Disclaimer: Everything you recognise belongs to J. K. Rowling, not me.
Dominique had always been full of surprises to her parents, from the day she was born. Fleur had barely got a single warning before her water broke, and it was pure luck it was a Saturday and Bill had been home to escort her to the hospital, moaning and barely able to stand due to the heavy contractions. No more than four hours later she found herself with a small bundle in her arms, nursing her second daughter.
A quick glimpse at the baby gave them another small shock; the thick down on the small pink head was dark as the night, far from the golden blond her sister had had as an infant. Shrugging slightly, Bill had later joked the genes from her maternal grandfather must have put up a real fight, and won over both the Veela's blonde and the Weasley-red.
Dominique grew fast and found her place in the family, tagging along when her mother went out to do some gardening or when her father concluded he barely could fit his car into the garage and needed to throw away at least some of the rubbish there. The little girl also discovered quickly how these favours more often than not led to ice-cream or biscuits afterward.
Of course Dominique wasn't just an angel. If her sister Victoire decided she couldn't play with the 'big kids', there was always the possibility of the younger throwing a tantrum loud enough to attract some adults, who would then tell Victoire to let her sister in on the fun. If this didn't help particular, a nudge from Teddy Lupin and quick murmur of how it wasn't that big of a deal if Dominique joined them usually was enough to bend Victoire's will for the moment. Both Bill and Fleur saw this, but took it with a small smile, they had both been part of sibling rivalry once themselves.
When the time drew nearer for Dominique to start Hogwarts and she felt herself too mature for the company of her younger cousins and the older were already off to school, Bill half-regretted his decision of working part-time at home. Every opportunity the dark-haired girl had, she seized to question him about life, from his school days to his work in Egypt and if he regretted moving back to Britain.
Sitting on the chair opposite his desk in the study, she would keep a matter-of-fact tone as she aired her thoughts for him and expected full answers, growing annoyed if he just murmured in response as he tried to fill out the paperwork for splitting the content in one vault into two as the customer requested. Getting tired with his mental absence from their discussion, she soon gave up coming into his study.
That didn't mean she stopped talking to him. After dinner, when his mind was relaxed enough to take in what she had mused over in the day, he found himself more than once surprised by her brains, and more often agreeing with her than not. Though, sometimes it became too much.
"Daddy's tired," he found himself almost moaning one afternoon, laying spread out on the couch, his blue eyes squinting into hers. It had been a tough day on the work, as everyone seemed to blame him for every last thing, at the same time expecting him to fix them.
"Oh," Dominique answered, wrinkling her freckled nose a bit. "Well, then I'll go help Mum with the dishes." But she didn't go at once, she made sure to tuck a blanket around him first. Sighing as his body relaxed properly, Bill smiled slightly as she heard a light discussion of why they had adopted some Muggle things, like a car and a television, into their altogether magical family start up in the kitchen.
Still, Dominique's bag of hidden tricks was far from empty. Bordering the Hogwarts Express for the first time with a brave smile, she still half-hung out the window as the train began to move, waving to her parents and little brother. Waving back, Bill reminded himself his little girl was in good hands, if she didn't annoy the living daylight out of the teachers with her already full stock of knowledge.
Coming in from a check on his car that evening and being met with a friendly accusation of loving 'that metal-wreck' more than his wife and a request to wash the streak of oil from his cheek, he spotted the letter laying on the table.
"She's gotten in trouble already?" he asked with a lopsided grin, sitting down in the couch beside Fleur and reaching for the crumpled piece of paper, it seemed the owl had been a bit difficult to persuade.
It wasn't long, but held more than enough information; Mum & Dad, the food is amazing, so is the castle! I'm in Slytherin, they're okay people. Love, Dom.
After staring on the short letter for a while, Fleur uttered a small "Oh." Bill swallowed hard, wrinkled his brows, and in the end gave a short nod before placing the letter down on the table carefully.
"I'm not sure if I'm surprised at that –" His finger hovered over the word Slytherin for a moment "– or if I'm surprised that I am surprised." To be honest with himself, he had seen the tendency of his daughter to get it her way, either by persuasion or by wit. Still, a part of him had stubbornly insisted Weasleys always end up in Gryffindor, and if not, at least her brains would land Dominique in Rawenclaw. "And now I feel like a fool," he concluded before heading for the bathroom to clean up.
As always when it came to their children's behaviour, the shock didn't last long. By the next morning they were both composed enough to write to both their daughters, just for good measurement, wishing them luck and telling them they were already missed. The rest of the day was easily spent outside with Louis, a couple of brooms and a picnic basket, driving any concerns from their minds for a while.
The next letter from Dominique told of her first detention, in the middle of November. After a bit of back and forth it turned out to involve some products from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and a not-completely-foolproof plan to avoid getting caught. Bill just rolled his eyes and chuckled when reading it.
As both Dominique and Victoire decided to stay at Hogwarts over Christmas, their parents were close to smothering them with hugs when they at last came home for the summer. Marvelling over how much both of them had grown and joking of how they soon had to start chasing away Dominique's admirers, they headed for the car, not knowing the next surprise would be bigger than any of the previous.
"Dad?" They had sat in silence for a while on the porch, each just staring out on the waves and slowly sipping their soda as the sun sunk lower in the sky. Having been home for a couple of days, Dominique had slid right into her place as the middle child again.
"Yeah?" Bill stretched his long legs in front of himself, sinking deeper into the soft cushion of the garden chair, looking over at his daughter.
