Dominique. I've always quite admired my name, for some reason. It might be because it's just so French. I've always been extremely proud of my French heritage. And the way people say it, like I am a princess. They speak my name sweetly, gently, softly, befitting to outward appearance. I'm part Veela, and so look like I could never hurt a fly.

Back when I was at Hogwarts, I always had a myriad of admiring friends which I guess only boosted my admiration of myself, my name and my looks.

The girls would fawn over my silvery hair, saying how beautiful it was, and how jealous they were that I had such long, shiny locks, and the boys would tell me how my eyes were beautiful too- one even went as far as to say they were 'two sparkling, deep green jewels'. He was very poetic. And not the first admirer of mine.

I've had a lot of boyfriends, to say the least. So I suppose it's only normal for me to be slightly...arrogant. I would never admit it outright, of course, but I do know that's how I can come off. But apart from that one, slightly off-putting quality, I have many other good ones. How else would I be able to make so many friends where ever I go?

I am graceful, my mother always tells me. In the way I walk and the straight line of my back. Her exact words were 'regal and elegant'. My dad always says that I am sweet, and gentle. He says it shows through the way I am with animals, and children. Victoire, my sister, says I'm a pain in the ass. My brother, Louis, seconds that motion. But I don't pay any attention to them. After, they must just be jealous.

Grandma Molly says I am a good cook, Grandpa Arthur says I am even-tempered (though you can't really believe everything he says, after all, he's completely mental), Uncle Percy and Aunt Audrey say how smart and practical I am, my cousin Rose says she wishes she could play piano as well as I do, and Lucy says I dress prettily and all my clothes are beautiful.

James comments that I am good at Quidditch, Molly reckons I'm good at doing her nail polish, Lily thinks I'm good at singing (she says this reluctantly, I'll admit), Fred admires my ideas with pranking people (though I'd never carry out my plans), Uncle Ron loves how I butter him up, Teddy (my brother-in-law) enjoys my conversation. I'm loved. I know how self-absorbed I sound, but it's true.

There's only one person, one person who I've ever encountered, ever met, who has the ability to single-handedly make me madder than I ever could be. One person who provokes me, ridicules me, infuriates me, messes up my hair when I've spent hours doing it just that morning, pushes me in lakes when I've got my best clothes on (Victoire and Teddy's wedding), embarrasses me in front of people and generally follows me around all the time looking for ways to bug me.

His name is Lorcan Scamander. How dare he treat me like that when his last name basically means lizard? He's the son of Luna and Rolf, long time friends of the family, and twin to Lysander. He's also someone who everybody loves also even though he's rude, loud, moody, easily angered, sloppy, uninteresting, stupid and just plain annoying. How can a sane person who's thinking clearly, has had no firewhiskey and is not blind or deaf seriously enjoy Lorcan Scamander's company? Sure, he's not as weird as his twin brother, or his parents, but he embodies all of the aforementioned qualities.

He's my age, twenty, so it's perfectly legal for him to torment me through magical means. One time he actually turned all my clothes black. Along with my hair. I maybe wouldn't have minded the clothes so much; maybe I would've gotten over it. Maybe I wouldn't have punished him the way I did. But no one and I mean no one, messes with Dominique Weasley's hair. It was the final straw. It happened three years ago, a week before our graduation from Hogwarts. He couldn't have picked a worse time.

I was just standing in the common room, casually minding my own business (which is code for gossiping about a girl who had just broken up with her long term boyfriend) when one of my friends, Bess, began looking at me in horror, her mouth forming a small 'o'. I, being the innocently oblivious person that I was, asked her what was wrong. She slowly pointed to my hair. I frowned, and looked pulled a few strands of my pony-tail in front of my eyes. They were midnight black, not at all a very attractive or outstanding colour for a person like me.

I shrieked and ran upstairs, but not before catching site of Lorcan and a couple of his friends, rolling around on the floor hysterically, tears running down their ugly, smarmy faces. I stayed in my room all afternoon, trying to fix it, before it was time for dinner. I had made no improvement on my hair, and so went to my trunk to pull out a hat that I could tuck it under. All of my clothes, all of them, were the same midnight black colour. He really knew what would make me angry. Suddenly, everything else had paled in comparison to the thought of finding Lorcan and yanking his brown locks out, pulverizing his face and kicking him so hard he wouldn't be able to have children. I think, personally, that I would have been saving some poor kid from the misfortune of having Lorcan for a father.

