It was clear the minute that the potion turned to a questionably green state, rather than the magenta that Rose’s was.
James’s favorite word. Immediately, she had his attention. “Alright there, my lovely cous- shit! What the hell is that?”
Dom snarled at James, though throughout the years, he’d proved to be impervious to her notorious glares that suggested an impending death. Disregarding his outburst, she scanned the procedure and ingredient list. Gnome toe, Chinese Chomping, four sliced caterpillars, twelve porcupine quills, Wartcap powder…
Maybe if she added the Wartcap powder now, she could salvage the potion and scrap up a C+, and then everything would be-
Note: It is imperative that Wartcap powder is added three minutes and forty-two seconds prior to the porcupine quills. This will give the potion its exclusive magenta color. If you fail to do this, the potion will turn to a lettuce-like green that ensures a failing grade.
Okay. The text most definitely does not say that. Dom read it again. The text said that.
“Dom, is that the salad you had for lunch today? Because if that’s the case, you should know that I’m quite positive we’re supposed to be making potions. See, in Potions class, it’s generally what ensues. Unless, of course, some strange occurrence takes place and ‘potions’ is the Romanian word for ‘dance’, in which we would dance in Potions class. Nonetheless, I believe that-”
“James. Fuck. Off.” Dom said in an utmost furious voice.
This voice did not belong to James, but Mr. Hale, their Potions teacher.
With that, Dom decided she never really liked potions, anyway.
Dom Weasley fucked up.
She wasn’t surprised by this as she despised Care of Magical Creatures. Why on earth would she want to stand in the middle of the Forbidden Forest on a rainy day to learn about Nifflers while her hair turns into an absolutely frizzy mess?
“Hagrid,” she said, attempting to reason with her serene, silky voice. “I’m sure my Niffler hasn’t gone far. Now, a detention won’t be necessary. I’ll go look for it.”
Another reason she wasn’t surprised by her fuck up was that she was too busy describing, in detail, what she would do if she was locked in the broom closet with Kent Feller…to Kent Feller.
The repercussions of conversation weren’t so bright. She had lost track her Niffler, meaning that she had ultimately failed her in-class-project. She swore a bit, and told herself that from now on, her studies were the most important thing in her life. Not boys. Grades. She then vowed to never let a boy get in the way of things, particularly her studies.
(Famous last words)
“And go into ter’ the forest alone? I don’ think so. You’ll have to make it up with a detention. M’sorry, Dominique.”
From the corner of her eye, Dom saw Kent ogling at her behind.
Dom bit her lip, looking at Hagrid with pleading eyes. “Perhaps you’d allow it if I had another student, say a responsible, top student, accompany me?”
Hagrid pursed his lips, and wrinkled his forehead in deep consideration. “Depends who.”
“Well, how about Kent?”
With that, Dom decided she never really liked the whole “study” thing, anyway.
Dom Weasley fucked up.
Of course, intoxication gets you that way sometimes. She only liked Hubert as a friend, she declared, nothing more.
Last night, she informed herself, was a mere accident. Nothing more. She was absolutely trashed and there was no logic, no reasoning with her when she was in such a state. It was an accident, she swore.
And Hubert is a friend.
Really, it would be unnecessary for anyone to find out about this. Really. No one needs to know. It’s quite frivolous to talk about those things, anyway. And really, who paid attention to Dom in the first place? The students at Hogwarts were much more dignified than to talk about a one night stand. Really, no one needs to know. And if they did find out, they wouldn’t care.
Bed sheets twisted around them, Dom's mind raced. She was fucked, literally, and figuratively. When Dom voiced her thoughts on the whole thing, Hubert replied as such: “Dom. People will find out.”
Dom narrowed her eyes. “From who, Hubert? We’re friends. Nothing more. No one needs to know. They will never find out.”
Hubert shifted on to his right foot uncomfortably. “You’re the most popular girl in…” Hubert was cut off by one of Dom’s deathly glares. He sighed. “So, that’s it?”
“It was a one night stand. Nothing to it.”
Hubert snorted. “That’s what you call these last six nights?”
