Chapter Text
"Wrong!"
A dress flew from the closet and landed on the bed. The room was small, not much space for more than the bed and the vanity next to it, but the closet was huge which made living in the small space worth it.
"No!"
Another dress careened after the first.
"Ugly!" Another. "Terrible!" Yet another. "Why would I even own this?!" This one was a pant suit.
Dominique Weasley flung herself from the closet next and landed on her bed, the clothes hangers biting into her back uncomfortably, but she felt like she deserved it. It was her birthday and Christmas and she hadn't a proper thing to wear to dinner. An orange tabby with a smashed face and a black ringed tail jumped right onto her stomach. Crookshanks the Second, progeny of Hermione's cat and a stray she had taken in.
She sighed, stroking the cat who half purred, half growled. When her parents had owled her about plans for the evening, she had told them all she wanted for both events was to go to dinner at a restaurant of her choosing. No magic!
For weeks she had been getting nothing but owl after owl asking why and what sort of presents did she really want. Her sister, her brother, her parents... Recently, a concerned letter from her Aunt Piper had made it's way to her, no doubt her mother trying to find all her weak points. Trying to find someone she would crack to.
Dom was about to crack, alright. Under the pressure of her parents going precisely against her wishes. She wished she could take it all back, cancel everything. But reservations at The Ledbury were difficult to come by and she had made them weeks ago with her mother in mind. French cuisine would certainly soften her up.
You act like you've never done this before, she scolded herself. "Which part?" she asked aloud. "Introducing my parents to my boyfriend, or telling my boyfriend I'm a witch?"
Crookshanks was displaced from his resting space with a yelp as Dom finally pulled herself up and drew her wand. The clothes put themselves away, leaving only one article behind. She considered the garment for a moment. It was a short sleeve, floral print pin-up style dress. With one wave of her wand, the flowers disappeared, leaving it plain black. Another flick cut and folded the round neckline, making it now off the shoulder. She pointed at a drawer on her vanity and it flew out, dumping it's contents on the bed before returning to it's place. She selected a wide red belt and a mistletoe broach. One last flick and the remainder of the items went back into the drawer which closed itself.
This was why she loved working at Madame Malkin's. It may not be the successful career choice her parents would want for her -certainly not a great Healer like Victoire or an Auror like Louis was training for- but she loved what she did and just working on the outfit had calmed her down. One day, I'll have my own shop, she thought to herself. Just like Uncle George.
~*~
The knock on the door startled her. She had just been finishing her hair. Several things around the tiny flat were magically doing things of their own accord- dishes washing themselves, laundry folding itself, broom sweeping the floor. Dom whispered a hasty, "Finite incantatem!" and the objects stopped, some falling where they were to the floor. She opened a drawer and stuffed her wand inside before rushing to the door.
There he stood, all tall, dark, and handsome, her own Mark Ross. His blue eyes beamed down at her and he leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. Then he laughed.
"Is that a new hair style?" he asked.
Dom cursed herself and ran her fingers through her hair, removing the last of the curlers. "Don't laugh! A woman has to work hard to be this cute and sometimes things get left behind!" she scolded playfully.
"You're cute all the time," he assured her. He pushed at one of her earrings, making it sway from her lobe, before taking a moment to admire the rest of her. She flushed. "Happy birthday. Are you ready?"
Dom arched an eyebrow at Mark. "I think I should be asking you that question. You're the one who's going to be under fire here soon."
The somersaulting of her stomach began anew and she didn't have time to perfect another outfit to get her mind off of it.
"For you, I could take on the world," he replied lovingly. He kissed her again, a real kiss this time. "Come on. I have a family to wow."
Mark helped her into her coat and they left. It was a calm winter's night. The snow fell softly and in the London street lights they glowed in a beautiful, otherworldly way. Mark wrapped an arm around Dom.
"It's almost magical," he said quietly into her ear. "Just like you."
Her stomach clenched and she tried to smile. You have no idea.
~*~
The staff at The Ledbury had arranged several of their small rectangular tables toward the back of the dining room to accommodate the large party of eight. Victoire had brought Teddy Lupin along (who, of course, had to have bright purple hair for the evening) and Louis had some girl Dom had never even heard of before. Supposedly she was a French girl herself, also training to be an Auror, but that conversation was stopped dead in its tracks.
The soft, glowing elegance of the restaurant seemed like a stark contrast to the turmoil erupting inside of Dominique.
Presently, they were finishing their orders off, ending with Bill, her father.
"Rare," he kept saying. "Rarer than you've ever cooked a steak before, you understand. That's the rare I'm talking about." In addition to his liking for under cooked meat, Dom hadn't thought of a story to explain her father's scars away either. They were a glaring reminder of a past she hadn't told Mark about.
She couldn't keep from biting her nails as the waiter finished up the order. Under the table, her foot was tapping wildly. Her mother kept tossing disapproving looks at her, but she couldn't help herself.
"Of course, sir. Will there be wine this evening?" the waiter asked.
"Lots!" Dom burst out before she could help herself. Her parents stared and she flushed. "I mean yes. A nice blush, please." The waiter nodded and as soon as both mother and father looked away, she signaled that she wanted two bottles. The man smiled kindly and nodded. He looked as if he understood.