I had rushed down to dinner, forgetting the hat, and ignoring all the people gaping at me, pointing, and whispering. If there was one thing I hated besides Lorcan Scamander, it would be public humiliation. And this was a combination of the two. I spotted him near the front of the Gryffindor table, close to the teachers table. But I didn't particularly care about my audience. I had time to register the slight look of shock on his face before I tackled him to the ground and started punching him everywhere I could reach. It took everyone else a few seconds before they even realised what was happening. It took three seventh years and Professor McGonagall to subdue me. Lorcan was still lying on the floor. I had given him a nose bleed, but that was pretty much it. Git.

We were both called into McGongall's office, and we left a wake of surprise and silence as we followed her out of the great hall. Everyone had seen a different side of me that day, and I did not at all like it. McGonagall gave us the usual rant about decorum and how she didn't expect this sort of violence from me. She told me I would not be allowed to attend the graduating ball. Before I could protest, or cry, or scream, Lorcan had jumped in and said that it was his fault, and he had deliberately provoked me.

McGonagall changed her mind and it was Lorcan who had not been allowed to attend the ball. I knew he had 'protected' me so that I would not tell my parents, effectively informing his parents of the incident, as he unnecessarily informed me once we were out of the office. I didn't end up telling my parents, thinking that 'snitch' would be a bad thing to add to my list of qualities. I did feel sort of bad that he wasn't allowed to go, but he ended up crashing it anyway with a few of his idiot friends.

So my hair and clothes were eventually turned back to their original colours.

That incident really was one that changed our relationship permanently. We were never friends, not at all, but we tolerated each other at gatherings and social events. Now I couldn't even give him a passing glance without scowling, upset that my Hogwarts education ended with everyone thinking I was a physco. I hated him. Really and truly. I do hate him. I always will.

Whenever we see each other, it's always the same. He annoys me; I kick him in the shins. The only time I refuse to retaliate is when we're in the company of people who aren't family. Even then it's embarrassing. I'm not supposed to be hot-headed or easily provoked. I'm supposed to be dainty, lady-like. Perfect in almost every aspect of my being. And I am, seventy five percent of the time. When a certain brown haired, brown eyed person isn't around.

--

'Ms. Weasley?' I looked up at my name. I was at work, at the Ministry. I work in the Department of Magical Transportation. It sounds fancy, I know, but I'm only a junior worker. I don't really have control over anything. I'm just another person helping out, carting around documents and information. It wasn't my first choice, but I was in a desperate situation after graduation, despite my good exam results. I just had no idea what I wanted to do. And then a spot opened at the Ministry, and Uncle Ron put in a good word for me. I knew all that buttering up would pay off some day.

Standing in the doorway to my office that I shared with one other girl, Suzie, was a man with a big black moustache and barely any hair. His eyebrows were also thick, and I wondered vaguely whether he'd tried a growth charm when he was a kid that went wrong. I would never say it to his face, though the impulse is constantly there. His name was Maclayle, and he was personal assistant to the big man, my boss, Harley Kaplin.

'Mr. Kaplin wants to see you in his office.' Maclayle had a very deep, gravely voice. I pushed my chair out from under my desk and stood up quickly. I followed Maclayle down the hall but turned left instead of right, into Mr. Kaplin's office.

'You wanted to see me?' I asked politely after I had knocked. Mr. Kaplin, a man younger than Maclayle but far older than me, looked up from his desk which was overflowing with papers and smiled at me with perfectly straight, white teeth. They were almost abnormal. I tried desperately to look at his eyes instead of focusing on his over-bright teeth but I was having some trouble.

'Yes, Ms. Weasley, do come in.' Kaplin was nice, I suppose, in his own way, but he seemed overly nice, just like his teeth were overly perfect. Actually, every part of him was over the top. Uncle Harry once said that he was 'theatrical'. I agree whole-heartedly.

