Disclaimer: Ah, how I wish I could write something as brilliant as Harry Potter, but sadly, I haven't done so.

Author's Note: Written for my insides are blue, courtesy of the Gift-Giving Extravaganza 2013. Here's DominiqueOC; I hope you enjoy it! I'm sorry it didn't end up more romance-y.

I also wanted to note that this deviates from my normal headcanon in many ways, and does not take place in the same universe as any of my other fics, although some of the smaller details may remain the same.

Daniel Nott was tired of it all.

He laid on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, feeling extremely sulky for a nearly twenty-year-old man. Never before had he been so tempted to run away, but he knew that if he did, he would be a fugitive. His father and the other Purists - or whatever the hell they were calling themselves now - would come after him, and they wouldn't stop until he was back in their custody. He was no Gryffindor; he didn't think that he could risk such a thing. Wasn't it better to be alive and practically a captive, than to be dead and free?

The whole concept of pureblood supremacy was idiotic to him. Despite being a Slytherin at Hogwarts, he had seen absolutely no evidence that Muggle-borns or half-bloods were inferior. A person's power - or lack thereof - wasn't determined by their ancestors. He had seen purebloods who were little better than Squibs, and Muggle-born students who rivaled some of the adults in magical ability. It made absolutely no sense to him.

It was because of his own parentage that he was there at the Zabini house, also known as the Purists' headquarters. He wasn't allowed out of the house without an escort; his reluctance to do anything for the Purists had made them put him on an extremely short leash. They didn't trust him at all, and many times - like now - he wondered if it would have been a better idea to act like the perfect little Purist, doing everything they wanted him to do. At the very least, it would have meant that he could leave every once in a while and take a little time for himself without it being classified as an escape attempt.

He had never felt so confined. It was an extremely dull existence. Although he did occasionally leave the house, it was always with an escort - and if he was honest, most of the Purists were terrible company. He knew that there were indeed Purists who were young, people around his age or a few years older, and that not all of the Purists were dull and silent, but his escorts always seemed to be the strong and silent type, who followed him like a shadow. As a result, his trips outside were limited; it was no fun to go out when he was being followed, anyway.

"Nott!" a rough female voice called from outside his door. He sighed and stood up, slouching over to the door and opening it. Standing there was Pansy Zabini, the mistress of the house, and one of the higher-ranked Purists. She hadn't aged well; although she was only a little past forty, she looked ten years older. She was almost a full head shorter than him, but the power difference could almost be felt in the air. She was far above him, and he would do well to obey her.

"What?" he asked, realizing, just as he snapped the word, how rude he sounded. He didn't care about hurting her feelings or anything like that, but being rude to one of the important Purists often resulted in pain, a lesson he had first learned even before Hogwarts. He was far more careful now than he had been as a teenager - particularly when he was in fifth year and going through an overly rebellious phase - but he still slipped sometimes.

Before he had even realized it, her wand was pointed directly at his chest. He braced himself, and just as she hissed, "Watch your tone!" another Purist came running up the corridor. This one was younger - perhaps twenty-five or so.

"Mr. Nott wants you both down in the dungeons," he said, his eyes flicking back and forth between Daniel and Pansy. "Er, sorry to interrupt."

Daniel shot Pansy a victorious look, and he clapped his hand on the Purist man's shoulder as they walked by. "Don't apologize," he said cheerfully; Pansy glowered at him.

He was feeling slightly better as he walked through the corridors of the enormous Zabini house. Small triumphs like that always improved his mood slightly, although a sudden realization again made him sigh: his idea of a 'small triumph' was somebody interrupting what would have been a torture session. This was his life now, and that was relatively depressing.

The cellar of the Zabini house had been converted into about five dungeons. They were all against the wall, so that one side was composed of the stone wall of the cellar, and the other three sides were made up of thick bars that ran from the ceiling to the floor, and could only be opened with magic. Generally, the dungeons were empty; the Purists weren't in the habit of taking prisoners. The dungeons were mostly used for punishment now.

Theodore Nott - Daniel's father - stood in front of one of the dungeons. Physically, he wasn't impressive - a small, wiry, ratty-looking man with pale skin and dark eyes - but he had shown his power and lack of conscience on multiple occasions. Power and lack of conscience were far more terrifying than height and weight.

