Dominique Weasley would never claim to be beautiful, not because she wasn't aware of the fact, but because beauty had won her admirers, not friends, and so why would she remind people of that when they seemed to only just be beginning to view her as less shallow?

Take Mellie Igwe, the girl had barely spoken to her before the year began, but now they could happily talk in Care of Magical Creatures lessons and even occasionally grab a meal together outside of that time. Mellie seemed more capable of shaking off the slight daze that was inflicted on those in Dominique's presence, or perhaps it was that she was generally quite a no-nonsense person so it didn't affect her actions as much.

Dominique wouldn't consider Mellie a friend quite yet, but hopefully they were on their way there, and what could be added to a friendship by outward beauty?

After dinner that she'd had very late one night with Mellie after studying Righor's different manner of tearing into large chunks on meat -- fascinating as he used his claws more than his teeth, presumably since he watched the humans he interacted with on a daily basis use their hands to perform tasks -- she was making her way back to Ravenclaw tower when she stumbled into Louie who was in tears and had apparently been searching for her everywhere.

"Y-You weren't in the Great Ha-Hall o-or the Luh-Library, where else do you s-spend t-t-time?"

Obviously the implication was that she had no social life, but Louie's insults were never intentional, and Dominique honestly couldn't bring herself to muster anything but concern in that moment. "Mellie and I took our plates to one of the window seats since James Sirius and his new friends were singing very loudly and off key... What's the matter Lou?"

He looked up at her with wide eyes, his face blotchy behind his freckles. "I didn't make the team."

"O-oh," said Dominique, wrapping him in a hug. She was honestly surprised that he hadn't made it, but also that he had taken it so hard. Louie was invested, and he'd really wanted the chance to play as part of a more long-term team, but usually he brushed off set-backs well for a twelve year old kid. "There's always next year."

"I know," he sniffled. "But it's not really that. It's-- it's stupid."

"Tell me," Dominique insisted.

"Well, the new Beaters are Roman Hurst and Benny Khan, they're both seventh years, you know? So I thought fair enough, give them a year to shine. I said I'd be at trials next year. But, er, just Roman said this thing..."

Dominique cradled his head in her arms, her best attempt at being comforting in the absence of their mum or dad. "What did he say Louie."

"He said, er. 'Maybe if you come back next year your family name will finally win you a spot on the team pretty-boy'. I-- well there was also some stuff about Leila. And Victoire--"

"He said what!" yelled Dominique, thankfully there was no one to hear her in the corridor as her blood boiled. "That-- that's utter rubbish, Louie. Don't you dare listen to him."

It was too late though, as from his tear streaked face it was clear Louie had already take the words to heart.

"He said Leila only hangs out with me since I'm a Weasley, and he said her and Vee are s-sluts and--"

"Louie Drescot Weasley you stop right there! None of that is true." He clearly knew that, but the upset was still evident on his face, and Dominique could feel her cheeks reddening with anger. "Let's go."

"Go where? Dom? Dominique!"

"The Gryffindor common room," she informed him as they marched along the corridor. "Isn't it lucky that Vee was so convinced that I would be in the same House as her?"

Her sister had come home from school for the summer after her first year, and been sure, along with everyone else in the family, that Dominique would be in Gryffindor. The summer had been spend with detailed descriptions of the common room and how to get there, talk of how competitive board games got and the rowdy comfort of the room in the evenings.

All information that had proved useless when she was Sorted into Ravenclaw, but was now being repurposed.

Louie didn't put up protest as he hurried after her, probably interested to see what she would do, as they made their way up winding staircases and sharp corridors, eventually coming to a halt in front of a painting of a curvaceous woman holding a half-empty wine glass that had certain been refilled a few times judging by the bleary look on the woman's face.

"Victoire, Louie, cutting it a little fine aren't you? Wait--" she blindly rapidly, and her vision focused on Dominique. "You aren't Victoire."

"No, I'm her sister. What's your name?"

Still absolutely fuming, Dominique could feel the fire dancing in her eyes, but she pushed it down and turned on the charm, channelling her inner Victoire and fixing the woman with a smile.

"Charlotte," said the portrait, her dazed expression returning as she looked at Dominique.

"Charlotte. Well, this is a family matter, and as I'm sure you must be aware after so many years of putting in such hard work for this House, all Weasleys are pretty much Gryffindor by default. I would really appreciate it if you'd let me in."

Charlotte looked to be considering it for a moment, as though Dominique's assessment struck her as reasonable before she suddenly blinked. "No! What am I thinking? No. Even a Gryffindor cannot be admitted without the password, and you Missy, are not a Gryffindor, no matter how bold you may be to demand entry in this manner."

A password. That was far harder to get past than a riddle for someone who wasn't supposed to get in.

She turned to Louie, but his lips were pressed firmly together, a fearful look in his eyes. "I can't tell it to someone who isn't a Gryffindor. I could be expelled!"

At that moment the portrait swung open and perfects clambered out, clearly on their way to do their rounds.

Dominique didn't even hesitate to shove through them, ignoring their protests as she swept into the Gryffindor common room like a storm or a tidal wave or some other powerful and unstoppable natural disaster, her hair flying behind her.

