Dedicated to those who have ever felt as if they are alone or worthless, ugly or fat or too tall or too small.

To those who look in the mirror sometimes and don't know what you're looking at.

To those who hate their freckles or beauty marks or eyelashes or hair or thighs or ankles or shoulders or butt. 

To those who just can't seem to fit in-with the other kids or your jeans, it doesn't matter.

To those who sometimes avoid mirrors because they don't like what they see.

To those who are in the same place as Dominique was.

To those who stood by Dominique as she battled her demons.

To those who rooted for Ben as he tried to win her over, and was alway there.

To those who cried with Felicity when they realised sometimes there isn't anything you can do.

To those who have a sibling like Victoire or Dominique; always there to catch you if you fell.

And most of all, to those who feel un-pretty.

We all need a Ben to catch us, a Felicity to keep us laughing, a Victoire to tell our secrets to, a Neville to try and help, and a place to escape.

Thank you for calling Dominique pretty, and if you have learned anything from her story, remember that you're always pretty to someone.

Even your freckles.

Epilogue

We’re Doing Okay

Elin pronounced: Elle-IN

            In a small valley, nestled between two large willows, was a small brick house. Smoke curled from the chimney, and the windows glowed with soft light, casting patches of warm yellow beam on the snow. A Christmas tree could be seen through the living room window, and further in the house two girls made pizza with their mother.

“You’ve got sauce on your nose.”

“Well you have flour on your cheek.”

The two sisters teased each other all the time and Dominique watched them with a smile; they were so much like she and Victoire at that age, beautiful and full of life, hopes and dreams.

“Girls, where’s your sister?” Dom realised it had been ten minutes since her youngest daughter had left the room, and the girls shrugged.

“Don’t know,” said Alana, the eldest “Maybe she’s reading one of the books you got her for Christmas-you know we wont see her for the rest of break thanks to that.” She blew her strawberry blonde bangs out of her eyes and dug into the dough, kneading it with her knuckles.

Elin, the middle child rolled her eyes “We’re not Siamese twins, Mum.”

Chuckling, Dom removed her apron and hung it up “You two continue without me, I’ll go check on Ava.”

Leaving the girls to discuss (ahem, argue) over pizza toppings, Dom left the kitchen to climb the steep curving stairs to the second floor. Pictures hung on the walls, reciting the lives of her children. It started with Ben and her graduation and then wedding photo, several of their nieces and nephews and then Dom pregnant with Alana, little Alana growing up. Then two years later tiny Elin all bundled up, and Ava three years after. First steps, Christmas and holidays to France, Quidditch games and three September 1st’s.

It had all gone so fast, faster than Dom would have liked. Alana was twenty-one, engaged and running her own office for the minister of Magic that dealt with all his press releases and appointments, accounts and even organizing his socks on some occasions.

Elin, feisty and fierce with her stern blue eyes was co-captain for the Falmouth Falcons; she had been dating the second captain since she’d joined a year before. Nineteen and ready to take on the world. When she was sixteen she punched a boy and broke his nose for commenting on her arse; Dom had never been so proud, except for the violence.

And then there was the baby of the family, little Ava that wasn’t so little any more. She was the spitting image of Dominique, but with green eyes inherited from somewhere within the family and had a serene, quiet air. Tiny and sweet, Ava was sixteen and a prefect at Hogwarts. Sometimes Dom worried for her, with older sisters as successful as Alana and Elin-but Ava was so level headed, she didn’t let anything bother her. If it did, she kept it bottled up inside.

Reaching the top of the stairs, Dom headed down the hall, but stopped dead in her tracks. A noise was coming from the bathroom, a noise she recognised too well.

Tip toeing down the hall, she stood hesitantly outside the door and listened. What Dom heard made her heart break; it was the sound of someone forcing themselves to vomit.

Tapping the door knob with her wand, Dom walked into the bathroom to see her daughter-her baby- on the tiled floor, sticking two fingers down her throat, pressing her fist to her stomach.

