Word Count: 486


"You have been weirdly quiet," Victoire notes, pulling the brush through Dominique's strawberry blonde hair. "What gives?"

Dominique blushes. Why does her sister have to know her so well? She thinks anyone else wouldn't think anything of it. But Victoire understands; she can see something in Dominique's eyes or the tense set of her shoulders.

She shifts uncomfortably, adjusting the straps of the dark blue gown she's borrowed from Victoire. It isn't her style, far too girly, but she loves the dark color. She has to wear a dress for her grandparents' anniversary, but she would be much happier in jeans and a shirt. At least the Weasley side of the family wouldn't care.

"Dom?" Victoire pauses, her gaze meeting Dominique's in the mirror.

She wants to say she's fine and everything is just perfect so Victoire can concentrate on fixing Dominique's hair. Hasn't she done a good job denying it for so long?

Maybe that's exactly why she's so on edge now. The dress isn't her. Something about the blue satin makes her want to jump out of her skin.

"It's nothing."

Her sister shakes her head. "Don't. Don't you even dare. This isn't nothing." She sets the brush aside, carefully twisting Dominique's hair this way and that, forming some elegant knot that Dominique could never manage. "Talk to me."

Domonique sighs. Talking should be easy, but she doesn't even know where to begin. She isn't ashamed, but she has kept this secret to herself for so long that speaking it aloud almost feels like a betrayal. "I'm… Vic, I'm a lesbian."

There's no dramatic gasp, no shocked response. Instead, Victoire just shrugs. "I know."

"You… What? How?" Dominique demands.

With a roll of her eyes, Victoire lifts a bottle of perfume and sniffs it before trading it in for a different bottle. "I've seen the way you look at Nina Creevey," she says. "I always thought it was pretty obvious."

Dominique wonders if she should be offended. Instead, she just laughs, her posture relaxing as relief floods her body. "That… That was so needlessly terrifying," she says, shaking her head.

"I think Freddy is about your size," Victoire says, taking a step back and studying Dominique. "Maybe a little taller, but his suits should fit you. I'll get one."

"Wait! A suit?"

Victoire grins. "I figure my tomboy lesbian sister would probably feel infinitely more comfortable in a suit than a dress."

Laughing softly, Dominique nods. Victoire has a very valid point there. "You know they'll hate it," she says.

Hate is hardly an exaggeration. Her French grandparents have their way of thinking, and Dominique has always tried to be someone else because it's the only way she can make them happy.

"I think it's time that they truly meet their granddaughter, don't you?"

The thought terrifies her, but Dominique finds herself nodding her agreement. Maybe it's time that she stops living in denial.