Chapter 1 : Hallelujah
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My blood runs cold when I see her past the gate. Despite her back turned so it faces me, I know that’s Victoire. There’s no mistaking the long, silky locks of my sister—so silvery blonde. There’s no mistaking the tall, slender frame that is hidden under that horrendous leather trench coat, the trench coat that had once belonged to him, and I can’t help but wonder if it still holds a faint scent of his cologne…
I remain rigid, my breathing shallow as I watch my sister from afar, who kneels at the marble gravestone, laying a bouquet of beautiful, blood-colored roses on the snow. I want to vomit. Teddy hates roses, out of all the flowers in the world. I want to rush over and snatch them from the frosted ground, and burn them. A bit harsh, but I can’t help it. She should know, she was his wife…
I reminisce of Teddy telling me the story of why he hates roses so much. Apparently he and James were teasing each other, James teasing Teddy until he lost his mind. Teddy shoved James, and James shoved back, only Teddy lost his footing and tumbled into a rose bush.
“And that, Dom, is why you should never give me roses on Valentine’s day. I despise them with a passion.” I recall, imagining his smiling face. I remember that smile as we sat on the stairs of the porch, under the awning away from the cruel, blistering sun. He poked me gently on the side, and tugged a lock of my strawberry blonde hair. I was only twelve at the time, and he was eighteen. He was my best friend, and never had I imagined that I would lose him, lose him to the sister I trusted my life with, even when she surpassed me in everything.
The memory fades clear and I find myself back on this lonely street, standing on the icy pavement, still watching my sister as she caresses the gravestone with her thin and graceful fingertips—probably tracing over his name.
I could hear the church choirs singing across the street, their beautiful voices meshing harmoniously with the sweet piano in the background.
I flinch. Teddy taught me how to play when I was younger; he teased me, saying how I should take advantage of my long and flexible fingers, something Victoire seemed to lack, despite them being elegant none-the-less. I bitterly smirk at the memory of his teasing voice. Long and flexible fingers. It was the only power I had above Victoire—Victoire, the perfect child. And for once I could do something that she couldn’t.
He tried to teach Victoire, I remember, after she pestered Teddy for attention. They were friends you see, play dates when they were young kids due to their closeness in age. It annoyed Victoire senseless when she would find Teddy teaching me, the baby sister, to play piano. And so Teddy told me to scoot over, and I watched as Victoire hopped on the stool, and struggled with reaching the keys. After a good fifteen minutes at failing, she scoffed and hopped off, saying something about catching butterflies outside. Teddy just rolled his eyes at her and told me to hop back on.
I've heard there was a secret chord
That David played and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
To this day, Victoire still doesn’t know how to play, but I do. There’s a piano that sits in the sitting room of my flat, the very same one, but it remains untouched. I can’t bring myself to touch those keys, to play the music that Teddy had encouraged me to play. And to this day, Victoire still scoffs in disproval whenever she sees a piano. Whether it’s because she can’t play, or because it reminds her of the bond Teddy and I had shared through it, I wouldn’t really know…
It goes like this: the fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah
I blink, trying to pry my thoughts away from piano lessons. The piano. And Victoire’s jealousy. I still stare at my sister, whose head is bowed, still kneeling in front of Teddy’s grave stone. She should feel miserable, taking him for granted like that; and though I stand so far away, I don’t need to be close to her to tell she’s softly weeping. I should feel sorry, but for some reason, I don’t.
I let myself be taken away, be taken into an odyssey of memories. Memories concerning this bitter love triangle that tore us three apart.
Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
I remember as I grew older I saw patterns between my best friend and my sister. It wasn’t long until he began to sever himself from me, to get closer to the girl my parents and his god parents had aimed to push together.
I was fourteen then, when Victoire came straight up to me and told me she had fell in love. The comment amused me, and when I asked with whom, it was then when my world fell to pieces.
“I’m in love with Teddy, Dom. I really think I’m in love!”