Nott didn't even turn around as Pansy and Daniel approached. "Come here," he said, waving his hand as though they were taking too long. Pansy sped up, although Daniel didn't; he reached his father several seconds after Pansy did, but Nott said nothing. All three of them now looked into the dungeon.

There, on the cold floor, was a girl. It was difficult to tell how old she was, but if Daniel had to guess, he would say that she was a year or two younger than him. She had blonde hair that fell past her shoulders, and, even crumpled as she was, she looked tall and lean. "Who's that?" Pansy said, craning her neck.

"Dominique Weasley," Nott said.

"Why is she here?" Pansy asked.

"Why am I here?" Daniel muttered.

Nott must not have heard; that was exactly the sort of snarky comment that would have resulted in Daniel being used as curse practice. He looked at Pansy; Daniel could see dark excitement glittering in his eyes. "She is useful," he said. "You must have noticed the loyalty that those Weasleys and Potters have for each other. They will chase every last lead trying to find this girl. They will do anything for her - anything. And we have her."

Pansy tilted her head slightly. "You're going to make a deal. The girl for - for who? Harry Potter himself?"

"Oh, no," Nott said. "I'm not going to make a trade. I'm not going to negotiate with those Mudbloods and Mudblood-loving scum. No, little Weasley here is bait."

Pansy looked shocked for a moment; Daniel couldn't understand why. The plan - coldhearted as it was - made sense. Daniel had seen how much the Weasley-Potters all cared for one another. They were the most famous Wizarding family; everyone knew of them and their behaviors. It was true that they would go through hell and high water to get Dominique back, even if it meant doing something as rash as sending Aurors right to Purist headquarters on a rescue mission. "With all due respect," Pansy said, drawing herself up to her full height, "this is my house. You're going to have it destroyed when the Aurors come charging in and fight with dozens of us?"

Nott looked at her, his voice cold. "Yes," he said, his tone so firm that even Pansy didn't argue further, although she still looked unhappy.

"Why am I here?" Daniel repeated his question, although he used a much more polite tone of voice than he had the first time. He really wasn't in the mood for a few curses; he was now honestly wondering why he had been summoned as well. Pansy, he could understand. Pansy, Blaise Zabini, and Nott were the leaders of the Purists, and they always had to inform each other of decisions, even though Nott was technically in charge. Plus, it was her home; she had a right to know about this. Daniel, however, was extremely low in the ranks, and was almost never tasked with anything important.

"You're going to take care of Weasley," Nott said. "You're going to bring her food and water. And just a warning, boy," he said, leaning close to Daniel, "the security on this house is being brought to the maximum for when the Aurors come. That means you don't stand a chance in hell of escaping. If you try, I'll make sure your life will be hell. Your hear me?"

Daniel nodded, and Nott dismissed him upstairs.

At seven o'clock that same night, Daniel made his way to the kitchen. Because of the large number of Purists that came through the Zabini house, there were four house-elves in the kitchen during the reasonable hours - that is, six in the morning to ten at night. He had already eaten with everyone else an hour earlier, but he requested a sandwich and a glass of water for Dominique Weasley. It was ready within a couple of minutes, and he took it down to the dungeons.

Dominique was awake now. She kept her back against the wall, and although she was sitting, she looked extremely tense and edgy. Now that she was awake, the resemblance to her sister - who had been in Daniel's year at Hogwarts - was clear, although Dominique was taller in thinner than Victoire had been. Despite her facial expression being half fearful, half angry, Daniel couldn't help but notice that Dominique was indeed a very pretty girl.

"I brought you supper," he said, carefully slipping it through the bars.

She looked coldly up at him. "I bet it's poisoned," she said.

Daniel shook his head. "It's not. I promise."

Dominique laughed, a harsh, cold sound that sounded far too bitter for somebody who barely looked eighteen. "Oh, well, forgive me for not trusting the people who kidnapped me. Stupid little paranoid me."

Daniel stared at her for a moment, uncertain how to respond to that. "Er," he said, "I didn't kidnap you."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, but you're all the same, you know that? All sadistic, egotistic bastards who think they're better than everybody else because ooh, you're pureblood." She was standing on her feet now, coming dangerously close to stepping on the sandwich. "Every last one of you can go to hell for all I care."

