Friends with benefits

It was a depressingly bright day in early October when he arrived on her doorstep. Depressing for Selwyn, as it clashed terribly with his mood. Probably less so for Dominique, who has always had the knack of seeing the bright side of everything. He envies her.

He had not seen her since she stopped working at the school. He remembers her as one of the most sane people there, though that's hardly a ringing endorsement. There are not many sane members of staff at that school. He let the thought slide away and the nagging of his conscience along with it. Reassured himself that he isn't responsible for who Hayes hires.

That's the idea, anyway. Selwyn doesn't know if it's because of what he is, or maybe it's just that he's so fucked in the head, but letting go has never been so easy as it was supposed to be. So he was left with an itch between his shoulder blades and when a neighbour's cat darted across the road, it frightened him half to death.

He rolled his eyes at himself as he knocked on the door. Then wondered whether she would even be at home.

Dom and Rose rarely got nights to drink and catch up, and some of Rose's coworkers had invited them out. Rose, ever the realist, had taken some convincing, especially considering she had to be up and out early in the morning for work. But out they had gone, and Dom had only sent Declan three or four drunk owls the night before (the messages, of course, being drunk, not the owls) to let him know she was having a good time, loved him, and would see him the next morning once she slept off the inevitable hangover.

And she had. She still felt rotten, especially considering the fact that she hadn't gotten that drunk in... Merlin, ages. What used to be a staple of her life was now a distant memory and random outlying happenstance.

It was also new of her to actually come home. But Rose had apparated them off home and had already left, the only sign of her being the now empty carton of orange juice and what looked like an attempted breakfast before she hurried off to work on an empty stomach.

Dom had stuff she needed to get done, so despite her desire to get sleep in all day, she dragged herself into the shower and then out, pulling her hair into a neat ponytail, donning her pajamas once more as she tried to find what was left of her clothes, as most of them had migrated into the Leaky. A breakfast hash was sizzling and she trying to iron one of Rose's shirt (she wouldn't mind) when there was a knock on the door.

She fumbled for her wand, picking it up and flicking it to unlock the door. "Come in!" she yelled, assuming it was Rose who had forgotten her keys, or Declan come to check on her.

For a moment, Selwyn considered leaving. She was clearly expecting someone. Someone who wasn't him, since he hadn't told her he was coming. He ought to have owled.

But he couldn't just leave. That would be even more inconsiderate than turning up unannounced. So he did the only thing he really could do under the circumstances and entered the house.

"Dom?" he called out cautiously, before he was even properly inside.

Selwyn didn't fancy having to go and find her. Not only had he never been here before, but he thought he had a fair idea of who she might be expecting.

That wasn't a voice she expected to hear in her home.

Her eyebrows scrunched together as she reached to take the pan off of the heat. Without exactly thinking, she crept towards the front hall with the pan full of hash, multi-colored socks padding across the hard floor.

She stopped short once she was in view of the door, to see a very out of place looking Selwyn Thorfinn on her doorstep. "Selwyn," she said. "I... Hi. I thought you were someone... who comes here." She laughed. "Um. Come in? I'm making hash. There's enough for two."

There was no response. Did she not recognise his voice? Did she think he was a serial killer come to murder her? Was she getting ready to hex him where he stood? He wouldn't have blamed her. He really should've owled.

And then Dominique appeared at the other end of the hallway, holding a skillet in a way that said "interrupted cooking" not "plans to concuss a man".

"Yeah, sorry," he responded to what might have been a gentle reprimand, or might just have been an observation, "I should have owled."

Making hash? That couldn't be what she meant (it didn't smell like that was what she meant). Dom was adventurous, but she was fundamentally a Good Girl.

"Dom, I live with a drug addict," Selwyn said as he walked down the hall.

She waved her free hand at his words, saying, "Nah, it's okay. As long as you don't mind talking to me in my pajamas," she said, gesturing at her get up. She turned and walked towards the kitchen, saying, "come on" as she went.

She reached the kitchen and turned, cocking his head at his statement. "Oh. Well. Nice. I live with my cousin. But-"

That was when it made sense and she laughed again. She shook her head, "No, no. Hash." She flourished the skillet, a potato dangling close to the edge. "This one is potato and sausage and bell pepper. Pretty good if I do say so myself." She set it back on the now cooled oven, reaching up to get bowls. "So, what's up?"

Potato and... Selwyn blinked.

"Bubble and squeak. You mean bubble 'n' squeak, don't you?"

It wasn't difficult to check over her shoulder as he followed her into the kitchen. Yes, that was what she meant.

"Who calls it hash? How do you even get away with that in your family? I've met your cousins. All trying to live up to your uncles' reputation."

Really, he was stalling, and he only had so much he could say before he ran out of words. Selwyn sighed.

"I came to ask a favour," he said, "but we shouldn't let your food get cold."

People were always happier on a full stomach.

Yeah, Selwyn hadn't changed at all.

She rolled her eyes, but gave a good-natured smile. "No cabbage, so no bubbling or squeaking." She began to dish out portions and gave him an arched brow of a response before saying, "Someone who's been taking far too many culinary classes and could probably call this same dish about eighteen other names. But hash seems best, seeing as I put about as much effort into it as I did in getting dressed."

He had a favor to ask. That was interesting.

She put his bowl and fork down in front of a chair and sat across from him, spearing a potato as she said, "Did I owe you a favor? I don't remember." She smirked, though even her smirks still had warmth in them, and took a bite of her hash. Thrown together or not, it wasn't half bad.

"Well excuse me for not keeping up with your culinary expertise," Selwyn replied.

Eighteen different names indeed.  There was only on right one.

"Oh, so this is how it's gonna be," he scoffed. "If you don't want to help a friend in neeeeed, then just say the word.  I thought you were better than that, but obviously I was wrong."

He took a mouthful of her creation, but kept talking around it.

"Maybe I should just go ask Victoire instead."

They both knew there was no way he'd ask Victoire anything.  Selwyn wasn't even sure whether he'd spoken to Victoire before.

He was always so difficult, and she supposed it was because it made him more interesting. Which she also supposed was why she had been drawn to him in the first place. Dom briefly considered how each man she had ever been involved with probably indicated some different version of herself-

(and she was probably the best version of herself now. Ew gross. She was never telling Declan that.)

She laughed. "Good luck getting Victoire out of her mood long enough to talk. She's been in a mood since she was four years old. If you can get her out of it, I'm pretty sure there's reward money in it for you." She reached for her drink and took a sip. "I'm all ears. Listening."