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Pair: Sid (loras-tyrells) + Ro (Macbeth Mouse)

from the top of my head, to the tips of my toes.

The sun shone down harshly on Dominique's tanned shoulder, it was partially covered with her wide straw sun hat, however as she leaned over towards Lysander, her uncovered skin became exposed and was touched by the hot Caribbean sun.

Lysander looked up quickly, he was lying against the beach lounger next to Dominique, his sunglasses perched on his forehead as he looked down at his mobile with a frown.

"What's Freya saying now?" Dominique asked with a smile, she tapped her fingers against the shoulder of her friend and nodded her head to the light music that was playing. "Is she telling you to come home immediately? She could have come to the Bahamas with us if she wanted to," she adjusted her large sunglasses and looked up at the waiter who had come over, he had a peach sorbet in his hand and smiling he gave it to her. "Thank you," she said and began eating the cold snack. She passed it to Lysander, but he shook his head, absorbed in what was probably a very detailed text message.

This doesn't work for me anymore.

The illuminated words mocked Lysander. He was reading them over and over again, wishing they weren't really there. That it was a trick of the light.

Dominique was laughing away next to him, talking quickly about the concert they had the night before.

"Freya dumped me," he could hear himself say it, but he didn't quite register that his mouth was moving.

His girlfriend, of two years, dumped him, via text.

The blonde next to him stopped talking, she put the sorbet down and sat up quickly, she turned her body to him, her feet disappearing in the warm sand, her hands already taking Lysander's. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice soft.

It was her usual reaction to anything that happened to Lysander. She turned into a mother hen and she always scolded herself over it later.

Lysander didn't know what to say, this was unexpected. Freya had said no to coming on the tour with them, but he thought it was just because she couldn't take a month off work. Maybe it had been more? He just shook his head and felt himself be enveloped by Dominique's strong arms.

"Why don't we practice, it might take your mind off it?" she asked, her voice slightly muffled by his bare shoulder.

"Yeah, okay," Lysander replied, he thought he sounded pathetic, and he felt even more so when Dominique helped him up, grabbed their towels and led him into the hotel.

As they walked through the foyer, his song began playing, the song he had written for Freya, the song he had written when he first said 'I love you', the song that was dedicated to her at the beginning of every concert. He could feel his cheeks heating up as the vocals began, his and Dominique's voices harmonizing as the acoustic guitar played beneath the words.

Dominique looked up at her friends face and sighed, she slapped his cheek lightly, as they moved into the small room they had acquired specifically for band practice. She moved over to the two guitars in the corner, handing one to Lysander, sitting him down and moving his hands to grip the guitar.

"Play it away," she said.

Her fingers wrapped around the neck of her own, soft- maple guitar, her fingers began plucking the strings, notes to the song that they had been working on for the past month. She looked up at Lysander's defeated expression, her own heart straining at the look, she wished she could do something for him. But all she could really do was play a pretty tune and sing a pretty melody. That was how she thought of herself, not brave, not devious, not exactly intelligent, a Hufflepuff through and through if she ever did see one. The defeatist girl. Her own worst enemy.

…

They continued the tour. There had only been a couple weeks left of it, but everyone could tell Lysander had changed. He hardly spoke, he performed, and that was it, there were no dedications, the light in his eyes had dimmed, and his voice had no soul in it.

When they got back to England, he stayed in his flat. He never came out and it frustrated Dominique. He was her friend, admittedly over the years, they had become best friends. She relied on him. It had been him who had walked her off the ledge in her Fifth Year, he had been the one who had held her as she cried all night afterwards, wishing that her mother wasn't ill. He'd made everything better, and that's all she wanted to do for him, she loved him, she would do anything for him.

Dominique searched through her bag for a key. She stood outside of Lysander's apartment, he wasn't answering her knocks, so she had resorted to letting herself in. She felt the cool metal of his door key slip against her fingers and once it was removed from her bag, she unlocked the door.

