a/n: i'm watching Numb3rs and am very distracted, so i apologize for how bad this is.
for Mad & Pearl, just to let them know i love them, and they mean a lot to me.
prompts: necklace, subtle, obsession, gold, social hierarchy, outlook, disguise, vigilance, wishes, shades of grey, declaration, "Seasons of Love" from RENT, cozy fire, hazelnut cream, coconut bay, winter wonderland.
disclaimer: J.K. Rowling ©
Dominique Weasley is ninety-nine percent spunk and one percent insecurity.
The girl has a weird obsession with nails, she admits. Her nails change every day, from metallic gold to marbled azure-jade to hazelnut cream, and she shows them off and subtly raises her hands in class, faint smile playing on her lips.
"Brown today, I see?" Scorpius Malfoy grins at her, lifting her hand to his mouth, smirking lips centimeters away from her fingertips. She takes her hand back, glaring.
"Um, no," she rolls her eyes at his stupidity, "Peanut butter mocha, actually."
"Brown, peanut butter mocha – same difference," he shrugs, eyes alight with amusement.
She disapproves of his obvious scorn and tells him so.
"They're just nails, 'Monique," he says, and places a finger on her lips before she runs her mouth off on some tangent. She protests against his finger, rosebud lips moving almost seductively.
He feels a nervous twitch in his trousers and quickly moves his finger away, stuffing the hand into his pocket.
"Just nails? Just like how Hogwarts is just a school, and you're just a –" she stops and blushes, eyes widening. "Er, never mind."
He grins and pulls one of her golden curls. "Well, for the record, I don't think you're just a girl either."
Her first reaction is to blush, and she does just that, flushing slightly at the ears. His grin grows wider. She huffs impatiently, blowing the choppy bangs out of her eyes. She wears her disguise like someone practised and raises an unassuming red eyebrow at him. "Great line, bet it work on all the ladies."
"It does," he says cockily, smirking in subtle shades of gray, turning on his heel and striding away briskly.
And leaving her to decipher the boy of endless possibilities.
"Honestly, what was that line supposed to do, seduce me?" she says, slightly flushed, carefully rubbing the cotton swab on her thumb and removing all traces of peanut butter mocha nail polish.
Roxanne Weasley, bored, snaps a quick photo of Dominique and waves it in the air, waiting for the girl to show up, unmasked. "And did it, love?"
Another dorm mate, Anya Moretti, smiles furtively at Roxanne, tossing her blue and bronze striped tie at the dark-skinned gril.
"...maybe."
Anya and Roxanne burst into laughter, both coming up next to Dominique. Roxanne pats Dominique's unruly hair and Anya perches herself on the floor beside her.
"You fancy Scorpius! You fancy Scorpius!" they sing in unison, giggling like idiots and poking their friend unnecessarily in the side.
Dominique bats their hands away, armed with a nail brush.
"Back off, or I'll use it!" she threatens firmly, a chuckle threatening to purge itself from her throat. "You lot already know I fancy the idiot."
"Yes, well, we just love teasing you about it," Anya says wickedly before proceeding to yawn loudly. She declares, hopping onto her bed and grabbing her tie off of Roxanne's shoulders, "I'm going to bed! And, I'm playing my Rent soundtrack, just so you know!"
"Night, you prat," says Dominique, groaning at the sound of the music and rolling her eyes, before a throw pillow comes sailing her way and hits her squarely in the face.
"Alright," says Dominique, muffled, peeling the pillow off of her face, "I'll admit that one was necessary."
Roxanne goes to bed soon after, and Dominique is left alone with her nail brush, painting pretty coconut bays on her thumbs and humming Seasons of Love quietly to herself.
The next morning she wakes up to find Roxanne and Anya gone, and a note that says, gone to breakfast – come down when you're up, and she gets up, smiles at her nails, and gets dressed.
When she finally makes her way to the Common Room, breakfast is almost over. She swears, slings her bag over her shoulder and practically flies to the Great Hall – only to bump into someone just as she's outside the door.
Her face smacks into a hard surface – at first, she wonders if she's bumped into a wall again, she tends to do that a lot when she's rushing – but then she realises it's a person.
A person with metallic eyes and white-blonde hair and apparently, a very firm chest – Scorpius Malfoy.
His eyes light up in amusement, and Dominique considers strangling him. "Morning, love. Different nails today?"
