🎈 So recently I've been having a Dominique Weasley phase, so I decided to dedicate a whole fanfiction story to her!🍯🍫

I hope you like it! 🍩🍩🍩🍪🍪

BTW: I wrote this really quickly so there might be a few errors! Ooopsies! 💋

One of the most important things to know about me, is that I, Dominique Weasley, am not a morning person.

So do not wake me up at the crack of dawn by peeling off my duvet and hitting me over the head with a pillow and expect me to be a ball of sunshine, because I won't be.

Louis has known me all his life, and despite the fact he knows I despise mornings, he still persists to waking me up using that method.

Every. Single. Morning.

But today is a different morning, as today is the first of September, and I'm going back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for my Sixth Year.

Ever since I started Hogwarts I wished I was in Sixth Year, partially because of my sister Victoire.

Okay, purely because of my sister Victoire.

She's two years older than me, and is the perfect example of the perfect daughter. Why wouldn't she be? She's got the looks, the brains, the talents, the loving, caring, kind persona and a polished reputation.

Ever since I first got to Hogwarts, I've been labelled as "Victoire's little sister". Everyone loves Victoire, students and Professors alike, and expect me to achieve the same extraordinary things as her, which is nearly impossible to do, and I always seem to fall at the last hurdle.

But she graduated last year, so this is my first year free of her, and I fully intend to make my next couple of years unforgettable.

I can only feel sorry for the Headmaster.

.:.:.~*~.:.:.

Grudgingly, I trudge from my room in the attic down two flights of stairs to the kitchen.

I love my house; it's called Shell Cottage and it's on the outskirts of Tinworth in Cornwall. It's on a beach that is forever low tide, with sandy beach guaranteed all year round.

The building itself was built with real shells in the cement walls (hence the name Shell Cottage) and shells covering the exterior walls and roof. It's a two storey building with windows popping up in odd places and a pair of too-tall chimneys at either side of the cottage.

When Louis was born, Maman and Dad changed the once dark and damp windows and had some nice, well, cottage-y windows put in, that made Shell Cottage much lighter. They also changed the front door from its creaky and croaky state into a nice welcoming door with a small window that has a swirled effect.

I like that window.

I like it a lot.

Coming down the stairs I take an immediate right into the kitchen. It's nice, not horrible clean black-and-white linear kitchens like some Muggles have nowadays, but wooden and mismatched and rustic, which makes it more unique and special.

Maman, Dad, Victoire and Louis are all already down and being chipper, which I just could not understand because it was so early.

"Morning Dominique!" Maman calls, placing a large plate in front of me full of bacon, sausages, scrambled eggs, mushrooms and toast.

Until now, I hadn't given food a second thought (okay, that's a lie; food is life, but at seven in the morning, the only thing on my mind is how tired I am) but now my stomachs growling and the smell of bacon just makes my mouth water.

Victoire waltzes over and gingerly puts a glass of ice-cold pumpkin juice before me, Louis wipes some egg off the side of his face with the back of his hand and yawns, Maman turns off the appliances and takes a bite of toast, and Dad flicks through the morning's Daily Prophet.

For the Weasley-Delacour family, it's a pretty average morning.

After I finish breakfast, I make the hike back up to the loft to get ready for the inevitably long day ahead. As much as I love the Hogwarts Express, there are moments when I just want to s-l-e-e-p and the scenery rolls on forever.

Another important thing to know about me is that I hate long journeys, especially in France.

Every summer my parents take us to the middle of nowhere in France the "Muggle way", i.e. by car. With me, Victoire and Louis in the back, I'm always nominated by my dear siblings to sit in the middle (because I'm the middle child, which is their excuse for everything), so I can never fall asleep or in any way be comfortable, and if I do fall asleep, when I wake up and look out the window, the long stretch of vineyards is still outside and it just makes me feel a thousand years older.

It's torture, honestly.

Moving on from my hatred of long journeys and back to the present.

My room is not too bad, actually.

Up until the age of 9, I had to share a room with Victoire on the first floor, which was agony.

