DOROTHEA {fred weasley}

fifty two

"I expected that I'd find you here," Clementine Rosier said, gliding into Dorothea's room on the morning of the 1st January, flicking open the girl's curtains with her wand. Dorothea rubbed her eyes and sat up in bed, staring at her mother.

"You did?"

"Barnaby has a terrible habit of getting so drunk that he's boring at society parties," Clementine said candidly, sitting on the end of her daughter's bed. "I imagine Ezra is the same."

"Yes, actually," Dorothea said.

"Well, I'm glad you're here, darling. We only have a few days before school starts again, and there's much to do!"

"What is there to do?"

"Training, we've not had time for a lot."

Clementine stood up, and held her wand up in her hand.

"Disarm me."

Dorothea pushed her duvet back and sighed.

"I've just woken-" 

"Disarm me."

Dorothea rolled her eyes and disarmed her mother, trying to hide how effortless it was to put off anything more serious.

"Good girl, just checking. Missy has made breakfast, I'll see you downstairs in five."

The witch groaned and forced herself out of bed, not letting herself think of anything from the Davies house, only feeling sorry for herself that her mother was back. It was odd, how much she craved company alone in the house, but felt so much dread whenever Clementine returned home.

Dorothea sat opposite her mother at one end of their dinner table, Missy serving on both women, offering them countless pastries until Clementine eventually swatted her away in annoyance.

"How was France?" Dorothea asked, trying to make light conversation

Clementine rolled her eyes in the same way that Dorothea often did, "Camille is hopeless, darling. I'm so lucky that I got you as a daughter, not her. Although, her mother is a real lost cause too. Suppose she's not really a Rosier, nor is Camille, growing up without Evan."

"What's Camille doing now, then?"

"She's moved back over here, she said she'll be around to see you soon. She'll join me to work."

"Where's she living?"

"The flat in London," Clementine replied, sipping her tea. "She'll move in here as soon as you've gone."

"We have plenty room, couldn't she come before?"

"No, I don't want her distracting you. Or her uselessness brushing off on you. I think that her mother is hoping an advantageous marriage will be made over here, she's born to be a housewife, there's nothing else she can do."

"She can have Ezra." 

Clementine snorted at her daughter and stirred her tea delicately, "unfortunately, darling, the way our world works is that a woman must be married to be taken seriously. Ezra is society's most eligible man, that makes him yours."

"Joy."

"I was thinking Stefan Davies, actually."

"I'm not sure how... like us he is."

"He's been in talks to work with Ezra, actually. Or there's Marcus Flint. Her mother is pushing Draco Malfoy but Camille isn't as keen."

Dorothea scrunched her nose, "he's three years younger than her."