"Did I tell you that I saw Durrin earlier?" Dominique asked later on as they finished up their dinners, having no interest in continuing their conversation about the note or the girls who gave it to him.
"Did you?" Jack asked.
She nodded, setting her bowl down beside her onto the ground. "I did. He was heading into orientation after us. Guess he's here with Stuart Reynolds. He was looking for him."
"Yeah, they were always friends."
"He asked about you. I told him you were around, so you may run into him."
"I hope I do," he said, taking another large bite. "I don't know about you, but I miss those days. Especially that team we had fourth and fifth year. That was a great group."
She grinned a little. "I thought the exact same thing after I saw him. That really was a great team."
Now it was his turn to grin. "That fourth year season was unbelievable. I still don't know how we did it. Didn't you catch every Snitch that season?"
She full-on smiled as she sat up straighter and puffed herself up proudly. "Every single one."
"And fifth year was good, too," he continued, "Even with what happened before that final match, it was still a great season."
Her smile immediately slipped off of her face. She dropped her gaze and instead hummed in a noncommittal sort of way. She didn't like to talk about that final match of their fifth year. It was entirely her fault they'd lost that match, and she hadn't even played in it. Her hothead had gotten the better of her and she'd cursed a girl called Colleen in the common room, earning her multiple weekend detentions and a suspension from the match. She'd let her team down. She'd let her house down. She should have two House Cups in her school career, not one.
"Then last season..." Jack mumbled, now stabbing his fork into his bowl hard enough to put some poor vegetables out of its misery. "Even if we did manage to turn it around in the end, last season was a fucking mess."
She still said nothing, but she agreed. It had been a mess. They hadn't even made it into the final match, but it was hard to come back from the abysmal first half of the season that they'd had. They'd first lost Durrin, who Dominique didn't fully appreciate until he was gone. He wasn't even that great of a Keeper—though he was worlds better than his replacement—but he had a way of pulling them all together that made them better. Jack as their new captain had big shoes to fill, and Dominique knew that she hadn't made that easy on him.
She'd only partly done it on purpose; mostly by being petty and insubordinate due to having hurt feelings. It started on the day she'd gotten her annual Hogwarts' letter for her sixth year. She'd been in the kitchen, the last of the siblings to arrive after their father had called them down to collect their letters. Victoire and Louis had already torn into theirs; they were both prefects again, surprising no one. Victoire had not been made Head Girl—which again wasn't surprising. For as bright as she was, there were at least two girls who worked twice as hard as she did.
Their father—who had been Head Boy himself—seemed to be feigning mock disappointment in her, which caused Victoire to make jokes that if he wanted a Head child at school, he'd have to wait for Louis. The mood was playful and pleasant. Louis was reading over Victoire's book list, already planning on asking Longbottom if he could sit a few N.E.W.T.s as a sixth year—a request that would take a lot of convincing.
Upon being handed her letter, Dominique had momentarily been surprised by the weight of it—or rather, lack thereof. It had been a flash of a thought, for she soon had her answer after opening it and finding nothing more than a list of supplies and books she would have to purchase. There was nothing else inside the plain envelope; no sign of the one thing she'd been counting on since she was a small child who'd learned that it was possible to captain your own team at school.
Her Uncle Charlie, one of her most favorite people in the world and the reason she'd fallen in love with Seeking, had been a captain. Her Uncle Harry had as well, though he'd been pretty much everything there was to be, so it was hard to measure anything by him. Her Aunt Ginny had held the position during her seventh year, after the war. She would go on to play professional Quidditch for the Holyhead Harpies; she had always been a personal inspiration to Dominique, as well as one of her biggest supporters. She wanted more than anything to follow in their footsteps and be like them.
But the envelope was empty. There was no badge. No letter of congratulations for being made the newest captain of Gryffindor House. There was nothing.
All around her, everyone else was still talking in cheerful voices and making plans to go to Diagon Alley later in the week to pick up new supplies. But for her, right there in that kitchen, her world was crumbling. It was all hitting her at once. She didn't get it. She wasn't the captain. She wasn't anything. She was...nothing.
"How's Thursday work for you, Nic?" asked her father, though she had no idea what he was referring to. Her stomach was flipping inside of her; her heart clenched in a painful manner. Emotion was overcoming her every sense. She looked up from her letter and at her father, whose smile vanished when her saw her face. "Nic, what's wrong?"