"I've been thinking," she began quietly, gazing out on the sea, the light breeze ruffling her long, black hair, setting sparks in it that betrayed her Veela ancestry.
"Of what?" he asked, sensing this wasn't how she had thought it funny how her wand had the same wood as his and the same core as Fleur's.
"Well..." She sat up straighter and turned to him, looking him square in the eye. He knew that expression, his wife used it often enough in presence of his mother; She would not buckle an inch no matter what happened. "Do you hate me?"
"What?" he asked mildly, taken aback. "Why would I hate you?" He reached out to take her hand, but she wouldn't let him.
"Because I'm in Slytherin." Her tone was matter-of-factly, but he detected a small quiver in her voice, a small fear that he did hate her for it.
"I don't hate you at all," he answered, still mildly, and gave her a tender smile.
"That's denying yourself," she burst out with at once. "It's a well-known fact that Slytherins and Gryffindors hate each other, and you are a Gryffindor, have always been! Plus, you're a Weasley, you're sneered at by many of the pure-blood Slytherin families, like Nott and Malfoy and Parkinson!" The blood had risen in her fair cheeks, her eyes widening as she challenged him.
"Dom," he sighed, folding his hands in his lap. "You are just as much a Weasley as I am –" he began, but was cut off short.
"No, I'm only half as much Weasley as you are, I'm fifty percent Delacour too," she insisted, her voice calmer again.
"Okay, fair's fair," he muttered while draining his glass to win a moment to think. "That I am a Gryffindor, well, I was in my school days, and I admit to have thrown myself a bit into the rivalry with Slytherin. But that's a long time ago and it doesn't matter any more, all is forgot and forgiven," he continued, holding her eyes. "That the Slytherins and Gryffindors hate each other, that's mostly an act... Though sometimes it's taken too far."
"It's an act?" she said dubiously, getting up to walk back and forth in front of him, hands on her back. Bill hid his smile in his hand, pacing like that was a pretty Weasley thing to do, even if she didn't see it herself. "Then who, if I might ask, is the houses named after?" She glanced up at him, obviously overflowing with arguments to support her case.
"Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin," he answered, a nasty feeling he was about to be outsmarted by a twelve-year-old twisting through his stomach.
"Who ended their friendship over what?" This time she didn't give him time to answer. "Slytherin left, in the end, because Gryffindor, and the others too, but mostly Gryffindor, insisted they take in Muggle-borns to Hogwarts! In those times!" She was almost shrieking and Bill got up to embrace her, feeling her struggle for a moment before she relaxed against him, breathing slowly and gathering her thoughts.
"And do you see any reason to hold that grudge against the inhabitants of the house today, for that?" he murmured down in her hair, pulling her gently over to sit on his lap.
"You don't see, do you?" she asked, calmed again. He shook his head, smiling slightly, and she heaved a sigh. "About a thousand years ago, magic was feared and witches and wizards hunted. By everyone. Of course Slytherin was afraid that if they took in Muggle-borns, it would be too easy for a sibling to boast to some ignorant prats, telling them to fear them and that person, because of their magic."
"And? They had to know the danger of revealing what their family member was?" Bill questioned lightly, stroking her back absentmindedly.
"Yes, but that was power, too, you know," Dominique lectured, trying to ignore the fingers tickling up her spine, it ruined the seriousness of their conversation. "Fear is power, to a certain degree. Still, the Muggle-born in question would be sentenced to death by burning, unless he revealed a whole load of other wizards and witches. Given that option, most gave in, they were just kids..." Her eyes grew misty as she let them wander slowly over the waves. "Slytherin was right in how it was a risk, a risk Gryffindor, Rawenclaw and Hufflepuff was willing to take. If it had gone real bad, someone could have revealed the existence of Hogwarts, and it's founders, erasing everything they had worked so hard for." Leaning her back against his chest, she let out a heavy breath.
"But nobody did find them out," her father whispered in her ear. "The students and their family stayed loyal, and still do. Right?"
"Yeah, but now magic isn't feared like it used to be," she said quietly. "Salasar had every right to decline taking in Muggle-borns, if not into the school, at least into his own house."
"Dominique?" Bill said mildly and turned her around to face him, hiding his concern for his daughter's view . "Who told you all this?"
"Nobody," she answered truthfully, her eyes slowly gliding over his scarred face.
"Did you read it somewhere?" he tried, but she shook her head.
"Dad, I don't think like this because I've been in the company of Slytherins all year, I think like this because I know the history," she said slowly, her gaze hardening as to make him argue.
"Okay," he said after a moment, holding his hands on her shoulders, feeling his thumb brush against the fragile skin of her throat. "But Dominique –?"
"Yes?"
"You asked if I hated you for being in Slytherin. I take it you don't hate me for having been in Gryffindor." There was a note of question in his tone and she suppressed a smile, the corner of her eyes wrinkling anyway.
"I could never hate you," she said, laying her arms about his neck and accepting his tight embrace, both giving as much as possible to make up for the lost months, she was still Daddy's little girl, after all. "Beside, hate is a waste of time and energy," she muttered, making them both chuckle.
AN: As you might imagine, I came to think of the part about Slytherin while rereading CoS, and how he really wasn't that much of a bad guy. I've also seen Dominque as being a bit different from the rest of her family for a long time, and the plot bunnies jumped on the idea like starved piranhas to a bloody steak.