count the colours in his eyes

He tells me about his night
And I count the colors in his eyes
He'll never fall in love he swears
As he runs his fingers through his hair

I'd Lie, Taylor Swift

The concept is completely foreign to her.

Falling in love- that's such a Victoire thing, not a Dominique thing, not a Slytherin thing. She's strong, independent, and she doesn't need anyone.

Especially not Lysander Scamander.

He's all Gryffindor, running around, bragging about all of his latest triumphs- which, to be fair, aren't that many. But for some reason, she sits there, dark blue eyes trained on him, tracing his every move.

It's not possible. Dominique and Lysander- it's supposed to be Molly and Lysander, everyone knows that. But that didn't stop her from falling.

Why does she allow herself to fall so hard and so fast?

….

It's one of those warm, end of summer nights and they're swinging on the swing in the woods, the warm air swirling around them. His arm is oh-so-close to her and she bites her lip, enjoying the closeness but knowing it won't last like she wants it to.

His eyes focus on her, bearing into her with their usual intensity. Slowly, she counts the colours- blue and green and yellow and black- before he blinks and shakes his head. "So, is Molly coming?"

"Molly?" She replies, shaking her head. Oh yeah, she reminds herself. Your best friend, the girl with the pretty red curls and great attitude. "I think so. She should be here soon." Why does he care, anyway? Does he not like being alone with me?

"Oh, good," He smiles, and there goes her heart again- a small crack, crack, crack down the middle. "So, how was your night?"

"All right," Dominique answers, nodding her head. "Sat out here on the porch, playing my guitar and watching the sun set. You?"

Grinning sloppily, he just shrugs. "Oh, I went to the new year Quidditch tryouts. It went pretty good, I'd say-"

She zones out, staring at his eyes once again and trying to count the colours. Blue, green, yellow, black, turquoise-

Molly interrupts. With a bright smile, she says, "Hey, Dominique and Lysander!"

And my gosh, why is she so hard to hate? She's her cousin, her best friend. Dominique can't hate her, ever.

Lysander stands up, smiling at her warmly. "Molly! I was hoping you would come."

Crack, again. What's going on with her heart? It's all broken, broken, broken, but she's still alive.

All three of them sit down on the swing, Lysander in the middle as always. Clearing her throat to break the awkward, broken silence, Molly asks, "So, Lysander, how'd things go with Aquarius?"

He shot her a withering look. "We broke up."

"Aren't you ever going to stay with someone for more than a week, Lysander?" Dominique asks, patting his arm softly. "Aren't you going to fall in love, settle down?"

Running a hand through his soft brown hair, he shakes his head. "I'm never going to fall in love, Dom."

"Why not?" She presses shamelessly.

"It's a waste of time," He replies in disgust, a frown apparent on his face. "Besides, I just haven't met the right person yet."

Molly looks startled at that, but she runs her hand down his arm in comfort. Frowning, Dominique thinks internally, What do you mean? The right person is sitting right in front of you with her blonde curls and Veela genes.

But he's just looking over what's right in front of him.

Dominique Weasley.

Can he even hear her? If only she could tell him. But it might not go over well if she did. Hey, Lysander, I've been in love with you for two years now. I know every detail about you. You got your eyes from your poor daddy, you love the colour green (you and Molly both, you're insane Gryffindors), your brother's awesome, and you're a great arguer. Even if it hurts a bit.

He might look at her a little bit weird after that.

….

One night, she sits on the stairs to the Slytherin common room, strumming her guitar. "If you ask me if I love him, I'd lie.."

Someone comes up to sit beside her. "Hey, Dominique."

"Lysander," She says, trying to smile at him.

"Playing guitar?" He motions to her guitar, perched carefully on her lap.

She nods, smiling. "You bet so."

"Mind if I have a look?" Lysander asks, removing the guitar from her hands. Glancing out at the sky, he begins to sing and strum the guitar. "Hey there Delilah, what's it like in New York City?" His eyes search the empty field.

"You play guitar?" Dominique asks, intensely surprised. She'd never known that.

"It's not a thing I go around telling people," He shrugs. "It's more of a private hobby that I do some of the time. I'm the Quidditch playing Seeker and prankster. I'm not some sappy musician guy."

"Are you saying something about sappy musician people?" She answers cockily, scowling at him.

"No," He grins, resting his arm on her back for a second. "Sappy musician girls are awesome."

Her breath hitches in her throat. Sighing, she releases a long breath. "I'm awesome?"

"Most of the time," He grins at her like he's some superstar. Then her attention turns as he sees something. In the Gryffindor common room, the light is flickering on and off. Smiling, he stands up. "I've got to go, Dominique. Talk to you later, yeah? We'll go prank Jamisona or something."

"Sure," She says wistfully, watching him walk off. Then she takes her guitar back out and sighs.

For once, he follows her up on her offer, and they head off to prank the horrible Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher one boring Saturday. Molly refuses to join them, opting instead to play lookout.

"Hand me that can of paint, will you?" Lysander asks from his rung of the ladder, reaching out his hand.

Handing him up the can of paint, his fingers brush hers for just a millisecond, and gah, there's something there. The paint can is forgotten as his lips meet hers in a colourful array, and soon, they both have paint all over them, but who cares?

Suddenly, Lysander pulls away from her, eyes flashing in that angsty way. "We can't do this."

"Why not?" Dominique breathes, staring at him.

"I'm…" He sighs. "I know I said I'd never fall in love, but I think I like someone, well, someone else. Can you not tell anyone, please?"

"Of course not," She replies, a bit bitterly, but a large smile on her face nonetheless.

"I'm sorry," He says regretfully, carefully checking her face. "This never should have happened."

Her face falls. "It might have worked."

"It might have," He agrees. "We could give it a shot sometime, perhaps. You know, when I don't like someone else. I don't want to hurt you, Dominique. Besides, you're an amazing girl, you don't deserve someone like… well, me. But until then, maybe it would be good not to mention…..this."

She sighs, staring at him. He's obliviously overlooking the obvious. Doesn't he know how she stares at him all the time? Doesn't he know she's in love with him?

Obviously not.

But she just nods. "That's fine."

Head hung, she stares at her oblivious best friend once again, secretly counting the colours in his eyes. She makes it to 8 before he walks out the door.

….

She could tell you his favourite colour, that he plays guitar, that he's an amazing Seeker, or that he's in love with her cousin, Molly. Soon she'll be able to tell you the colours in his eyes.

But if you asked her if she loved him, she'd lie.

(and maybe one day she'll get her happily ever after with him, anyway
because he'd said maybe sometime, when he's not in love with
her
so she's ready to
wait)

A/N: OH MY… LOUIS WEASLEY.

I just wrote Domsander.

Goes to vomit.

At least it's angsty.

And horrible.

Sorry, Rachel!

Well this is for you, my new triplet, for your challenge. Sorry for the terrible quantity!

*growling* Going to write LucyLysander. You guys are so evil.

PLEASE REVIEW, PRETTY PLEASE?