Louis and Victoire had turned to look as well, and the pressure of all those eyes on her made her immediately turn and run out of the room. If she hadn't wanted to the drama and the questions, she probably should have attempted to silently excuse herself, but she'd never been a rational thinker in the heat of the moment. She then spent the rest of the afternoon having her door knocked on and pestered consistently by her family members asking what was the matter. One of them must have eventually figured it out on their own, since the line of questioning quickly turned from asking what was wrong to consoling her for not getting the position.
It'd taken three days for there to be a confirmation that it wasn't her; she'd counted. In those three days, a hundred theories had gone through her head. She'd even briefly managed to convince herself that they'd forgotten to send the badge and that it would arrive shortly. Perhaps she'd get it at school. She wanted to believe that, despite the voice at the back of her head telling her what she already knew was the truth. A truth that came knocking on their door three days later.
Jack had gotten it. He'd gotten the badge and the letter and the position. He knew better than anyone how much she'd wanted it, and it had taken him three days to work up the courage to face her with the news. She hadn't said anything when he told her—in that same kitchen with Louis and Victoire present. She'd just stared at him—or rather, through him—as he tripped over his words and delivered the news. Everyone seemed to be waiting for her to fly off the handle, but she didn't. What was done was done.
For all his apprehension, he seemed rather happy to have gotten the job, which annoyed her tremendously. She offered him an empty congratulations and left the room without another word. She would later hear from her brother that Jack was relieved she'd taken it as well as she had.
From there, a divide grew. She had a really hard time looking at him—especially in a Quidditch capacity. Watching him walk around at practices with all the authority, having the last word on all the new players, telling everyone else what they should and should not be doing, creating plays. She found it hard to take him seriously. She'd always had him in her corner before; they were a team. The two of them would have a laugh about Durrin and his little power trips and general ridiculousness of what happened on the pitch. She'd always counted on him out there, but now he was next level. He was in charge. She'd been left behind.
She started challenging him constantly, and not in the same way she had done with Durrin. With Jack, she was petty and dismissive. If he tried to run a play that she found stupid, she'd counter it and tell him so. If he gave instructions to the Chasers to run drills that she thought were unnecessary, she'd again loudly declare it to be a waste of time. They couldn't get through a practice without her making snarky comments. It got to the point where Jack could comment on the sky being blue and she would somehow find a way to tell him he was being daft. She didn't care. Something in her was driving her to simply counter every part of his authority.
But Jack didn't lie down and take it. For being a generally laid-back bloke, he had a very short fuse for bullshit. For those first couple of months, he'd always tell Dominique his choice trumped hers and tell her to fly laps if she didn't like it. She'd poke and poke at him, but he rarely bit.
Until one day when his mood shifted completely. What she'd originally written off as a bad day for him quickly turned into a bad week—then weeks. He began having it out with her over every comment; soon they were full on arguing on the pitch in front of the entire team. He didn't seem to be afraid of her, or perhaps she'd pushed him past his breaking point, but their rows were becoming more and more frequent every practice. They'd even stopped speaking to each other outside of Quidditch.
It came to a head one afternoon in late November. His choice of Kenley Mortimer as the new Keeper was a rubbish one that Dominique had always ridden him hard for. He didn't agree, and doubled down on his decision every time her name came up. In retrospect, he probably fought back a bit too hard for her, because it ended up spilling into personal life with Whit.
Dominique had no idea at the time that his relationship was basically at its end. She didn't know that Jack was in a bad place with his girlfriend, and also because of the constant stresses practices caused him. The fact that Gryffindor had already lost both of their matches didn't help. The team was terrible because there was no chemistry; no camaraderie. The other members were simply stuck in an awkward position, and often stood back and watched as Jack and she fought—destroying any attempt they may have had at creating something real.
But that one November afternoon, Dominique finally overstepped herself. She'd mouthed off on Kenley one too many times, and Jack finally cracked. It was the worst row to date.
"She can't stop a fucking Quaffle to save her life!" Dominique yelled, all of her anger directed at Jack. "Time and time again, everything goes straight past her, but you don't want to see it! Is she blowing you after practice? Is that why you refuse to admit it?"
