Huh. I guess when you have inspiration, it comes in a flood. (Yeah...I consider it "a flood" to have two updates in less than a week. Pitiful, I know.)

Dominique and her romantic problems up next...and yes, this is the first one that's fully romance. Don't worry, it'll go back to normal after this. (This one's also known as: THE RETURN OF THE DREADED OCS! MWAHAHAHA!)

Sorry for subjecting you to more Pippa and Octavian. Mostly 'Tavian this time, though. And I'm sorry that we'll be going even further into OC-land in the future chapters. And I'm even more sorry for pretending I have knowledge about that mysterious world of boyfriends and girlfriends, when I don't and never will.

And I'll also apologize for that previous lapse into Voldemort-ish evil-laughter. I'll shut up now.

Except to go down on my knees and beg you for reviews.

There. Now I'll really shut up.

(Oh wait...on a side note, if any of you want to take part in a competition thing that I created, could you be wonderful and just click the link on the top of my profile page? Selfish desire, really...but as you probably know, anything on page two of HPFC or beyond can only be dug up via archaeological excavation. So I just need you lovely people as an excuse to bring it back to page one. XD)

~Fin~

Dear Dad,

Please don't tell Mum, but an hour ago, I had a boyfriend. Now, I think I still have a boyfriend. Problem? They're...they're two different people. Mum would call me a scarlet girl. I'm not, though...at least, I don't think I am. All I know is that I feel caught up in a...whirlwind of sorts. Which is strange, because my love life has never been important to me. Well, not that important to me. (I'm a sixth-year Ravenclaw, after all. My life is notes and N.E.W.T. classes and...and nothing else.) But seriously. I probably should be telling all this to Mum rather than you, but I think you're less likely to yell at me. And give me advice other than to lock myself in my dormitory and protect myself from all unsuitable specimens of the male gender...you get the picture, right?

So, I think I wrote to you last a month ago. Properly wrote. (My random essay-long postscripts on the bottom of Louis' letters don't count at all. Because then I can't say anything that I don't want him to see.) Point is that...unless Louis told you, which he probably didn't...you won't know about the existence of...erm...Raymond. Raymond Davies. And honestly, he's perfect. Well, he was perfect...before. He's a genius (it's a perceived prerequisite of being in Ravenclaw), Head Boy, a genius, Quidditch captain, a genius, incredibly handsome, a genius...yes, the redundancy was intentional. (But I'm justified. He is a genius, you know.) I suppose I just find intelligence attractive. Anyways, the major problem with Raymond is his...his unwillingness to commit. And that's putting it mildly. He finds a new girlfriend every other week, and excuses himself with the claim that he's just looking for his soul-mate, but has't found her yet. And all of us besotted idiots fall for it all...until he changes his mind. We all think that we'll be the one to change him...but no. (And honestly, I'm not sure who can.)

Basically, I've been somewhat...obsessed with him for about two years now. It started when he was studying in the library, and I was a fourth-year (a highly impressionable one), who had no idea what all the girls saw in him. I was attempting to lecture my favorite cousin (James...note the sarcasm) and that spitfire girlfriend of his (well, I'm exaggerating, since she isn't really dating him; she's actually going out with McLaggen, just to spite him for eyeing that pretty yet daft dorm-mate of mine, a airhead if you ever saw one...honestly...) Oh dear, these parenthetical side-notes are confusing me. Anyways, I was trying to talk Pippa out of standing on James' shoulders to reach some book on the top shelf (this was when they were actually friends without the romance-dynamic, the way third-years usually are), but he just looked at us...and got up from his chair and walked over and just handed it to them (did I mention that he's tall?)...and then he smiled (lopsidedly) at me...and by that time I was smitten. Very far gone.

Damn. You know what? Just don't read that last paragraph. Run-on sentences (much too many ands), incomplete thoughts...it's awful...I'm sorry. The gist of it is that I fell for Raymond after he gave my cousin a book. Don't question the logic; there is none.