I remember crying that night, in the privacy of my four poster bed with the curtains surrounding me. The thought of my sister falling in love with Teddy hurt, because I had fallen in love with him too. I knew right then that I would never get the chance. Victoire was beautiful than average, even for a girl who was just one-fourth Veela. Though I share the same blood composition, I was always the rougher of two. I swung the Beater’s Bat for Hufflepuff and landed in detention with Roxanne, while Victoire was the book-worm, goody-two shoes Ravenclaw, her intelligence matched by with Rose. Of course it was obvious who Teddy fell in love with. And then there was always the matter of age...
"Do you think he likes me back, Teddy? Do you think I’m pretty enough for him?"
It was a question that Victoire had asked me in the privacy of our compartment as we awaited our friends to join us. It was the first year she had gone without Teddy, so apparently she found this as the best opportunity to ask. Of course, she already knew my answer; she just wanted to hear me say it—to feed that ego that’s already big enough for her and James both. Of course, anyone who said they knew my sister would say she was anything but vain—but I knew better, and if there was anything that could make her grey skies turn into a perfect blue, complete with fluffy clouds, it was to tell her how marvelous she was.
That Christmas wasn’t any better either. We were all gathered in the Burrow, and while I was playing a rather enthralling match of wizarding chess with my younger cousin Lily, Teddy pulled me aside. Teddy, the boy I was so desperate to avoid. As he dragged me to the upstairs landing, I could feel the sharp glare and watching eyes of my sister, who was sitting near the fireplace, engaged in a conversation with our cousins Albus and Molly.
“Victoire.” Was the first word he breathed quietly, I remember. “I fancy your sister lots, Dom. I care for her so much.” More than he cared about me… “The way she smiles is like the sun peering out on the horizon, the way her hair shines under the moonlight is breathtaking, and I ask of you this favor.” I remember as he pulled out a beautiful tanzanite necklace from his pocket. “Do you think she would like this, Dom? It’s my Christmas present for her, and I really wanted it to be special.” I remember nodding because there was nothing else I could do, and I could remember how dry my mouth had turned.
“I think she’d like it very much.” I recall croaking, knowing right then and there I was letting him go. “It really does match her eyes.” I remember my tone sounding hollow, and Teddy staring at me as if I had grown a new head. I suppose he must’ve sensed my disappointment.
I didn’t go to dinner that night. Instead, I kissed mum and dad goodnight, before marching up to Aunt Ginny’s old room, where Rose and Lily had planned on sharing. I was supposed to share a room with my sister, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t sleep in the same room with Victoire—the girl that stole Teddy from me, who intercepted his and my friendship to the point where we receded into mere acquaintances.
The following Christmas day, when I padded into the dining room for breakfast, I found them sitting across from one another, their hands resting on top of each other, gazing into each other’s eyes. Everyone else was happy…everyone except for me. I remember just taking a blueberry waffle and walking out the dining room with it, settling down at a spot on the porch, the same porch Teddy and I used to hang out on—the same porch where he told me that he hated roses.
That Christmas ended up alright, only I found myself for the first time, longing to get back to Hogwarts. To get away from my love-struck sister and the boy I’ve wasted my heart on.
She tied you to a kitchen chair
She broke your throne, she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah
I remember everyone’s enthusiasm when the two finally got engaged. I, myself, was taking the news heavily, but was trying to move on at the same time, knowing it was no use to continue loving someone who would never return those feelings back. It was more than difficult. It was painful. I never fully understood why they put up with each other, though. They were both stubborn to the bone, and when they argued, threats of breaking-up seemed to be as real it could get.
Victoire was evil when she was mad, always determined to finish with a victory, so much like her namesake--the victory at Hogwarts, the day Voldemort fell. It was another thing she outshone me on. Whenever we argued, she always took our disagreements to home base. She would shut me down with her logic. No one got out from a fight with Victoire unscratched and victorious, our parents included. Teddy was no exception.
