DOROTHEA {fred weasley}

one

Dorothea and Elvira giggled as they glanced at themselves in the mirror. Elvira pulled her dark hair up with a ribbon, tightening her blouse at the top and pushing her chest up. Dorothea grinned at her friend, rolling her eyes a little as she applied the muggle makeup Elvira had given her at the end of term. The pair groaned at the sight of the coats Clementine Rosier had left out for them, their moods falling further at the sight of the steel-toed boots the elf had brought to them, for the mud.

"Thea," Elvira started, "no way."

"Missy," Dorothea said, leaning down to the elf, "what the fuck, are these?"

The elf shook a little, "Madam Rosier said-"

"Said that it's dreadful weather, it'll be busy, and you'll be cold," a woman's voice said, descending the stairs and eyeing the two girls, her gaze hovering on the dark haired one, her brow furrowed a little. "It's the quidditch world cup, not-"

"Exactly!" Elvira interrupted, "which means Viktor Krum will be there."

Dorothea cleared her throat and looked awkwardly at her friend, sensing her mother's cutting gaze without even having to look in her direction. Elvira was harmless, she knew that, her mother knew that. But, she wasn't sure about the Jones family, she knew there was muggle blood somewhere and therefore she had never been allowed to her friend's house for any holidays in all of their six years of friendship. This was the first time Elvira had been invited here, and she was cracking jokes, and honestly, Clementine Rosier was not the woman for jokes, Dorothea hung her head a little, and picked the boots up from beside Missy the house elf.

"We'll wear them," she said quietly, nodding to the elf and avoiding her mother's harsh gaze and friend's disgusted expression.

"Good girl," Clementine said, "we leave in ten minutes. I told Lucius we'd meet him beforehand, seeing as it's him who has got us into the minister's box."

Elvira giggled and Dorothea swore that she saw her mother roll her eyes. Pureblood mania was a normal part of her world, there had always been parties, she had always known the Malfoy's, in fact, as a Rosier, she hardly considered them better than her at all. A glance up to a portrait of her uncle, Evan, looking powerful and mighty told her all she needed to know about her family. Elvira wasn't used to such privileges, she reminded herself of this as her stomach twisted with embarrassment. 

The two girls dressed in the clothes provided by Clementine Rosier and followed the witch outside of the manor, Dorothea noticed her friend casting an extra glance back to her house. Elvira didn't know this, but it was the first and would certainly be the last time she would be welcomed into the Rosier household. In fact, Dorothea had had to beg. Neither Priscilla Parkinson or Lillith Bulstrode were free, and Dorothea flat out refused to ask any of the boys from her year, pulling a disgusted face at the suggestion of Marcus Flint.

"Is Narcissa going today?" Dorothea asked, desperate to engage her mother.

"No," Clementine said, an unreadable expression on her face. "Narcissa has never liked getting her hands dirty."

Elvira laughed, "well, we're hardly the ones playing."

Dorothea and her mother shared a glance, with Clementine's smile twisting as she gazed at her daughter's friend, "indeed, Elvira." She glanced back, "I believe the Nott's are going. All of them."

Elvira giggled again and Dorothea rolled her eyes, knowing this was on account of Ezra Nott, her friend's long time fancy in their own house and year. 

"Barnaby too?" Dorothea asked, following and matching her mother's brisk pace.

"Who's Barnaby?" Elvira asked.