Before I start with my normal AN, Ima just gonna say this: If you don't like Dom/Teddy, DONT FREAKING READ IT. On my other account I got a review from some whiny chick telling me she didn't like Dom and that it was "teddy/victore 4evah!!" Look, I like Teddy/Victoire, but I like this too. Don't be a little bitch about it. I dont want your opinion of the pairing, I want your opinion of my writing. Okay, rant over.
Oh, and pretend the whole Victoire/Teddy snog-fest at Platform 9 3/4 never happened. Thank you.
Dominique grew up in a family of musicians, each more talented than the next. And while they played together, making beautiful music in their living room in the evenings for fun, the girl would just curl up in a corner with her sketchpad, and listen enviously to her family having fun without her.
Dom herself was not musically talented in the least. She had no sense of rhythm, and was always off key. While her hands were adroit when clutching a pencil or a paintbrush, they were completely inept for playing an instrument.
Her mother was a wonderful piano player, and Dom had always loved watching her spider-leg fingers dance across the keys gracefully, like snowflakes twirling from the clouds. Sometimes, when the girl was upset, she would sit at the bench, lightly trailing her own, more clumsy fingers over the ivory, and would imagine sweet notes pouring into the air.
Her father was an amateur guitar player. He strummed along to whatever her mother was playing, able to pick up the cord changes as easily as Dominique could pick up a penny from the ground. Sometimes, her father would sit out on the edge of the cliff in their backyard, strumming softly to the sound of the ocean waves, mixing the sad notes with the dull crashes, bringing tears to the eyes of any who heard. Dominique would sit a little ways back, watching her unknowing father with envy as he molded the emotions around him--the most powerful kind of magic, in Dominique's book.
Louis, four years her junior, was in love with his violin. There was no other way for Dom to describe the way he played, pulling his bow across the strings with an unwonted amount of tender care for such a young boy. And when the song got loud or fast--oh! The passion in his eyes was incredible, the fire in his heart contagious. Dominique could listen to her brother play for hours, watching the way he moved to the music, cradling the instrument in his arms gently, yet firmly.
And then there was Victoire, her beautiful elder sister. As if it weren't bad enough that she looked like an angel, but she also had the voice of an one. When Vicki got on stage, the word just seemed to stop and focus on her. The way her strawberry blonde hair fell in waves to her waist, the way she seemed to radiate a warm, golden light, the way her voice soared through high notes as if on wings, sending a shudder of awe through the audience. She used to sing Dominique to sleep when the girl was younger, a simple lullaby she had picked up somewhere. Sometimes, even now that Dom was grown and living in a flat in Diagon Alley, she would hum it to herself and , though much less impressive coming from her voice, it would make her drift off into a peaceful sleep.
Though the sisters had always been close, there were a million differences between them. While Victoire was tall, curvy, and beautiful beyond belief, Dom was short, skinny, and slightly unnatural looking, with too-large eyes and a plethora of dark freckles across her pale skin. While the eldest girl listened to classic singers like Celestina Warbeck and Glenda Chittock, her sister rocked out to bands like The Weird Sisters and Dancing Doorknobs. Vicki had been a Ravenclaw. Dominique, a Gryffindor.
But there was one thing the girls always had in common: Teddy Lupin. At school, sharing the boy was like a game of tug-of-war that Dom felt like she was perpetually losing. At breakfast, when Dominique's chin-length hair looked like a haystack and dark circles rimmed her eyes, Vicki would stride in to the Great Hall, looking perfect. Teddy--and every other guy in the room--just would just stare at her, mouth open wide. But by lunch, after Dom had woken up from a refreshing nap in History of Magic, she was silly and good-natured, and always challenged the blue-haired boy to a thumb-wrestling competition or a face-making war. At these times Victoire would just shake her head and mutter something about the two being immature. And then, of course, by dinner, Victoire had some funny story or angry complaint to tell Teddy, and would charm him into sitting with her at the Ravenclaw table..
At least I'm in the same house as him. Dom would think to herself bitterly as she watched the two laughing together. This was true. Dom did get to spend time with him that Victoire didn't. Sometimes, during the evenings, after Roxanne, Dominique's best friend and favorite cousin, went to bed, Dom would curl up next to Ted on their favorite loveseat in front of the dying fire and talk about anything and everything. By then his hair would fade to a dark brown, his eyes droop with sleepiness, but the content smile never left his face as he talked to the younger girl, comforting her when she fought with Louis or listening intently as she ranted about her crush on the oblivious Lorcan Scamander. And as the first lights of dawn would shine through the window, they would find a peacefully sleeping Dominique, head rested against the slowly moving chest of Teddy, his hair a calm gold color as he smiled in his sleep.
