Chapter 8 : Of Letters and Homicides.
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Hey, all. Late again, I know. I had work tonight. Blah! Seafood restaurants make for cranky- and smelly- employees, did you know that? But, on the bright side, I did spend a good chunk of time with cute-coworker-person and that has put me in a better mood. I'll be working on Chapter Sixteen tonight! (:
All proper young ladies must never get themselves in situations they cannot explain.
Image by BitterSweetFlames at TDA. This would be Fleur, the crazy mother. :)
My beloved Bill,
Looking forward to you returning this weekend. I miss you already, mon cherie. I hate when you are away like this, teaching and whatnot. I know you love it, but I prefer it better when you are home with me- where you belong. I do hope Dominique and Louis have settled in well, as I am sure they have. Watch over Dominique especially, mon amour. I worry about her the most.
I believe I found a most suitable match for her. Instead of that awful Scamander boy, Lorcan, that you are so fond of, I believe she will be quite fond of the one I have chosen for her: Holden Wood, Oliver and Cecilia’s son. He’s an excellent student and a prefect, and his mother has raised him to be a perfect young gentleman; he’ll grow up to play Quidditch internationally like his father, surely, and that gives him much more standing than a silly “naturalist”. I spoke with Cecilia about it, and she believes it will be a wonderful match. Do try and put them together in class whenever you can, my dear Bill.
Je t’aime, mon amour.
PS. Oh, do not tell Dominique.
I have a proposal for you. I discussed the idea with your mother and your father, and they both believe it is quite magnificent. My daughter Dominique Weasley- I am sure you have met her, she is quite beautiful and very famous in your year for her Quidditch skills and her tendency to land herself in detention, although that should not dissuade you from accepting my proposition- needs a proper young gentleman in her life, and I have chosen you for her until she is thoroughly distracted from the path she is on. A handsome boy like you will be highly capable of gaining her affections and winning her heart, and I am positive you will find yourself very enamored with her. Surely, you will approve of this plan. Cecilia believes it is a wonderful match, and she says you are quite fond of my daughter.
Enjoy your feast at Hogwarts, Mr. Wood. I look forward to receiving your response to my proposal, and also to reading letters from my dear daughter about you. Reply with your answer soon.
PS. Do not tell my daughter or her cousins.
“Oh, bloody hell,” James steps out into the hallway, slamming the door closed behind him after checking the dormitory where Lorcan and Fred still remain. He stands directly between Wood and I, his critical brown eyes not able to land on either of us for more than a few seconds. “Dominique, what the hell are you thinking?” He sounds absolutely furious with me. He even used my real name. Shit. He never uses my real name. Never.
I back away from Wood, narrowing my eyes at both of the boys in front of me: James for interrupting, and Wood for giving him something to interrupt. I’m truly disgusted with Wood and with myself. Why didn’t I shove him away? I haven’t kissed a boy like that once in my entire life, because I’ve spent so long secretly falling over Lorcan. I’m not supposed to kiss a boy like that, unless it’s Lorcan. Holden Wood is not even close to being Lorcan Scamander. I stare down at my feet. What if James wasn’t the one who stepped out in the hallway? What if James wasn’t the one asking me what I’m thinking? What if Lorcan saw us? Oh, my Merlin. I want to cry.
“What if Lorcan saw you?” James hisses at me.
I’ve never seen my cousin this furious with me. He is ruffling his thick black hair continuously, and his brown eyes are flaming. The tips of his ears, which are barely visible beneath his mess of raven locks, are burning a bright red shade. He’s completely irate. I really want to cry now. I’ve never made James this furious. What the hell is wrong with me?
“Wood, can you please go the fuck away?” I snap first at Wood. I don’t know why I even bothered starting a conversation with him in the first place. Surely I knew beforehand it was going to end badly. But no, for some reason I was feeling like being a nice person. Now, however, the niceness has worn off completely. All I want to do is smother myself and throw Holden Wood to the great squid.