I remember at one point last year, they were already married then, when Teddy worked strenuous hours at the ministry. He worked at the Beast Division in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, working to help solve a case involving violence amongst Centaurs in Denmark. Victoire, eventually got frustrated and demanded Teddy what was more important—her or the Centaurs. It was pathetic really, but Victoire was persistent. She ended up kicking Teddy out of their flat, saying if he wanted to put so much time into work, he shouldn’t come home at all.
It dampened Teddy’s pride. He loved his job, put all his heart in it, he did. He worked in hopes that life for werewolves, merepeople, vampires, Centaurs, and the likes would improve. He worked to help give equality to beings that weren’t entirely human, but were not that different from us. He helped to reduce the violence that erupted between wizards and these semi-human beings, and when he wasn’t, he was helping Uncle Charlie, building up a growing research about dragons.
I would’ve been proud of him, unlike his pretty wife, who took up muggle modeling as a career.
Of course, Victoire won that fight. Teddy went back to her after discussing things at the ministry, asking if they could cut off some of his hours. Victoire was delighted, but I knew Teddy’s passion with his job. I knew, that deep inside, part of Teddy worked in hopes to make his father proud, who died a werewolf, persecuted by a cold society in his time. And that’s what killed me the most, something Victoire didn’t understand.
The snow is falling once again, and I bat my lashes, hoping that the flakes that have rested on them would fall off. I find myself surprised that my sister is still kneeling at his grave, and even more surprised that I’m still standing here, keeping my silence, watching my sister and having these memories flood back to me.
If only Teddy chose me, he wouldn’t be dead. It was Victoire’s fault you know. They got into one of their petty arguments again, sister dearest complaining like the usual and Teddy running off to some muggle bar. Teddy drank too much and came stumbling back to his home. Disgusted with him, Victoire made him sleep on the couch, only to find him dead the next morning—dead of alcohol poisoning. Stupid Teddy. Stupid Victoire.
I could feel the tears burn in my eyes. If he was with me we wouldn’t have stupid fights. And if we ever did fight, we’d go out and race our brooms. It was another thing that we enjoyed—broom flying, apart from playing the piano. It was another thing that Victoire loathed. She preferred to have her feet on the ground …
Maybe I've been here before
I know this room; I've walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew you
I remember this one bloke I did end up falling in love with. We met at the Three Broomsticks one day. It was a year after I have finished my schooling and I really just wanted to surround myself in a place that felt familiarly comfortable, but not painfully so. I was sitting in the corner, just nursing my Butterbeer when he came out of nowhere and decided to sit across from me.
“And what’s a pretty girl like you doing all alone?” I remember him asking me. He was beautiful—just as beautiful as Teddy, the boy who I sold my heart off to, only he didn’t know. Stranger had short, dark, coffee colored hair and warm eyes that glistened, his irises the color of polished cherry wood—he had eyes that told me he loved to laugh.
“Just stopping by.” I murmured looking away.
“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks, concern lacing his voice. I remember sharply turning my attention to him, asking why he cared so much, especially because he didn’t know me. He gives me a shrug, but doesn’t get up to leave. He introduces himself as Connor McCaslin, a travelling wizard from America. I remember impolitely snorting, gathering that that must’ve been the reason why his accent sounded so different.
We started off as friends, and by each month, he began to coax me from my shell, forgetting about the boy named Teddy. I remember when I found out about Vic and Teddy’s engagement, I had locked myself in my flat and never came out, just crying in jealousy. And then Connor came into my life…
I remember him knocking at my door, and when I opened it, I found him in a pair of baggy track pants and a hoodie.
“We’re going running, Dom.” was the first thing he told me before he pushed his way into my flat.
“Pardon?” I asked, and I remember crossing my arms, cradling a box of cream crackers. Connor looks around the sitting room in disgust.
“Throw on some sweats and a proper shirt. We’re running. Now.” It was a demand with no room for conversation. I raised a skeptical eyebrow, before reaching into my cracker box for a snack. Connor rolled his eyes at me, before picking up an empty package of Oreos, analyzes a half-empty jar of nutella, and prods a sealed container of homemade scones Lucy had dropped off.
“Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if your patronus had just turned into a cake.” I recall him muttering in a soft voice, going into the kitchen to throw away my empty Oreo package.
“Patronuses can only be an animal!” I shouted after him, before collapsing onto the sofa, grabbing my jar of nutella. “And mine is already a zebra, for your information!” I softly smile at the memory as I remember him reappearing into the sitting room, holding up a glass bowl of vanilla pudding.
“Please tell me that you held a party here last night, Dom.” He begged. I remember shaking my head at him, before he sighs and paces over, snatching my nutella jar away from me, and taking my box of cream crackers as well.
“Killjoy.” I muttered, and I allow the memory to fade off.
I brush away the tears that have begun to fill my eyes as I allow another memory of Connor to fill my brain. He had moved into my flat, and we were lying next to each other in bed, just staring up at the ceiling. I could feel the cogs moving in his brain as he thinks, as I rest my chin on his bare chest.
“You’re thinking of something.” I mumbled. He merely nods as he strokes my hair, lovingly.
“I need to tell you something, Dom. It’s important.” I remember his soft whisper, as if he was frightened. I remember stroking his forehead, eying him patiently. I remember thinking back then that whatever he had to say wouldn’t ever get between us.
“I have to leave.” He hoarsely whispers. “I can’t stay here, I’m being forced to go back home.” I remember having trouble registering the words, letting them soak in, before I can allow myself to speak.
“America’s always sounded beautiful to visit. Can I join you?” I sounded so tiny, and so lost.
“I ran away from home, Dom. But my mother’s dying, and she needs me there. Dad’s having trouble holding himself up. I’m afraid I can’t take you with me. The situation doesn’t call for it.” His tone is soothing, and I remember as he transitions from stroking my hair to messaging my neck with his fingers. I just nod, my chin still resting on his chest. I let a small tear escape, and he must’ve felt it fall and touch his skin, because he sits up and takes me into his arms.
I remember him mumbling into my hair, something I couldn’t make out because I was too busy sobbing. Too busy worrying about him parting with me.
“You will come back, won’t you?” I remember asking him, looking up to him like a girl who had wandered too far from her parents and was asking a stranger desperately to take her home. “You’ll come back for me?” He gave me a soft smile before gently kissing my lips.
He never came back for me…
I've seen your flag on the marble arch
Love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah
I remember the family meeting at Mum and Dad’s that followed a week later. We were going to discuss Victoire’s wedding, and everyone expected me to come in, linking arms with Connor, the boy they’ve all met once, including Teddy.
What they didn’t expect, was me coming in late; eyes bloodshot from crying for two days straight, hair all knotted, and me wearing his trackies that he had left in the dryer. Oh, I remember how strong they still smelled of him. In fact, I still have them, folded, sitting in the corner of my closet.
“Shit, Dom!” Albus cries out from a cozy arm-chair, the one that dad used to sit in while Louis, Victoire, and I would gather around as he told us stories when we were younger. “You look like you’ve been through hell and back!” I glare at the middle Potter offspring, before mum comes and cradles me in her arms.
“He left!” I remember choking, before anyone could asked what happened. “His mum’s dying back at home, and his dad’s struggling. He couldn’t take me with him, but he couldn’t abandon them, so he left.” I remember bursting into tears, and every one looking at me with sympathy. Even Victoire looks like she’s sorry.
The rest of the meeting continued after every one let me settle down on the couch, sitting between Roxanne and mum. Honestly, I didn’t give a damn about Victoire’s wedding. I probably would’ve participated if Connor was there, but he wasn’t, and I was miserable without him. He was the second boy I’ve ever loved, and he was the first that ever loved me back.
When the meeting ended, Victoire signaled me to follow her out onto the beach. Sniffling, I nodded, and lazily walked over to her, where she grabbed me gently by the wrist and lead me outside. Taking the lead, she glided down the pebbled path that lead to the sea shore, and what greeted me there was a beautiful wedding arch, hand-carved out of wood, partially painted white.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” She laughed, as she let go of my wrist and danced her way to the arch, giggling loudly. The taste of ocean mist crept its way into my mouth, and I watched bitterly as Victoire flounced around the pergola, arms floating around her, the sand between her feet flying with every step she took—like fairy dust. I shivered as I made me way towards the arch, feeling my heart shred into pieces. She was gloating. Rubbing it in my face.
