She tried to pay attention to her sister, who was prattling on about her boyfriend. 

“And Teddy was so funny, Mama. He was jealous, which was probably why he hexed Thicknesse at the station, but when I went to investigate, he…”

She lost the thread of the conversation once again. Hers was a family where a lot of gossip went on. Her mother had plenty of interesting stories to tell from her work as an employee at the Department of Magical Co-operation, some of which involved wizards from other countries blinking their eyes several times when they saw her. Her sister provided them with tales from Hogwarts and Ravenclaw house. Her younger brother often wanted to escape from the house because he couldn’t bear the women talk; her father often listened in because it amused him. 

It wasn’t as if she had nothing to contribute. She was now a sixth-year student at Hogwarts, and a sixteen year old girl living in a boarding school which housed both boys and girls should have a busy life. She was a reserve Chaser for Gryffindor house, a good student, and a Weasley, which automatically made her famous, too. She hung out with the coolest cousins in the school and was the co-leader of the Transfiguration Club. She was also attractive with her long blonde hair and striking blue eyes. 

She, Dominique Gabrielle Weasley, had every reason to join the banter of the other two women in the house. But that day, she didn’t, because she was busy wondering how best to bring up what she wanted to say. 

“…and I am meeting him over the weekend. He wants to take me to a Muggle cinema,” finished Victoire.

Before her sister plunged into another tale, she grabbed her chance. “I want to cut my hair,” she announced. 

“What?” asked Victoire.

“I want to cut my hair. It’s too long for my taste.”

“But it ees beautiful,” her mother, Fleur, said. “Why do you want to do zis?”

How was she ever going to explain this? Unlike her sister, she didn’t have the patience to maintain thick, waist-length hair and keep it glossy and healthy. Besides, she needed a change.

“It just gets in the way of things,” she said. “I mean, I just feel like it is not me.”

Fleur frowned. “If you’re worried zat it ees difficult to look after, zere are charms…”

“No,” she said firmly. “I want to try something different.”

Fleur glanced at Victoire, who looked puzzled and shrugged in reply.

“Very well,” said her mother at last. “But make sure you get a decent cut.”

Dominique was surprised at how easily her mother had given in. She had expected a huge argument because the latter was somewhat touchy when it came to long hair. 

“Who’re you going with, then?” asked Victoire.

“With you, of course,” said Fleur. 

“She never asked me,” said Victoire. 

“Uhm … Actually, I’m planning to go with Lakshmi.”

“Who?”

“Lakshmi Rawal, my friend-”

“- from Ravenclaw,” said Victoire. “Oh, I know her. Daughter of Padma Patil, right?”

“Yeah.”

Victoire nodded and didn’t say anything, but Dominique knew it wasn’t over.

“Why can’t you go with your seester?” asked Fleur after a while. 

“Lakshmi knows a good hairdresser.”

“But Vic-”

“It’s all right, Mama,” Victoire cut in. “Just because we’re sisters, we don’t have to do everything together.”

“And where eez is zis hairdresser’s shop?”

“It’s a Muggle one in London.”

Fleur’s nostrils flared. “You do understand your ’air ees part-Veela and could be unstable unless a magical hairdresser cuts eet?”

Dominique flinched; she had completely forgotten that part. 

“I- er ... I’ll go to Diagon Alley, then.”

“Good.”

At least her mother had agreed to it, she told herself later. She had planned to appeal to her father, who was somewhat more laidback when it came to matters of the hair. After years of having to fight off his own mother from touching his long mane, he was okay with people keeping their hair however they liked it. 

Around one o’clock in the afternoon, she was ready to go. Her sling-bag was stuffed with basic necessities like her wand, her wallet for Muggle money, her pouch for her Galleons and Sickles, and a handkerchief. 

“Looking good,” said Victoire, who met her in the hallway. 

Dominique looked down on her white shorts, flip-flops, and pale green top. “Uh … thanks.”

“Enjoy, then,” said Victoire, and added with a wink, “and ask Ollivander if he wants your hair.”

Dominique laughed. “I think I’ve got more of the Weasley than the Delacour in me.”

“Mmmm … probably,” said Victoire. She waved and went towards the bathroom. Dominique made for the living room. She gathered some Floo powder from a bowl, threw it into the fireplace, stepped right into the roaring green flames, and shouted, “The Leaky Cauldron!”

A familiar face greeted her at the other end.

“Here,” said the smiling girl, holding out her hand.

Dominique gratefully took it and climbed out of the fireplace at the Leaky Cauldron. “Hello. Hope you didn’t have to wait long.”

“Nah,” replied the girl. “You arrived right on time.”

