Dominique was intending to spend her free period working through some detention time, however since the majority of professors were in lessons themselves she decided to read up on some of the Care of Magical Creatures content instead.

Righor was still growing at a rapid rate, enough that Professor Hagrid was already requesting that they study ahead to the next few developmental stages of dragon whelps. The content in the textbook, By Tooth and Claw, was limited to a brief overview, so she had taken some books out of the library and lay stretched out on her bed flicking through them.

Burning Questions was fairly unhelpful, at least in terms of what Dominique was looking for, as it covered all the stages of development in wild dragons, but failed to achieve sufficient depth on the variations in the ways captive dragons developed. It made an interesting read for sure, but some parts were just plain wrong.

From Dominique's observations and interactions with Righor, as well as her cross-comparisons with the research on how dragons were supposed to develop, she could see quite clearly that his development was progressing at a far faster rate than that of a wild dragon.

However the book predicted that dragons living in captivity should develop more slowly.

Grumbling to herself at the conflicting information she was being presented with, she heaved herself up from the bed, preparing to grab a snack of some sort. However running her hand over the back of he neck she was met with a matted lump of hair. Having been attempting to ignore it for such a length of time had taken its toll, as she suddenly realised that she hadn't even tried to take a brush to it in weeks, simply tying it up in a bun whenever she got to that stage in her grooming routine.

Even the thought of attempting to tackle the knots was draining, but having let her hair get to such a state in the first place was enough motivation for her to make her way into the bathroom and pick up the long-neglected hairbrush.

Torn between anger and disillusionment at the predictable outcome of her resolution not to think about her appearance, she was immediately confronted by her reflection in the mirror, polished to a slick gleam by the house elves of Ravenclaw tower. All of Dominique's determination and promises to herself evaporated in a heartbeat, replaced by a wave of her usual, confrontational thoughts.

The problem lay with the fact that when she looked into the mirror she saw the perfectly proportionate features as alien. The narrow chin, the long eyelashes, the pink lips, they were all foreign when she drew parallels to how she felt inside.

The majority of humanity would see her face as beautiful in its symmetry and delicate appearance, but all Dominique could think was that if didn't look like her. It was just wrong.

It wasn't a matter of not looking pretty enough or something of the sort, she just felt her stomach drop every time she saw a stranger looking out of the mirror at her.

And then every day as she walked down the corridors or sat in the Great Hall she couldn't help but feel like a ghost, an imposter. She couldn't see herself in her features, so neither could anybody else.

They all saw a replica of Fleur and Victoire, and nothing against the other women of her family, they were beautiful, but Dominique just didn't picture herself to look like them at all.

And then the way others looked at her, when she knew that they weren't really seeing her, it made her want to disappear into the floor on a daily basis. Just the sight of any person walking towards her in the hallways was enough to set her heart racing and nausea squeezing at her throat. People rarely commented on her appearance, but she still lived in the constant fear that they would which was almost as bad.

She raised the hairbrush to the back of her head attempting to work through the bottom part of the knot, but it simply continued to get stuck in the tangled hair, quickly bringing tears to her eyes.

Dominique wasn't sure if she was more frustrated or in pain, but both feelings continued to rise as she felt increasingly flustered. Growling in annoyance she jammed the hairbrush back into her hair and yanked it hard, ignoring the pain to her scalp. Surprisingly it wasn't the roots of her hair that gave out, but the hairbrush.

As she tugged at it the handle came fully off, leaving the head stuck in her hair. Infuriated she wrenched it out and flung both parts aside.

She would remain unsure of what had come over her for many hours afterwards, but at that moment it made perfect sense to her to pick up the pair of nail scissors that one of her roommates had left on the side table besides one of the wash basins.

There wasn't a moment of hesitation in her movements as she raised the scissors to the back of her head, bunching all her hair together with her other hand into a ponytail shape. The snick of the scissors slicing through her hair should probably have been terrifying, but instead there was something immensely satisfying about the sound.

After a few seconds it came away completely, leaving her standing with a handful of hair and the pair of scissors, slightly shellshocked. As Dominique began to realise what she had done her breathing quickened rapidly, and she quickly dropped the hair in the bin and scrambled over to the mirror to see the damage.

