One day, they’re going to need me. The thought was one constantly floating around in her mind, always present, always biting her when she least expected, like a caged animal only recently set free. One day, they’ll need me, and then one day, they’ll pay attention. Dominique felt pathetic every time that it resurfaced. Of course her parents needed her. Of course they loved her. They cared for all of their family, after all. But in the mess of the Weasley household, between the thousand and four cousins running about and someone always wanting to talk about the war, Dominique felt lost. When she was sorted into Slytherin, she wanted her parents to cause an uproar. She wanted her father to argue with the Headmaster that there were generations of Weasleys, all in Gryffindor, that she wasn’t any different. Except, of course, that being sorted into a different house was hardly odd these days – not much earlier, Victoire found herself sitting at the Hufflepuff table. Perhaps it wasn’t out of the ordinary for Nikki to find herself sitting anywhere but the table of red and gold. She never fancied herself ‘brave’ anyway. As she made her way to the Slytherin dormitory that same evening, Nikki had made peace with her new house, her new home. At least the others in Slytherin House made her feel something other than ignored.
One day, they’re going to pay attention. Whether to the pranks she pulled on other housemates or the sour attitude that she’d developed – maybe even to the rude way she spoke to her peers and people who called themselves authorities. One day they’re going to pay attention, and then one day, they’ll realize they don’t like what they see. Not a day went by at home that her mother forgot to remind her that Nikki always represented her family. The thought stuck with her. If Nikki was a product of her parents’ ability to raise her, her actions couldn’t be blamed on her. Not entirely, anyway. Any time she acted out of line – any howler she received and any punishment she invited upon herself – all of it reflected more poorly on good ol’ mumsy and popsy than it did on her. Nikki had few friends and quite a few enemies. But what did she care? At least the people at school spoke to her without infantilizing her and treating her like she was constantly performing for an audience she’d never get to see.
One day, they’ll realize they don’t like what they see. Nikki always hated the ugly pastel colored clothes that Fleur bought her. Even if they were mostly hidden under her robes, Nikki always felt like they were meant for another girl from another family, stuck in a body that was never quite hers. One day, they’ll realize they don’t like what they see, and then they’ll be angry. As she grew older, she became taller, lankier, ill-suited for hand-me-downs of Victoire’s and not old enough to convince her mother that she could shop on her own. The few times that she’d been left to her own devices, she’d come back either empty handed or with everything in black. Her mother would have none of it, and thus, Nikki found herself with more clothes in her closet that she’d never wear than ones she actually liked. When her roommate’s cat tore apart the last hideous pastel blue dress that Dominique owned, she was grateful, and refused to accept a single clothing-like gift from her mother again.
One day, they’ll be angry. Her marks weren’t the best in the class. She wasn’t the prettiest, nor was she the nicest or the –est of anything. All in all, Nikki found herself to be, well, pretty average. One day, they’ll be angry, and it’ll be too late. She wasn’t interested in much of anything that they taught in the classroom. Instead, Nikki was interested in people. Not talking to them, but observing. She liked sitting on the benches, or outside on the grassy yard in front of the lake, taking in people’s every day interactions, learning who they were without speaking to them. But as much as she liked watching people, she despised speaking to them. Unless, of course, it was her. The sixth-year who sat in the common room, watching her as intently as Nikki watched back. The girl with the long, blonde hair whose tongue was sharper than the sword of Godric Gryffindor. It took time, but after a while, she knew that she had to be in love. Her first crush, intense as any first love should be. And most surprisingly, to Dominique and everyone else, with a girl.
One day, it’ll be too late. Any attempts to build bridges, any attempts to reconnect with the people who shunned her, would be ignored and met with scorn. One day, it’ll be too late, and I won’t even care.
One day, I won’t even care. One day, I won’t care. One day…