"Obviously," she holds up her hand for a second, flashing her fingernails at him before swiftly closing her hand into a fist. "I've got to get to breakfast – see you later, I guess."
"See you, 'Monique." She steps around him and pushes through the doors, making her way to the Ravenclaw table, where Anya and Roxanne are waving her over. Scorpius' eyes linger on the girl for a moment, before turning and heading to his first class of the morning.
"Saw you bump into Scorpius," Anya grins, wiggling his eyebrows at the new arrival. "Did you exchange any dirty words?"
"Anya!" Dominique reprimands, slapping her in the arm. Roxanne shakes with laughter beside them. "There are other people around, you dolt!"
"Who?" Anya asks, raising an eyebrow. "Silent Boy over there?" She casts a glance in the direction of Castor Saunders – a boy who never speaks.
Dominique contemplates the boy for a second, before shrugging and turning back to her friends. "Just don't say it in public, alright?"
"Yes, yes, we got it, Dom," Roxanne says hastily, checking her watch. "It's time for class; we've got to go!"
The three girls stand up and rush off to their class, hair flying behind them and bags bouncing on their legs. Castor stands up and sends a thoughtful glance at the retreating back of the Nail Polish Girl.
Dominique taps her pen on her desk, reading the scribbles and carvings of lovesick girls – and, occasionally, boys. She glances up at McGonagall, who's too busy scolding Anya to notice anything else, and then she looks back down at the table.
One reads 'Scorpius and Rose' in delicate, scripted handwriting and Dominique almost feels sick to her stomach, remembering all of sudden that they dated and he doted and it was practically love. She stares at the words, eyes lingering on the first name before moving to the second.
She simply looks at the slanted handwriting, the curlicue at the end of Rose's name, the careful way he wrote this – this promise—
Someone's arm reaches over and crosses out the second name with a flourish.
"We're not together anymore," the voice says tightly. Dominique had forgotten he was in her class – she'd conveniently forgotten he sat right behind her, too.
Inside her head she is panicking. He didn't see, right? Shit. What the fuck am I supposed to do if he knows? Fuck. I suppose I'll run or something. God, I'm a coward. Shit – does he know or not?
On the outside she wears an indifferent masquerade. "Right, I forgot. She left you for Lysander, isn't that right?"
He scowls and narrows his eyes. "That's right."
"Hm," she says disdainfully, turning back to the front again. Oh, for Merlin's sake – if he knows, he should just put me out of my misery now.
"Besides, I happen to like someone else, now."
And now she's pretty sure she's having an epileptic fit. She whips around and almost smacks him in the face with her uneven hair. Realising he probably thinks she's absolutely insane now, she arranges her face into something that resembles apathy. "Oh, really. Good for you."
"She's really very pretty."
She wants to strangle him. Now she's not so proud of her coconut bay nails.
"Lovely," she spits out, tapping her nails on her thighs in frustration.
"No, really – and she's smart, too."
She thinks she's seconds away from murdering him, right in front of McGonagall and all. Clawing her coconut bay fingernails across his face, and all. "Sounds like a catch," she manages a strangled whisper.
"Yeah, you are."
And now she's about to reach over and stab him in the neck with the stupid nails – wait a second, what the fuck?
"Er, what?"
"I said, you are," he practically growls in frustration, and then he grabs her face and pulls her lips toward his and they meet in a fiery explosion, and she swears she was struck by lightning.
"I rather like you, y'know," she mumbles against his lips later, smiling.
"I know," he answers smugly, moving his lips to kiss her again – and again – she loses her train of thought for a moment.
All of a sudden she realises what he'd said, and interrupts, pulling away from his tempting lips, "How? How'd you know?"
"Castor told me." He shrugs, grabbing her hands and kissing each of her fingernails.
She looks befuddled. "Castor Saunders, Silent Boy?"
He continues kissing her fingertips – well, more like nails, anyway. "He's not so quiet when you get to know him."
"Hm," she says thoughtfully, grinning at him, staring up at the sky, silently thanking the heavens for the angel that is otherwise known as Silent Boy – she vows to buy him a fruit basket later. Or maybe help him out with Anya – God knows the boy's been crushing on her. "Interesting."
"Yeah – well, he brought me you," Scorpius says playfully, smiling, and their lips meet again in a haze of metallic gold and marbled azure-jade and hazelnut cream, and peanut butter mocha – and she tangles her coconut bay fingernails in his hair, and smiles.
a/n: this was rushed. er, yeah, i kind of actually like it. :P
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