DOROTHEA {fred weasley}

seventy

"What did you do?" Ezra asked her, moments later, looking startled.

Dorothea forced a confused expression, her brow furrowed, "what?"

Ezra rubbed his head, looking dazed.

"You used a spell on me."

"No, I didn't," Dorothea lied, pleased that her memory charm had worked.

The man looked around the room warily, his eyes resting on two large books on the bed. One was about a famous warlock, one about weddings. Dorothea's glamour charm had worked too. 

"We're going to start sleeping together," he swallowed. "I'll be here, every night."

"No, not until we're married. It isn't proper."

Ezra scoffed at that, "you're long past that, Dorothea. You're up to something."

The witch rolled her eyes and glanced down at her watch, "I'm late, actually. To training with the Dark Lord. Anything you'd like me to pass on to him?"

She spoke with a sweet, patronising tone. She had that against Ezra. The Dark Lord valued her more than he ever would him. Ezra Nott was a nobody compared to Dorothea Rosier. He was a ministry puppet, a carbon copy of his father. Not as funny or handsome or smart as his younger brother, and not as popular as his father. Dorothea was everything. The strongest witch of her age, one of the most beautiful, and genuinely liked by everyone. Ezra knew all of this and it made him sick. 

He faltered at her mention of their master and swallowed, shaking his head. 

"You can't hide anything from me, Dorothea," he hissed, trying to force his way into her mind, becoming increasingly frustrated as he couldn't. Ezra looked again to the books, casting a revealing charm on them and being frustrated when nothing changed.

Dorothea held back a smile. He wouldn't admit to trying to read her mind and so couldn't ask her how she was shielding it. 

"I have to go," she said finally, gesturing for him to step aside. 

"I'll move my things into here," he replied flatly.

"Yep. Fine."

Dorothea's life quickly became monotonous throughout August, and she felt herself existing as she had for so long in school. The silly giggles she had had with Leila, Priscilla and Lilith had now turned into politte chit chat whenever they were in the same house or at the same event. The elder wizards treated her with respect and she was well liked, there were whispers amongst the families of how powerful she was, and that the Dark Lord considered her incredibly useful. So, that kept Clementine happy. 

Ezra had started to monitor her constantly, rushing back from meetings and darting into their room as if he was hoping to catch her doing something she shouldn't. She was careful, though, and had set up a secret ward around the house to tell her whenever anyone apparated to the front gates, that always left her with enough time to hide whatever she had been doing.

No more books came. Instead, her secret helper started sending her hand written notes, instructing her. He seemed to know about the Dark Lord's trouble reading her mind. So it was someone close to him, someone he confided in. 

At the start of September a note was slipped under her door, in the same messy scrawl that arrived on parchment.

Downstairs in ten.

Dorothea wasn't surprised to see her old potions professor standing in the hallway of her house with his arms folded. Before she had chance to open her mouth, her mind was being invaded. She stumbled back a little, clutching at the wall as she mentally fought to defend her thoughts.