When I reached the elegant piece of framework, I let my fingers touch the intricate piece of workman’s ship—the carvings that proved to be far more beautiful and complex for a wand to fix up.
“Built by hand?” I questioned softly, trying hard to keep the envy from my voice. Victoire meets me from the other end and nods like an eager child who was given candy for being good.
“Daddy said I deserved to have the most beautiful wedding in the world!” She breathlessly sighs, and copies me, allowing her fingers to trace over the carvings. I noted how she used ‘daddy’, a term she used to find rather juvenile and doesn’t use unless she feels the need to act snobby. I remember nodding and painfully attempting to smile. She walks over to me and places a small, perfect hand on my cheek, obviously sensing my internal misery.
“Don’t worry, Dom.” I remember her saying. “You’ll meet your Teddy someday. Maybe Connor wasn’t the one for you.” I simply nod before she pats my cheek and glides past me, leaving me alone under the arch. When I was sure she was gone, I let the tears fall.
As the memory fades, I feel my cheeks are wet from crying; only in reality they’re frozen from the cold. I quietly sniffle. That memory was the most harshest of all. It made me hate Victoire with all my bitter heart.
Victoire had no idea what it was like. She took my Teddy, before I could admit anything to him. And fate had taken Connor from me too. Love was cold. Love was bitter. Love honestly favored Victoire—oh sweet, oh perfect Victoire.
From across the street, I hear the children’s choirs singing, and I let a small smile grace my face. I’ve always wanted children of my own, only now I’m not so sure about love—if it even exists, at least for me, I know it doesn’t. And I find it rather pointless in adopting a child when there’s no father to be there for them.
There was a time you let me know
What's real and going on below
But now you never show it to me, do you?
The day of Teddy and Victoire’s wedding was the day I wish there was a balcony to throw myself off of. I remember sitting in a chair, watching water flow from the fountain as both newlyweds paraded around, arms linked and conversing with guests. It made me sick. I remember Lily walking up to me, giving me a small hug before smiling at me in sympathy.
“People are so stupid sometimes, don’t you think?” She asks, and I remember looking down at her, completely bemused. “People avoiding you, giving you space…it’s rather stupid.” She continues and we watch James and Freddie add frog spawn at Auntie Muriel’s glass of pumpkin juice. How that woman is still alive still confuses me, but perhaps she’s like Dumbledore? I shiver even now at the thought of Auntie Muriel living for nearly a century.
“I don’t mind the space, Lily” I tell my cousin softly. She looks up at me and frowns.
“I see it in your eyes, Dom.” She whispered, and even now, how observant she is freaks me out shitless. “You look so empty. You’re jealous. You lost the one man who ever loved you back, and today you’re facing this alone, watching your sister forever be bonded with the man you can never have.” I remember staring at her, mouth dropped in shock. She smiles at me understandingly. “Don’t ask how I know, all I can tell you is that everything is eating you up inside, and I can see it. People who are avoiding you are stupid. They’re not helping you get better, their honestly just leaving you alone to your own destruction.”
“How are you not in Ravenclaw?” I demanded, and she giggles.
“Slytherin was my calling.” She answers shrugging, and for the first time that day I smiled a genuine smile. She gave me a hug, and if I recall correctly, she ran off, her red hair sailing behind her, but then turned her head mid run and shouts, “Don’t be a stranger.” Trusting my cousin’s words, I slowly come out of my lonely corner and introduce myself to everyone, leaving bride and groom last to deal with.
I remember shaking as I approach Teddy, not knowing what to say. We haven’t had a decent conversation in years, since Victoire got her hands all over him and successfully claimed him for herself.
“Teddy,” I addressed formally, and Teddy turns around, his face brightening when he sees me.
