III.
Dominique
Meet Me Under the Mistletoe
16 December 2028
Meet me under the mistletoe, midnight, Christmas Eve.
Your sweet kiss is the first gift I'd like to receive.
"I don't understand why I need to style my hair," Dominique grumbled, wincing as Victoire tugged a hairbrush through her strawberry-blond curls. "It's just a Christmas party."
"It's the annual British and Irish Quidditch League Christmas party, and I will not have my little sister—lead Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies—show up looking anything less than immaculate on her birthday," Victoire said firmly, yanking ruthlessly at a particularly painful knot in Dominique's hair.
Dominique yelped in pain, turning around and shooting her sister a dirty look. "Can you at least let me face the mirror so I can see what the bloody hell you're doing?"
"No," Victoire said resolutely. "You're a backseat driver, like Maman. Just trust me—you'll like what I have planned. I've wanted to play with your hair since we were children, but you were always too busy rolling around in the mud with Lou."
Dominique rolled her eyes. "Well, you were always too busy following Teddy around like a lost crup."
Victoire swatted Dominique's shoulder, and Dominique snorted with laughter. It was true—right up until the very morning that Teddy had left for Hogwarts, Victoire and Teddy had been inseparable. It was a friendship—and now, a marriage—that always took Dominique by surprise, for Teddy and Victoire were as different as two people could possibly be. Teddy was all rough around the edges, impulsive, hilarious, and slightly clumsy, while Victoire was graceful and elegant—Maman in miniature—smooth, silvery-blond, sweet, smart, and—well, girly. And yet, somehow, the two of them had paired off effortlessly.
So, Dominique had been left to her own devices—and as Freddie, James, and Louis had been the next three children to arrive in the family, Dominique had spent much of her childhood with the three of them, partaking in activities that Victoire had turned her nose up at.
Dominique groaned, squirming in her seat as Victoire began pulling at her hair again. "Seriously, Vic, what is your problem?"
"Don't bite the hand that feeds you," Victoire snapped, flicking Dominique's ear. "I'm just trying to help you look your best for your birthday date."
A prickly heat crept up Dominique's cheeks. "It's not a date," she grumbled.
Victoire chuckled. "Oh, sweetheart, it most definitely is."
"No, it isn't."
"All right, why d'you think it isn't?"
"Because Malcolm Wood and I have been friends for ten years," Dominique told Victoire shortly. "Because he has to go to this party—you know he plays for Puddlemere with James—and because when he asked me to go to this party with him, his exact words were, 'Hey, Dom, d'you wanna go to this Christmas party together? We can sit next to James and shoot Color-Change Charms at the back of his head.' I don't know about you, Vic, but that doesn't exactly qualify as romance in my book."
Victoire was quiet for several moments, as she waved her wand over Dominique's hair, causing the curls to rearrange themselves.
Then, suddenly— "D'you know how Teddy asked me out the first time?" Victoire asked quietly.
Dominique frowned, turning around to look at her elder sister. "No—how?"
Victoire smiled, shaking her head. "He never really did," she said softly. "He went from saying 'wotcher' to saying 'I love you' in just days. And I wouldn't trade that kind of a relationship for the world."
Dominique swallowed heavily, staring down at her knees. "It's not the same thing," she muttered.
Victoire sighed, coming around the chair to face Dominique. "Maybe it's not exactly the same," she said gently. "But Malcolm Wood's always been sweet on you, Dom. Even James has noticed—and he's not exactly the brightest wand in the shop when it comes to these things."
Dominique snorted. "I'm still trying to work out how he snagged Alice Longbottom."
Victoire giggled, covering her mouth with her hand, and a comfortable silence fell over the room. Dominique gazed down at the floor, her mind racing.
Then, at last, she looked up and caught Victoire's eye. "I've just—I've always felt like one of the blokes," Dominique whispered. "I never thought of myself any differently. I didn't think anyone else did."
Victoire smiled at her, reaching out and patting her cheek softly. "Well, Dom, just because it's taken you twenty-six years to realize you're a woman, doesn't mean no one else caught on," she said in a very serious tone, though her eyes were gleaming.
Dominique glared at her sister, crossing her arms. "You're awful," she grouched.
Victoire laughed, bending down and kissing the top of Dominique's head. "You're worse," she quipped back lightly. "Anyway, I'm done with your hair."
Dominique let out a strangled cry of relief, clambering to her feet. "Finally—"
"Not so fast," Victoire interrupted sharply, pushing Dominique firmly back down into her chair. "We haven't even started your makeup yet."
Dominique groaned loudly.
After another torturous hour-and-a-half of primping and pawing, Victoire finally relinquished her stranglehold on Dominique and allowed her to change into her pale blue dress robes. Then, beaming, Victoire steered Dominique over to face the vanity.
Dominique's jaw dropped.
Her short strawberry-gold hair hung freely around her neck in gentle, silky curls, with two intricately braided pieces held up at her temples. Her pink-toned makeup was very simple, far less than she remembered Victoire applying, but it highlighted her high, sharp cheekbones and her deep, clear blue eyes—the only two features that both Victoire and Dominique shared with their mother. And her floaty blue dress robes were well-fitted, hugging her tall, lean frame perfectly. Still slightly openmouthed, Dominique turned back around to face her elder sister.
