Dominique Weasley shoves the last stack of school books into her trunk and jumped on the lid. No matter how many times she bounced, it wouldn't close. She sighs and stick her head out the door of her bedroom. Her younger brother lived right down the hall of their small cottage on the shore, and he was supposedly packing, but maybe he would lift his head from his Charms textbook and help her.

"Louie?" She calls down the hall. "Louis."

He emerges from his room, in a worn blue flannel shirt, his reddish brown hair combed perfectly. She sometimes wonders if maybe he is really Uncle Percy's child, and her cousin Lucy is her father's, because some days, the roles seem reversed. "What?" His voice is filled with annoyance, his expression still befuddled, as if he was in the middle of an important chapter of whatever textbook he was preparing for.

"Can you help me close this?" Dominique asks, rising halfway off the suitcase to show him the stuffed luggage.

Louis sighs, and she can see all the judgment in those brown eyes, probably for saving the packing for the night before. But he still agrees. He watches her though, in that annoyingly analytical way, before he leaves the room.

Dominique wonders if her feelings are written across her face as if in the black Sharpie pens the Muggles use. She does not love Teddy. She has been telling this to herself for three years now. Teddy is not hers. Teddy is Victoire's. Dominique thought she had become good at pretending, but her younger brother's expression proved otherwise.

She has been trying not to think about the scruffy haired Metamorphagus, however, so she heaves the suitcase onto it's side and trudges downstairs.

Her mother, Fleur, is standing at the stove, cooking steak. Her wand is held loosely in her right hand, and she twirls one lock of perfect white blonde hair around one finger. Fleur turns around at the sound of her footsteps, and rushes over to help her with the trunk.

Upon first glance, Fleur Delacour looks like-what she is-part veela. Perfect features, long silky blonde hair, charming voice. Victoire is just as beautiful, just as tall, just as angelic.

Dominique inherited her mother's blonde hair, but it isn't silky like her mother's. Instead, her long locks are nearly curly with their misbehavior. And nobody watches when Dominique walks by, unless of course, she is tripping down a staircase or something similar.

Maybe she will always live in her sister's shadow.

"Dominique." Fleur says, her French accent heavy with exasperation. Apparently, she has been calling her name for several moments now. "Iz this all of your thingz?"

Dominique nods, and escapes upstairs before her mother can see her cry. Up in her room, she pulls out Teddy's picture, the one she stares at nearly every night. With the creased corner, and tear stains on the back.

She loves him. But he is caught somewhere between Lily and Victoire. Why can't he love her?


Review?