Daniel shrugged. "I'm sure they will." He nodded at the sandwich. "You know, you should eat. Don't starve yourself." He headed back upstairs, leaving Dominique alone with the food and her thoughts.

She was interesting. He couldn't deny that. Although he had seen the Weasley-Potters before at school, he had never truly talked to one. He hadn't ever talked to a prisoner, either. The few captives that the Purists took tended to be interrogated brutally by the inner circle and then killed as soon as they stopped giving useful information. Daniel never had access to them before. He wondered if the others had been as defiant as Dominique, if they had dared to insult the whole Purist organization.

Dominique was young - only seventeen or eighteen, if his suspicions were correct - and yet, when she came face-to-face with one of the Purists, she hadn't quailed or flinched. She had looked nervous in the beginning, but that had soon been overshadowed by her anger. It was obvious she knew that Daniel could kill her if he wanted to, and yet she still dared to antagonize him, as if she wasn't afraid for her own life.

He hadn't met anybody remotely like her, and he couldn't deny that she intrigued him.

For the next several days, they continued in much the same way. Dominique finally ate and drank the second day, and after that she willingly ingested what was put in front of her. She no longer implied that Daniel - or anyone else - was trying to poison her, but every time he dared to say anything, she would snap at him and be as obnoxious as possible, as if she was trying to get him mad.

As far as he could tell, nobody else paid much attention to her. None of the Purists ever mentioned going down to the dungeons; although the plan to use her as bait was discussed multiple times, and strategies were formed and re-formed, nobody ever talked about Dominique herself. It seemed as though Daniel was the only one who went down to see her, and, after listening to many of the inner circle's conversation, Daniel realized why.

Dominique had never seen the faces of any Purist but Daniel. The people who kidnapped her and brought her to the Zabini home had been wearing masks, and she had been unconscious when Nott, Pansy, and Daniel went down to the dungeons on that first day. If the Aurors did happen to rescue Dominique - or even if Dominique managed to escape - she wouldn't be able to identify a single person but Daniel, who was disposable to them. He was nothing more than a lackey; the only reason he was still alive was because he was Nott's son. They saw no problem with letting him take the fall.

Because of this new revelation, he was in a rage as he brought down Dominique's breakfast. She was awake already, pacing back and forth in the cell. He could see tally marks scratched into the wall, and a small piece of stone laying near the marks. She had been keeping track of days. She observed him coolly, staying silent as he shoved the food through the bars, only speaking when he had turned to leave, not in the mood for her today.

"Perfect little prince getting tired of the Purist life?" she jibed, and Daniel whirled around, pointing his wand at her before she could say another word. She stared at him, shrugging. "Oh, go ahead," she said. "Do it. Prove to yourself and to me that you really are as bad as the rest of them."

His wand hand trembled, and he knew she was right. If he cursed her, then he really would be just like the other Purists. He would be no better than them. He took pride in the fact that he had never tortured somebody by his own free will; the few times he had practiced curses, it was because one of the Purists had threatened him and forced him to do so. He couldn't hurt Dominique. He would only hurt himself further in the process. "No," he said, "I'm not."

He lowered the wand, and Dominique looked surprised and confused. It wasn't really the reaction he was expecting. He had pictured something more along the lines of relief and happiness. She looked at him, a bewildered expression on her face, as if she truly didn't understand why he hadn't cursed her. "I don't understand you one bit," she said. "You know that?"

"What don't you understand?"

Dominique snorted. "Everything. Why you didn't curse me, for one."

"I'm not like them," Daniel said. "I don't want to be like them. I don't even want to be one of them, damn it. I didn't choose this - I didn't volunteer."

"Yet you are one of them," Dominique said. She crouched down and picked up one of the fruits he had brought her, keeping her eyes on him as she straightened back up. "You were forced into this?"

"My father is Theodore Nott," Daniel said. "He's basically the leader of the Purists. I really don't have a choice."

"Everyone has a choice," Dominique said, biting into the apple. "No matter what. If you really wanted, you could leave. You're just too scared of the consequences, am I right?"