“Dom!” He nearly shouts, and he rushes forward, taking me into an embrace. Whereas Connor’s was gentle but strong, Teddy’s was bone-crushing, a hug I always remembered him having. I remember stiffening in his arms, too scared whether it would be right to embrace back. Teddy then pulled away, confusion in his eyes.
“You didn’t hug back.” He said disappointment sticky in his tone. I shrug it off and scratch my neck.
“I forgot how bone-crushing your hugs are.” I lied quickly. Of course, I never forgot, and his hug still has stuck with me to this day, but he seemed to have bought it and laughed anyway. His laugh was so careless, so happy, that it stung.
“So, it’s been a long time since we’ve spoke.” He said, grinning at me jovially. He makes an attempt to pull at my strawberry blonde hair, something he used to do all the time when we were children. It made my heart tender, to know that he still remembers those times, but in a split second, I swat his hand away, remembering that he only viewed me as a friend and nothing else—that he belonged to Victoire, and that he used to tug on her hair too. I remember his shocked expression that turned to one of hurt as he allows his hand to limp at his side.
“Okay—so no hair tugging then, that’s cool.” He mutters, and awkwardly looks off, probably in search for his bride. The action makes me sick, and so I spin on my heel, quickly, saying “bye, Teddy”, before making my escape. He grabbed me, unfortunately by the shoulders, his face stony and cold.
“Bye, Teddy?” I remember him whispering. I remember swallowing in fright. “What have you done to the real Dom I used to know?”
“That Dom died ages ago.” I whispered before I can stop myself. I still cringe at that memory.
“Died? What do you mean, ‘died’? The Dom I know never dies in spirit. What the hell happened to us? What the hell happened to you?”
“Well, she did!” I snapped back. “Dom’s been dead since she got her perfect little hands on you—her sister that is! Dom’s dead because her sister ruined everything! Dom’s dead because the two men that she had ever loved were torn from her, but her sister gets a happily ever after with one of them!”
“I’m sorry, Dominique, but I honestly don’t understand.” Teddy said quietly, taking a step back. I remember crying by then, the tears just free flowing.
“The Dom you knew died when she found out she could never have what she always wanted.” I remember, and I recalled how I stumbled away, sloppily apparating to my flat, and going to bed, not bothering to change out of my gown. I never bid Victoire the congratulations she thought she deserved either…
And remember when I moved in you
The holy dark was moving too
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah
I remember when I got called to some muggle hospital, an emergency call regarding my sister. Even though I was always jealous of her, somewhere deep in my heart, I really do care, even though it was buried in all the bitterness.
“Teddy, where is she?” I demanded. It had been months since I have seen anyone in my family, and my presence stunned Teddy just a bit.
“She’s giving birth right now.”
“And they won’t let you in?” I asked, feeling rather shocked by the news. Teddy shook his head no. “Take me there!” I remember begging. He grabbed me by the hand, as we made our way to the emergency room, somewhere tucked in at the corner of the building.
“Can we see Victoire Weasley?” I remember panting, forgetting that she's married. Forgetting that she's a Lupin.
“They won’t let anyone in.” the sound of James’ voice called out to us. I turned around to find my whole family sitting there, white faced.
“What’s going on, why is everyone so grim?” I asked. I remember turning to Teddy, but he wouldn’t look me in the eyes.
“The baby’s coming out early!” Roxanne choked. I remember grinning and jumping up and down, obviously leaving my brains at home.
“Really, that’s wonderful!” I said excitedly. Teddy gave me a glare, and I watched as mum began to cry.
“No Dom, that’s bad. A pre-mature baby could die, and what’s worse is that the doctors are having trouble helping Victoire get through this, herself.” Dad croaked. My smile faded and I remember my heart racing. Victoire dying? That would never be so! Victoire was the miracle baby. She was born the day the Dark Lord fell. She was perfect…
“I hope you’re happy now,” Was all Teddy whispered in my ear before he stalked off, out of the waiting room, and I remember the world spinning out of control. I remembered praying, begging the Lord and Merlin to help my sister through this.
