Dom glared heatedly at Victorie from across the room. It wasn't fair that Vic got more of the natural Veela beauty. And, with it, the cameras, the front covers of Muggle magazines, and the money.
She had just strolled in here to pick Dom up from work –yes; Dommy was here first- and had ended up being hauled away by her boss for pictures and had been here ever since.
As if Victorie felt Dom's gaze on her, she spun around in her chair to face her. Dom immediately schooled her expression into something pleasant. She didn't want to throw her sister off her game- she was doing great, after all, and everyone was so proud of her- put it felt like, sometimes, she had stolen Dom's spotlight. Sure, just last week Dom had been on the cover of the magazine they worked for, but still. She'd only had about nine cover-shots in four months while Victorie had had thirteen in only two months.
It wasn't fair. Dom knew she sounded like a baby whose toy was taken, but it was kind of like that. Victorie flashed Dom a smile and turned back to her mirror, her blue-gray eyes fluttering shut to allow the make-up artist the space on her lids and Dom scowled again. What had Victorie done to deserve her spotlight, anyway? Dom had graduated from Hogwarts and immediately contacted these people to agree to the modeling job offer from a few weeks previous.
From then on, Dom dedicated her life, love, heart, mind, body and soul to this job. She stopped eating to reach the perfection they wanted, and bit the skin from the sides of her nails to fit them in the center of her fingertips. She constantly waxed her whole body so it was free of extra hair -which hurt like fucking hell, by the way- and cried herself to sleep when her boyfriend, Thomas, dumped her.
And what had Victorie given up? Nothing.
Dom's eyes hardened and she turned away from her sister to sit at her own mirror. It was covered in pictures of her and her family, glitter and lipstick. On the clear, glass counter sat her make-up kit –which consisted mainly of darker colors to match her complexion and hair style- her hair dryer, a note pad, and sparkly pens. Her purse was locked up in the top left drawer, while all the others held hairbrushes and books and various drawing tools to keep her occupied when she wasn't getting ready for a shoot.
Dom frowned at her reflection. Sure, she was beautiful, but she wasn't Vic. Not anywhere close to her sister's white hair, perfect creamy skin, almond-shaped blue-gray eyes. She was just Dom, the middle child, with her own dark red hair that she got from who-the-fuck-knows-where, her round, big brown eyes from her father, and her freckled cream-colored- skin.
She recalled, as she looked at Victorie in the mirror, that Vic said this was basically a hobby. Dom knew that, of course, since Vic also worked at St. Mungo's Hospital down in London as a Healer for magical poisons. The thought made Dom gulp, she couldn't imagine how fucking wealthy her sister must be. Teddy, too, made excellent money, as a Charms master and spell inventor at the Ministry of Magic full-time.
When the paparazzi asked her the same question, Dom had shaken her head, saying that modeling was her everything, was all she did. Dom knew that she was bringing an excellent amount, but she had to wonder how much better she could be doing if she had gone through with her original ambition of being a curse-breaker for Gringotts and the Goblins, like her father.
Dom shook the thought away. It didn't matter, for she lived and breathed for this job. She loved her work almost as much as her Uncle Percy loves his- and that was saying something, because Percy truly was a nut job.
Dom was seventeen when she graduated. She was twenty-two now, so that meant that Vic was working for St. Mungo's for eight years before she came into the modeling business. Dom wondered what made her give up her full-time job there for a half-time job in two different places, since Victorie was exactly like Percy. She'd poured her soul into that job at the Hospital, yet gave most of it up when she saw that Dom was rising in fame… oh. Fuck.
She whipped around to face Victorie but paused as she stood. It wouldn't do attack her sister in the middle of the make-up hall, would it? She figured that she'd take a no-pay leave for a least a week, and that would be nearly four grand down the toilet. Dom sat back down slowly, still looking at her sister. Her eyes flickered up to her blue ribbons from St. Mungo's and then upward to the sparkling crown that was placed a top the mirror. She bit her lip. That crown was one she'd seen placed on her best friend's head five years ago at the seventh-years' ball. Dom didn't know that Vic had won it, too.
Great. Fucking fantastic. Just another thing that Vic had that Dom didn't. But then Dom brightened when she saw her make-up artist coming over in her flashy red high-heels and tight leather pants and black and red cheetah print pillow shirt. Dom truly loved Arnica for her uncanny ability to know exactly when Dom needed her.
All of Dom's thoughts on her sister flew out the window, undoubtedly to be visited another slow day.