He'd gone red. Absolutely beet red. He yelled back, "Fuck off," in a tone she'd never heard him use before. She'd touched a nerve—a nerve that in hindsight made a lot of sense given his girlfriend's growing fears of him falling for Kenley. She hadn't known any of that at the time, though. Had she, it would have been a low blow. As it were, she was just being a bitch and trying to needle him.
"You fuck off!" she yelled back. "You can't even see it!"
"How is she supposed to get any better when all you do is harass her?!" he shouted. "Everyone's fucking sick of it." He gestured around to the rest of the team, all of whom had landed back on the ground and were now standing away from the two of them. "If you don't want to be on the team, then leave. I'll find someone new!"
She laughed. "Who?!"
"I'll be the fucking Seeker if I have to be!" he said, chucking his bat on the ground hard enough that it left a divot in the grass. "I don't fucking care! You can go!" He pointed in the direction of the changing rooms. "Just go!"
"Fine!" she screamed back.
She'd gone back to the changing room and hit a few of the lockers out of anger. She'd chucked a stack of towels well across the room and kicked a few chairs over. It was a tantrum, sure, but she'd seen people do worse after losses. She went into the showers and sat on the cool floor, her eyes shut and her head thumped dully against the wall. She didn't turn on the water, she just needed a moment to decompress. She needed to calm down. Like always, she was letting her anger get the best of her.
She didn't know how much time had passed, but she soon heard voices. The rest of the team was returning after practice. She probably should have been gone by now; she sure as hell didn't want to see any of them, but there was only one exit and she'd have to pass them all to get to it. Unless someone came into the showers, which no one did after practice, no one would see her. She would have to wait them out.
"What the…?" came someone's voice. It was a girl. She had to assume Kenley.
"Bloody fucking hell," said Jack. His tone was annoyed and angry.
"You think she did all this?" asked a third voice. It sounded like Tommy Hornsby, the other Beater.
"Of course she did," Kenley said. "She's unhinged. Why is she still even on the team if she hates it so much?"
Dominique sat up straight at that. She was about to jump up and walk straight out there and break Kenley in half at the suggestion. After all, who was she—other than the worst Keeper in the history of Hogwarts—to suggest such a thing? The only thing that stopped her were the next words that came out of Jack's mouth.
"It's getting to that point," he said, sounding as if he was cleaning up and pulling chairs around the room. "I might have to. I can't deal with her anymore."
She froze. He wouldn't, would he? He couldn't, could he? Who else…? Shit, what had she done? She'd pushed things too far. Quidditch was her life. She was throwing everything away because she was angry with one of the few people who could end Quidditch for her entirely. How had it come to this?
"This is stupid," she heard Jack mumble one more time before the sound of someone aggressively throwing open the exit door followed.
"I think the choice is obvious," said Kenley, though her voice drifted further away with every word she said. Soon, the sound of a door closing was the last thing Dominique heard. Silence followed. She must have been alone again. She stood up and walked out of the showers. The changing room was empty and clean once again. She felt a surge of panic course through her. She fucked up. She needed to talk to him.
Originally, her plan was to talk to him in the common room before dinner, but she'd missed him on the way out. Then, while at dinner, he and Whit had sat away from everyone else. While it was normal for him to sit away from Dominique, he did usually still stick close to Louis and the others. She and him weren't on speaking terms, but they both floated around the same social circle. Seeing him and Whit off on their own was unusual because they barely seemed to be talking to each other. She'd have understood if perhaps they'd wanted to be alone, but every time she cast a glance down the Gryffindor table at them, they both looked as if they wanted to be anywhere else.
She had finished her meal and left to wait in the Entrance Hall outside of the Great Hall, hoping this time to catch him when he left. She paced a bit, pondering over and over again what she was going to say to him. If he was seriously contemplating chucking her off the team, she had to say exactly the right thing to make him realize that was a poor choice. She could do this. Be sorry. Be sincere.
The moment he and Whit finally emerged, she stepped forward and, after taking a deep breath, called out his name. She hadn't immediately realized that the pair were talking, but in a snippy, terse sort of way. They looked as if they were having an argument—one she'd just interrupted—and when they turned, neither looked particularly happy to see her. She'd definitely interrupted something.
"Uh," she stammered, "I wondered if I could have a word."
Jack flexed his jaw, clearly aggravated. Whether it was with her, with Whit, with a combination of the two, she didn't know. "I'm busy."