But they all grew up, leaving the castle one by one. For Dom, her last three years were her hardest, as Teddy was not there to them with her. He was gone, off in the real world, working for the ministry and having fun with people his own age. He had no time for a silly little fifth year and her growing crush on him.
Yes, Dominique was secretly in love with the boy. While he thought she was still enthralled with Lorcan, she was clandestinely pining over him, waiting restlessly for his owls. They always came, yes, but with each letter there more time to wait for the next one.
Not long after her graduation came the worst day of Dominique's life. She and Roxanne had snuck down stairs at Grandma and Grandpa Weasley's in the middle of the night, in desperate search of chocolate. As they stopped on the bottom landing, a mess of arms and legs caught their eyes. There, on the tiny, overstuffed couch, were Victoire and Teddy, mouths glued together in a sickening act of passion. Roxanne, the only person to know of Dom's affection for the older boy, pulled her away quickly, as if to stop her best friend from seeing her worst nightmare come to life. But the damage was done; Dominique's heart was broken.
She soon moved out of Shell Cottage and into a ramshackle apartment with her old Hogwarts roommates Clementine and Iris. While the other two girls acquired decent and respectable jobs at the ministry, Dominique refused to be anywhere near the blue-haired man she yearned for so much in vain. She got a low-end job at one of the café's down the road from where she lived, serving boring food to boring people whose monotony kept her mind from straying to the dangerous memories of past hopes.
She and the girls had fun being single together, spending their nights playing Exploding Snap or listening to the Lee Jordan Show on the radio. But not a month after they moved in together, Iris met Dennis, and rarely made it back home until the wee hours of the morning, if at all. And quiet, shy Clementine shocked the world when she began to date Viola, a pretty girl who worked with Dominique at the café. Suddenly, Dom found herself very lonely in the evenings. Roxanne was still at Hogwarts, finishing up her last year, and the girl had no wish to contact the rest of her family. She would rather be lonely than remembering her heartache.
She often wondered if she was just weird. So unlike the rest of her family, Dom rarely fit in. She had been lucky to find the Scamanders at Hogwarts, her closest friends after Roxanne, and she made friends easily, but there was just something different about her compared to the rest of the world. Like being completely tone-deaf in a family of musicians, she thought many times, laughing to herself.
But, deep down, being musically-challenged irked Dom to no end. Teddy was an avid music fan, always humming to himself or pounding out a funky rhythm on whatever surface was in front of him. Dominique had always wished she could show him how she felt with a song--just one song, that she wrote and could perform beautifully. But alas, she had no such talent, and just had to move on and forget about Mr. Lupin.
While pondering how to do such a thing one day as she walked home from work, Dom ran into an older man, sending them both to the ground. As she scrambled to pick up the fallen canvases and paintbrushes from the ground, muttering a plethora of "I'm so sorry!"s, he said, "No, no, it's quite all right."
She stood up, smiling apologetically, handing the man his art supplies. He smiled at her, and they studied each other for a moment. He looked strangely familiar, with smooth, mocha-colored skin and deep, curious eyes. He was the first to speak, after reaching a silent conclusion. "Would you happen to be a Weasley?"
She nodded. "Yes, one of a million. Name's Dominique." She shook his free hand, smiling.
"Dean. Dean Thomas. You must be…Bill's daughter?" Dom nodded again, recognizing the man's name.
"Dean…you went to school with Uncle Harry and Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione, right? I recognize you from the class picture Aunt Ginny has on her mantelpiece."
The man smiled, and they both began walking down the road. "Yes, that's right. So what is a pretty young lady like yourself doing walking around alone at night? Shouldn't you be on a date with a lucky young man?"
Dominique rolled her eyes. "Oh, right. That. No, I'm just going home, making myself a nice cup of tea, and pretending that my roommates are home." She hadn't meant to sound so bitter, but Dean seemed like someone she could talk to. "So, what are you doing walking around alone at night?"
Dean laughed, stopping in front of a vacant building. "This," he said, opening the door. Dom followed, curious as to what he meant. As she stepped through the threshold, Dean sent a few balls of light flying through the room, illuminating the paintings hanging on the walls. Sculptures stood everywhere, some on tables, some on the floor.