“Seems like you got here sooner.”

“Only ten minutes.”

Lakshmi was wearing a short green skirt with lots of mirror-work on the border, a white tank top, and black flip-flops with sequined straps. She was carrying a dark tan leather bag. Her wild, extremely curly black hair bounced as she walked ahead of Dominique, who was now observing how the skirt looked pretty, but also rather flirty. 

“Like the skirt?” asked Lakshmi abruptly.

Dominique’s throat went dry. “Yeah, it’s really nice.”

“Mum got it from India.” Lakshmi was grinning. “The chappals, too.”

“Huh?”

“Flip-flops for you.”

“Oh. Cool.”

“Don’t you like them?”

“I do,” added Dominique quickly, and she did. “We don’t get these here.”

Lakshmi beamed, and then shouted, “Watch out!” 

Dominique was pulled to the side as a large rat scuttled over. The part of her arm that Lakshmi had caught was hurting, but she didn’t know whether she want her to take it off or not. 

“That … hurts,” she said finally, deciding the pain was too much to bear, and Lakshmi let go of her arm. 

“Sorry.”

“Thanks.”

They laughed. 

“So,” said Lakshmi, now taking her hand and guiding her through the very crowded lane that was Diagon Alley on a Saturday. “Your Mum doesn’t want you going to a Muggle hairdresser, huh?”

“It’s the part Veela in me,” said Dominique, forcing herself to sound normal because holding her best friend’s hand was making her uneasy. “Although, I doubt there’s much left of it to strangle a Muggle stylist.”

“It can do that?” asked a surprised Lakshmi.

“I’ve heard so,” she replied. “Where are we off to, then?”

“Vane’s Mane. It’s just over there.”

The salon was small on the outside. It consisted of two glass doors adorned with attractive witches sporting come-hither gazes. On one of them “Vane’s” was painted in an elaborate, glittery letters; the other had “Mane” in the same style. Before Dominique could voice her suspicions, she was pulled inside by her companion. 

“Wow!” she exclaimed. Vane’s Mane turned out to be a fairly large, popular salon. There were stylists at work on every seat, and still a dozen of clients who were waiting in the lounge. 

“This might take time,” said Lakshmi, frowning.

“Have we met before?” asked someone from their left. They turned to see a dark-haired witch with heavy-lidded eyes emerging from behind a screen. “You, blondie,” she elaborated when Dominique and Lakshmi exchanged a confused look.

“Don’t think so,” Dominique replied shortly, somewhat miffed at the woman’s tone. “First time I’m here.”

“Who’s your mother? I’m fairly certain I wouldn’t forget hair like that.”

“Let’s go,” Dominique told Lakshmi just as the other girl blurted out, “Fleur Weasley.”

“Ooooohhhh!” exclaimed the witch. “Of course! She was that Veela girl who became a Triwizard champion. Hmmm…”

“Okay,” said Dominique, turning to leave. “We’re out of here.”

“Oh no, wait,” said the witch. For the second time that day, Dominique felt her right arm being held in a firm grip. “Did you want a hair cut? Or…” She glanced at Lakshmi’s abundant, persistent curls. “Did she?”

“I did,” replied Dominique, shrugging off the annoying witch’s hand. “But it looks like your salon is over-crowded right now, so we’ll leave.”

“Don’t be silly.” The witch took Dominique’s arm again and steered her towards a private room. Dominique, in turn, caught Lakshmi’s hand and pulled her along. “I’ll cut your hair for you, at half the price.”

“What?” asked Dominique. “Why?”

“Just come on.”

Dominique opened her mouth to protest, but Lakshmi shushed her and jerked her head towards the witch. “It’s a bargain,” she mouthed. Dominique sighed.

In a matter of seconds, she found herself sitting on a rotating chair and facing a huge, floor length mirror. The room had become brighter, although she couldn’t see the source of light. The odd witch flung a pale blue apron in front of her, and tied it behind her neck.

“I’m Romilda Peakes,” the witch introduced herself as she got out her wand. Dominique didn’t bother to reply. “Vane was my maiden name. I keep it because Vane’s Mane sounds better than Peakes’ Mane.”

How About Vane Rolls up and Dyes, thought Dominique. She caught Lakshmi’s eyes, and her friend gave a thumbs-up. 

“How do you want it cut?” asked Romilda.

“Short,” she said, looking straight at Lakshmi. 

Romilda tapped her wand on Dominique’s elbow. “This short?”

“No,” said Dominique. “Like a boy’s on the back, and I want a fringe up to my eyebrows. But I want it swept over from the left. Not a straight fringe.”