"One minute. I promise. I'll make it quick. It's just about earlier. About Quidditch."
"Of course it's Quidditch," Whit muttered, showing a rarely seen aggravated side. She turned and walked a few paces away.
Jack watched her turn and, for some reason, Dominique suspected that Whit's reaction was the only reason he was even considering talking to her right now. Before that, he'd seemed set on walking away. Now, her simple turn seemed to make him reconsider.
"Fine," he said, stepping toward her and filling in the small gap between them. "What?"
"I…" Dominique looked beyond him, where Whit was waiting with her arms crossed and her body language annoyed. She focused back on Jack, who was practically staring a hole through her. She'd really picked the wrong moment to do this. "I'm sorry about earlier."
He continued to stare at her, though it seemed just slightly less intense now.
"I was out of line. I've been out of line. I fucked up. I wanted you to know that," she took a deep breath, "I understand that you're the captain, and I need to respect that. And I will. From now on, I'll rein it in."
There was a long silence. He didn't say anything, though she didn't really know what she wanted him to say. He continued to stare until he suddenly didn't. He blinked and looked away, back over his shoulder to where Whit still stood waiting for him. Finally, he said, "That it?"
She nodded.
He nodded as well, and just as quickly turned away. In several steps, he was back over to where Whit was, though neither of them said anything as they walked off together. Dominique noted that you could probably have fit four or five people in the space they'd left between them as they walked. That certainly could not have been any more awkward.
But it had worked. There was no call to have her kicked off the team; no other suggestions or meetings held to discuss it. While things weren't perfect and she and Jack still remained cold and distant, she did what she was told and gave little push back.
Things may have been better, but they weren't anywhere close to how they used to be. Life was too busy getting in the way for the both of them now; repairing any sort of lost friendship they had was very much a low priority. In the month that would follow, her and Jack's worlds would continue to shake. He and Whit would split up for good, just before the holidays. Henry had kissed Dominique—her first kiss—and to say that messed with her head was an understatement.
Then, on top of all of that, the biggest explosion occurred when she'd discovered that Louis and Sarah had been lying to her for months about being together. They were a couple now; they'd fallen in love. The two people she trusted most in the world had lied to her for months. That felt like a stab to the back unlike anything else she'd ever experienced.
She'd blown up on both of them; stopped speaking to them for days. She obviously knew she couldn't rid herself of Louis, but she wanted nothing to do with Sarah and as little to do with her brother as she could manage. It was especially hard given that it was Christmas time, and their house became a hotbed of she and Louis sniping and fighting with each other. It was becoming apparent that all she did lately was fight with people she cared about after feeling betrayed by them. It was becoming exhausting. Worse yet, she was losing everyone.
She, Louis and Sarah did eventually start speaking again— because she didn't have other friends outside of them—but she still couldn't be around them. Now that they were out in the open for all to see, they were permanently attached. Snogging in the corridors and cuddling in the common room; she wanted to punch them both in the face multiple times a day. They were in their own world, completely oblivious to everyone around them. If they weren't on top of each other, they were working on school work together, sitting together, always together. They were functioning as one single unit now; both of them lost entirely to their relationship.
While this was happening, Quidditch had been put on hiatus until the harsh January snow cleared. This meant there were weeks where Dominique couldn't even escape to her broom to clear her head. Things with Henry were getting more intense, school work was building, Louis and Sarah were driving her mad—she needed time to think; to slow down. She needed time to clear her head, which is what she did immediately once the snow finally did subside.
She'd woken that first good morning and practically sprinted down to the Quidditch pitch to break out her broom. Her cabin fever had reached an all time high; she'd been days away from clawing away at the walls—or her brother's face. The truth was, she'd been rather lonely lately with all that had happened. She really didn't have anyone to talk to now that the two people closest to her were predisposed, while also being the source of her annoyance. There was still Victoire, but she and Dominique didn't have much in common outside of their family life. Plus, her sister also had her own life and friends, and these days she was so swept up in studying for her N.E.W.T exams that Dominique was better off talking to the portraits in the corridors.
