For the Fanfiction F A C T O R Competition ;; dedicated to Kat.
"It is difficult to know at what moment love begins; it is less difficult to know that it has begun."
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
dominique and lysander, taking chances.
fifteen
She stands on the edge of the dancing crowd, her gaze flicking from figure to figure. Amidst a swarm of moving bodies, she is alone. Her admirers have been dismissed for the night; it may be the Ministry Ball, where famous heroes are celebrated, but tonight she wants to be anything but famous. Anyone but Dominique.
She smiles tightly as he arrives at her side, her lips stretched into a thin red-lipstick grin and her blue eyes too bright with fake happiness and laughter. Though most of the dancers wear fanciful masks, as has become tradition over the last several years, his face is bare, exposing his pale skin to the light.
"Domi," he acknowledges, his hair artfully messed up like he's spent the last ten minutes with a girl in a nearby broom cupboard, the girl's hands in his hair and his lips on her skin with the passion of love dancing around them both. She hates herself for wishing she was that girl.
"Don't call me that," she snaps, the laughter disappearing from her eyes for a brief moment, though she soon composes herself, and her lips curl in a smile once again. She doesn't ask how he recognises her underneath the mess of curls that adorn her head, and the delicate mask that covers her face.
"Calm down, Domi," he stresses the nickname, eyes alight with laughter. 'It's just me. You don't need to be like this with me, remember?" And she remembers, she does – promises made in the summer before she goes to Hogwarts, that they will never ever be anything less than friends. Maybe it's this long ago promise that makes her let him be around her. Anyone else would be immediately humiliated by her, if they dared to act like this towards the ice queen of Hogwarts.
"Lysander, leave," she commands regally, noting a dark haired boy watching the two of them closely. Without having to look at him any longer, she knows that the boy's hazel eyes will be narrowed in anger as he scrutinizes them. Her boyfriend has always been the jealous type, and she gives him plenty to be jealous of - she's never been one to hold back when she wants to flirt, and he bores her more than she loves him. She makes a mental note to break up with him as soon as possible, and tries to ignore the persistent thoughts that tell her there's another reason why she wants to be single.
"As you wish, my lady," he responds with a bow, before he turns and disappears into the crowd. She smiles, surprised by his quick acquiescence, and composes herself enough to accept the hand of the next fragile boy who asks her to dance. She'll try not to break him.
Many dances and trodden on toes later, she turns to greet her next partner, and is surprised by a pair of lips kissing her neck. His lips rest on her neck, near her ear, and she tenses. No one has ever tried to be intimate with her before, not like this, and certainly not without her permission, though Lysander has never been one to follow the rules.
He spins her neatly into his arms, and when he speaks, he doesn't offer her pretty compliments, or whisper manipulative words into her ear, as so many other boys have done. Instead, he tells her that his previous partner had an Australian accent, and attempts to copy it. She smiles, because his intention to make her laugh is so transparent, and besides, he really is kind of funny.
"So, Dominique?" he asks after a brief moment of silence. Lysander is the kind of person who cannot stand silence, no matter who he is with.
"Yes, Lysander?" she replies, a tint of laughter to her voice that wasn't there before he came to dance with her. Somehow, in these brief moments under the dull light, with his laughter in her ear and a smile upon her face, she has come to realise that it's nice to be with him again. Best friends forever, her mind whispers.
"Will you talk to me tomorrow? Properly talk, not the kind of talking that we usually do, where I try to get you to say something real and you brush me off with the same words you give everyone else." His eyes are intent on hers, a strange light burning in them which is fiercer than she has ever seen him look before. She says yes, of course she does, because she has long since discovered she can never say no to him when he asks her this way.
"I'll meet you in the Owlery," she says, because it's out of the way and practically deserted on a Sunday, and she can spend time with him without having to look over her shoulder for anyone in her social circle. They wouldn't approve of her spending time with a boy like Lysander, who isn't Slytherin, isn't pureblood, and can't lie to save himself.
The music stops, and the crowd turns to applaud the musicians as the dancing ends for the night. She kisses him swiftly on the cheek, and prepares to melt into the horde of people rushing for the entrance to the banquet hall. "Thank you. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Hey." He stops her with a touch to her wrist, his voice an almost whisper that sends shivers racing along her spine. "I look forward to it," he adds, his voice hoarser, with an edge of something that she doesn't want to admit it herself just yet.
She nods, her lips tingling where they kissed his skin, and is swallowed by the crowd.
The magic of the ball has ended - for tonight.
So, this is a collection for Dominique - one of my favourite nextgen characters - and the six people she loves in her lifetime. If you have any suggestions about who these people might be, I'd be happy to hear them! Or maybe there's a part you loved/hated - I'd really like to know where I should improve.
Each chapter will begin with Dominique's age, and a quick description of who else is featuring in this snapshot. Obviously, there will be six chapters in this collection.
Thanks in advance! :)
-Listen