Wood smiles weakly at me, before nodding his head. He turns away from us, disappearing down the hallway and the staircase. I can only hope that my rude goodbye ruins any potential idea he has of returning to woo me once again. I hear him greet a mate of his in the common room, and then, when I’m sure he’s out of the way entirely, I look back at James. “He kissed me,” I inform my cousin.
James rolls his eyes. He won’t look at me straight in the eye. I didn’t think James was capable of being this angry with anyone, especially not me. “Of course he did. I didn’t see you stopping him.”
I throw my arms up in the air, annoyed. “Seriously, James,” I snarl at my cousin. “I weigh about one third of what Wood does. Do you expect me to be able to push him away? I’m not a Muggle superhero. I'm just a bloody Beater. I didn't have my bloody bat. He kissed me.”
“Oh, that’s right. All us magical folk rely on brute force now? You’re the one who always insists that wizards are above using physical strength. Remember those silly little sticks we carry around with us all the bloody time?” James is a skilled arguer. He always knows what to throw back in my face and exactly the proper time to do so.
“Fuck you,” I retort. My voice is low, as to avoid calling attention to us, and James’ voice remains low as well. If Fred and Lorcan notice our fight from inside their dormitory, James will likely have no qualms about telling them who just snogged Holden Wood. “I didn’t have my bloody wand!” I prepare to tell James that his sister assured me I wouldn’t need my wand with me, but then I remember he doesn’t know exactly why I’m outside his dormitory. All he knows is that I snogged Wood. Or that Wood snogged me. That’s the better way of phrasing that.
“Do you even know how stupid you are?”
“No- why don’t you tell me, Potter?” I spit his surname at him. Why is he freaking out like this?
“For starters, you were just snogging Holden Wood, who is possibly the biggest prat in our entire school-”
“Oh, does this mean you’ve been dethroned, my dearest cousin?”
“Sod off, Dominique,” James barks back. There he goes with the full first name again. What the fuck is up with this? “Just stop interrupting me, and let me talk- how stupid are you to think you can do this? You’ve destroyed Lorcan because you refuse to admit to the world, or at least to him, that you fancy the bloke, despite how obvious you make it to everyone who is even slightly mentally competent. Then, you further wreak havoc on the entire situation by snogging Wood. Are you a fucking idiot!?”
I look down at my feet. He’s right. He is absolutely, one hundred percent correct. That lone fact makes me want to break down into inconsolable sobs right here in the middle of the hallway of the boys’ dormitories. For the first time in fifteen years, I admit to someone else, albeit my twelve-year-old cousin, that I truly do fancy Lorcan Scamander. Shortly thereafter, I risk everything by letting myself be kissed by Holden Wood. What am I thinking? Is Lorcan not half as important to me as I previously thought, or am I just the biggest slag I’ve ever came across? Merlin. I don’t think James and I will be surprised if it’s either or both of those options, although James will lean towards the first while I opt for the second. I prefer calling myself a slag to thinking I overestimate my affections. Any slightly sane girl would.
“I am a fucking idiot,” I whisper to James. I slowly raise my head, those dreaded fat drops of saltwater forming in the corners of my eyes. They threaten to fall, and I blink rapidly to avoid them. But I know I can’t. Whenever the tears form, they have to fall. It’s always been like that with me. If I get anywhere close to crying, soon enough, all-out bawling will occur. My body prepares to break down and all, and even if I get over whatever has me so upset to start with, my body continues on the same track. Straight to unstoppable blubbering. How attractive. “James, I’m so stupid.”