Victoire was smiling smugly. "You're welcome," she trilled in a singsong voice. Then, she reached out and seized Dominique's wrist. "Come on, let's go downstairs. He's going to be here any minute."
Numbly, Dominique permitted Victoire to drag her out of hers and Teddy's bedroom and down Grimmauld Place's long, winding staircase. At last, they arrived at the parlor, where Teddy was sitting in his armchair, reading The Tales of Beedle the Bard to two-year-old John and four-year-old Remus—Dominique's godson. They all looked up as Dominique and Victoire entered.
"Wow, Auntie Dom!" Remus crowed enthusiastically, scrambling out of his father's lap and sprinting up to her. "You look pretty!"
Dominique blushed slightly and grinned, winking at Teddy over Remus's head. "Thanks, mate," she said affectionately, ruffling her nephew's mousy brown hair.
Teddy scooped little John into his arms and came to stand by Victoire, smiling. "You do look lovely," he added, kissing Dominique's cheek. "Now, you let me know if this Malcolm bloke tries anything funny. I'll make sure he's detained and interrogated by the entire Auror Office."
Dominique burst out laughing. "Thanks, Teddy—but I think I might be able to handle this one on my own."
Teddy grinned.
Just then, there was a knock at the front door. Victoire let out a delighted squeal and practically flew out of the parlor, startling Remus, who jumped backwards and collided with his father's leg. Exchanging a long-suffering look with her brother-in-law, Dominique quickly hurried into the foyer after her sister, who was now waiting by the front door, looking positively fit to burst with excitement.
Taking a deep breath, Dominique smoothed out her dress robes. Then, shooting an exasperated look over her shoulder at Victoire, she stepped forward and pulled open the door.
Malcolm Wood stood on the top step, tall, broad-shouldered, and burly—the classic Beater's build. His dark hair was windswept and his bright blue eyes were framed, as always, by his long, thick brown lashes.
And he was holding a bouquet of sea lavender, the kind that grew in the front yard of Shell Cottage—the only kind of flower Dominique had ever liked.
He grinned at her, eyes twinkling, and held out the bouquet. "Happy birthday, Dom," he said warmly. "You look amazing."
Dominique reached out and accepted the bouquet, stunned. "Thanks," she said dumbly, staring down at the flowers in astonishment.
There was a brief pause.
Then, Malcolm cleared his throat. "We should probably go," he said, checking his wristwatch. "The party starts in fifteen minutes, and my dad'll kill me if I'm late again this year."
"Of course!" Victoire chimed in animatedly from somewhere behind Dominique's left shoulder. Hurrying forward, she took the flowers from Dominique's hands. "I'll take these to your flat for you, Dom."
"Oh—thanks—" Dominique began, but before she could say anything more, Victoire gave her a sharp prod from behind, forcing her onto the porch next to Malcolm. Then, the front door slammed shut.
Shaking her head slowly, Dominique turned around and met Malcolm's bright blue eyes—and her stomach seemed to twist into a knot. "Sorry about that," she said in a low voice, nodding towards the now-closed door.
Malcolm grinned reassuringly, offering her his arm, which she took. Then, suddenly, he glanced upward, raising his eyebrows. "Oh," he observed lightly. "Mistletoe."
Dominique looked up as well, and felt her breath catch in her throat. Sure enough, a mistletoe—one which certainly hadn't been present when she had first arrived at her sister's house—was dangling innocently from the roof of the front stoop. And a hastily stifled, triumphant snort from behind the door told Dominique exactly who the culprit was.
Cheeks burning, Dominique swallowed heavily, before glancing up and giving Malcolm the bravest smile she could muster. "Well…we can't bend the sacred mistletoe law," she joked.
Malcolm took a step closer to her. "No, we can't," he agreed seriously. Very gently, he reached out and tucked a loose curl of Dominique's hair behind her ear—but then, he didn't remove his hand. "You really do look amazing," he murmured, his voice raw and gravelly against her ear.
Goosebumps erupted on Dominique's neck and her heart somersaulted in her chest. "So do you," she whispered back.
Malcolm chuckled softly, leaning down, and Dominique closed her eyes.
Behind the front door, Victoire burst into tears.
Soon, the house will come alive, with family and friends.
I'd love some time alone with you before it all begins.
—Randy Travis
Author's Note:
Happy birthday, Dom!
Don't you just love a good makeover story? XD Hehehe I love these two sisters and their relationship. They are loosely based off of me and my younger sister (yes, it's true, I'm the most embarrassing older sister ever) who, like Dominique here, celebrated her birthday this month. This one's for you, A!
Oh, and I also wanted to take a second to acknowledge a guest reviewer named Mel who leaves such lovely reviews for my stories that I so wish I could reply to! Thank you :)
Tomorrow, we'll have Roxanne with 'All I Want for Christmas Is You.'
Ari