"And art studio…?" Dominique breathed, looking around. There was something magical about the room, ignoring the obvious spells that kept some of the paintings and pottery floating in midair. The art was beautiful, the mood enchanting. Dom felt at home.
"Yes. This is the brainchild of my new wife and I. Studio in the front, art classes in the back, apartment up above. We've been working hard on it for the past few months, but there's something missing. We need young, fresh minds to help us with some artwork. My step-sons are brilliant artists themselves, but my daughter refused to put any of her work on display." He picked up one of the paintbrushes he had dumped on a nearby table and handed it to Dominique.
She stared at it curiously. "Um…what do you want me to do with this?" He laughed again, and Dom was beginning to wonder what was so funny about her.
"That was my overly dramatic way of asking you to submit some paintings for our opening show." She stared at him, about to ask how he knew she liked to paint, when he answered, "I can just tell. Call it a sixth sense or something. You look like an artist."
And so Dominique returned the next evening, apprehensive and excited. Dean greeted her enthusiastically, then set her up in the back with a canvas and some paints. She stared at the expanse of white, unsure of what to do. Dean had told her the theme was "From The Soul", and the young girl had no idea what that meant.
Just as she was about to throw the canvas against the wall in frustration, someone walked in, setting down his bag on the table behind Dominique. There was a silence, then he asked, "Dom? What are you doing here?"
The young Weasley whipped around to find Lorcan Scamander staring at her curiously. She tucked the paintbrush behind her ear--a habit she had picked up from spending too much time with the Scamander boys--and nearly tackled the boy. "Lor! What are you doing here? Where's 'Sander?"
He grinned, hugging her back fiercely. "Lysander? I dunno, pining over Roxanne? He misses her terribly. And I'm here because my mum owns this place. I feel like I should be asking you the same question."
Dom froze. "Is Dean your new step-father?" She asked, stunned. The boys' mother, Luna, had divorced their father, Rolf, when the boys had been in their second year. That had been a tough time, and Dom had really grown close to Lorcan as he tried to cope with the messy legal issue.
"Yeah. He's great isn't he? Mum says he always checks for nargles when he's cleaning under the bed, and he paints the loveliest pictures. They're really happy together." Dom smiled, glad Luna found someone who really understood her. "Did he recruit you? He seemed desperate after Viola refused to let him show her drawings…"
Dom sighed, and felt like she had been through too many shocks for the fact that her roommate's girlfriend was Dean's daughter to really bother her. She decided that the magical world was just too small.
"Yeah, he asked me last night. Very spontaneous. But now I'm stuck making a painting for a show who's theme I don't even understand!" Her earlier frustration surfaced again, and she crossed her arms, staring at the canvas.
"Well, what are you feeling right now?" Lorcan asked, placing his hand on her shoulder.
"Murderously violent towards an inanimate object." She glared at the brightly colored paints on her palette.
"No, I mean underneath. Let go of your worldly ties and enter the spiritual realm." He placed his fingers on either side of her head, rubbing her temples. She closed her eyes and obeyed, slightly perplexed as to what the loony boy meant.
"Now, what are you feeling?" He asked again, and Dom quirked an eyebrow, eyes still closed.
"Confusion." She had meant for it to sound sarcastic, but it came out bitter.
"About what?"
You're stupid methods. "Love."
"And who do you love?"
Why, in Merlin's name, would I tell you that? "Teddy."
"So why are you confused?"
Because you're making absolutely no sense. "Because he loves someone else." Dom could feel her throat constricting, but she held her ground.
"And who does he love?"
"Victoire." Tears rolled down Dominique's face, and she let out a sob. Lorcan wrapped his arms around her, letting the small girl cry into his chest.
"I'm sorry, Dom. Really. But you can use this emotion! Use it to create your art, your masterpiece!" She looked at the blank canvas, and suddenly, she could see what she wanted to paint, like it was already there.
"You're right. I can. Thank you, Lor." She grabbed her paintbrush from behind her ear, dipping it into the paint. He smiled, and walked over to another table, letting the determined girl work her own kind of magic.
Three weeks later and it was time for the show. Dom had created a few other paintings, but the one she had made with Lorcan's help was the best. It captured the essence of Dean and Luna's show, showed her deep emotions. She had never been so proud of anything in her life.
But, like always, she was shown up by Victoire. The same night that Dean and Luna's studio, Gold and Bronze, opened, her sister had a concert at some fancy Ministry fundraiser. Therefore, no one would be at the studio to see Dom. Victoire was the important child in the family. Dom was just a side note.
