Because Love Stories Aren't Really Love Stories
A HariPo fanfiction
Note for all chapters: The Harry Potter characters belong to J.K. Rowling, not me. This pairing was discovered by me, so please gimme a little mention if you write them! Thanks! It is one of many of Mew and Mor's Weird Pairings, which you may find in Mor's and my forum, "Mew and Mor's Weird Pairings Fan Stories," found here (Just take out the spaces!): http : / forum. fanfiction. net/ forum /Mew_and_Mors_Weird_Pairings_Fan_Stories /76194 / Read, review, and enjoy! And check out and join the forum FUN!
This is my 300th fanfic! 8D W00t! Now if only I could finish the other multi-chaptered fics… -.-; Anyway, the most important thing I say here is that this story is for my FFN twin, Morghen! Because she knows why Dom gets Reggie. She just knows. ;)
Part 1: The Innocence
Dominique Weasley cupped her cheek in her palm and leaned forward on the railing. She watched her younger brother, Louis, fly around on the makeshift Quidditch pitch he and his buddies had made from the deserted field on the outskirts of the Muggle town near their home, Shell Cottage. She narrowed her hazel eyes and frowned.
"He's not very good as a Seeker," a voice said beside her.
The witch jolted slightly and turned. A man perhaps twice her age—well, he looked that way, anyway—had his eyes focused on the sky. His eyes were the color of dark, cold stone, and they flitted with seasoned concentration. "You've spotted the Snitch already," she reasoned.
The stranger grimly smiled before slowly taking his gaze away from the game to glance at her. He pushed his scraggly black hair away from his face, and Dominique wondered if her were clean-shaven or if the bristles had been scared right off his face. He looked as though he'd seen great horrors in his lifetime.
"You're rather snooty to have remarked on him without knowing him or me," Dominique chided.
"I take it you're his sister?"
She blinked. "How'd you—"
"I have an older brother myself," he replied softly. His tone grew ominous and his entire demeanor shifted as soon as the word "brother" left his mouth. He seemed as though he'd just come across a large brick wall obstructing his path, and he didn't look happy about it.
Dominique didn't comment, for she felt the same way sometimes, often finding a foreboding benchmark for obedience in her "perfect" older sister, Victoire.
"You play?" the blonde witch inquired, turning back to their previous topic.
The stranger relaxed some. "Once. It seems like a lifetime ago…"
"Me, too," Dominique offered with a grin. She gripped the railing and hung on as she leaned back. "Being a Seeker is the best. You fly with only one restriction, to catch the Snitch."
"Yes. It's something that's definitely within your grasp…" The wizard looked at his pale, empty palm and clenched it into a fist, quite as though he were reaching for something that wasn't there. He shook his head and closed his eyes for a brief moment before taking a deep breath and looking at her again.
"What's your name?" Dominique asked casually, seeing as they had started up something of a chat.
"Isn't it improper to ask without giving your own first?" Though his remark could've been said with a smirk, Dominique found his small, halfhearted smile suited his words. "Good day, miss," he stated politely, excusing himself from any further interaction. With those simple words, he left and Dominique thought nothing more of him.
Instead, Dominique returned her attention to Louis' Quidditch game and cursed under her breath. "Holy Helga, Louis, you'd make a better Chaser…"
"Dominique, dinner's ready!"
The blonde witch rolled her eyes and grumbled as she put her parakeet back in her cage and put her plans away. She had only just stopped working on the papers for her internship at Beauxbatons under Madame Maxime to give her bird, Arwen, some free time out of the cage. And already Louis and their father, Bill, were hollering at her. Did no one simply knock anymore?
"I'll be right there!" she called downstairs. She stood, gave Arwen a treat, and gathered together the strewn parchments on her desk. Good Merlin, if she were to be the next headmistress of Beauxbatons, then she'd have to learn some proper organizational skills soon!
At the dinner table, her mother, Fleur, dished up the food and Bill poured drinks. Victoire and her new husband, Neville, would not be joining them tonight; they'd been married for a little while now, but Fleur and Bill were still a bit uncomfortable with the situation, so tonight was just the family of four.
Fleur beamed at her second-oldest child. "So, you will go off to Beauxbatons next month. Are you excited?"
"I am," Dominique answered carefully, "but I'm also very nervous. I'm a little unsure of myself… Surely Madame Maxime had some better candidates than me?"
