Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or the first sentence, which is from Jingle Boy by Kieran Scott.
A/N: This was written for Tani Smiles' 'First Sentence' challenge over at HPFC. I was given the first sentence, and had to go from there. Hope you like it! :) Please review and tell me what you thought, they make my day.
It was one of those picture-book-perfect winter nights. A blanket of snow covered the ground in one long, un-ending whiteness, and frost draped itself delicately over weather-beaten branches. Snowflakes drifted lazily down from a midnight blue sky that was dotted with stars. I should have known that it was too good to be true.
I breathed in the cool night air, glad to have escaped the packed Christmas ball. Of course, my sister was in her element – full of her blonde-haired, blue-eyed Veela charm, the boys were falling over themselves to get to her. As usual.
I wondered absent-mindedly where Teddy was; Teddy, my wonderful, kind, caring boyfriend of five months. I looked out over the frozen pond towards the forest on the other side, so reminiscent of Hogwarts. I was just wondering how on earth the Ministry had found such a beautiful place to hold the ball, when I saw him. A flash of bright pink, his favourite, heading towards the trees. I decided to follow him, curious as to where he was going.
I skirted around the ice-glazed pond, hurrying towards the dark woods. I watched as Teddy disappeared into the forest, looking oddly as though he was hiding something.
As I passed through the shadowy trees, the cold air felt as though it was wrapping itself around my bare arms. I heard frozen branches cracking under my feet, and the sweet smell of pine trees drifted towards me.
That was when I heard it; his voice, soft and low, saying those words meant only for me.
'I love you so much.'
I nearly cried out, feeling as though someone had poured ice-water all over me. Teddy was standing there, his hair dark brown now and blending in with the surroundings, and in his arms... Victoire.
I couldn't believe it. My own sister... I had thought she cared about me. Cared enough to keep her hands off Teddy. And Teddy... he said he loved me. Forever and always, he'd told me, on those sunny days as we lay by the river behind my house. So much for that.
I slowly stepped forwards from my concealed place, facing his back. I seemed to glide, silently, and Victoire still hadn't seen me. When I was close enough to them that I could have reached out and touched Teddy, I spoke.
'You complete and utter bastard.'
Teddy whirled around, staring at me with a horrified expression on his face. Victoire's eyes had flown open from their half-closed state, and she backed away, as if she was scared I was going to hit her. But it was him I was really interested in at that moment.
'Dom... Dom, I can e-explain...' he stuttered.
'Oh, you can explain, can you?' I laughed, and it was a hysterical, out of control sound. I was wondering why I had ever believed him in the first place.
It should have been obvious, really. Of course he hadn't actually cared about me, he'd just used me to get to Victoire. All of the boys I'd dated had gone out with Victoire after splitting up with me; why should I have thought Teddy would be any different?
'Dom, please...'
'Go on then. Tell me why you cheated on me with my bloody sister, of all people!'
'I – I didn't...'
'Care about me? That's clear enough! I should have seen from the beginning that you never did! Well you know what? I don't care anymore, either. It's over, Teddy! Why don't you get Vicky over there to comfort you?' I spat out venomously. I was sick and tired of Victoire getting everything. Over the years, I'd learnt to live with the fact that I lived in my sister's shadow, but this was just one time too many.
Then Victoire stepped forward, reaching out a hand , and I recoiled instinctively.
'Don't touch me, bitch.'
Teddy went and stood next to Victoire, his arm around her waist, as though he was protecting her from me. The deranged, gullible, ugly little sister that he had used. Something inside me collapsed, defeated by the way they looked, standing together defiantly.
They were one of those picture-book-perfect couples.