So...we started dating three weeks ago. And we've been going out since then until...well, until an hour ago. I believe this is the longest he's ever been in a relationship; the norm's about a week and a half. Worst was Suzanne. (The aforementioned "airhead" and current object of James' attentions. It's all in the section I told you not to read.) They were together for...less than four days last year. Not that I blame him...considering her character. And just in case you were worrying, I was exaggerating three paragraphs ago when I said that he finds a new girlfriend every other week. It's not like he immediately replaces one with another...he would've run out of prospective dates in less than a year. There's usually a two month break in between...sometimes three. (Raymond has some morals...however unbelievable that statement may seem.) You know, he was positively lovely to me at the beginning...compliments and conjured flowers and such. He even let me help him study for his N.E.W.T.s, even though he didn't need any help at all. Obviously. But the fact that he (a genius) thought I was smart...that felt brilliant. Not to mention the fact that he carried my bag between classes, and kissed me goodbye before we parted ways in the corridors, and - oh hell. I think I'm elaborating too much. I apologize for any symptoms of nausea I may have caused. Just know that we were sensible, even as we were disgustingly romantic. I told you already, he has a certain degree of morality.

The reason he ditched me was...apparently we're too...different. He's looking for spontaneity, and although I'm a lovely girl, I'm just not his type. Apparently I'm too conventional...too wary of breaking rules...too focused...too...too...boring, perhaps. (Or not boring enough...since it really depends on perspective.) Regardless...well, of course I didn't cry; what do you take me for? I stalked off, dignity intact. (For the most part.) Until...until I ran into Octavian outside the entrance to the kitchens.

And you know Octavian...all too well. I'd be stating the obvious to tell you that he's been...special to me...for a very long time. (That was horribly worded.) But I seriously think I've always felt closer to him...and James and Pippa, than to the people in my own year. I suppose that's what comes of being born in late August. But Octavian...he's not...not...oh, how can I put this? Raymond's a genius; Octavian's hopeless at everything except Ancient Runes...specifically because it doesn't require extensive wandwork. Raymond's a star seeker; Octavian's captain of the Gobstones team. He doesn't even own a decent broom, and he crashed mine against the Quidditch stands the first time he tried to fly it. Raymond's hair is...beautiful in its disarray; Octavian's is simply disheveled - and quite frankly, an utter mess. Raymond's eyes are grey-blue-green-ish; Octavian's are...to quote himself, cow dung. Point being, there's really no explanation for the fact that we ended up snogging each other senseless.

Well, there was obviously more to it. I just chose not to bore you with the details. And said details involved him swearing violently at the very mention of Raymond's name (then blushing profusely at his uncharacteristic use of vulgarity)...and him bringing up the incident at my thirteenth birthday when James Silencio-ed both of us by accident, and we came up with our own secret code until it wore off (he still remembers the code and claims he'll never forget it, which makes me feel miserably guilty)...and him giving me compliments that were terribly pathetic in all but their sincerity (but they did somehow work on me)...and - damn again. I apologize once more for my tendency to...ramble.

That was all background information. The point of this letter was to ask for advice. Yes, even though after everything I now have a new boyfriend (to a certain extent)...I still need advice. Because...well, I'm afraid that this may be...what is commonly described as a rebound relationship. And the thing is...an hour ago, I would have laughingly pitied any person who called herself Octavian Macmillan's girlfriend. And now...now I wouldn't have it any other way. And this change of heart...that's what scares me. Because it's something incredibly close to love, but there's no reason to it at all. And I can't believe in something so illogical. Maybe I'm just so sick of waiting for perfection that I've jumped straight from one cliche to another. Or maybe I'm innately a -

Oh, forget it. I'm going back to my Care of Magical Creatures essay. At least it makes sense.

Sincerely,
Dominique

P.S. - No, really, don't tell Mum. You may think you need her advice in anything involving the romance department, but just don't. I've never lied to you before, and I now realize that I just can't. So...so everything in paragraph one...about her probably thinking I'm a scarlet girl...it's a lie. Mum would never - so yeah, I made that up on a whim. The real reason I'm asking you is because...when Mum was a Triwizard contestant, she went to the Yule Ball with Raymond's father. Awkward, much? (But if it makes you feel better, you could just pretend that I like your advice more than her cookies.)

P.P.S - Well, obviously that last sentence wasn't intended seriously. You know fully well that I've always gone to you for advice, ever since Victoire made me cry by beating me in Exploding Snap when I was five.

P.P.P.S - It's too depressing to end a letter with a memory of me crying. So I might as well thank you for sending that new pot of periwinkle Everlasting Ink. Or not...since because of it, I couldn't Evanesco all the rubbish I've written in here. But the color's awfully pretty...so thank you.