After an hour of all of us waiting, we got the news. The baby was dead, a still born, but Victoire was still alive, clinging onto her life, but still…alive.
I reach up to the tears streaming down my face, wiping them away with the sleeves of my jacket. I never got to see Victoire wake up after the incident. I left—went home, like the coward I was and cried in my room. I never saw them again, until the day of Teddy’s funeral. I kept in contact with everyone else, but I distanced myself from them, the perfect couple, again out of cowardice. It pains me knowing Teddy died probably hating my guts. At least he knew that I loved him…
Maybe there's a god above
And all I ever learned from love
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you
Taking a deep breath, I forced one leg to move forward on the snowy pavement. I couldn’t keep myself quiet for long, and if I stood here forever, I knew Victoire was bound to see me anyways. Swallowing, I made my way to the gate’s entry of the cemetery and pushed the door open, wincing at how loudly it creaked. I exhaled in relief when Victoire didn’t even jump from her spot before her lover’s grave. With the snow and ice crunching beneath my feet, I crawled on my hands and knees in my brain, wondering what I should say, if I should say anything at all.
“Dominique.” Victoire’s voice called out. It was strong and determined, yet I could hear and feel a hint of sadness and grief underneath it all.
“Victoire.” I replied back, softly, stopping a few feet behind her.
“I figured you’d be here sooner or later.” She whispered softly, yet strangely I could hear her loud and clear.
“I’ve come to pay my respects.” I answered stiffly. “”He hated roses you know,” I blurted out before I could stop myself. At this, I could see her body go rigid. Hastily, she stood up and faced me, squinting at me coldly.
“And how would you know?” She asked, her tone cutting and she eyed me, her face as hard as stone.
“You must’ve forgotten how close we were as children.” I coolly responded. Her face softened, to my surprise as she looked down.
“No, trust me Dom, I’ve never forgotten.” She whispered, kicking the snow with her designer boots. “I guess I’ll leave you to pay your respects then?” She looked up at me, and for the first time ever, I saw Victoire look depressed. I nodded, looking away and placing all my focus on a dead tree.
“That would be nice, yes.” I respond. She nods and I feel her walk past me, but her footsteps pause before going any further. From the sound of her boots, I tell that she has spun around, now facing me, but I keep my back turned against her. I can’t bear to look at her, when tears are on the verge of falling.
“He’s never hated you, Dom.” She calls out to me. “He loved you. You were family, and he missed you dearly during your isolation.” There was a silence before she spoke up again, this time her voice so small and desperate. “I need my sister.” At this, I caved and began to cry, letting all the tears flow. I listened as Victoire’s soft footsteps faded away; leaving me alone in the cemetery, as the echoes of the gate’s creaking sounded.
It's not a cry you can hear at night
It's not somebody who's seen the light
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah
Crouching down, I bowed my head, the tears falling onto the snow and onto the blood-red roses.
“I miss you.” I finally croak, sniffling and wiping my leaking nose with my jacket sleeves. It didn’t matter whether it was classy or not. Teddy wouldn’t have minded. He would’ve tugged at my strawberry blonde locks and poke my side teasingly instead.
“I’m sorry.” I whisper. “I’m so sorry, for everything. I should’ve been happy for you and Vic. I should’ve stayed at the hospital. I should’ve never shut myself away…” my voice trailed off, and I found myself speechless.
“So many memories, and I wish things were different. So selfish.” I muttered, and found myself tracing his name with my fingers. It was hard, imagining his decomposed body just six feet below where I stood. The closest to him I'll ever be.
“It wasn’t fair for any of us, especially for you and Vic. You were so happy together, and it was all cut short.” my voice was a shaky whisper, dissolving into nothing. “We all love you so much.” And with that, I stood up, wiping away the tears from my eyes. I didn’t have the heart to conjure a new bouquet of flowers. It would be too much, so instead I trekked up to the gate, noticing the church across the street emptying, children walking in between their parents while child-less couples walked hand and hand. That was love…
Would I ever find love like that?