“Really?” Romilda affected a shudder. “What a waste of hair…”

“You can keep it,” said Dominique. “It’s magical.” She was pleased to see Lakshmi covering her mouth to hide her laughter. 

Romilda’s expression changed, and she suddenly became business-like. “Actually, I will,” she said, and she went to work, pointing her wand at Dominique’s head. “It’s going to make a good wig.”

“Is that why you’re offering a discount?” asked Lakshmi.

“Yes,” said Romilda simply. “Do you have a problem with that?”

Dominique shrugged. 

“Then, shall I?” 

Dominique shivered as a soft spray of water hit her hair. 

* * *

It was drizzling, and Dominique was just returning from a Quidditch practice session and running straight towards the Entrance Hall. The others were still in the changing room, waiting for the rain to stop.

She stopped when she caught sight of the girl jumping about in the grounds. 

“Hey! Lakshmi!”

The girl giggled when she saw her and beckoned her over. Dominique found herself obeying.

“What are you doing out here? Are you mental?”

“No!” cried the girl, putting an arm around her waist. “It’s how we do it back home in India. The rain is for daaaaancing!”

“You are mental.”

“You probably haven’t seen any Bollywood films, you bigoted pure-blood!”

“I know what films are,” said Dominique defensively, choosing to ignore whatever ‘Bollywood’ meant. “And it’s starting to rain harder. Come on!”

The girl shook her head and pulled her closer. Dominique stumbled into her, and they fell in a heap. She joined the girl’s laughter, then went quiet when she saw the hem of Lakshmi’s skirt had gone high up, exposing long, light brown, wet legs. She gulped and tried to look away, but she couldn’t. 

“Oops!” said Lakshmi, pushing the hem down to cover up. “Thank God you weren’t a boy.”

That brought Dominique back to her senses. She forced a giggle. “Let’s get up.”

The two of them struggled to stand up. 

“Shit,” said Lakshmi. “Look at my tits. Good thing Thicknesse isn’t here, or he’d get stiffy.”

Dominique quickly glanced at the nipples jutting out against the white cotton blouse. “Uhm … I think a Drying Spell will help.”

“Right. Stupid of me to forget that, eh?”

Dominique smiled. “Enough dancing, now let’s head back.”

They sprinted towards the castle together. As soon as they reached inside, Dominique took out her wand and cast Drying Spells on both of them. 

“Thanks!” said Lakshmi. “Oh, they’ve gone back to normal.”

This time, Dominique didn’t look. “I’ll see you in the Transfiguration Club, all right?”

“Yes, sure.” Lakshmi was shaking her head, causing small droplets of water to fall on Dominique, who absently wiped a few off her cheeks. “No Drying Spells work on this crazy hair.”

* * *

“…and I do know a few charms which can hold for months,” Romilda was telling Lakshmi as she held up a section of Dominique’s hair. “They’ll keep your hair straight and glossy.”

“She likes her hair just as it is,” answered Dominique. 

“But – ”

“I do,” said Lakshmi, leaning back on the wall.

“Oh well,” said Romilda huffily. She ran the tip of her wand over the section. 


Snip.

* * *

“Finite incantatem!” 

Dominique roared with laughter as Lakshmi tried to stop Leroy Watson from changing Billy Riley’s hairdo. Somehow, Leroy had managed to unintentionally help Billy’s hair grow in length, and the poor boy now had waist-long, matted brown hair.

“You are not supposed to do this!” screamed Lakshmi at Leroy, who looked horrified. “You were supposed to be changing turning the quill into a bird. How on earth…”

Nothing seemed to work on Billy’s hair. It remained the way Leroy had charmed it.

“What now?” asked Dominique. None of the twenty students had an answer.

“We cut it,” said Lakshmi, raising her wand.

It made her smile to watch Lakshmi enjoying something so much. Her black eyes were alive with amusement as she sheared off Billy’s hair haphazardly with her wand. Dominique thought of how pretty she was, how nicely shaped her straight long nose was, how delicious her pink lips appeared.

Snip. Snip. Snip. 

* * *

“How popular are the wigs?” Lakshmi was asking.

“Very,” said Romilda. “One of the most common side effects of experimenting with charms and potion is dry, frizzy and thinning hair. Hair Lengthening Charms are easy, but they can give you split ends. Hair Smoothening Charms are temporary solutions. For many, it’s easier to just put on a wig – one which preferably has similar hair colour.”

“Dominique’s will work only on Fleur Weasley’s daughters, then.” Lakshmi laughed. “I mean, who else has hair like that? It’s beautiful!”

