This is the first Pansy/Dominique that I've ever written, and it's a response to Samara Raine's "Generated Random Prompt" challenge. I'm dedicating this story to comebacksirius, my lovely friend.

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It wasn't exactly clear how it had happened. Dominique could remember slipping from her home unnoticed, unable to stomach another evening of watching Victoire and Teddy staring across the table at one another with doe eyes. She could remember how good it had felt to walk into the Leaky Cauldron not as Victoire's-little-sister, but as an anonymous young woman, compared to nobody. It wasn't merely good; it was great – like the having the shackles of bitterness and envy removed, leaving her free and unburdened. Although she hadn't planned on drawing attention to herself, Dominique knew that her demeanour must have changed, become more inviting now that she had stepped beyond the barrier of her own silent, seething fury, yet she couldn't quite recall the details of what had taken place.

She had sat, content to observe the various interactions taking place in the crowded bar, and sipped her drink. And then another. Dominique could remember three things vividly; the slick burn of the gillywater as it had hit the back of her throat, and the liquid sensation as it had worked through her veins; giggling to herself as she had tried to work out whether a toupee or hair graced the head of the wizard arguing loudly with his companions – every time he gave the table an emphatic thump, not only did the drinks resting upon it wobble precariously, but the potential hair piece on top of his head gave a suspicious bounce; the third was the witch sitting alone by the bar. She wasn't overwhelmingly beautiful like Victoire, yet there was an arresting quality to her delicately sculpted face, and an underlying elegance to the way she lifted her glass of wine. Although the solitary brunette wasn't involved in anything especially interesting, Dominique found that her eyes kept on drifting back towards the witch.

After a short while, Dominique had started thinking of reasons for the woman to be sitting alone – there was an allure to her that made her isolation somewhat conspicuous to Dominique. Maybe the woman had a better, more beautiful older sister that she felt the need to escape (an idea which lasted until Dominique realised that she looked too old to be living with her parents – she looked as though she was in her thirties). Maybe she was an auror doing a mission undercover (only, the woman's tailored black robes looked as though they cost more than anything that the other patrons were wearing, and the string of opals around her neck most certainly hadn't been chosen with the purpose blend in). Or perhaps she was a quidditch player's wife (however, there was neither a wedding ring nor an engagement ring on her finger). Casting another subtle glance towards the mysterious woman's seat, Dominique felt a wave of disappointment wash over her when she saw that the witch was gone. She looked up in order to signal to the barman when she saw that instead of leaving the pub, the witch was making a beeline for her.

Dominique's stomach gave an uncertain lurch. She couldn't bring herself to move, fixed in place by a pair of piercing dark eyes. Even after all of the drink she had consumed, Dominique could still recall an underlying dangerousness to the woman's magnetism that had struck her from the moment she had sat down across from her.

"What were you staring at?" The woman didn't look away from Dominique, giving her no respite from the intensity of her gaze.

"E- Excuse me?" Dominique had been sipping her drink to avoid making conversation, but when her companion displayed an almost disregard for social convention, she couldn't help but choke out a shocked response. In an attempt to show that she could be just as aloof and elegant, Dominique tucked her hair behind her ear.

"You were staring at something over there." She tilted her head towards her previous seat, causing her dark brown curls to swing slightly. Slowly, a smile spread across her face that softened her expression.

"I need a drink. I'll just... erm... be right back..." Dominique rose, wobbling slightly.

The woman raised one perfectly arched eyebrow and gestured towards the glass Dominique now saw to be sitting on the middle of the table. Her slender fingers were curled around another glass of white wine, and so Dominique knew that the tumbler couldn't belong to her, leaving only one solution: she had bought Dominique a drink.

"Gillywater, no?" She had smiled, her lips a sumptuous shade of red that remained vivid in Dominque's memory.

"Yes. Thank you." Dominique had dropped back into her seat and taken a hesitant sip.

"I'm Pansy Parkinson." The name had struck Dominique as being a perfect fit for the woman sitting opposite to her. It was sharp and feminine. Apparently she had spent too long considering the name, because Pansy gave an exasperated sigh. "And you are...?"

"Dominique. Dominique Weasley." She noticed a look of surprise flit across Pansy's face, and wondered if she was trying to work out how someone so average in appearance could be related to Victoire.

"Forgive me for asking, but I thought that I detected a hint of an accent...?" Pansy was watching her intently, as though trying to work out a puzzle. Realising that Pansy's curiosity had nothing to do with her older sister, Dominique flushed.

"My mother's French." She paused, deciding to be bold. "What about you? Where are you from?"