For a moment he didn't know whether to be annoyed at her for saying such a thing or happy that she understood him completely. She was indeed right - he stayed because he was afraid of what would happen if he left. He didn't want to be hunted down and punished for leaving. It wasn't that he enjoyed the Purists - far from that - but staying alive, even in such a situation, would always be better than the alternative. Daniel wasn't afraid to admit he was terrified of dying. "Tell me," he said, "if you saw the chance to escape, would you take it? Even if you knew that it meant they would spend every last hour tracking you until they found you? And when they found you, they would torture you and kill you. Would you still escape?"

She stared at him. "Yes," she said simply. "I would."

"You would condemn yourself -"

She cut him off. "I refuse to live in captivity," she said. "If there was a way out, I would take it the first chance I got, believe me. Even if it meant I wouldn't have that much time. I would rather die fighting, die free."

Daniel rubbed the back of his neck. "You're different," he said. "I've never met a - I've never met someone who would risk everything like that. Especially someone our age."

She shrugged. "You've been hanging around Purists all your life, apparently. Of course you haven't met anybody with morals - not that I'm perfect, but I would never do the things they've done."

"What do you think of me?" Daniel shocked himself by asking the question; it slipped out of his mouth unbidden, unwanted. He wanted to take it back as soon as he spoke, but he couldn't bring himself to, for Dominique spoke quickly, almost as soon as he had finished his question.

"You're different," she repeated, and the corner of her mouth quirked up for a brief moment. "I believe you aren't truly a bad person. Just someone who isn't used to standing up for himself."

"I-" Daniel opened his mouth to contradict her, but then he realized he truly couldn't. Had he ever stood up for himself in an important way? Sure, he had done little things; he had annoyed the other Purists, been a smart-arse, left without permission for a few hours - but he had never really gone up against them for anything major. He had never openly came to his father or any of the others and started talking about how idiotic the Purists, or pureblood supremacy in general, were. Oh, it had been implied, by his eye-rolls, snorts, and occasional snarky comments, but Dominique was right - he had never really stood up.

"I'm right, aren't I?" Her voice was quieter now, not the confident, cocky tone he was used to from Dominique.

"I guess you are," he said, and for a little while they just stayed there together, silent.

"Wake up!" Daniel's door slammed open, hitting the wall. He bolted upright, on his feet within seconds. He had always been accustomed to getting up quickly; it really wasn't safe to be a sound sleeper who took a while to get up. At least not for a Purist. He ran out of his bedroom, following the person who had woken him. He could hear noises downstairs - bangs, yells, curses.

"The Aurors -" he gasped, just as one rounded the corner, coming face to face with Daniel. It was an instinctive reaction; he whipped out his wand and yelled, "Stupefy!" The Auror was flung backward, and Daniel retreated the opposite way. He had to get out of there - he didn't want to get caught by the Aurors and face a lifetime in Azkaban. But before he could escape through a window, which was his first thought, his mind shifted somewhere else.

Dominique.

He ran back, going down the first flight of stairs onto the main floor. Most of the fighting seemed to be here; dozens of Aurors were battling against an equal number of Purists. A few people saw Daniel, and he dodged multiple curses as he made his way through the melee, but most people ignored him, as he didn't actively engage with any of them. They were far too immersed in their own duels to worry about him, and he took advantage of that.

He leapt down the cellar stairs as fast as he dared. The cellar and dungeons were empty except for Dominique, and he felt a surge of relief as he rushed over to her cell. "The Aurors are here, aren't they?" Dominique said. She sounded a lot calmer than he would have expected her to. She probably wasn't going to be excited about freedom until it was actually hers.

"Yeah." He started working on the bars; within a few moments, he had made them disappear, and Dominique stepped out.

"You're letting me go?"

"We're getting out of here," he said, offering his hand. "Together."

She took it, and they ran back up the stairs, only to come face to face with Theodore Nott himself. There was a cut on his shoulder, but it wasn't bleeding severely; other than that, he looked perfectly fine. Daniel drew his wand, but Nott just laughed. "You would really curse your own father to save some blood-traitor girl you hardly know?" He twirled his own wand between his fingers with the casual ease of someone who had lost all fear.

