Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
It's a humid summer night and she's sitting on the riverbank, watching the fireflies fly through the night as she soaks her feet in the creek.
Dominique remembers the nights she spent running through the tall grass, hand-in-hand with the girl that would never be hers, the country breeze carrying her gentle laugh. She remembers their childish musings, the smell of heather across her skin and that not so innocent kiss on her lips.
She remembers watching the sun appear on the horizen curled up in her lover's arms; the steady thud of her heart reassuring her that if only for a moment, everything is okay.
Dominique remembers.
And cries.