The other people in her house, she tolerated at best. Flynn was obnoxious; her roommate Eleanor may as well have been in Ravenclaw given that she spent every waking moment she had with her friends over there. Her Quidditch teammates still weren't over her antics from the past few months, and her other roommate, Natalie, had become insufferable since—with Louis being her ex and Sarah being her friend—she'd felt completely betrayed by their coupling. She'd become an angry mess, which Dominique would usually find some amusement in, but there was something about this instance that made her feel sorry for her. Maybe it was because she, too, felt betrayed by the entire thing.
That left Henry, and while they got on fine with their eyes closed and their mouths and bodies pressed up against each other, they didn't talk. She hated his friends and he didn't seem very keen on hers—or rather, what was left of hers. They weren't the type that shared secrets and opened up to one another.
All she had left was her most trusted and reliable companion—her broom—and it had been far too long since they'd seen each other. As she crossed the school grounds on that frigid day and entered the arena, she went straight into the changing room. She practically ran to her locker, where she knew her poor broom had been cooped up for the last month in below freezing temperatures. It needed to be free; to feel the wind in its bristles; to—
"What are you doing here?" came Jack's voice, which made her jump back and practically out of her skin. She'd assumed she'd been alone.
"Fuck, Jack, you scared me half to death."
He was standing on the opposite side of the room, over where they usually had their team meetings and reviewed their plans for matches. He had a book and a quill in his hands—the playbook, if she had to guess—and was now blankly staring at her.
"I'm getting my broom," she said. "Thought I'd go for a ride."
He nodded as if he understood that. "Weather's finally turned."
"It has," she said, tapping her wand to her locker door and watching as it popped open. She immediately thought that her broom looked cramped and lonely.
"I'm trying to get things ready for practices to start back up again," he said, though she hadn't asked.
"Cool," she said without much emotion, reaching in to grab her broom and methodically checking it for any wear.
Perhaps he took the hint, because he didn't say anything more to her. She noticed several of her broom bristles were bent and crooked, so it must have fallen awkwardly in her locker. The handle was also in desperate need of a shine. She'd have to do that before taking it outside. She was rather obsessed with her broom's maintenance and upkeep.
She looked in her locker for her bristle scissors and handle polish, but only found the former of the two. She reached around aimlessly, attempting to land her hand on what she knew had to be in there, but even after standing up on her tiptoes to get a better look, there was none to be found. Shit. How had she forgotten to get more?
She glanced over at Jack, who had his back to her as he sat and scribbled in his book. They still hadn't spoken much since her apology, but even so, she had noticed that ever since his split from Whit, he'd returned from the Christmas holiday far more subdued. He was already a quiet person, but he'd been even quieter in classes; other than hanging around with Flynn in the common room—seeing as Louis was apparently too busy for him as well—he mostly kept to himself. Dominique could sympathize. They had that in common.
"Hey," she said, feeling bold. "You don't happen to have any extra handle polish do you?"
He looked up at her, then his eyes immediately went to his locker. "I should. It'd be in there. Do you need some?"
"If you don't mind. I ran out," she said, watching as he set his book down and stood up. He made his way to his locker and tapped it with his wand, which caused the door to immediately open. He started scanning the stop shelf and found the polish rather quickly. He pulled out a large container and made a gesture to her as if he was going to toss it to her.
She opened her hands and let him lob it, catching it easily. "Thanks."
"You're welcome," he said, though his attention was already back on what he was doing before. He'd sat back down and picked up his quill faster than she could get the lid off of the container.
The silence continued as she proceeded to tend to her broom, though she found herself constantly checking over to where Jack was. The truth was, she wasn't even sure why things were still the way they were between them. Everything that had happened seemed so long ago. She'd gotten angry with a lot of people since, and they'd all made up. Her and Louis had been through hell and back; she'd been ready to cut Sarah out of her life entirely. Why were things with Jack still so off? Sure, Louis was her literal twin and Sarah was her best friend—their ties ran deeper and were perhaps worth fighting harder for—but Jack had been her closest friend out on the Quidditch pitch for years. She'd gotten used to him as captain and had meant every word of her apology. If they could let this go, maybe things could go back to the way they once were.
"You going to try flying today?" she asked, buffing a particularly ugly spot off her handle.
He didn't look up from what he was scribbling. "I was thinking about it."
"I'd suspect most people are," she said, setting down her towel and observing her work. Shiny and practically like new. That was more like it. "You should try and get out there before it gets crowded. Now's the best time."