Everybody that was packed into the common room turned to stared at the girl who usually appeared so soft and unassuming, but was transformed by her fiery expression into something that was all sharp angles and fire. Dominique didn't have the ability to physically reconstruct her features to induce terror like her full-blooded Veela ancestors, but the girl was working with what she had.

"Roman Hurst?" she cracked out, realising she had no idea what the seventh year student looked like as she scanned the rows of shocked faces. "Is there a Roman Hurst here?"

A boy with pale eyes that were held wide in fear stumbled forwards slightly as through he'd been pushed. The expression was foreign on his bulky frame, but he was looking a Dominique with an apprehension that held hate as well, and she couldn't have mustered sympathy had she wanted to.

"Oh, now you look scared?" she laughed, but it certainly didn't come across as welcoming or kind. Like everything about the girl in that moment her amusement was harsh. "What are you, a baby? Show the same Gryffindor courage that you held when you said such disgusting things to my second year brother! Or is that harder to muster now that you aren't speaking to a twelve year old." By this point she had gotten close enough that he was attempting to back away into a solid wall of people.

Dominique didn't know what she was going to do next, but at that moment Victoire pushed her way out of the crowd, a stunned expression on her face. "Dominique! What in Merlin's name are you doing? Stop!"

Dominique beckoned her sister over with a flick of her wrist. "No, Vee, you'll be with me on this when you hear what he told our brother. Apparently he tossed some slurs towards you in for good measure as well."

Victoire made her way over to stand beside her and peered at Roman, clearly assessing him carefully. "What did he say? Louie?"

The boy stepped forwards, nerves visible on his face. "I don't want to upset you, Vee, you-- you don't want to hear it."

"Tell me."

Her little brother nodded, then swallowed hard. The whole of Gryffindor was watching silently, none of them brave enough to intercede, or perhaps simply enjoying the entertainment value of the situation. "H-He said that you were a dumb slut. That you were too stupid to get any grades on your own so y-you did stuff with teachers. That every guy in Gryffindor had-- I don't want to say this, Dom. Vee, don't make me."

Victoire's eyes had gone hard, brittle. "Don't worry Lou, think we've heard enough."

"That's not even half of it," hissed Dominique, eyes boring into Roman's as though she could blind him with her glare alone. "What the hell do you get off on, telling my little brother that he's nothing but a family name? Who the hell do you think you are that you have the right to say such things when we all know they aren't true?"

Roman clearly wasn't going to be able to respond as his fear was evident, but that was the moment when Kit Singh made her way down from her dormitory, blinking blearily.

"Will y'all shut up while I get some sleep," she snapped, before taking in the situation. "What in Merlin's name in going on here? Is that Dominique Weasley? Isn't she a Ravenclaw?"

Roman seemed to recover slightly as somebody else spoke besides the Weasleys, and he jumped in. "They're upset because the little one didn't get a position on the Quidditch team--" He quailed and stopped speaking as three pairs of identical brown eyes fixed on him, daring him to continue and find out the consequences.

Kit recoiled. "You guys are so angry about that? The team was selected on merit, I swear. You have to be kidding me--"

"He's not kidding you," said Dominique in disgust. "Just lying. We know full well the team selection was fair, Louie will keep playing and trial again next year, which is exactly what he told the smear of thestral taint. The reason we're angry as he so eloquently put it, is that a seventh year student explicitly and disgustingly lied to and about our family members for no reason other than to make himself feel big." She turned back to Roman. "Tu es un petit troll faible, avec un visage d'escargot et votre haleine sent la fesse d'une chèvre--"

"The insults are great, Dom, but no one can understand them," her older sister interjected, but Louie's eyes were dancing again, and he took it upon himself to be her translator.

"She said, 'you're a feeble little troll with a snail face and your breath smells like a goat's arse crack'," he relayed with no small amount of delight, and a he was met with a few suppressed snorts from their crowd of onlookers.

Kit stared at Roman. "What on earth did you say to them?"

"Oh for fuck's sake," the hulking seventh year snapped, finally driven over the edge by the laughter of his peers. "All I said what that maybe next year you'll decide you're a man again and the pretty-boy can suck your dick for the privilege of being on the team, and maybe by then his slut sister will have persuaded the teachers to give her OWLs--"

Kit's face by this point was a vivid shade of purple. "Say that again with my wand in your face asshat!"

"Not all of us swing that way," leered Roman.

Dominique could tell that the situation was about to get nasty, well, nastier than it already was, but at that point the portrait hole swung open and the headmistress stormed into the common roll, prefects scurrying behind her.

"What is going on here?" she questioned, her lips thinning rapidly as she observed the situation. "Miss Weasley, I cannot believe this intrusion on the privacy of another House, in all my years as a teacher never has a student broken into another common room. It's a matter of-- I think we should discuss this in my office. To bed, the lot of you. We'll discuss your parts in this once I've ascertained the facts."

The force of nature that was Minerva McGonagall had spoken, and Dominique knew that no matter how unstoppable she had felt moments earlier, there was no way she could seek to stand against the woman. But she was more than prepared to defend her actions, no matter the punishment, and she couldn't bring herself to feel regret.

The inner fire that had been lost within her had rekindled, and once again she was reassured that deep inside she held the heart of a Weasley.

One thing was for sure, Aunt Ginny would have been proud.