Character: DominiqueOC. Prompt: "crazy"
Requested by PrimroseAmelia
Any Potter or Weasley could fly a broomstick and catch the snitch.
But how many of her cousins, aunts, uncles (or even her grandparents) could outfly a dragon
Not Aunt Gabrielle's daughter, for sure. She was like one of those princesses in muggle stories; she'd end up getting eaten in the end.
But Victoire? Louis? James and Freddy, Roxanne? Well, they'd try to be the Gryffindor hero and slay it, wouldn't they?
But outfly a dragon?
Dominique almost cursed aloud: it wasn't fair, one flap of those wings, the same color as her veela eyes, and it gained on her by probably twenty feet. She leaned low over her Nimbus as it shot forward. Despite escaping the bluebell flames the dragon was unleashing behind her, the Swedish summer night felt more like a heat wave.
Wait. Uncle Charlie does this for a living, doesn't he? And Uncle Harry flew against a Hungarian Horntail, when he and Maman were in the Triwizard Tournament.
Now she really did curse. "Fuck!" It made her feel better for a moment when it wasn't followed up by a "Dominique Ginerva Weasley!" And then the realization returned faster than a dragon or even a nimbus in flight. Even hundreds of miles away, there still wasn't a feat she couldn't do without doing it second.
Uncle Charlie. Uncle Harry.
Not an award she could win,
Victoire the Head Girl. Molly, Lucy and Freddy the prefects. James, Freddy, Louis and Roxanne winning the Quidditch Cup. Molly and Rose celebrating with Hufflepuff for the House Cup. James, Freddy and Louis going to the Tournament.
a boyfriend she could have…
"I love you," Dominique whispered. Those words, those words she had been waiting for so long to say and Jason was finally hearing them.
"I don't love you."—
—"I love you."
"I love you too," Victoire blushed as Teddy Lupin bent in to kiss her.
Dominique's fury burned hotter than any dragon fire; she burned through the sky and was out of the Swedish Short-Snout reverse before she knew it. Night had fallen, her arms rubbed against each other as she clutched her broom handle, her skin felt clammy and cool now, her anger turning to ashes.
The crowd below in Arjeplog broke out into applause at the sight of the first survivor. As soon as she landed, they pulled her along to the winner's stand, lifting her up where someone handed her a silver trophy shaped like that dragon.
The irony of it all made Dominique laugh. Silver was supposed to be for second place, didn't the Swedish know that?
Well, maybe she was just crazy. There wasn't a Potter or Weasley who was crazy yet, was there?
Just a drabble I wrote (and edited since then) for the Next Gen Fanatics drabble tag game! This story has actually been brewing away for awhile, so it was nice to get out down and out finally.
A little background information: Dominique is flying in the annual broom race held in Sweden, starting in Kopparberg all the way to Arjeplog, a total of 437 miles (and the race goes through a Swedish Short-Snout dragon reservation!).
The following drabbles may or may not be compliant with The Order of Merlin or with each other.