“Ava,” she whispered, blinking rapidly-she wouldn’t cry.

“Mum!” Spinning around, Ava stared up at her mother with fear in her green eyes. “I-I wasn’t-I mean-”

“Wash your hands quickly, then come see me in my room. Don’t dawdle.” Dom’s voice came out strong, but inside she was shaking. Her daughter…her own beautiful, confident daughter…doing exactly what she’d done at a similar age.

Dom and Ben’s bedroom was large, with a big brass bed with a canopy, similar to a Hogwarts dorm bed. Opening her closet doors, Dom reached up and pulled out an old hat box. It was round and deep, and hadn’t contained hats in a very, very long time.

When Ava came in, Dom sat cross legged on her bed, the hatbox in front of her. “Mum-”

“Sit down, Ava.”

Hesitantly sitting, Ava bit her lip-just as Dom used to do when nervous. “Mum, let me explain.”

“You don’t have to explain to me, Ava.” Said Dom coolly “Just let me show you something, and if you decide to continue then I will take matters into my own hands.”

“I’m sor-”

“You’re not.” Dom opened the hatbox, a thin cloud of dust rising as she did “I know you’re not Ava, and although I am incredibly disappointed, let’s put that off for a few minutes. Just look.”

Shuffling about in the box, Dom found what she was looking for. An old, faded photograph; the colours had discoloured, the edges were frayed, but the girl in the photo was the same.

Handing it to her daughter, Dom tried to rearrange her features; she didn’t want Ava to know how betrayed she felt. “Take a look, love.”

Taking the photograph in her hands, Ava let her eyes take it all in. A girl stood naked against a white wall, weak sunlight washing over her; her age was unknown, since her body was so small and frail. Her face was bowed, red curls limp and falling over her skeletal shoulders. You could see each of her bones, and if she were a toy you could’ve picked her up by a rib with the tip of her finger. She was a girl made of twigs and leaves, brittle and exquisite even in sickness-her body was like spindly tree branches covered in ice, so gently that if you even touched her she would shatter.

Ava wanted to be sick.

“Who is that?” she whispered, throat suddenly tight.

“That’s me,” said Dom softly, watching her daughter carefully “Two days after my heart failure. Caused by anorexia nervosa.”

“You look…” brushing her straight auburn hair behind one ear, Ava tried to squeeze the words out. “You look dead.”

“I nearly was.” Dominique spoke quietly, rummaging through the box further and pulling out more photographs. They shower her back and arms and legs, the gaunt hollows of her face and the fine layer of pale hair covering her body. “My heart failed minutes after my final exams, and if your father hadn’t called for help I would have died. Right there, just outside the great hall, in 2018. Just like that.”

“You never told us the details, just…just said you were sick in your seventh year.” Ava was looking at her mother in a new light. If her father hadn’t called for help…she wouldn’t be here. Alana and Elin wouldn’t be here-her father would have married someone else, her mother wouldn’t have gotten a job as an unspeakable. Wouldn’t have had three daughters, lived for years and married Ben and changed her last name to Wood.

Dominique was smiling, but it wasn’t happy. Her eyes were still a pale blue, much like Elin’s, and they slid from photo to photo. “You were all very little; I didn’t want to tell you that your mother had an eating disorder.”

“Why?”

“I was ashamed.” She said simply “Ashamed of how weak I was, what I had done to myself and my family, my friends. To my life.”

“Mum-”

“Mothers are strong, Ava.” Dominique picked up a photo of herself at Victoire’s wedding, still looking deathly skinny. She had wanted to wear the strapless dress, show everyone what had happened-she hadn’t wanted to be ashamed. “Mothers are not weak, they do not inflict harm on themselves or others. As children you saw your father and I as flawless, people who were meant to protect you. I didn’t want to tarnish that image, even now.”

“Do Alana and Elin know?”

“Yes, I told them each when I thought the time was right.” Dominique put the box aside and Ava shuffled towards her, letting Dom put her arms around her. “You don’t think badly of me, do you darling?”

