"Dear Margot, your problems really aren't my problems."
Puffing out a quick exhalation, Dominique backspaced quickly.
"Dear Margot, why don't you ask your mother for advice so I can do something more fun with my time than fix your life?"
Another emphatic deletion.
"Dear Margot, do you have any ideas for a breaking story so I don't have to sit here helping pathetic people like you anymore?" she typed in sharp, staccato rhythm.
Dom groaned loudly and deleted the sentence for the third time. If only Margot could solve her own damn problems. "And then I'd be out of a job," Dom muttered under her breath.
"Sorry, didn't quite catch that?" A bright grin flashed down at her.
Dom flicked her gaze up to meet the piercing hazel eyes that she knew would be waiting for her. "Shut it." Pretending to be intensely focused, she pounded out yet another curt line to Margot on her keyboard.
The tall man leaned against the edge of her desk and brushed a hand through his coiffed hair, the color of coffee with a generous pour of cream stirred in. "What's the dilemma this time? A lost cat, perhaps?" He peered over her shoulder. "Ah, the poor, heartbroken Margot!" he exclaimed dramatically, clutching a hand to his heart.
She spun from her computer and fixed him with an angry glare. "Don't make me tell you again. Leave me alone!"
He held up two hands in mock protest. "Oh no, didn't mean to interrupt your essential work." The word dripped with sarcasm. "I was on my way to a meeting with the big guy anyway." Jerking a thumb in the direction of the editor-in-chief's office, he winked, pushed himself off her desk, and strode down the aisle of the huge newsroom.
Seething at his retreating back, Dom found she couldn't muster up any energy to concentrate on her reply to poor, pathetic Margot. Lysander Scamander had everything she wanted: a top investigative reporting job at the Daily Prophet, enough charisma to be the boss's favorite, and the glory of having graduated at the top of their Hogwarts class. It was disgusting, actually.
Not to take credit from him, because the truth was, the man was brilliant, and that much had been evident from day one of Transfiguration in their First Year. But she had only ever been the smallest bit behind him, every step of the way, and while he got called into important meetings with their editor, Barnabas Cuffe, she was stuck out in the muck of the newsroom chipping away at her daily personal-advice column. It just wasn't fair.
Dom pushed reddish-blond bangs from her eyes and stared at the huge, vintage clock on the far wall of the massive room. She let her gaze linger on the bustle of the Daily Prophet newsroom, its cubicles packed with over-eager secretaries and cocky reporters dashing off last minute stories. The smell of ink hung in the air and the sound of the printing press cranking out pages made her long for some excitement. She had always known she belonged in a newsroom just like this, but she had never imagined her experience inside of it would consist of giving love advice to Margot, and thousands like her.
For the past two years since she had graduated school and gotten this job at the Prophet through her Aunt Ginny, Dom had known something was missing. She wanted the thrill of the chase and the adrenaline rush of covering an actual beat, not the crazy sob stories of half the Wizarding world. But because she didn't have high-profile connections ready to pull strings for her, she was stuck in a desk nine hours a day, while Lysander got an investigative column and a free pass to hobnob with all of the big shots at the Daily Prophet. Her father was right. Life was unfair.
Ring! Ring ring! The trill of her desk phone cut into her reverie. "Daily Prophet, this is Dominique Weasley."
"Dom, it's Rose. You got a sec?"
Dom inspected a neatly trimmed fingernail. "I've got all the time in the world. Margot's problems can wait."
"Who's Margot? Wait, never mind. Listen I know it's almost quitting time over there but I wanted to tell you something. I was at the big Wizengamot meeting this afternoon-"
"Please don't remind me you get to go to cool meetings while I have to sit here all day," Dom cut off her cousin, stomach twisting with envy.
Rose scoffed. "As if! Being stenographer for the most stuffy group of witches and wizards in the world hardly makes for an exciting day of work. But seriously, I've got something you might find interesting. You're always looking for some mysterious story, you little sleuth."
Dom's ears pricked up at the mention of mystery. "I'm no detective, but we both know I need a story to break if I ever want to get out of this personal-advice gig."
"I know, I know, so shut up and hear me out," Rose insisted. "Caspar Bomsnox hasn't been to a Wizengamot meeting in over two months! At first I didn't think it was anything, but every time someone asks his secretary about it, she hedges and won't reply. Kingsley—er, Minister Shacklebolt, I mean— won't say anything publicly, but it's obvious he doesn't know what's going on either."
Dom furrowed her brow. "Bomsnox…isn't he the Head of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry? He can't just vanish without everyone knowing where he is. And he's the liaison to all of the foreign Ministries of Magic, too."
"Exactly. Something fishy is definitely going on. Honestly I don't know if it's even a story, but I figured it couldn't hurt to give you the tip, right?"
A frustrated-looking witch approached Dom's tiny, cluttered desk. "Do you have that column or not?" she snapped in a hoarse voice. "We'll need to fill the space with an extra advertisement if you can't get it done."
Dom nodded quickly. "Yeah, yeah, I'll get to it, Bertha. Give me fifteen." Turning back to the phone, she spoke to her cousin under her breath. "Gotta dash, Rose. They're gonna convert my essential column to ad space if I don't hurry. But thanks for the tip, this could be perfect."
