Call Me Pretty

Chapter Nine | Wedding Dresses, Sisters & Secrets

Chapter Nine

Wedding Dresses, Sisters & Secrets

            Dominique’s ceiling had  cracks. Well, one long crack, to be more specific. The walls of her room were pale blue, covered in photographs and posters of famous paintings and book covers, sayings that caught her fancy; it was half of the attic, with one sloping ceiling and a large round window and either end. Both rooms had views of the ocean and of the fields behind the house, but that was were the similarities ended.

Dom thought of her sister’s room as she studied the crack, how it curved a little and was slowly creating tinier cracks emitting from the larger one.  

Victoire was neat. Her clothes and books and knickknacks were all perfectly organized in size and colour and alphabetical order, whatever order she could put it in. Bill found it funny; Fleur thought it was responsible, Louis thought it was weird-Dominique wanted to be like her.

The crack was stretching, morphing into something unthinkable as Dom’s eyelids grew heavy-what was she thinking?

Oh yes, she wanted to be her big sister.

Not just like her, in looks and habits, she wanted to physically switch lives so she could forget the turmoil in her own mind. Just for a little while.

Slipping herself into Victoire’s shoes, Dom pictured what it would be like-to be Victoire Weasley, bright and beautiful, stunning and charming with a ring on her finger. Would it be hard, knowing people expected so much of you?

Dom decided being Victoire might be easy-easier that being Dominique.

            “Ladies, are you ready?”

It was a cold, blustery morning and several female members of the Weasley clan were gathered in Fleur’s kitchen, finishing off dainty cups of French press coffee and delicate cookies-Dom sat squished between Victoire’s best friend Serena and her cousin Roxanne. She didn’t eat a thing.

“Aren’t you hungry, darling?” asked Fleur, smoothing out Dom’s curls. “You barely ate!”

“I’m fine, Mum.” Pulling away, Dom reached for her cloak. She felt insignificant surrounded by beautiful women, wearing her usual skinny jeans and a baggy white sweater, a blue scarf wrapped around her neck. Victoire looked radiant in a pair of white jeans, a flowy pink top and heels, her ring glinting whenever she moved.

The group took the floo to the London branch of Gladrags, which had a Bridal department on the second floor. Everything seemed to be in different shades of cream and white when Dom stepped out of the fire place, stumbling into her Aunt Ginny. It was also oddly clean, and every surface seemed to have flowers sitting on it-and doilies. Lace and doilies and flowers were everywhere, mixing into a white and pink mass.

“Welcome to Gladrags!” a perky young woman said, appearing as if out of nowhere. “You must be our eleven; my name is Patricia, and I’ll be assisting you today. Now, where’s the bride?”

Victoire stepped up, flashing Perky Patricia one of her dazzling smiles “I am.”

“Oooh, and what a pretty one you are, too! Come with me, everyone-we can get started!”

Dom could practically see the exclamation marks at the end of all Perky Patricia’s sentences.

Soon they were all sitting on large white ottoman couches, looking a little like powder puffs and sipping tea and hot chocolate, helping themselves to the cookies. Dom sipped her tea, grimacing at the sudden rush of sweetness that hadn’t passed her lips since Christmas. The first dress Victoire came out in looked a lot like the meringues sitting in front of them, and everyone shook their head.