I sat down across from him one the hard wooden chair provided and attempted to look innocent and fragile. I'm usually very good at it, but right now my stomach was jumping up and down with nerves and I wondered whether he could see the doubt and worry on my face. It seemed he could not, because he only folded his hands on the desk calmly and appraised me with a smile.

'Ms. Weasley, you're a valuable asset here at the Ministry. You're the very model of decorum. You obey orders and you are always very helpful to me and the staff you're working with. I'd just like to say how wonderfully you have been doing these past couple of years.'

I gave him a small smile and thanked him. But.... I thought, waiting for the dismissal.

'You are being promoted.' I swallowed my shock. I was being promoted? I wouldn't have to pack up my things and leave the Ministry in disgrace?

Well, of course I wouldn't. Why would I think that? As he said, I'm the model of decorum. I work hard, always have. And now my hard work is finally being rewarded.

'You will be given your own office and be given more responsibility. Your new title is 'Assistant to The Assistant', if you will. 'Kaplin grinned at me. 'You see Ms. Weasley, I've recently noticed how much strain I've been putting on Mr. Maclayle, and have decided that it would be good if he had some backup. A helper, someone to pick up the slack. I immediately thought of you.'

He immediately thought of me? I had no idea he even knew who I was. Huh, you learn something new everyday.

'Thank you so much sir. I appreciate this opportunity.' I said, allowing myself to give him a small grin in return to his wide, bright smile. I wondered if he bleached them.

'I trust you will do well.' Kaplin smiled at me. I took that to mean our conversation was at an end and practically skipped out of his office. This was good. This was very, very good. I had been promoted! Not fired, but promoted. I would get to move out of the cramped office I shared with Suzie and get a bigger space that I could maybe redecorate to suit me.

The rest of the day was spent scribbling on spare pieces of parchment exactly what my new office would look like and wondering if Kaplin would possibly let me paint it pink. It was late afternoon before I could finally escape the Ministry and go home. I had moved out of Shell Cottage a year after graduating from Hogwarts and bought an apartment in a muggle area.

I apparated out of the Atrium after saying a quick goodbye to Suzie. She smiled hugely at me and handed me my bag. That girl is constantly bugging me. She won't leave me alone. Yet another reason I'll enjoy having my own office. Total freedom from crazy stalkers.

I arrived in the centre of my living room. The apartment only holds four rooms. In addition to my living room, there is a kitchen, a bedroom and a bathroom. I'm quite proud to say I've adapted to muggle living nicely. My landlord comes up from the first floor once a week to check up on how things are going, so everything has to be completely magic-free. It's not that hard to dazzle the grumpy old man into an accommodating mood though. All I really have to do is flip my hair and give him a pretty smile. I swear I made him blush once.

Grandpa Arthur is constantly making up excuses to come and visit me so he can fiddle with the television and examine the phone. He's quite a funny one.

After dumping my handbag on the small two-seater table in the kitchen I quickly changed and settled down for some good, old-fashioned TV watching. I now know why muggles are so obsessed with the thing; it really is very addictive. I was interrupted about five minutes after I switched it on by a grey owl tapping on my window. I hastily rushed to open it, not wanting any of the muggles down on the street below to think anything odd was going on. The owl was carrying a short note from my dad, which simply read:

Dom,

We're going over to Grandma and Grandpa's tonight, so I expect you to meet us there at 5:30. Sorry for the short notice.

Dad.

I groaned. I was not really in the mood to entertain younger cousins and have my cheeks pinched by Grandma. She's very enthusiastic with the affection. After all, I deserved a night of relaxation. I was promoted today! I need a reward. But, I know Dad won't be thrilled if I say I can't go. He's very family-orientated. Actually, everyone is. The 'gatherings' at the Burrow are always loud, messy and leave you with a suspicious buzzing noise in both ears. Hopefully it'll just be us tonight though.

I checked my watch. It was already a quarter to! It takes me at least forty-five minutes to have a shower, get dressed, do my make up and brush my hair. I switched the TV off and practically ran to the bathroom, grabbing some clothes and a towel on my way.

