Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
For Rachel. :)
It's the night of your twenty-fourth birthday and you're sitting in the middle of the crowded room, and you want to run as far away as you can, as fast as you can. Seeing as you can't do that, ("people will talk," you say which she replies to, "don't they always?) you decide on getting drunk instead.
It's going rather well, if you do say so yourself. You're on your third bottle of beer and you're getting a pleasant buzz going but of course, she has to come and fuck everything up.
(Like she always does.)
You don't see her at first but somehow, you know when she walks in. Maybe it's a sixth sense, maybe it's instinct, maybe it's something else, but whatever it is, all you know is that she's somewhere in this mess of sweat, bear and sex, you call a party crowd.
Your straighten, automatically scanning the room for her. But than you catch yourself and slump back down in your seat. You take another sip of your beer and fix a disinterested expression on your face, reminding yourself that you can't care less if she's here or not.
"Dominique's here." You startle, knocking the bottle against your front teeth. Wincing, you place it between your knees and rub your mouth with a hand.
"What the hell, Molly?"
Your sister is standing in front of you, her dress rumpled and sweat stained, her red hair falling from her clip.
She stares at you, one eyebrow perfectly arched. "Dominique is here. I thought you might want to go say hi." You can't quite put your finger on what her tone is but you wonder, not for the first time, just how much Molly knows about you and Dominique.
"I'll find her later," you say absently, picking up your beer and taking another sip. For some reason, you can't meet your sister's gaze. You don't know if it's the seven years guilt or the alcohol that's racing through you.
"Yeah, you do that," Molly says, before giving a tired sigh. She reaches down, places a kiss on top of your head before saying, "Please don't do anything you'll regret in the morning." With those words, she vanishes into the dancing crowd and you're left alone with your beer and too many memories.
You settle back into your chair and press your half empty bottle to your temple. Dominique is here. Okay, now what?
Should you go find her? Should you get out of here while you still can? Find some random guy to shag?
None of these choices sound too appealing so you decide to go back to your original plan of getting drunk. That seems like a safer thing to do.
You get as far as raising the bottle to your lips when you see a flash of gold from the corner of your eye. You freeze before reminding you that she isn't the only blonde here. But...maybe it's better to be safe than sorry? Yeah, you think so. You stand up quickly, placing you beer in your chair before pushing your way towards the back of the flat and in the general direction of your bedroom. Maybe you can wait her out in there.
You've made it about two feet when you run into someone. A hand around your wrist catches you before you fall.
You blink, open your mouth to thank them. Then you see who it is.
"Dominique?" Just her name tastes strange on your tongue.
She gives you a brilliant smile and you think she's just as beautiful as she was the last time you saw her.
"Happy birthday, Lu."
A bitter feeling settles in your stomach when she says that nickname. You jerk your wrist from her grip. "Thanks, Dominique." You try to push past her but she blocks your way.
"We need to talk," she says and you want to snap that you don't want to talk to her, don't need to do anything with her anymore but something makes you nod your head.
She smiles, motions towards your bedroom. "After you."
You are suddenly aware of where exactly you're heading and an angry flush paints your face. She gives another teasing smile. Damn her.
Determined not to let her get to you, you march past and open your bedroom door, letting her go first and if your gaze lingers on her arse a little, well, old habits die hard.
You shut the door behind you before propping against it, your arms crossed over your chest. You study her critically, noting the much too short skirt and her cleavage that is just this side of spilling out and something in your stomach tightesn, your mouth goes dry and how can she make you feel this way after all this time?
"So," she drawls, picking at a fingernail. "It's been a while, Lu."
"Yes, it has, Dominique," you say stiffly. It's silent a moment before she moves closer to you. You suddenly can't breath.
"Do you remember what the last thing you said to me was?" she asks, her voice soft and seductive and you dig your fingers into your palms and you won't fall into this spider's web this time.
"No," you say but of course, of course you remember. "It's been seven years, Dominique."
"You don't remember?" she asks, moving in closer and you're reminded of a cat stalking it's prey. Is that what you are? Prey? Somehow, you don't care.
You lick your lips, try to look away but you can't, her blue eyes trapping you.
"Let me refresh your memory," she says, running a finger along your jawline. "You asked if I wanted a drink."
"You never replied," you manage and suddenly, your arms are wrapping around her, pulling her body against yours.
She sends me a wicked grin that is all teeth. "Well, I am now. I think I'll take you up on that offer."
Suddenly, her lips are attacking yours, her hands running through your hair and it is only now that you remember Molly's advice, don't do anything you'll regret in the morning and as you pull her skirt down you think it's much too late for that.