"So, Mark," began her mother, turning to him expectantly. "Please tell us 'ow you met our beautiful daughter." She smiled warmly.
"Well, to be perfectly honest, Mrs. Weasley-"
"Ah, please call me Fleur- Mrs. Weasley iz Bill's mother's name."
Dom rolled her eyes. The waiter had already returned and had filled her glass first. She gratefully took a long gulp.
"Alright, Fleur," Mark continued. "To be perfectly honest, we met as your daughter was mocking my sense of fashion."
"Oh, I was not!" Dom shot back.
"You're right!" Mark agreed. "The word I should have used was 'heckling.'"
Dom gave him a reproachful look while her family snickered. None of them were surprised. She wracked her brain. Is that what had happened?
"I was buying a pair of Bermuda shorts and she absolutely tore me to shreds over the decision and proceeded to hand me what she thought was a more appropriate choice of clothing." He paused to take a drink of his wine. "I will admit, it looked damn good, but I bought the shorts anyway."
His telling refreshed her memory and she shook her head. "Don't forget, you staked out the store for the next week, hoping I would come back," Dom said, smirking. It had been cute, she had to admit.
"It was not a week!" he protested. Then he added, "Not a whole week..."
She was starting to relax. Mark had that effect on her and the parentals seemed to like him. But suddenly, her mother was speaking rapidly in French to her father, her brow furrowed in confusion. She couldn't quite catch what they were saying at the other end of the table, but she heard the word 'Muggle' and began to stiffen again.
Victoire picked up the conversational lull. "What school did you go to?" she asked. "You don't look very familiar to me and I made it a point to know everyone." She looked just like their mum, her hair a silvery blonde and her eyes a piercing blue. It was like watching colors fade, putting all three kids together. Blonde to strawberry-blonde to fiery red for their little brother.
"Kingsbury, actually," he answered. Dom did not know how to stop this line of questioning.
Victoire's brow furrowed. "I'm not familiar with that school," she confessed. "Is it in Europe?"
Dom held her breath as Mark laughed. "It's one of the more well known schools and, yes, it's most definitely in Europe." He glanced at Dom questioningly.
Without warning, she dumped her wine in his lap. "Oh! Oh, I'm so clumsy! Darling, you should go and get that cleaned up! Go, go, shoo!"
Bewildered, Mark stood, his nice white shirt now stained pink. As soon as he disappeared around the corner, Dom turned to glower at her sister. "Outside. Now."
"I was only-"
"Now!"
Dom marched outside with the expectation of her sister following her. What she got was both siblings. She shook her head and kept going until they were in the alley. Before she had even opened her mouth, Louis had his wand out and was making things float. He had no reason to do so, he just felt like it. Dom snatched his wand from his hand.
"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded. "We are in the middle of Muggle London! Do you want the M.L.E. on your case?"
Louis snickered. "I am the M.L.E., in case you forgot, sis."
"You're not yet, in case you forgot!" Dom pulled the wand from his reach when he grabbed for it back and shoved it firmly down her cleavage. "You won't be with stupid risks like that! You're not in school anymore, these aren't the halls of Hogwarts! And what part of no magic do you idiots not understand!"
Victoire blanched. "Well, if you had told us that your boyfriend was a bloody Muggle, maybe we could have worked this out better!" she shot back.
Dom's nostrils flared. "I wanted you all to know him, first. To know him and to like him!"
"What's the big deal? I know loads of people with Muggle parents and who have dated Muggles," Louis put in. He was having trouble with what to stare at. Looking at his wand meant looking at his sister's breasts and he wasn't altogether comfortable with that.
"It's Mum and Dad. They're both Purebloods, both terribly disappointed in the choices I've made and I just want them to like him! They hate that I didn't do anything with my Obliviator training. All they hope for now is that I meet some respectable wizard- and you both know how Mum is." Dom sighed and put a hand to her head. She couldn't deal with this.
Her sister reached out and put a hand on her bare shoulder. It was the warmth of her touch that made Dom realize it was freezing out and she hadn't grabbed her jacket. "He doesn't know yet, does he?"
Dom looked up. Victoire's face was full of understanding. "What am I supposed to tell him? That I'm a witch who can do magic? That I contemplate turning his boss into a toad every time he makes him work late? That I come from a long line of-"
"Humans," Louis said, hands in his pockets. He, too, was understanding. "Incredible humans who can do incredible things. We're all humans in the end, Dom. Don't forget that."
She shook her head. It was a long and old argument she was tired of having. She wasn't sure she could do it again. Not unless she knew for certain that he could accept it. "We're not even human, Louie. We're all part Veela. We're part bloody creature. I can't ask him to accept that. I have no right."
"You sound like you're ashamed of what we are," Victoire remarked. There was a slight edge to her voice.
Before she could reply, movement behind the two drew Dom's attention. Her breath hitched.
"Mark..."
Victoire and Louis both spun around. Mark's bright blue eyes were filled with confusion, hurt, maybe even anger. Definitely fear. He turned and began to walk away. Dom ran. Not again.
"Mark!"
He didn't answer her. He opened the door of the restaurant and went back inside. Victoire and Louis came to stand on either side of her, each offering a hand of support on her shoulders.
After a moment, Louis asked, "Can I get my wand back now?"
"Shut up," she snapped.