My cousin reaches out for me without saying a word, wrapping his long, bony arms around my shoulders. His furiousness from just a moment before is completely gone now. It is probably the tears that did it. He pulls my face towards him, and because of our barely different heights, I comfortably rest my head against his neck. Once my eyes are tucked in the soft fabric of his robes, which he has still yet to take off even though he’ll probably end up sleeping in them if he doesn’t, the tears drop down heavily onto the fabric. I hate crying, especially when James is there. He’s my crying shoulder and my steady support, but whenever I cry around him, I’m so comfortable around him that I seem to cry even more, just because I feel like I can without being judged or noticed. It’s quite bothersome. If Fred and James are around whenever I’m having a breakdown like this one, it seems like my tears never dry up. Sometimes it takes hours.
James rhythmically pats my back as he’s done so many times before. You know how most boys run away at the first sight of tears? He’s never been that way. He has so many female cousins that, in his life, tears are commonplace; Weasley girls are very prone to crying. Especially French ones with Veela and werewolf traits. My parents really didn’t think when they chose to reproduce. They’ve created the most emotionally unstable children to ever walk on this planet.
“I-I-I was up h-here with L-Lily,” I stammer, although I’m finding it rather difficult to speak when I can’t stop crying. “We- we were e-eavesdropping on you l-l-lot, b-because I wanted to k-know if Lorcan f-f-fancied me. Then W-W-Wood came up h-here, and I got d-distracted. Lily l-left, and- and he kissed me. I didn’t w-want him-”
“Shh,” James silences me after he’s heard enough of my explanation. The next time he speaks, he isn’t angry or worried, but protective. “I’ll bloody kill him for you, Dommie. Nobody touches my cousin when she doesn’t want to be touched. Especially not someone that isn’t Lorcan Scamander. I’ll bloody kill him. Without even touching my wand. And you can yell at me all you want, Nicky, because I’m not wasting good magic on rubbish like him.”
I smile into his shoulder through my tears, which continue to fall despite his brotherly comment. I love James. I have no idea what I would do if I didn’t have him.
“I’m sorry for yelling at you, Dommie,” James says soothingly. He’s rubbing even circles on my back in a desperate attempt to stop my sobs. My body is shaking against his chest, and his attempts are really having no affect on me. Poor guy. “Dommie, come on. Stop crying.”
I take a deep breath, pulling my head away from James’ shoulder. He’s right. I need to stop crying now. The spot where my head had been pressed is damp from my tears, and my strawberry blond curls are matted down on either side of my face and on my forehead. “Will you let me in, so I can talk to Lorcan?” I ask him. I’ve already had enough stupid moments for the day, and I refuse to let there be one more: I am not going to wait another second to tell Lorcan that I fancy him.
James doesn’t say a word, simply releasing me from his arms and turning towards the door. He pushes it open, and Lorcan’s voice carries out into the hallway audibly.
“- know what to do with this situation now, mate,” Lorcan is saying. He pauses for a second to greet James, who steps in the doorway but waves a hand at me first behind his back to keep me in my place. Lorcan continues talking, apparently to Fred. “I’ll just get over her completely- starting now. It’s better for me than waiting around for her to finally tell me about it, yeah?”
I let out a strange noise. I can’t tell if I want to cry or scream. Since I already cried, I figure I want to scream. It makes more sense for me to scream. Of course, it’s just my bloody luck that the second I decide to tell him, he decides to stop waiting on me. Really, it’s just a cliché situation. Only in a really brilliant Muggle romance novel would I believe something like this can happen; not in my life, my very realistic and horrible life.
“Erm, James,” Fred looks at his cousin, his red eyebrows arched. “What was that noise?”
James bites his lip and pushes his thick black hair away from his forehead. I can see the tension and the anger in his posture, and I assume that Wood’s homicide, which he still plans on committing by the end of the day, will be joined shortly afterwards by Lorcan’s.
“Oh, that noise?” James replies, folding his arms protectively over his chest. “That was Dominique.”
“Dominique?” Lorcan’s voice breaks.
My cousin nods his head. “The girl you are done waiting for,” he responds. The venom that was in his voice was ten times more powerful than anything I’m capable of.
Oh, the power in an overprotective and furious cousin/best mate.
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