Lysander was lying on his sofa, looking directly up at the ceiling. Bouquets of fresh flowers littered the counter tops, it was likely they were fan gifts from the event they had been to the night before. She stepped into the room, her lips pursed as she stood above him. He barely registered her, and continued to look at his white ceiling.

"Could you please be responsive?" she asked, she sat on the edge of the sofa, beside Lysander who looked far away, "I know it hurts, of course it does, but it doesn't mean you have to ignore me, I am here for you, and you know that," Dominique continued. She poked him in the side and he hardly moved.

She couldn't hide the sigh that came from her throat, "your mum asked me to give this to you, considering you don't want to open the door to her either and you've warded your flat from apparition." Dominique sifted through her bag again, she took out a little charm – a Butterbeer cap with Turkish eyes dangling from it.

He wouldn't take it, however, so she laid it on the coffee table.

"I'm only a phone call away, okay?" Dominique said, she kissed his cheek softly and pausing to look him over quickly, she disappeared through the door, leaving Lysander to mope.

…

Dominique turned up again the next day, this time with a sandwich and bottle of water, not trusting her friend to have made himself something to eat.

He had at least changed his clothes, she noted and his hair was still damp from a shower. The flowers still lay unmoving on the counter, they drooped slightly, needing water. While Dominique forced Lysander to eat, she moved the flowers into vases and glasses, the flowers already looking healthier.

There was only one difference to the room, there was sheet music splayed across the coffee table, large crosses covered the pages and they were half ripped.

"I hope you know, Lys, that Mike will be around if he thinks you aren't working on a masterpiece," she smiled but when she looked over to the silent brunette, her expression dropped and she shook her head. "Call me if you need me," she called just before she left, her eyes giving him one last glance before she backed out of the flat.

…

He was as moody as ever, the next day. She found him glaring at the wall this time, throwing a tennis ball and catching it as it bounced back at him.

"Do you need anything?" she asked him, wiping down the kitchen counter, flicking her golden hair over her shoulder and out of her way. She turned to him, annoyance hidden behind a weak smile, he looked up, his face still stuck in a grimace.

"Would you stop being such a Hufflepuff, Dominique. I know you're supposed to be loyal, but I could really not use you now." He said harshly, his eyes glaring at her.

She stepped back defensively, her mouth slightly opening and her eyes swimming with hurt. "That's really a horrible thing to say," her eyes narrowed and she held tightly onto the handle of one of the cupboard doors, her knuckles were going white under the strain and she fought against hitting her best friend. "you can't just say things like that to me," she stepped away from the kitchen, threw the cloth at him and marched out, wiping fresh tears from her cheeks.

It wasn't often Lysander treated her like that, in fact, it was hardly ever. She was trying her best to make him feel a little better, and he treated her like that in return? It made her want to hate him, even though she knew she couldn't. He was upset, heartbroken, even, and though he was being horrible to her, she knew he didn't mean it. That's why she found it so easy to forgive him.

…

Lysander being indisposed meant that Dominique had a lot to deal with. Mike, their manager was already on their case because they hadn't been using their rented space to practice, they had a recording session set up for two weeks, and he was hoping for new material, specifically a new single. Dominique had to sway him with the little charm she had, nobody knew about the break up besides herself, Lysander and Freya, and she knew it would make everything astronomically worse if the public knew. Lysander wanted to be alone, and that was what she was mostly giving him. She was letting him be a lonely man for a week, but he'd have to snap out of it. She couldn't make that sound nice if she tried.

It was feeling like an impossibility to her, to get Lysander up, she'd sent him 3 Howlers in a row, and it had made no difference.

Dominique tried not to be insulted by his lack of communication; she hoped that he would open up to her at some point, because they weren't best friends for nothing. But she couldn't say that his dismissal of everything she was doing, wasn't hurting her. Whenever she turned up at his door, it took a lot of willpower not to cry out of frustration.