“We can always modify the colour,” said Romilda resolutely, but Dominique was already thinking of something else.

* * *

“It’s beautiful,” said Lakshmi, running her fingers through her own hair.

The rest of the club had left for dinner, but they had decided to stay back a bit. Dominique had just let her hair loose in order to tie it back up properly. 

“Oh,” she said. “I’ve never given it a thought.” 

“You’re bizarre, you know that?” Lakshmi came closer and said, “Can I do your hair for you?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“All right.” She climbed on to a desk, and parted her legs. “Come here.”

“Wha-what?”

Lakshmi rolled her eyes. “I mean, I can comb your hair easier this way.” Using her right foot, she dragged a chair in between her legs – Dominique couldn’t help but phrase it that way – and beckoned her with an index finger. She took a deep breath and sat down on the chair.

“Where’s that comb? Oh! Here it is.” 

Dominique felt a few hard tips strike the back of her head and run slowly down her hair. 

“I use wide-toothed combs,” explained Lakshmi. “Damn! Your hair doesn’t even get knots. I am jealous.”

Occasionally, Lakshmi’s fingers touched her neck, or forehead, or ears, or shoulders. Dominique loved the feeling. It made her go hot, but it also made her go cold. It made her nervous, but excited at the same time. It made her confused, yet she understood it perfectly.

“If I were a boy, Dom,” said Lakshmi, “I’d be after you. You’re painfully sexy.” 

* * *

“Boy trouble,” said Romilda. “Ahhh … Hogwarts.”

“Did you have much of that?” asked Lakshmi. Dominique watched her walk over to the mirror, stand next to her, then move her head from side to side so that her hair was jumping to and fro. 

“Oh yes, I did,” said Romilda. She was steadily making her way through Dominique’s hair. She was nearly done with the back. “Judging by the looks of the two of you, you should have plenty, too.”

Dominique could sense Lakshmi stiffening. 

* * *

“I kissed him,” said Lakshmi.

“Oh.” There was nothing else for her to say. She started walking away. “I … I need to go and finish my Charms homework.”

“Dom, wait!”

She didn’t want to hear anything further, but she stopped.

“I didn’t like it,” said Lakshmi, blushing. “Something didn’t feel right.”

“Why?” asked Dominique. 

“I can’t explain it. And now, he’s upset and won’t talk to me.”

Silence.

“Have you kissed any other boy?” asked Dominique matter-of-factly.

“Well, I tried it with my dad’s friend’s son in India last year,” replied Lakshmi. “It was pretty odd, but I thought that was probably because it was the first time, you know. I mean, it couldn’t have been anything else. I was attracted to him.”

“Are you attracted to Clearwater?” 

“He’s cute.” Lakshmi shook her head, blinking back tears. “But ... I don’t get it. I try to work up the feeling but fail at it.”

She started crying. Dominique went back and hugged her. “There’s nothing to cry about.”

It was wonderful to have her in her arms. As Lakshmi pulled her closer, Dominique tried to convince herself she wasn’t taking advantage of a damsel in distress. She tried to convince herself it was a non-sexual embrace, not something which was making her brain go numb. 

* * *

“…that was how I caught Jimmy,” finished Romilda. “Crying. Can you believe it?”

“Why not?” said Lakshmi. One of her bra straps was peeping out, and she pushed it back in. Dominique was busy admiring her collarbones, when Romilda pulled her chin towards her. 

“Let’s get this done now,” said Romilda.

Dominique’s chair moving back on its own. She could no longer see Lakshmi as the stylist combed her hair and brought it together in front of her face.

* * *

“Are you ready for this?” asked Lakshmi. 

Dominique nodded. 

“Close your eyes.”

She obeyed and couldn’t see Lakshmi any longer.

The sensation of experiencing a Disfigurement Charm was unnerving. It was almost as though someone was pouring cold syrup over her head, but she wasn’t going to open her eyes until it was done. She tried to concentrate on other things, letting Lakshmi do her work.

After a few moments, she heard Lakshmi gasp. 

“What?” she asked.

“You look gorgeous.”

She opened her eyes. The first thing she felt was the cool air on her neck; her hair had reduced several inches in length. The second thing she noticed was the fringe brushing against her eyebrows.  

“Uh…” she began. 

Lakshmi grinned and held up a mirror. 

Dominique rather thought she could pass off as a boy. She was nearly flat-chested; she didn’t have the feminine curves which her sister had been endowed with at the age of fifteen. Now, the hairstyle was only adding to that image of a tomboy: she had a fringe across her forehead, and the rest had been cut close like a guy’s. 

“Do you like it?” she asked Lakshmi.