Dom shuddered. This had really gotten out of hand. She hadn’t intended for this to happen. He was just so good. And really, so hot. Nontheless, she fucked up. She’d promised herself that she would stay away from Hubert when Lily and he started going out. But he wanted to shag and Lily wouldn’t. “I thought you of all people would understand, Dom! You use it or lose it.” Hubert had said that first night.
Dom promised herself it was just this once.
To be honest, Dom isn’t famous for keeping promises.
“You’re beautiful.” Hubert whispered, taking a suspiciously large step towards her. His hand stroked her back, sending shivers down her spine. But Dom stiffened. She was stronger than this.
“Just once more, one last time, for good luck?” he murmured against her neck.
With that, Dom decided she never really liked Lily, anyway.
Dom fucked up.
Failing her OWLs wasn’t nearly as bad as her Mum was making it sound. They’re a silly test. She never supported tests in the first place. They were cruel, mistaken and inaccurate. That’s what Christopher always said.
“I choked, Mum!”
“Did you even study!?”
“Receiving nearly all ‘dreadful’ and one ‘poor’ does not look like studying to me.”
Fleur gave Bill a knowing look. They were both very much aware that she did not study whatsoever. Fleur sighed. She had no idea what to do with Dom. Constantly, they would receive owls with letters about her dropping grades, and mischievous nature. Louis had his heart set on being a Healer. Victoire was training to be an Auror. Dominique, she thought with despair, never had goals, or plans, for that matter.
“Christopher will take care of it.”
“And how on earth will he manage that?” Bill asked, seething.
“He can pay for my things. It won’t matter. He’ll take care of me. He’s going to be an Auror. He’s fucking genius, Dad, I mean it, Christopher is-”
“Christopher was born into a family of wealth and connections. He was homeschooled, and not bothered by the NEWTS because he could afford that. He-”
“Is going to be an Auror! I’ll be fine with him.”
“So now you’re married to him?”
“No, but he said-”
“Any lifelong commitment?”
Bill cut her off. “Am I correct to say that he hasn’t promised you shit, Dominique? Of course, you think he’ll always be there for you because you always think that, Dom. You let men use you. You let them sweet talk you, and you do everything for them because you think they’ll marry you. You’re co-dependent and I didn’t raise you this way, Dom. I raised you to be an independent, young woman, and this, this is not her.”
And with that, Dom decided that she never really liked her father, anyway.
Dom fucked up.
Sobbing in her parent’s kitchen, she knew that was a fact: she was a fuck up.
She had trusted Christopher.
Dom was still in her fancy dress, bought by him, from the party he’d taken her to. Her high heels were still killing her feet. Her hair was still perfectly in place. It would appear as though nothing was wrong. It would appear as though this was a beautiful girl going out, until you looked at her face. Her makeup was streaking down it as if it were desperately running from her eyes.
Images of him flashed through her mind, the whole night flashed through her mind, but none of it mattered. All that mattered was a that single moment when she stumbled into the bathroom to vomit after one too many firewhiskeys, and found him in there pressed against Lily.
Lily hadn’t ever really forgotten about Hubert.
And with that, she decided she never really liked having a boyfriend, anyway.
Dom had fucked up.
Of course, she’d never admit it to her mother. She would say she wasn’t unhappy about working at Flourish & Blotts. In fact, she was thrilled.
She would say she was happy. Happy. Happy. Happy. Dom drilled those three words through her head every single day. Despite her mother’s hysterics and declarations that Dom was unhappy, she was determined to prove her wrong. Because that’s what fuckups do: attempt to prove everyone wrong, and then fail miserably, ending up in another ‘fuck’.
(Though really, Fleur was quite right.)
Truthfully, Dom had fucked up.
Comparatively, Dom was much better than two years before. It had been exactly one year since her last firewhisky, two since her last boyfriend, and six months since she’d last been in debt.
It had also been three years since she last spoke to her father, two since she last looked at Lily, two and a half years since she wasn’t lonely, four months since she had honestly laughed, five since she last genuinely smiled, three days since she hadn’t envied her siblings with their jobs, and two hours since she had hysterically cried.
She was tired. Exhausted.
And with that, Dom decided that she was an absolute wreck.