Ava shook her head “You’re still the strongest person I know, Mum.”

It was true, too; Ava loved her mother with everything she had. The respect she had for her only increased, and knowing the truth of her mother’s illness made Ava feel horrible inside. Seeing Dominique looking like a corpse –just a little older than Ava was now- made her heart ache.

 “Thank you, Ava. Now,” Dom stroked her daughters head as it rested on her shoulder “Promise me that you will never throw up on purpose ever again, or anything of the sort.”

“I promise.”

Dom sighed, feeling a little better “I didn’t fight so hard to have children just so I could let them make the same mistakes I did.”

Ava frowned “I didn’t know you had trouble having kids, Mum.”

Nodding, Dom thought back to the days were she’d been terrified of never having children of her own. Her eating disorder had damaged quite a few of her organs, including her uterus. Each conception had been ten times as difficult as a normal person, and she was three times more likely to lose the baby.

The child Dom had lost all those years ago was buried in the back yard; Ammara Aille hadn’t made it past the fourth month. It was then that Dominique decided each of her children should have names meaning beautiful.

“I had a lot of trouble. I named you all names meaning beauty, so you would always know what I thought.”

“Really? I didn’t know that.”

“I did. Alana Gene, Elin Rois, Ava Beaue.” Kissing her daughters cheek, Dom politely ignored the tears soaking her blouse “I never wanted my girls to feel un-pretty.”

“Thank you, Mummy.” Ava whispered, hugging Dom tighter.

“You’re welcome darling, now lets go. Your father should be here soon.”

Mother and daughter descended the stairs, were Alana and Elin were welcoming Ben home. He had come from a late night practise, and his blonde hair was a mess, there was mud on his shoes-but Dom didn’t care.

“I have all my girls here!” he cried, pulling Dom close “How’s my lovely wife then?” he kissed her lightly, but immediately noticed the look in her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Checking to make sure the girls were out of ear shot, Dom leaned into Ben’s embrace “I found Ava forcing herself to throw up.”

Ben’s face turned grim, and he held Dominique tightly “Did you show her?”

Nodding, Dom breathed in the smell of Ben; outside and wind, rain and something slightly woodsy “Yeah. I don’t think she’ll do it again-the photos shook her up.” Watching her daughters talking happily in the other room, beautiful with their freckles; blue and green eyes; mahogany, strawberry blonde and auburn hair. It blew her away that they were all part of her, a mixture of Ben and her-it still made her feel warm inside.

For the millionth time, Ben thanked Merlin that his wife hadn’t died in his arms all those years ago “Are you okay?”

Thinking of how far she had come, from the girl that looked like death and avoided mirrors at all costs to the mother, worker and wife she was now…She had Alana, Elin and Ava, Victoire and Teddy and her parents, Louis, Felicity. The net of support continued to hold.

Most of all though, Dominique had Ben. She’d always had Ben really, waiting to catch her if she fell. With his arms around her, Dominique smiled, went on her tip toes and kissed him as if they were still eighteen.

“Yeah, I think I’m okay.”

And they lived happily ever after...

...The End

A/N: I hope this epilogue wasn't too...boring or anything. I've had it planned since the very, VERY start. 

For everyone that has ever read this...thank you. This book is so special to me, more than anything I've ever written before. It's a little piece of me that I want to share.

Question: Have you taken anything away from CMP, or learned something about yourself or others by reading it? Has it impacted you in any way?

Everyone has their very own 'freckle' that they don't like. If you can take anything away from Dominique's story, just remember that everyone has a Ben out there somehwere that thinks your freckle (whatever it may be) is beautiful.

You're all pretty. I don't know your faces, but if you think nobody thinks you're pretty...well, I do. Everyone. Each of you, inside and out. Your hearts must be some of the biggest I know

Thanks again everyone, I hope you never forget Dominique's hardships when you're facing your own. 

And guys...I'm doing okay. 

So go look in a mirror, look yourself in the eyes and tell yourself your pretty.

Love,

Rose<3