"Plain old England, I'm afraid." However, there was nothing plain about Pansy Parkinson. Dominique had said as much, the words spilling forth in an embarrassed gush. She recalled the way Pansy's eyes had glittered as they looked her up and down, as though considering something.

After that, the evening had passed in a blur. She had learned that Pansy worked for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and in turn told Pansy about her fledgling career as a Curse Breaker – although her mother's culture was more appealing to Dominique, it was her father's footsteps that she wanted to follow. Much to Dominique's pleasure, she had discovered that Pansy too had been in Slytherin. They had talked together and laughed until Dominique had quite forgotten what it felt like to be in Victoire's shadow; it was doubtful that anyone quite like Pansy Parkinson had deigned to speak to her sister. It was doubtful that anyone quite like Pansy Parkinson existed. Time had flown by, and they had continued their conversation until the bar was almost empty. The details became somewhat sketchy, but logic dictated that (somehow) they had made it to Pansy's apartment. Dominique could recall the spicy scent of Pansy's perfume, and the feeling of a arm around her waist – perhaps they had apparated. Dominique didn't know.

A combination of nervousness and excitement had caused Dominique's stomach to churn as she had sat on the leather sofa, Pansy's intoxicating presence beside her. She had sipped on the water that Pansy had provided her with, wondering if it would stop the tingling sensation that was creeping through her.

It hadn't.

As she had examined the luxurious furnishings of the living room in order to keep herself from staring at Pansy, Dominique had been forced to realise that such trips into the homes of relative strangers inevitably led to one thing. She leant back onto the plush support of the sofa, trying to work out how she felt about the idea of being with Pansy.

"Dominique, are you alright?" A concerned hand smoothed away the hair from her brow. Dominique's breath had hitched. She had become acutely aware of the silence in the flat.

"Yes." She had nodded slowly, overwhelmed by the impression that Pansy was moving closer and closer. "I'm just fine."

Her eyes had drifted to Pansy's mouth. Unconsciously, Dominique licked her lips. Then, Pansy had kissed her. It had been glorious – soft, yet absolutely consuming. She had tasted of wine and something uniquely her. Rather like her drinks, one kiss had turned into two, and two into three, until hands were wandering and hearts were racing. Pansy had taken her hand and guided Dominique into her bedroom. Dominique sat on the edge of the king-sized bed, taking in the chic green and white decor and trying to look as though she knew what would come next. Evidently, she hadn't been successful. Pansy sat down beside her and placed a firm but gentle hand on Dominique's shoulder to hold off another embrace.

"Are you quite certain that this is what you want?" Tenderly, Pansy had caressed her cheek. "You can go home, if you'd like."

"No. I think you're incredible, Pansy, and I want to..." Dominique looked away, suddenly shy. She toyed with the comforter in order to keep her hands busy.

"Have you done it before?" Her voice remained even. "There isn't a wrong answer."

Dominique nodded. She never wanted to think about that awkward fumbling with Teddy, or the way he had closed his eyes as though imagining Victoire in her place.

"With a woman?"

She shook her head. Pansy's hand covered her own in a gesture that Dominique didn't know how to interpret.

"You're so young." There was an inflection to Pansy's voice that caused Dominique to look up again. She couldn't come so close only to lose out at the last minute because of something so insignificant – she refused.

"I'm eighteen." She was determined not to lose the whirlwind of emotions that Pansy roused in her. Dominique's voice took on a firm tone. "How old are you, Pansy?"

"Thirty-nine." Pansy had shifted slightly as though the admission pained her. "I won't think any less of you for leaving."

"That's good to know." Dominique lifted Pansy's hand and turned it over, placing a soft kiss on the inside of her wrist. "But I don't want to go anywhere."

"Oh?" The sultry note returned to Pansy's voice as she traced Dominique's bottom lip with her thumb. "Then what do you want?"

"I want to do this." Dominique leant forward, kissing Pansy deeply. She took the pins from Pansy's curls and ran her fingers through them, enjoying their silken texture, barely noticing when Pansy pushed her backwards so that they were both lying down, because everything was wonderful.

Every kiss and caress was etched onto Dominique's memory, along with the stroking and shuddering that had accompanied. It was an unforgettable experience. Pansy's pale, slender body was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, and the smoothness of her skin under Dominique's hand was an incomparable feeling. When she had woken up, the early morning sunlight was filtering through the blinds, creating an atmosphere of safety. She had rolled onto her side, trying to smooth her hair and check her face for drool as subtly as possible, to find that Pansy was already awake and watching her. Pansy's expression was unreadable.

"Morning." Dominique placed a gentle kiss on Pansy's shoulder, admiring its delicate curve. Noticing the way Pansy's eyebrows had risen, she repeated the gesture. There was no response, and an uncomfortable thought occurred to her. "Should I not have done that?"

