shine for me, only me.
Character: Dominique
Disclaimer: Think about it, if you've read it before, it's probably not mine.
Edit: When I posted this before, I used the line "Just a pretty little afterthought" – credit for this goes entirely to s i l v e r a u r o r a, sorry =]
:-:
You walk through the school like you own it (and you do, don't you?) and the boys follow the swing of your hips with their eyes and they lust after the flick of your silken hair and the curves of your body and you smile because you're queen in this place, you always have been.
You're the second Weasley girl to walk through these corridors with veela blood flowing like magnetism through your veins, and it gives you this impossible confidence, because you're aware of the fact that with your beauty there is nothing that you cannot have. All it takes is the batting of your darklongdark lashes and the shine of your far-too-blue eyes and they fall in their thousands, putty in your hands.
And sure (this bit is like an after-thought) you have a charming personality and you're intelligent and well-thought of amongst your friends and family, but that's not all you are, because to the world, you're the definition of veela, and that's something like enough for now.
It isn't until the seventeenth day back in your sixth year, that you realise it might not be for always though, because that's when you see him and he's not striking, (after-all you've already had every handsome boy in the school wrapped around your little finger at some point during your time here) he's more like understated imperfection.
He's got these sparklyshimmery brown eyes and longshort sandy brown hair and you think to yourself that the way that his freckles are sprinkled over his nose and cheeks is kind of endearing in an aren't-i-just-adorable sort of way.
The subsequent jolt of longing that hits your heart like a bullet, makes the veela in your blood dance feverishly, because this way he's making you feel is something like you've never felt before, because in the past, it's been all about having, now it feels like an immeasurable mixture of wanting and needing (and it scares you just enough).
You walk over to him, slowly, making sure that the walk you've perfected over time is only a little exaggerated and you're absolutely fine (with all that confidence of yours) until he looks straight at you and for the first time ever, your strength all but shatters (and your knees shake and your stomach does flips and you think wait a second, what the heck?).
He smiles at you then, and you colour ever-so-prettily and before you can get the words out properly, he's turning around and walking away and leaving your heart thumping with everything and nothing all at the same time.
:-:
You see him nearly every day for the next year, and you exchange smiles and the occasional small talk, and you convince yourself that it's enough by drawing in even more hearts, like moths to a flame, to you with your beauty, but they're only ever distractions (you're becoming so fickle these days it's ridiculous darling).
You want that boy to want you more than anything and you're still surprised to find it hurts when you watch him laugh and flirt and smile (oh-so-wonderfully) with that other girl that isn't you (and what does she have that you don't? Because you're beautiful and magical and everybody loves you).
You come back for your final year, with all the conviction of a constellation, because you know that he should be yours (and you know this because he's been on your mind all summer) and you'll do anything to get him.
:-:
And then it's like de-ja-vu or something because suddenly it's the seventeenth day in and he's in front of you, and you're so close to making your move when you see her hanging off of his arm resplendent with her blondeblonde hair and greeny-grey eyes and you see the look in his eyes (the way that you've been looking at him for so long now) and you know that you've lost.
It's hard, and it hurts because it's sudden realisation that he won't want you, because he's looking for something more than everything that you are, he's looking for someone who's pretty (not beautiful) with a heart (not a facade) and who will be nothing more than a teenage girl with him (and you're just so much more than that – it's like your curse or something).
It takes seconds for the dreams you've subconsciously been building all this time to crumble at your feet princess, and when you turn to leave you're so enraptured by your misery that you don't see the way that he looks at you when you leave.
The next day, you're Dominique Weasley again, with the flawless skin that makes the girls cry and that starbright smile that leaves the boys breathless in your wake. Your skirt is that little bit shorter and your shirt tighter (and somehow you manage to make even that look magnificent – then again veela much?) and when you dance through the corridors, everything falls so perfectly back into place that it's like you never left, and you're ruler once more.
:-:
You ignore the hidden looks and secret glances that he gives you, because you've locked him away in a box in your heart and you won't go back (for now), and you pretend that you don't feel the way your skin tingles when you brush against one another in crammed corridors between lessons or how he remains undeniably unattached for the rest of the school-year, because it's insignificant and it will never happen, not ever (because he doesn't really want you).
Something kind of like an epilogue.
In ten years time, when you walk down that aisle clothed in ivory and moonshine it's something like a miracle to you, and for the first time since the last time you feel your knees tremble and your confidence shake and you're so close to turning back, until you see the way he's looking at you.
Like you're his world.
Like you're as important to him as he is to you.
And you think to yourself that maybe, just maybe you were always enough for him.