Lysander himself was hurting. He felt broken and betrayed. As far as he knew, Freya loved him, she wanted to marry him, she wasn't ready to let go of their relationship. Knowing that he was all wrong, he didn't know what to think. He couldn't even say anything to Dominique because what could he possibily have said? He expected her to come and pressure him, like she always did, he could trust her to do that. Therefore, Lysander was incredibly surprised when Dominique didn't turn up on the Saturday, two weeks after they had returned. There was no phone call, no Howler, nothing.

He watched the phone, waiting and when the sun finally set at 8pm, he picked it up to call her. There wasn't an answer.

…

She was gone. Dead. The healers said it happens sometimes, patients take a relapse, the illness lies dormant for years and can take them while they sleep.

They'd all been warned that it could have happened, but it didn't make it any better. Dominique had said her goodbyes to her mother, she was scared she wouldn't be able to, so she said goodbye and I love you every night. She was the only one who was really holding it together, which meant she was the most able of all of the family. Victoire had been crying for hours and Louis had disappeared. Her dad wouldn't leave his bedroom, he just lay on the bed. She needed Lysander, she needed her best friend to hold her and tell her that she'd be okay. But he was still sulking about Freya, even though it had been a month. He wasn't even pretending to try and get back to normality.

…

It was 3 days before Dominique turned up outside Lysander's apartment again, she opened the door and he wasn't sitting on the sofa like before. The flowers which sat in the vases were wilted, petals littering the surface of the countertops.

"Lysander?" she called out, his head popped out from his bedroom door.

"You didn't pick up the phone," he stated.

Dominique nodded and breathed, "I was –,"

Lysander didn't allow her to finish but approached her, speaking quickly, "Freya called me yesterday.

"What did she say?" Dominique asked quietly, looking down at her feet.

He looked annoyed, his arms crossed against his chest, "she told me that she was sorry. Sorry?" he exclaimed. He started pacing. Dominique wasn't looking at him, she was tired, but she went to see Lysander hoping he could help her and comfort her, but he was just being like before. Everything was about Freya. "Why aren't you saying anything?" he asked, trying to look into her face.

She looked up, quickly, her eyes were watering and she quickly wiped at them, her focus went to the blue curtains framing the kitchen windows. Lysander raised an eyebrow.

"You'd normally have something to say, what's wrong with you today? You're supposed to help me, Dom," he said exasperatedly, he shook her shoulders gently and she pushed at him.

"Stop doing that," she demanded, though her demands were weak and her voice broke midway.

"Seriously? What's wrong with you?" he asked.

Dominique finally looked up at him, directly in his eyes. Lysander noticed her eyes were red, and she had dark circles framing them. "Why are you being so selfish?" she asked, her voice not much above a whisper.

"I'm not being selfish!" he replied, he stepped away from her, he looked surprised.

"Yes you are!" Dominique's hands curled into fists and they were held tightly against her sides, "you're just clutching at straws now, look at you, you want the attention! You're so over her, I know you are!"

Lysander's mouth was screwed tightly, "how can I be over it, she was my girlfriend for two years!"

Dominique shrugged her shoulders, "you're not acting like it. You're just moping around, making my life a living hell. I tried to make it better for you, but you're not helping me help you. I have issues of my own, Lysander. If you even cared to notice, if you'd even pick up the phone to anyone. You've rung me, yet you won't pick up the phone to anyone else. Why?"

"Because you're Dominique," he was going red and the blonde across from him was crying fully now. Still she tried to keep the strength in her words.

"And what? Does that mean I'm your own personal therapist? I'm your friend, and you won't even pick up the phone when my cousins call you to tell you my mother died three days ago."

Lysander froze, his voice sticking in his throat and he attempted to say something. He stepped forward and shook his head.

Dominique had her head in her hands, crying into her open palms, her shoulders shuddering with every sob and her hair covering her face and hands. She wasn't paying attention to Lysander, and only noticed him when his arms wrapped around her shoulders and her head rested against his chest. He squeezed her tightly, her arms wrapped around his waist and she let herself cry against his chest.