“It’s great on you.” Lakshmi put the mirror down and came up to her. “But … forget it. Your hair is so…”

“It’s just hair, honestly.”

“Nah,” said Lakshmi, laughing. “I can’t say that.”

“I love your hair, miss.” Dominique gathered enough courage to touch the other girl’s hair. “You wouldn’t be the same without it.”

Lakshmi smiled. “Sometimes, I really wish you were a boy. Or, I were.”

That should have been the moment when Dominique said something along the lines of “Neither of us has to be a boy”, because she was now certain. She was sorely in love with Lakshmi, and she wanted nothing more than to kiss her at that moment. Yet she held back.

So much for being a Gryffindor.

* * *

“That is such a myth!” cried Lakshmi. “Not all Ravenclaws are dull, and not all Gryffindors are brave.”

“I don’t know where you’re coming from,” said Romilda, “but I’ve never seen a Gryffindor coward in my life. And we’re done!”

She should have looked at the mirror to see how the cut suited her. However, the only thing Dominique searched for was the expression on Lakshmi’s face: she appeared ticked off, but when she turned towards Dominique, she smiled. 

“Perfect,” she said.

Dominique nodded, and then felt oddly sad as Romilda gathered the cut hair and put it on a tray. 

“How much?”

True to her words, Romilda charged only half of her usual price, though Dominique figured the wig was going to fetch her more Galleons than five haircuts could.

“Where do you want to go now?” asked Dominique, after they had come out of the salon.

“Oh, let’s go to Muggle London,” said Lakshmi. “We could go to Oxford Street. They have fun shops.”

“Anywhere.”

It was the most liberated Dominique had ever felt in her life. Her head was lighter, she was with Lakshmi, and she was venturing into a relatively unknown place. Perhaps, she might even get a few, more definite hints from Lakshmi. 

“Shit! It’s Clearwater.”

“Who?”

“Isaac.”

“Oh … him.”

A tall, good-looking boy was making his way towards them. Dominique, without knowing what she was doing, got her wand out of her bag, thinking of hexing Clearwater, forgetting that she wasn’t allowed to do magic outside of school. 

“Lakshmi,” he said. “Dominique.”

Lakshmi was suddenly flustered. “Hi!” she said, clutching Dominique’s arm.

“I’ve been thinking about writing to you,” began Clearwater. 

“Oh…erm…” said Lakshmi.

“But I was worried you wouldn’t -”

“- I would have.”

All three of them shifted uncomfortably. 

Dominique became aware of the wand in her hand. “Hey,” she said, slipping it back inside her bag. “You guys wanna talk in private?”

Lakshmi appeared stricken. “No – I-”

“It’s okay,” said Isaac. “I’m butting in, really…”

“No, it’s all right,” said Dominique in a casual tone. She was going to be brave. She slowly unhooked her arm from Lakshmi’s grip. “Looks like you need to talk.”

She didn’t wait to hear Lakshmi’s apologies. All she could think of was getting home and figuring out what had just happened. To her relief, she didn’t even feel like crying. Not that she was prone to tears, but she knew anyone else would have broken down in her situation.

It was only when she had locked her bedroom door that she allowed herself to face the fact: Lakshmi had said she would have replied to Clearwater’s letter. She had apparently been waiting for him to contact her. All that time, she had been worried about him, not even noticing where she was leading Dominique, or where Dominique was taking her.

“Fuck,” she exclaimed. “Fuck! Fuck!”

Her wand was out again, and the next second, the tall mirror on her dresser exploded. She didn’t want to look at her hair and feel stupid.

Victoire knocked on her door. “Dom! What’s wrong? Open up.”

She ignored her.

“What the hell was that crash? Open the door, damn it.”

Dominique had just finished cleaning up the mess when Victoire barged into the room. 

“What spell did you use?” asked Dominique coolly. “Alohomora doesn’t work on my door.”

“I have ways,” said Victoire, who looked concerned, but also angry. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I don’t like my haircut,” Dominique replied. 

Victoire surveyed the room, and noticed the dresser was missing a mirror. “So, you thought you’d be a drama queen about it?” she asked.

“Look, Vicky,” said Dominique, “I already have a fight coming up with Mama. I don’t need one with you right now.”

Her sister deflated a little. “Well, I like it, if it makes you feel any better.”

It didn’t. Nothing could have made her feel better than Lakshmi Apparating into her room and giving her a desperate kiss, but Dominique said, “Thanks. That means a lot.”

“It’s just hair,” continued Victoire. “It’ll grow back.”

Dominique doubted that would be the case with her feelings. However, the reply she gave her sister was, “I hope so.”