DOROTHEA {fred weasley}

forty five

The morning of the first Slytherin/ Gryffindor quidditch match had both houses incredibly tense. Marcus had insisted on meeting two hours before to go over final tactics, and the rest of their house had been banished from the common room as they talked. Marcus and Ezra were pacing nervously, as they always did. Elvira sat in the corner of the room, more reserved than usual as she began to feel increasingly unsafe around her housemates. Draco and Theo sat looking rather sick, quietly talking tactics to each other. In fact, only Dorothea and Adrian Pucey sat on the sofas, utterly relaxed, both with parchment open, doing homework. The pair had been on the team since they were thirteen, in fact, as chasers, despite their differences, they worked exceptionally well together. Although their sixth year had proved awkward, with him making several unwanted advances on Dorothea, their practices proved that they worked as well as ever.

"Right," Flint said, standing up and wringing his hands nervously. "Chasers - Thea, Adrian, lets go talk tactics. Theo and Ezra," he said, referencing his beaters, "talk tactics too. Draco and Vi, think tactics to yourself. We need this win, okay?"

Moods were similarly tense in the Gryffindor common room, with Angelina and Oliver both incredibly stressed, and frequently shouting at Fred and George for making jokes. Ron sat in the corner, looking grey with anxiety, worried about his first appearance as a keeper. Oliver had switched to a chaser position, with Angelina and Katie. Fred and George were of course the beaters, with Harry as seeker.

The weather was fair, for November, and the teams watched the stands filling with red and green. Dorothea grinned, looking into the stands, "what are the badges everyone is wearing?"

Draco and Theo began to stifle their laughter, eventually doubling over and gripping onto each other. The blonde boy handed Dorothea a badge, as soon as she held it, it began to sing:

Weasley cannot save a thing,

He can't block a single ring,

That's why all Slytherins sing,

Weasley is our king.

The entire tent burst into laughter which helpfully dissipated the stress of the situation. Dorothea shook her head and looked at the younger boys.

"Evil, I love it. Which one of you did this?"

"I wrote the lyrics," Theo grinned.

"And I did the spell."

"Nice to know you've been completely focused on your tactics," Flint grunted, too stressed to be amused.

Once the snitch was released, all fourteen players flew into the air and the stands erupted into cheer, Weasley is our king heard over any other chants. Dorothea got hold of the quaffle, taking it straight from Angelina's reach, grinning at her as she did so, and easily scored the first goal of the match, narrowly missing a bludger from George Weasley. The green side roared, and Dorothea watched Ron's face fall with a grin.

Lee Jordan jumped up excitedly, "GOAL! From Rosier, as always. Man is she good on a broom, look at her, gorgeous - SORRY! I'm sure everyone heard that Ezra Nott tried to get her off the team, bet he's regretting that now - oh and, is it a GOAL- NO. Elvira Jones saves it."

Dorothea clapped her best friend from where she hovered on her broom as they waited for the quaffle to be returned back towards them, when a bludger shot centimetres away from her hand, she heard, "watch it!"

The girl whipped her head around to glare at Fred Weasley who grinned and shrugged, "quidditch's quidditch."

"Why you warning me then, Weasley?" She snapped, swooping past him to intercept the quaffle from Oliver Wood, who she had recognised as a weak link in the Gryffindor's chasers.