He stopped writing and looked up at her.
"I mean, unless the playbook needs immediate tending to," she said with a shrug. "Which it doesn't. Season doesn't pick back up again until next week at the earliest, I'd guess."
Jack didn't seem to know how to react to that. He seemed like he wanted to speak, but he didn't.
"Think about it," she said, grabbing her broom in one hand and heading toward the exit. "Maybe I'll see you out there."
It hadn't exactly been the most obvious extension of an olive branch in the history of the world, but that had taken a lot of energy for her. She'd at least made an attempt to tear down the wall that she'd been spending so much of the last few months building.
He had come out that day, and while she'd have loved for things to have been immediately cool and all forgiven between them, it was far from the case. They'd mostly flown around on their own; soon joined by a few more people who were also looking to stretch their flying muscles. The following day they would do something similar, and by the time their next practice rolled around, their conversations had grown from a handful of words to a handful of sentences. It was about midway through the first week of the season when one of them—she couldn't remember who— attempted a topic that wasn't Quidditch related.
"I hate being around them and their constant snogging," Dominique said as she held the Quidditch supply trunk open at the ready. "That's all they do. I feel as if I need to remind them to come up for some air."
Jack laughed a little as he attempted to wrangle a particularly ornery Bludger back into its compartment. Once he did, she slammed the lid shut and watched as he thumped back hard into a sitting position onto the ground.
"And I hate wrestling Bludgers," she added. "So, I'm glad that's your job."
"You think I'd be used to it by now," Jack mumbled as she leaned over and reached out a hand to help him up.
"Which part? Louis and Sarah or the Bludgers?"
He laughed again as he reached down to pick up the trunk. "Both."
She went over to pick up his broom and bat, while he carried the chest off toward the equipment room. As she juggled his things and her own broom, nearby Tommy had jogged over looking as if he wanted to lend a hand. "You need any help?"
"No, I got it," she said, having finally found a way to comfortably carry all three. "Jack'll be right back anyway. Just figured I'd grab it for him so he didn't have to walk all the way back out here."
Tommy nodded a little and looked to be hiding a small smile. "Glad to see you two...you know."
She stared at him. She wanted to put him on the spot and tell him to mind his own business—not state the obvious like a prat—prat she bit her tongue. She'd fought enough people lately and she genuinely needed a break. She was avoiding confrontation for the time being. A small modicum of peace had returned to this team and it was time to let it grow.
Things got better after that. Their Quidditch team bounced back to win most of their remaining matches, though they were kept out of the final match by Ravenclaw and a particularly cocky Henry. That had been a long week—especially for him, considering Dominique had decided to ice him out and not touch him until she managed to get over things. Louis and Sarah eventually returned back to earth after having their heads in the clouds for ages. They started to find a better balance of being an "us" and also being themselves. They would still snog randomly all over the place, but it wasn't a constant anymore. Dominique got to have them both back from time to time. She wasn't always the outsider anymore.
But, even when she still was, she'd found someone else to spend her time with. Jack was a good source of sanity when her brother and Sarah would slip back into their old habits. She could always count on him to now be on the receiving end of her eye roll or her annoyed facial expressions. If those two went off on their own, she now had him to finish homework with or play a game of table Quidditch. By the end of the year, she had stopped counting on Sarah and Louis first when she was looking for company. She and Jack had grown to be friends, and she trusted him now as much as the other two. They'd come back from a lot, but ultimately got a much better friendship out of it.
"Did you hear me?" Jack suddenly asked, snapping her back to reality. The sun disappeared behind the horizon line entirely now; the sky was purple going on dark blue. She'd apparently been lost in thought for some time.
"No," she rubbed her eyes, "I didn't."
"Where's your head?"
"Thinking about last season. Or rather, last year. It really was a fucking mess." She looked up at him. "Can I ask you something?"
He nodded, taking a long swig from a bottle of water.
"Would you have ever thrown me off the Quidditch team? When things were really bad and we were fighting, did you think about it?"
He swallowed his water then, though he didn't answer right away. He was either thinking about it or choosing his words carefully. "I mean, I didn't, did I?"
"But did you ever want to?"
He shrugged. "There were days…" He trailed off. "But no. We worked everything out before it got to that point. So, I can't say whether I would have actually done it or not. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad I didn't. I would have regretted it."