"I'm sorry," he said into her hair, squeezing her tighter. "I'm so sorry."

"Apologies won't bring her back," Dominique said, sniffling and sucking in huge breaths.

He nodded, "I know, Dom, I'm still so sorry. I shouldn't have ignored the calls, but you know how I felt, how I feel, you could have come before."

She sniffled, wiping her nose and closing her eyes, "I wish you wouldn't care so much," she said quickly. Dominique wasn't exactly thinking ahead, she was just saying how she felt. Her emotions running high.

"What do you mean? Of course I care, you're my best friend," he replied. He pushed Dominique away slightly, looking her in the eyes.

"Not me, Freya," she said honestly. She sniffed again, her face was much calmer than before.

Lysander gave her a strange look, "but she was my girlfriend, I loved her, what do you expect me to be like?"

"Loved," echoed Dominique, "I thought you weren't over her?" she asked. Lysander pushed her at arms distance and frowned.

"Well…I'm not," he replied tightly, his fingers squeezing into Dominique's shoulders.

She bit her bottom lip softly, "you say that you care, but you don't exactly seem to feel what you are saying." She commented, she rubbed at the back of her neck uncomfortably and tried to not look Lysander directly in the eyes.

"I do. What do you mean I don't feel it, I feel it just fi –,"

Dominique's lips pressed quickly against Lysander's. Her hands taking grip of his jaw and her lips kissing him swiftly, she let go as fast as she had held on and stepped back, fear screaming in her eyes.

"Oh," was all Lysander said, his lips still tingling from the kiss and his arms quickly forgotten by his sides, having dropped from Dominique's shoulders.

The blonde made an uncomfortable gesture before backing away, she was about to turn and run for the door, when Lysander's fingers gripped onto her wrist and he held her still. "You can't just kiss me and leave," he sounded angry, but his eyes were relaxed.

"I was…trying to prove a point?" she tried, gripping at straws and getting nothing.

He snorted, "I'm sure you were, so what am I supposed to have learnt now?" he asked, his grip was getting tighter on Dominique's wrist, and she wanted to shake free.

"I…I don't know," she stuttered out, confused by the situation, not realising that she was contradicting herself and making Lysander smile in amusement. "Stop smiling," she attempted a frown, but it had no depth. "I was just…" she tried to think of an excuse again and internally scolded herself for not being able to think of one.

Lysander stopped smiling and his grip loosened until he dropped her hand, Dominique was crimson, especially as his hand slid up to her neck, pulling her to him lightly, before he laid a kiss on her lips, his eyes closed tightly as if in deep thought. Dominique was too surprised to do anything but stand there, unmoving.

The kiss was short, Lysander stepped back, his hands by his sides again and he looked over at the frozen expression his best friend had on her face. "What?" she managed, her voice incredibly stiff and strained.

"I was just checking something," he replied, he sounded normal, but his fear was evident in the scarlet colour of his neck and cheeks.

Dominique breathed out in exasperation, her question obvious to Lysander from the flick of her eyes and the quirk of her head.

"Well if there's a difference," he scratched his head and watched as Dominique repeated her expression, he bit his lip and folded his arms, "between the way it feels to kiss you and to kiss Freya."

"Oh," Dominique said, it came out with a breath and she stepped back slightly. "Well what did you discover?" her voice was just above a whisper, and she looked to the side of her, staring out of the window and not wanting to catch Lysander's eye.

He cleared his throat, "it's different."

Dominique pretended to not be affected by what he said, and kept the little composure she currently had. Even though she felt slightly dizzy.

Lysander saw her slow blink and she still wouldn't turn to him. There was a difference, a big difference in his head, and he actually couldn't understand how he hadn't noticed it before. He loved Freya, but Dominique was his best friend, sometimes his only friend. The person he depended on, the person he had learnt to expect warmth and love from, over the years. The girl he couldn't imagine his life without. He couldn't describe it himself and the only way he could think to translate how he felt, to Dominique, was with five words:

"…in the best way possible."