"Non!" Fleur admonished. "My—er, 'ow do you say—alma mater eez a top school and only picks ze top witches and wizairds around. Dominique, you are ze wisest choice Madame Maxime could 'ave picked."
"And your French is very good," Bill commented. "You'll be fine on your own there, Dom. Even still, you won't really be on your own. Besides, you've still a month at home. Let the excitement come later. Enjoy your time with us for now."
Louis snorted. "What Dad's not saying is that he wants you to say and never go. You know Dad—he's way too sentimental."
Dominique smiled, some of her worry assuaged. "Well, I'm looking forward to the new experience."
"Speaking of which," Fleur said after a sip of her wine, "per'aps we ought to go into London? Pick up a few new things for you? You will want to look your best at Beauxbatons, even if this eez just an internship."
Bill groaned, making Dominique laugh. "Yeah, a shopping trip might be nice. And don't worry, Dad. I promise I won't make my last days at home 'exciting' by wiping out our Gringotts account."
Fleur tutted as Dominique eyed a pair of leather boots the following weekend in London. They were passing through some Muggle clothing stores on their way to Diagon Alley, and Dominique was showing her father in her by expressing her desire for the boots.
"You will not need boots for ze wezzer at Beauxbatons," the part-Veela mother stated. "Eet eez lovely zair, and you would do well wizz a good pair of 'eels on your pretty leetle feet."
Dominique shrugged. "I like heels well enough, but the boots—they remind me of the Quidditch pitch."
"You do realize zair eez no Quidditch at Beauxbatons, yes?" Fleur gave her daughter a sympathetic smile, since she knew Dominique loved flying.
"I know, I know… Let's head into Diagon Alley now."
The witches used the entrance from the Leaky Cauldron. Fleur stepped carefully inside the tavern, for she had never really liked the place. Dominique complained about stopping for a bite to eat, as they'd been walking across nearly all of London the whole morning. "We'll eat something aftair we are done, Dominique."
"Then you go on ahead. I'll—" Dominique stopped midsentence. Had she…? "Um, I need to use the loo… I'll join up with you later, Mum."
"Oh, Dominique… Pleez do. And when you do, we will work on your language. Certainly Madame Maxime does not want to hear 'loo' in her presence… Mon dieu…" She left through the back without a second thought, and Dominique went to the bar.
"One butterbeer," Dominique told Tom the barkeep. She glanced to her right and sat down. When Tom placed the drink down, she sipped it. She glanced again to her right, and the wizard sitting there stared at her until realization dawned on his face.
"The Quidditch miss," the stranger said.
Dominique had no doubt that this was the same man from before. She found it odd that she would've remembered him at all upon seeing him again, as she'd all but completely forgotten meeting him that time at Louis' little game. But she couldn't shake the feeling that seeing him again was…nice.
He finished his drink and placed the mug back on the counter, but he made no signs to hop up and scurry away. "Only a butterbeer?"
"I don't really like the taste of firewhiskey," she admitted. She bit her lip. "Um… Oh! I never did say—I'm Dominique. Dominique Weasley." She pushed a lock of hair out of her eyes, waiting for him to give the obvious response.
"Reg," came his low, slow response. He stuck out his hand, though, and she shook it. His hand was warm, despite looking cold and stone white. It was definitely real, though; he was no phantom spiriting through.
She furrowed her brow. "So, uhh…do you live around here?"
"Something like that." Reg tied his hair back with a strip of leather and placed some Sickles on the counter. "Here. This will cover your drink, too."
"You didn't have to—I mean, we barely know—"
"You said 'Weasley,' correct? You're the closest thing to a pureblood anymore," he added as an afterthought. He gave her a small smile and began to leave.
"W-Wait!" Dominique scrambled to put a coherent sentence together. "A-Are you staying for the summer?"
Reg's smile deepened, but Dominique felt there was some inside joke behind it. He tipped his head to her and exited, and she was alone once more…but she would not be forgetting him this time around.
Hmm. This is so odd but fun. I can't wait to see how the other chapters turn out, though I certainly know where this is going. Oh, and it should be noted that Victoire/Neville is also a Mew & Mor Weird Pairing, and I'd appreciate a little mention if you use them, thanks.
Most importantly…you enjoying this, Mor? ;DDD
Thanks for reading and please review!