--

It was exactly 5:30, and I had just arrived at the front door to the Burrow. Weirdly, all was silent. I could hear no evidence of screaming relatives or even relatives speaking in a normal tone. The smell of Grandma's cooking was calling my name, and I spared no more time to ponder the mysteriousness of my arrival.

I pushed open the door; it creaked, only to be greeted with absolutely everyone standing directly in front of me. Grandma and Grandpa, Mum, Dad and Louis, Teddy and Victoire, Luna, Rolf and Lysander (the prat was no where to be seen), Uncle Harry, Aunt Ginny, James, Albus, and Lily, Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione, Rose and Hugo, Molly, Lucy, Aunt Audrey and Uncle Percy, Neville and Hannah Longbottom, Dobby; their son, Fred, Roxanne, Uncle George, Aunt Angelina; even Uncle Charlie was there.

'CONGRATULATIONS!' They shouted. I was shocked, but a wide smile spread across my face regardless. Although, why wouldn't they be proud of me? Of course Uncle Harry or someone would've found out about my promotion from the Ministry and have thought it to be a good idea to surprise me. I can't believe I didn't figure it out before.

Grandma was the first to reach me; she gave me a hug and whispered in my ear, 'I'm so proud of you, dear'. I was blushing before everyone else was through with their congratulations. Toire teased me, as expected, but her words were sincere nonetheless. Uncle Percy gave me a rather pompous speech about my new responsibilities and my Dad gave me a hug so tight I couldn't breathe. It was nice, having everyone surround me, and ask me questions about what my boss said, and how it all came about. I felt important, respected, that all their thoughts were on me.

The spur-of-the-moment surprise party passed slowly, with more questions occasionally being shot at me and Grandpa asking wether I'd bought any new 'eklectical' things.

Lorcan Scamander came stumbling through the door an hour after it begun. I was talking to his mother, Luna, at the time and she was to whom he came first. I bet he was half-drunk, judging by the state of his rumpled clothes and messy hair. Probably been hanging around a gutter on some back street with his stupid friends. How he even managed to make any is beyond me.

'Lorcan, dear.' Luna said in her dreamy voice. 'Where have you been?'

A look of confusion crossed his face. 'Didn't it start at 6:30?'

'You were supposed to be here at five, dear. Dominique arrived at 5:30.' Luna replied. She didn't sound at all angry. Actually, she didn't even appear to notice what was being said. She and her husband are nutters, absolute nutters.

Lorcan finally turned to face me, a mocking grin on his face. 'I'm terribly sorry, Dominique, dear, do you forgive me?'

I scrunched up my nose at him, overcome, as always, with a spurt of anger. I wrestled with the emotion. Some of the strain must have shown on my face, because he raised his eyebrows at me.

'Maybe you should congratulate her, Lorcan.' Luna reprimanded him softly.

'Congratulations on your recently acquired position.' He said. His low voice was so condescending, so arrogant, as though the whole situation was vastly amusing.

'Thank you.' I replied stiffly, conscience of his mother standing right next to me. If it weren't for Luna being present, I would've already kicked him.

'Well, I'll just leave you two to chat. I think I spot a Wrackspurt over there.' She said, pointing vaguely across the room. This momentarily distracted me; I couldn't see anything. I watched incredulously as she floated over there, and simply stood silently.

'Don't worry about her; she can be a little odd sometimes.' I jumped back at the close proximity of Lorcan's voice. Of course, I simply had to bash into him, and then immediately jumped forward.

I smirked; he was rubbing his chin.

'That hurt, Weasley.'

'Oh yeah? Good. Maybe it'll teach you to stay out of other people's space.' I snapped angrily. His expression changed to one of fake sincerity.

'I'm deeply sorry your majesty.' How come he never got angry when I insulted him? Here I was, ready to explode, but he just stood there, quietly mocking me, no trace of annoyance on his serene face. How I hated him at this very moment.

'Just leave me alone, alright?' I was a rhetorical question. I stomped off, praying he wouldn't follow. I was lucky; I reached the kitchen bench, where I sat, fuming, for most of the night.