Slamming the phone back into its receiver, she gave the copy editor her first genuine smile in what felt like months. "I'm on it, don't get your knickers in a twist."
The smell of salt rushed up to greet her as she landed on solid ground after Apparating. Dom watched a lazy seagull wing its way across the sky, heading down in the direction of the beach. What she really wanted to do was follow it and run in the surf and let the waves wash over her feet until she forgot about everything else. But what she had to do was go inside and deal with her family.
Suppressing a groan, she headed up the narrow gravel path to the front door of Shell Cottage. Rather than alert anyone to her presence, though, Dom snuck up the stairs, skipping the creaky seventh step, and trod the long hallway to her old bedroom.
She cracked the door open and poked her head inside. Just as she'd left it. Childhood toys and books rested on a bookcase, a faded Montrose Magpies poster still moved weakly as its roster from several years ago zoomed in and out of focus. The two small twin beds sat solidly side by side in the little room. If she closed her eyes, she could picture Victoire propped up on the bed by the window, painting her nails a vibrant pink.
"Teddy's sneaking in here soon, so you'd better be gone fast!" Victoire hissed at her younger sister.
"It's my room, too, why do I have to leave?" Dom retorted quietly, looking up from her book.
Victoire tossed her glossy ponytail and rolled her eyes. "Mum and Dad don't know he'll be here, and if they knew then we couldn't be alone."
Dom briefly considered telling her parents that her older sister was sneaking a boy — albeit one they all knew well — into their bedroom. But then Victoire would hate her even more than she already did, and it wasn't worth causing more fights. "Fine."
"You'll understand someday, Dom," said Victoire patronizingly.
But Dom understood now, and the thought of Teddy spending time alone in their bedroom with Victoire made her stomach turn. She shut her book fast and tried not to think about what they might be doing in here once she left. Ignoring her older sister's hasty preparations, she dashed out to find sanctuary in Louis' room.
"Hey, sis. Thanks for telling me you'd be back," a voice broke into her thoughts.
Dom jumped, brought back from the unpleasant memory. "Lou!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around her brother who, though two years younger, maintained quite an advantage in height. "I haven't seen you in ages! How was first term?"
"Oh, you know." He shrugged. "School's school. Seventh year's just as boring as sixth. Probably got decent grades, though nothing like yours were."
She let out a laugh. "My grades were only good because I had hardly any friends. You've got swaths of chums, not to mention girls begging for your attention. Letting your grades slip is just part of the package."
"Merlin, you make me sound like Vicky!" he protested, raking a hand through unruly blond hair. "I work sometimes you know."
But the grin had fallen from his sister's face.
"Cheer up, kid. I don't think she's coming for supper tonight if that's what's got you worried. Mum's going mad about it, but you know how it is." Louis ruffled his sister's hair. "I'm surprised you even made it."
She wandered to the bookcase slowly and let her gaze linger on the heaping stacks of books she had devoured eagerly as a child. "Well it is almost Christmas, I figured I'd make Mum and Dad happy and try to come around more often. Besides, I need to talk to Dad about a lead I may have turned up."
"Hey, look at you!" he snatched a bouncy ball from the shelf beside her and began drumming it against the floor. "Gonna be a famous reporter after all? Though don't get me wrong, I do shell out a Knut once in a while to read your advice column."
Glancing out the window at the backyard full of trees and the ocean view just beyond it, Dominique felt a heavy weight settle on her. Being home always crowded her mind with memories she wanted to keep locked away, from herself more than anyone.
"You know, Mum told Vicky you'd be home tonight, but she and Teddy are probably…" His voice trailed off. "Dom? Hello? What're you contemplating in there, it's like I lost you," Louis chirped, waving a hand in front of her face.
"Sorry," she mumbled.
He pegged the ball at the floor once again. "This about Teddy?"
"What about him?" Dom's gaze snapped over to her brother.
Louis gave her a meaningful stare. "Dom, everyone knows you've had a thing for him since you were about seven."
A lump rose in her throat and she took a deep breath to steady herself. "He's with Vicky. He always will be. I don't want to hear another word about it." Tossing the book from her hand onto the nearest bed, she pushed past her brother and jogged down the stairs.
"Dominique, darling, is that you?" came an airy call from the kitchen.
Dom stood at the front door, toying briefly with the idea of going back to her rundown apartment in the city immediately and forgetting all about this brief attempt to be nicer to her family. But after a moment's hesitation, she realized it was probably too late for that. "Hey, Mum."
Fleur Delacour Weasley breezed into the foyer and embraced her middle child tightly. "I was starting to think you might never come back."
"It's only been a couple months," Dom grumbled into her mother's shoulder.
"And we all know she only came back for Lou anyway," Bill's gruff voice pointed out with a low chuckle from the doorway to the kitchen.
Louis bounded down the stairs two at a time behind her. "I've always been her favorite." He squeezed her shoulder, letting her know he had forgiven her outburst about Teddy already. That was why he was her favorite; he saw the bad parts of her and always knew how to love her anyway.
It was a gift too few people in the world possessed.