Pansy blinked in surprise, the alertness of her gaze unhindered by sleep.

"There's nothing to say that you shouldn't." It was the kind of equivocal answer that was characteristically Pansy. Aware that she could be asked to leave, losing the warmth of Pansy's skin against her own and the thrill of her personality, Dominique tried to drink in every detail of her, wishing that her head didn't hurt.

"Did you want me to?" Dominique tried not to sound too keen, wary of what she could only describe as heartbreak. Apparently she couldn't keep a secret from Pansy, drunk or sober.

"Hmm. It was nice." Pansy closed her eyes, sighing as Dominique ran a finger along her back. "Do you want a potion for your headache? Perhaps some breakfast?"

The second question was voiced rather less certainly than the first, yet it was the more tempting of the two.

"Yes to both." She continued to caress Pansy, marvelling over the way in which her touch was savoured. For once, Dominique was grateful that her parents wouldn't question her absence; after all, she wanted to stay for as long as she was welcome. And welcome she most certainly was.

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Once Dominique had gone home and returned to the routine of everyday life, her night with Pansy took on a dream-like quality. It didn't seem to fit within the confines of her reality. Nothing about another meeting had been mentioned, although all Dominique could think about was Pansy. She wanted to know more about the older witch, and she wanted another opportunity to wake up by her side. At work Dominique was able to focus – being inattentive wasn't an option around volatile cursed objects – however, home was another matter. When she looked at Victoire and Teddy, Dominique couldn't help but think how the dynamic she shared with Pansy matched her idea of romance much more closely than anything of the sickeningly sweet looks that passed between them. She didn't enjoy the guilt on Teddy's face when they shared a perfunctory conversation, either, because it matched her own.

A week had passed, and Dominique was ready to scream when her mother asked her why she couldn't be as mild tempered as Victoire was. Her nerves were frayed from the process of examining latest batch of artefacts that had been confiscated from Borgin and Burke's, and if Victoire found her position with Madam Malkin to be anywhere near as stressful, Dominique would eat a Blast-Ended Skrewt. She had finished helping with the preparation of dinner before leaving the house – Teddy was coming over, and the last thing Dominique wanted was to see him again. Ignoring her mother's protests, she left the house and disapparated.

Although she had been too drunk to recall Pansy's address, Dominique had called in a personal favour from a Gringott's goblin and asked him to share it with her. It was only when Dominique managed to convince him that she didn't want to know the Parkinson vault number that he agreed to assist her. As a familiar scene came into view, it became clear that the goblin had been truthful; she was in the same hallway that Pansy had brought her to, although the tiled floor was no longer swimming and there was a light on overhead. Smiling to herself, Dominique knocked on the door and waited.

After several seconds, during which time Dominique had been alone, save for the roar of blood in her ears, the door swung open to reveal Pansy. She was dressed in a white blouse and a pair of grey slacks, her wand tucked into her waistband, and it looked as though she had recently returned home from the Ministry. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of Dominique standing on her doorstep, although, as always, she recovered quickly. On the bright side, she didn't appear to be angry; however she didn't look thrilled by Dominique's visit either.

"Please do come inside." Turning on her heel, Pansy disappeared inside the flat, leaving the door open behind her. Uncertain, Dominique crossed the threshold and closed the door behind herself. She moved through the corridor slowly, bypassing the door that led to Pansy's bedroom and heading into the lounge. A copy of The Daily Prophet was spread out on the glass coffee table, and a half-eaten sandwich lay by its side. A wireless played softly in the background.

It was strange seeing Pansy going through such a mundane routine. Dominique was struck by how much there was that she didn't know about Pansy, but also by how intensely she wanted to learn. She blushed when she realised that Pansy was watching her expectantly from the sofa.

"I wanted to see you again." Dominique rushed on, aware that she hadn't started off as well as she had wanted to. "Pansy, I really wanted to see you. I've been thinking about you all week, and you didn't say that you wouldn't like to see me again, so... here I am."

"You've seen me." Pansy made an expansive gesture with her hands. "Was that all you wanted?"

"No - you're not making this very easy." It was impossible to keep the accusation from her voice. Frustrated, Dominique ceased to care that she hadn't been invited to sit down and dropped into the other side of the sofa.

"No, I'm not." Pansy's mouth twitched into an arch smile. The expression should have made Dominique feel ill-disposed towards her – instead, the mixture of haughtiness and humour made it strangely endearing and uniquely Pansy. "Why did you come here?"