Dom was not going to fuck up.
She deemed October “No Fuck Up Month”, a name that's as classy as can be.
Dom promptly threw herself into her work. She read nearly every book in Flourish & Blotts.
Using a paycheck one week, she bought three cookbooks and a travel book. She learned how to cook, bake, and perfect a Thanksgiving turkey. With her travel book, she became in expert on the history of Denmark, its attractions, and a bit of its language.
With another paycheck, she bought a book on yoga, hiking, and jogging.
She deemed November “Wellness Month”.
Dom was promoted to manager of Flourish & Blotts. Four times a week, Dom woke up at 7: 30 and ran three and a half miles, before heading off to work. Twice a week, Dom took yoga at Alfie’s Wellness Centre. On the weekends, she hiked.
Bill had always liked to hike.
“Care for a hike?”
And from that weekend on, Bill and Dom hiked. Of course, it wasn’t that quick. The first hike included a long, delayed apology from both sides, some tears, and a look of glee on Bill’s face when Dom explained her cooking, her love of Denmark, and her promotion. And then, they were father and daughter again.
“You’ve been good, Dom. Wonderful.”
And with that, Dom decided that she quite liked being good. Wonderful.
Dom was fine, thank you very much.
It did not bother her that she was 27 and utterly alone, while Victoire had been married for three years and Louis was practically engaged to Emily McLaggen. It’s all rather frivolous and unimportant, the whole relationship thing. Managing Flourish & Blotts was much more important. Really, why couldn’t her mother understand that? She was fine. Fine. Fine. Fine.
And of course, that her only friends were her siblings most definitely did not bother her. Dom continued sorting books. She lingered when she came across a new cookbook. She found she had quite the skill when making pastries, and had begun to conquer the world of curries. Fine. Fine. Fine. She was fine. She didn’t need a man to control her life. Besides, she’d been in bed with most of the men in her age range years ago. None particularly stood out to her. The curry she’s making tonight will be extremely tasty. Perhaps she’d make a raspberry Danish to go with it. After all, she’s mastered Danish cooking, to be prepared for the day she’d go to Denmark. Right! That curry will be just-
“Who’s—are you—is that, er, Dominique Weasley?”
Dom straightened up from her pile of books on the burgundy carpeted floor, tucked her blonde hair behind her ears and prepared to greet the customer.
“Yes? How can I—Locran?”
“You look so…”
“Un-elflike? I suppose I grew into my ears.”
Locran was in the same year as Dom, though she had never given thought to him. To put it kindly, he was no Kent Feller.
“I didn’t know you worked here.”
“I’ve worked here for nearly three years. Where’ve you been?”
“Traveling.” Locran replied sheepishly. “I, uh, tried and failed miserably at being a Ministry worker. Two years in I quit and explored France.”
“So why are you here?”
“Here? I needed to reacquaint myself with Hogsmead. It’s been a while.”
“Thanks. Anything new here?”
“Depends on the interest.”
The conversation continued. Dom showed him all the changes that had been made to make the store a bit less “dusty” and pointed out each novel worth reading in each section. Locran listened. Dom felt fine. Eventually, Locran glanced at the time. His eyes widened and he expressed his apologies, but said that he needed to go. "I'll see you around, Dominque."
“Dom’s fine. Wait, where are you—wait.” she stammered.
Locran stopped, and turned to face her. His hair was short, and just as blonde as hers. His eyes were green, and he was tall, and built, looking two years younger than his age. His stare was piercing, and as she remembered, he had a consistent, pensive look on his face.
“Do you like curry?”
And with that, Dom decided that she would be fine.
AN: Hi! Thank you for reading. Please review! Perhaps you've noticed, but I'm a sucker for next-generation. I feel like there's much more freedom to write about the kids rather than, say, Ron, Harry and Hermione because they've already got such established personalities. Next-generation, I feel, gives the writer more freedom. Anyway, this is a one-shot about Dom (obviously) that maybe...if requested...could have a sequel? Mwuahaha. (I'm not quite sure why I 'mwuahaha'-ed) Anyway. I'm not loving the ending so I predict a revising session somewhere in the future. Anyway, thanks! REVIEW!