We each had a single bed each, pushed into the opposite corners of the room, and all her stuff got everywhere and on my side of the room.

After four years of both Victoire and I moaning, our parents painted half the room a pale green (my side of course), and half the room a pale pink (obviously Victoire), so that me and Victoire both had our own side. Our floor had originally been oak floorboards, but Victoire wanted a horrid white fluffy carpet, so being the absolute princess she is, half the room was then covered in what looked like a dead polar bear.

But then when Victoire started Hogwarts, she simply needed her own room for all her new stuff, so my parents made the loft into a habitable space and shoved me and Victoire up there.

So now that's the guest bedroom.

We have separate rooms now, thank Merlin, but we still need to share the same bathroom which is hell, as she spends at least two hours in there at a time.

"Victoire get out!" I yell, banging on the door. "You're not even going to Kings Cross today so what's the point?" The sound of running waters stops and I hear her padding around in there for a good few minutes before she opened the door, letting out a huge amount of steam, before turning into her bedroom.

I have one of these things, that whenever I shower, I have to wash my hair.

I don't know why, it causes a terrible faff really, but it's one of my pet peeves. I just can't stand not washing it.

So, after I've washed and conditioned my hair, which only took around ten minutes, I wrap my body in a towel and creep across the landing to my bedroom, which is in the western half of the loft, which is useful, because it means I don't get woken up early by the sun rise.

Last year, I used to be really insecure about my body. I mean, I was a teenage girl, in a society where you have to look a certain way, act a certain way, and be a certain way.

I was on the verge of being anorexic, but luckily my Dad noticed during the Easter holidays that I was barely eating and was becoming thinner and thinner, and confronted me, because something is seriously wrong when I don't eat. As said before, food = life.

He'd never been in my position, so he couldn't give me that kind of sympathy, but he's incredibly empathetic and really pulled me out of the hole I dug myself.

I'm still thin now, but I've worked all summer to get fitter, and whilst eating a lot, eating healthily.

Of course, my body is nowhere near perfect. I'm still scarily thin, although more toned now, with a thigh gap and a small waist, but I've really come back from last year.

I've never been insecure about my face though, because I'm part Veela, so there are certain things I don't need to worry about, like having perfect skin – it comes naturally, or having hair in weird places – Veela's only grow hair on their head, eyebrows, in their nose and in their ears, and very few down south.

I have wide eyes that are a pale green, but can look blue in some light, quite thick eyebrows (think Cara Delevingne), plump pink lips and straight, waist length dark blonde hair. Not to mention I have quite pronounced cheekbones, which add an element of grace to my features that I don't have in my personality.

I look quite a lot like Cara Delevingne actually, but I also look like Dianna Agron. Lucy has a theory that if you had Cara and Dianna crossed, you get me, except I have a few freckles on the tip of my nose.

Anyway, so I decide to dress casual, as I get changed on the train so there isn't any point putting on my robes now.

I pull on some high waist jeans (every year I go with Lily and Rose shopping in Muggle London with Hermione. We all have our favourite shops. Lily adores Urban Outfitters, Rose loves River Island and I practically worship Topshop. The amount of stuff I have from there is unreal.), a grey t-shirt, a baggy Gryffindor Jersey that used to be my Uncle Charlie's, but he was in the same house as I am now, it doesn't make much of a difference, and some frilly socks and shoes.

I put a detangling and drying charm on my hair (Victoire got me a book full of magical beauty spells for my last Birthday, August 12th) before applying some moisturizer that not only softens skin, but reduces the size of pores and evens skin tone. It's a Weasley's Wizard Wheezes beauty product that Roxy and I helped create.

I throw some last minute stuff into my trunk and hand luggage and prepare for the downhill struggle.

.:.:.~*~.:.:.

Thanks for reading! 💎💎

Don't worry, I will be including some of the other Potter-Weasley kids in the next chapter, and a happy writer, writes faster...😊

...SO PLEASE BE AN ABSOLUTE BABE AND REVIEW🍬🍭