Unsurprisingly the hair itself was awful, the front still almost shoulder length while the back was as short as her brother's, but she didn't find herself hating the length.

By some twisted logic she figured that it would come across better if she managed to get it all to the same length, and as such she resumed snipping away at the longer strands in the front, running her fingers through the back to feel what length it was there.

After what seemed like just a few seconds she had gotten it all down to about the same length, although choppy and sticking up, with what was probably only an inch or so of hair covering her scalp.

She leaned back, satisfied that the problem with the knot had been solved, and suddenly realised what she had done.

"Holy Mother of Merlin!" she screeched, flinging herself back from the mirror. "What have I done?"

Her silvery blonde hair somehow looked a bit darker now that it was so short, and oddly enough the messy style of her unskilled cutting left her hair looking similar to Uncle Arry's, as it all seemed to be sticking in random directions. It was an awful hair cut, but the churning in her stomach as she stared at it wasn't regretful. No, she felt nothing but excitement, almost euphoric.

Perhaps all she had needed was a change, something to separate her appearance from what it had been for so long. Perhaps the reason her heart was jumping around in her chest was because she didn't see her mum or Victoire staring back at her from the mirror, but someone completely different.

Perhaps this new look was what she had needed, giving her some individuality that made her stand out more than the typical long blonde hair she had sported her whole life.

Or perhaps the novelty would wear off in a few minutes and she be left feeling immense amounts of regret.

But for the moment she couldn't help but smile widely, twisting her neck in an attempt to see the haircut from different angles.

The bell ringing cut off her fixation with her reflection, and she winced at the realisation that she would now have to head to her next lesson with the new haircut.

Although she surprisingly didn't hate it yet, the idea of walking the corridors with such a style was not appealing in the least. Dominique could practically already feel the strange looks and whispers scorching her skin. No, it was certainly not the time to go flaunting a new look around in the middle of the week. At least if she made her debut over the weekend or something it would seem like less of a spur-of-the-moment decision.

With that in mind she experimented for a few moments attempting to hide it with her pointed cap, and got it to the point where it looked as though it might have been in a ponytail or a bun under the hat.

Satisfied she grabbed her Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook and pulled back on her robes that she had discarded when working earlier. She was likely to be a few seconds late due to not hurrying off the second the warning bell sounded, but the DADA teacher, Professor Lewis, was no stickler for such things.

Usually the man was late himself, and even when he was on time he wasn't enough of a hypocrite to criticise his students for tardiness.

Dominique usually found his laxness slightly annoying -- it meant people were constantly coming in halfway through the class and as such they spent unnecessary time reviewing topics -- but today she found herself grateful for the knowledge that she wouldn't be subject to a lecture once she made it to her lesson.

Regardless, she refused to be the kind of person who just waltzed into the lesson with no explanation, so she held an apology ready on her tongue as she made her way through the final corridors towards the classroom.

However it was to be unnecessary, as she saw the professor himself strolling towards her from the opposite direction without a care in the world. As they both approached the turning to the classroom Professor Lewis called out to her in a friendly manner. "Running a bit late aren't you Miss Weasley?"

She stumbled over what to say, not sure whether to go with her apology or join in with what was clearly a joking tone since he was late as well.

But fortunately Jess Schotte had been hurrying up behind her and as the professor began to turn into the wrong classroom she laughed. "Dominique and I may be late, but at least we're going to the right place sir!"

Professor Lewis rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, turning away from the other classroom. "Touché."

Dominique shot Jess a grateful look, wondering why the other Ravenclaw was running late. She was flushed as though she'd run the entire way there, so clearly wasn't arriving late on purpose as other students did to DADA.

Brushing the train of thought aside, Dominique took her seat and prepared for the class to start, huffing out a breath of relief that she hadn't missed anything.

Considering that it was barely ten in the morning a lot had already occurred that day, but Dominique wasn't one to let that affect her studies, turning her attention fully towards the lesson being taught.

However little did she know that the day was set to be far from conducive to learning, and it had barely begun.