She looked away, not entirely sure what sort of answer she was looking for out of him. She wasn't even quite sure why she'd asked the question.
"I'm also certain you'd have murdered me in my sleep if I had."
"Funny you think I'd wait for you to sleep," she said, smiling at him while also noticing Michael and Ellibit approaching from nearby, on their way to the canteen. Her actual smile slipped into something more forced as soon as they drew nearer.
"Well, look at this," said Ellibit, taking in the tree and ground and the surrounding area with a sort of amused energy. "Much nicer out here than in there. You two look cozy, even."
Jack started to stand, collecting his and Dominique's trash as he did so. "We're all finished, so you can have the spot if you want." He gestured to the rubbish and nodded back toward the canteen. "I'm going to go and toss this in the bin. Then, I think I'm going to get some pudding. Nic, you want anything?"
She shook her head, just as Michael offered to go with him and pick up food for himself and Ellibit. Ellibit in turn sat down in Jack's vacant seat, happily looking around as she did. "Such a nice night."
She hummed in agreement.
"What are you two up to tonight?"
Dominique yawned and stretched her arms. "I've had a long day, so I'm probably going to call it a night. Go back to the dorm, maybe get a start on the bookwork so I don't have to do much once everything gets started around here. I want to be ready for tomorrow. Make a good impression."
"And Jack?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. Ask him. I'm not his babysitter."
"Oh, I just assumed you two had plans."
"Why?"
"Because you seem close, is all," she said, now fidgeting a little as she played with a spot on the ground. "I'd never paid much attention before, but I've noticed since we've been here."
She continued to stare at her. "I guess so. We are friends."
"Which is why I assumed you had plans."
She couldn't be sure, but she felt like Ellibit was playing at something. It made her suddenly feel defensive and oddly caged in. "Like I said, I don't know his plans. He got those French girls' room number, maybe he plans on chatting them up."
Ellibit's head popped up at that, her curiosity piqued. "I thought he hadn't found them? That's what he'd said."
"He didn't. I found them for him."
She seemed confused. Her expression was one Dominique really couldn't place, but she said nothing more than a quiet, "Huh," before both of them lulled into an awkward silence. But—as Dominique had learned earlier—Ellibit wasn't capable of silence for long; she soon commented on the music coming out of the D Dorm and forced the most minimal of small talk until the boys returned with their hands full. Jack had helped Michael carry their dinners outside, and as they got situated, Dominique stood to leave.
"What are you two up to tonight?" Michael asked in the identical way Ellibit had minutes before.
"You two even talk alike," Dominique mumbled, glancing between the two of them. She hadn't meant it as a compliment, but Michael smiled in a warm sort of way.
"Jack apparently got those French girls' room number," Ellibit said to him. "Dominique found them after everyone left."
"No kidding? Look at that," he said, throwing Jack a sly sort of smile. "You thinking about going for a visit?"
Dominique threw Jack a sideways glance, noticing his body language seemed rather lazy. He shrugged before shaking his head. "Not tonight. Big day tomorrow, you know? I had a really late night last night and I don't feel I've got much left in me. I'll probably start the bookwork and get to bed early. Want to make a good impression."
Ellibit caught Dominique's eye and smirked. "Funny, she said the same thing. You two sort of sound alike, too."
Dominique felt her teeth clench, but hid it as Michael nodded and bit into his sandwich. "Well, I think we're planning on walking around a bit, seeing what's going on, but not too late. Maybe we'll catch you if you two are around later."
They all said their goodnights, and Dominique hoped that would be the last she'd have to see of those two for the evening. She'd had her fill of the Hufflepuff pair for one day, having spoken to both of them more today than probably in the last two years combined. As enticing as it was to actually see what this night scene was all about—especially Dorm D—she still had days to do that. Tomorrow she was making her first impressions on people who could potentially shape her Quidditch future. She couldn't jeopardize that for some shots of firewhiskey and a few good songs. Tonight, she would study and sleep.
"I got chocolate biscuits," Jack offered as they walked, holding up a rather large brown paper sack. She took it from him and peered inside. It had to have at least twenty biscuits in there.
"You got all the chocolate biscuits."
"I left some behind," he said as he took the bag back. "I figured you'd eat some."
"Always looking out there, Jack," she said, shaking her head.