracked as they part slightly, screaming a silent plea for help. She fingers a strand grimy blonde hair, and for a few moments, she wonders how she ended up like this, because really, it just isn't meant to be like this, and it's just not fair.

She was always the girl that had everything going for her. Perfect hair, perfect grades, and a perfect family – just a bloody perfect life. And we all know there's only one thing that could destroy such a gorgeous girl.

In all honesty, he isn't really a bad guy. Quite the contrary, actually, because Lorcan really is just oh so sweet. He was the perfect boyfriend, and fit her perfect world with ease. Till of course, disaster struck.

And now she sits in front of her dresser, all alone, and crying those pretty eyes out, because life isn't perfect – not really – and neither is he. And he left her cold and broken, and now she's trying to pick up the pieces, but you know what? Sometimes it's just not worth it.

So what if there were other guys? They'd never had her heart – she'd never really loved them. Of course, she'd said she did. There was no point otherwise, was there? But Lorcan – sweet Lorcan – he'd come in and stolen her heart, and then he had just left. Just like that.

Merlin, it hurt. Like nothing she's ever known. The pain is almost unbearable, and she stares at her reflection, wondering where exactly she went wrong. What did she do? More importantly, what to do now? Because she couldn't forget, and maybe, just maybe, she didn't really want to.

Oh, she'll never be quite the same Dominique Weasley all the boys fawn over – she knows that much. There's a small part of her that wishes that Dominique Scamander could become reality. That maybe one day that could be possible. She's not stupid though – she knows that it isn't. So she fumbles through her drawers, and once she finds a leather bound diary, her manicured nails tear at the pages desperately. Why keep evidence of what could have been, when it is no more?

Choking back tears, she flings the book against the wall, because that's really what she's wanted to do for so long. With a hesitant smile and a sad sigh, she turns back to the mirror. She paints on her perfect lips, and her perfectly rosy cheeks, and within in no time, she's perfection itself.

Not really though, because life's not perfect, and she's ghosting through it. All she wants to do is forget, but with memories so strong, how could she? So she stands tall, sucking her stomach in and holding her head just that little bit higher.

She's not perfect, she's not even happy, but she can sure as hell pretend to be. She's piecing everything back together. She's not forgetting, because she can't. He's everywhere – a constant reminder of all that pain. What she is doing is moving on. Screw falling in love, because that boy just ain't worth it, and she could do that much better.

Love. Fuck that.