Deciding it was best not to apparate in front of the muggles, I decided to walk instead. By the time I arrived at my flat, it was already dark. Not eating anything all day, I found myself surprised that I wasn’t hungry, but shrugged it off, making my way to my bedroom. I felt too tired to change out of my jeans, so I just threw off my jacket, letting it fall to the floor. Kicking off my shoes, I then fell on top of the sheets, my eye-lids feeling as heavy as lead. But as much as I desperately wanted to sleep, I couldn’t help but cry.
It was Christmas Eve, and this year would be Victoire’s first Christmas alone…I was a terrible person really, first hating her sister, and now aching for her. Grabbing the pillow beside me, I sobbed into it, long and hard before lulling myself to slumber.
A few hour later I faintly heard the front door swing open and gently close, soft footsteps coming up to my room. Feigning sleep, I brought my wand close to my chest, knowing that if anyone would try to hurt me, I’d be the first to hit. When my bedroom door opened however, I heard a voice I thought I would never hear again.
“Dom?” The voice gently spoke. My eyes shot wide open before I sat up straight, my wand aimed at the intruder’s chest.
“Don’t you dare come one step closer unless you can answer my question!” I snarled. The outline of a tall man lifted his hands up in surrender. “What did you say my patronus was, the day you tried to coax me out of my moping state?” I asked demandingly.
“A cake.” The man said, trying to keep laughter from his voice. “And you corrected me saying it was a zebra.” My hand limply fell to my side, my heart racing a hundred miles an hour.
He did come back after all. He kept his promise—even if it took the bastard a couple of years.
“Can I turn the light switch on now?” The voice teased, and I nodded, wondering how well he could see my response in the dark. He must’ve seen it well, considering that his hand flew up to the switch, light flooding my room. The second I could see him, I drank him in. He looked the same way, never aging a bit, and I couldn’t help but gape at him.
“Well,” he began, walking his way towards my bedside. “Seeing how I’m not going to get the welcome I expected, I guess I’ll just come over myself?” He knelt before me, wearing that stupid grin that I missed so much.
"Jeezers weezers, Dom, have you been crying all day? Your eyes are puffy, love." He placed his thumbs on my cheeks and eyes me with concern as he brushes the tears that are already leaking.
“You’ve been gone for years, prat! I thought I would never see you again!” I choked, and the building up of tears begin to blind me. With the pillow that my head rested on, I took hold of it and whacked Connor in the head with it repeatedly. Out of rage or happiness, I didn’t really know for sure.
When I stopped, he blinked wearily at me; as if afraid I might hex him out my flat next.
“Uh, merry Christmas?” He weakly asked, before giving me a pathetic grin. I chuckled before wiping the tears away from my eyes.
“Merry Christmas.” I whisper, and with that, he pulled me out of bed and enveloped me in that gentle, yet strong hug that I’ve never forgotten.
Perhaps love was out there for me after all.
Well, first comes first, credits! The brilliant song lyrics, typed out in bold font are Rufus Wainwright’s cover of Hallelujah, originally by Leonard Cohen. Any character you recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling, except for the character of Connor McCaslin, who I’ve made up myself.
Now, the story itself, I had to say, was a spontaneous idea that occurred to me while I was doing homework. (All my ideas come during my most important period of productivity, and it’s rather distracting!) Anyway, I was listening to the radio while doing homework when this came on, and I forgot how much I loved this song, and in my head, I created some sort of plot if this was incorporated into a story. Then I started plugging in characters, but then thought, “Oh hey, this would be perfect for a Dom/Teddy/Vic love triangle!” and so the rest was born.
Now, I know the ending may not fit with the story, but honestly, I wanted to write a happy ending for once. I’ve realized my entire one shots end in a rather sad/depressing note, and for once I thought I should do something different. I also thought Dom should have a moment of happiness somewhere, so I decided to tie the situation with Connor into the end.
Hopefully you enjoyed reading, and do tell me what you think.