"I thought – I wanted to see what could happen. I've never met anybody like you, and I want to get to know you better." Slowly, she slid her hand across the cool expanse of leather until her fingers brushed against Pansy's. "I wanted to tell you something that I was too shy to say before; you're so beautiful. I didn't know that people could be beautiful like you are. It's not just the way you look – it's how you walk and talk, and the way that you tilt your wrist when you hold a wine glass. And when you sat next to me it was like being drawn into a different world."

"Dominique..." For a moment, it looked as though Pansy would cry. Her dark eyes were swimming, although it could have been a trick of the light. Instead, she laughed gently, pushing her hair back from her forehead. "You say the strangest things, and that's maybe why I find that you make such a great conversationalist. Alright, I'm interesting, but not like you described. You're young, bright, and absolutely gorgeous; you have everything to play for."

"You are like what I said, even if you don't know it – perhaps not exactly, but certainly nothing less." Dominique fell silent as Pansy caressed her cheek, twirling the blonde strands of her hair between her fingers.

"With your golden hair and skin and lovely warm eyes, you'll find someone much better suited without any difficulty. I'd imagine that people must be drawn to you –"

Dominique gave a derisive snort, pulling away from Pansy's touch.

"No, that would be my sister. Victoire's what you described. I'm... not quite. But I don't care about that," She ignored Pansy's look of disbelief, "At least, I won't if you'll consider what I'm saying."

After a moment, Pansy lifted her hand and continued to gently brush Dominique's hair. Dominique had the good sense not to rush her into speaking – she could tell that whatever Pansy was thinking, it would be better not to interrupt. There was something volatile in her nature.

"Weasley, your name is. You'll be related to Ron, then." Pansy spoke quietly, as though to herself.

"Yes; he's my uncle."

"He was in my year at school. We never socialised. In fact, we despised one another."

Ron had never been Dominique's favourite relative on the Weasley side, nor her mother's. She had never been particularly fond of him.

"Well, we have something else in common. He wasn't impressed when I was sorted into Slytherin." Dominique shook her head, watching as Pansy smirked. "You'd think he'd have learned how much damage that kind of mindset can do, all things considered..."

"And Harry Potter – well, he wasn't quite as bad, although Draco certainly didn't think so. It was our parents out there – some people even had an older brother or sister with him." Pansy shivered as though cold. There was no need to ask to whom it was that she was referring. Even now, Lord Voldemort's name provoked the same reaction in everyone Dominique had met. "We wanted it to be over with, either way – not that our feelings on the matter could ever justify it – and so I told them to hand Potter over. I'm not proud of it, but I'm not ashamed either."

During her History of Magic classes, Dominique had learned about the last war. She could recall, in a vague way, there having been talk from Slytherin House of trading Harry Potter for the lives of others, although there hadn't been an exact quote. It was difficult to imagine anyone wanting to do anything of the sort to the selfless, mild-mannered wizard she had come to think of as a surrogate uncle, however it was harder still to imagine the sheer horror of war. Dominique knew that she wasn't brave in the same way that her father was. She didn't want to think too closely about what she would and would not have been willing to do if Louis (or even Victoire, although Dominique was loathe to admit it) happened to be in danger.

"I wasn't there. I'm not going to judge you." Emboldened, she moved a little closer to Pansy, inhaling the delicious scent of her perfume like it was oxygen.

"You might not, Dominique, but the rest of the world does. I don't care what they think, and I probably never will. That doesn't mean that what you're suggesting would be easy for you." Pansy stiffened as Dominique slid an arm around her, although she made no further effort to discourage.

"Nothing worthwhile is ever easy to obtain, less still to keep."

"Wise words from one so young." Pansy rested her head on Dominique's shoulder, and the younger witch struggled to remain as still as she possibly could so that Pansy wouldn't sense how electrifying the small contact really was. "However, no matter what happens, I have no inclination whatsoever to meet with your family – at least, not all at once."

"I'm not stup- wait, did you say that we could see each other again?" Dominique cupped Pansy's face between her hands and pressed an enthusiastic kiss onto her lips. She didn't care if it showed how much the prospect excited her, because the battle had already been won. "You did, didn't you?"

"Mmm. I did." Pansy leant in and they shared another kiss, more lingering than the last.

"What made you decide in my favour?" Dominique allowed herself to be folded in Pansy's arms, relaxing as she felt a hand stroking circles onto her back through the woollen material of her cardigan.

"Two things; you stayed with me in the morning even though you were nervous, and you were every bit as sweet when you came back to me."

Whatever it was that Dominique had planned on saying in response was forgotten as her lips met once more with Pansy's, causing her thoughts to fade away. She was astonished, not only at her good fortune, but also because Pansy had singled her out and made her feel special – given her something to want to return to. Dominique hoped that that wouldn't change.

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Thanks for reading. Please review.