"Some father you were," Daniel said, maneuvering in front of Dominique. He didn't doubt that she could defend herself in other situations, but she had no wand, and there was no way that she stood a chance of defeating the leader of the Purists without one.

"If you and I bring her back to the dungeon," Nott said, "I will forget this ever happened, and I won't punish you for it."

Daniel knew this was a blatant lie. It wasn't obvious in Nott's face - he had perfected the art of lying, even to his own son - but there was simply no way that Daniel would be allowed to walk free after attempting to release a prisoner. He was screwed no matter what he did now, and he remembered Dominique's words from earlier. 'I would rather die fighting, die free.' They echoed in his ears, and it was those words that gave him the confidence to shoot a Stunning Spell at his father.

Nott deflected it easily, and started flinging back curses of his own. It took everything Daniel had to hold him off, and he couldn't get in a single spell of his own in between blocking all of his father's attacks. He didn't even recognize some of the spells his father shouted; he was relying as much on his ability to duck and dodge as he was his ability to actually block. All the spells his father was using - the recognizable ones, at least - were intended to severely harm or even kill him. He wasn't messing around, and Daniel longed to retaliate but he couldn't.

He threw up a Shield Charm, intending to give himself a bit of a break, but it was only one second later that a Cruciatus Curse smashed right through the shield and hit Daniel. Unforgivable Curses could break a Shield Charm easily, even if the Shield Charm was a strong one like Daniel's. The force of the curse flung him backward, his whole body twisting in agony. This was it - this was how he was going to die. Defenseless as he was, he couldn't make a move to do anything if his father decided to kill him. There was no way he could survive after this. For even if Nott ended the curse, chances were that he would kill Daniel within seconds, before he could respond.

He heard a thump, and the curse ended instantly. Rolling over and sitting up, Daniel nearly fainted at the sight. Nott was on the ground, Dominique on top of him, pummeling him with her fists and feet. She must have tackled him while he was Cruciating Daniel.

Nott tried to use his wand, but Dominique grabbed the other end and snapped it in half, sparks flying from the business end. Nott cursed and flung it away, trying to parry Dominique's blows, but he was obviously outmatched. A pureblood would never have experience in Muggle combat, and his blocks were clumsy and slow. It didn't help, either, that Dominique was a tall girl - she had at least four or five inches of height over him, and his leanness meant that he didn't have much of a weight advantage, either.

Dominique slammed Nott's head against the floor and he went limp on the ground, instantly unconscious. She got to her feet and pulled Daniel up. "Come on," she said, and he led her out through the back door. She let out an exhilarated laugh as the cool, brisk air swept over them both, and he picked her up and twirled her around.

"We're out," Daniel said, and then repeated it even louder, unable to believe the words. "We're out!"

They ran to the back edge of the property. A stone wall marked the boundary, but it was low enough for both Daniel and Dominique to get over without any problems. He helped her over anyway, and she linked her hand with his. "Were the Purists going to kill me?" Dominique asked.

Daniel shrugged. "I don't know. You were the bait to get the Aurors here, so I thought that you might not be useful to them anymore. And someone who's not useful to the Purists tends to end up dead."

She smiled. "Thanks for not letting me die, then." She looked around, taking in their surroundings. It was a beautiful, albeit chilly night; here, in the country, some of the stars could be seen. "Look at all of this," she said. "Isn't it better to be free out here? Isn't this amazing?"

"I don't know what to do now," he said. The Aurors would keep him safe from the Purists, but they would throw him in Azkaban. The Purists, on the other hand, would just kill him. He didn't know which option he disliked more.

"You know," she said, "I know a lot about the Auror Department. They're not going to lock you up if I tell them how you saved me, and if you renounce the Purists and turn a bunch of them in. It happened back in the First and Second Wizarding Wars, and it'll happen now, too."

"The Purists-"

"The Aurors wouldn't let them touch you," Dominique promised. "And my family wouldn't let them touch you, either."

"Is there a difference?" Daniel asked, only half-kidding.

Dominique shoved his shoulder. "We're not all Aurors, for your information. Only some of us." She let go of his hand and combed her fingers through her hair, which wasn't as messy as it could have been, considering her time in the dungeon. "Let's go."

He took her hand. He still wasn't sure what was going to happen next, but Dominique was right. It was better to be free.