The opening show was well attended, and Dom, flanked on either side by the Scamander brothers, was bombarded with many compliments on her paintings. She nodded and smiled and said "Thank you," but the one person she really, truly wanted to be there didn't even know she had a show tonight. He was probably sitting in the front row of Victoire's concert, watching her with loving eyes.
The paintings and drawings and sculptures were all floating around the room, surrounded by floating candles, much like the ones from the Great Hall at Hogwarts. Dom's floated near the center of the room, where many people were gathered, admiring it.
For days Dominique had labored away on it, pouring her soul onto the canvas. In the middle of the flames that covered the entire expanse stood a beautiful angel with blue hair and shimmering wings that magically changed color in the light. He smiled contently, his eyes on the girl next to him. She was beautiful, wrapped in vines and flowers, her golden hair falling down her back. She was frozen in the motion of dancing, arms spread wide and head tilted back. On the angel's other side, barely visible, was a pale, grey girl, wrapped in chains, arms outstretched towards the shimmering man. She had blank eyes and a transparent body, crouched on the fiery ground pathetically. No one but Lorcan knew what it meant, but they all felt the angst and heartbreak radiating from the detailed lines and swooping curves.
Luna smiled at her as she leaned against the wall, momentarily free of her boys. "How are you, dear?" She asked, leaning next to her. Dom smiled.
"I'm good. This show is amazing. You and Dean have done an amazing job." Her best friends' mother smiled.
"Thank you. But we owe all of our popularity on your painting. Everyone has been asking about it all night." Dominique blushed the famous Weasley red.
"Er, thanks." They fell into a comfortable silence, watching the people gather around different pieces of art, sipping champagne from floating trays. Dom was feeling the urge to chuck off her heels and go around barefoot when Luna pointed into the crowd.
"Is that your blue-haired angel?" Dom stared where she pointed curiously, wondering if she meant her painting, when she saw him. Him. Her heart dropped through her stomach and her face paled.
Teddy stood in the middle of the room, studying Dom's painting. The painting. She nodded slowly, then walked over to him, forcing a surprised smile onto her face.
"Teddy! What are you doing here?" He grinned widely, pulling her into a hug.
"Dom! I haven't seen you in ages! And what do you mean, what am I doing here? I came to see you!" He pulled back, looking at her painting again. "This is really good, Dom. Really good."
"Thanks." She watched him as he studied it intently, chewing on his lip.
"You know, I think there's a story here," He said after a moment, causing Dominique's heart to race.
"L-like what?" She asked, eyes wide.
"Like, that the ghost girl loves the angel, but he doesn't really see her. And that he spends all his time looking at the flower-girl." Dom nodded, too nervous to reply. He continued. "But I don't think he loves the flower-girl. She's a pretty distraction; an obstacle. A mistake." He seemed to be speaking directly to Dominique now, but she refused to meet his eye. Teddy went on, his voice lowered to a near-whisper. "I think he really loves the ghost girl."
Dom looked up to see him looking at her, love in his apologetic eyes. "What?"
"I think he loves her." Teddy took her hand in his, lowering his face closer to hers. "You've never been a ghost to me, Dom. You've always been as bright as a fire." He kissed her chastely, pulling away quickly for the applause coming from the art viewers. The loudest were Lorcan and Lysander, who whooped and shouted and high-fived everyone around them.
"How did you-?" She tried to ask, dazed from the kiss.
"Your painting is like music to me, Dom. Clear and loud and beautiful."
She threw her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. He hugged her tightly to him, and started humming as he rubbed circles in her back. She recognized it as Victoire's lullaby.
"Did Vicki teach you that?" Dom asked, head still tucked into his neck.
"No. I taught it to her, years ago." Dom froze. How fitting that the only song that could ever put her to sleep was Teddy's.
"So, you and Victoire…?"
"We broke up. Ages ago. You would have known that if you ever came and visited me." Teddy sounded like Grandma Weasley as he reprimanded her, and a strange feeling swelled up inside of the girl in his arms.
For the first time in ages, Dom truly laughed
A year later, Dominique hung a painting above the fireplace of her new home. In the center was a familiar blue-haired angel with shimmering wings. But now, in his arms, was a beautiful, short-haired girl, wrapped up in wild flames in vibrant shades of red and yellow. They stared into each other's eyes lovingly, the rest of the world a blur around them.
In the next room, a man was humming.
R&R please!!!