DOROTHEA {fred weasley}

sixty six

Dorothea woke early, the morning everyone was due to leave. She hadn't meant to, but naturally she had risen before the light. She didn't feel real, that morning, her heart heavy and pounding, her bag secretly already packed under the bed. Dorothea allowed herself one glimpse at Fred asleep but didn't allow herself to feel any sort of sadness, she felt she didn't deserve that. She wanted to peer into Elvira's room to see her one last time too, but she didn't. She'd probably see her in the prophet at some point, photographs of her marriage to the quidditch superstar Oliver Wood. Dorothea smiled at that thought and looked around the room she had occupied for the last three weeks with a sad smile. She levitated her trunk down the stairs behind her, the portkey her mother had sent wrapped in a handkerchief in her pocket, and slipped out of the door silently. Trunk on the ground and back to the front door she removed it, preparing herself.

"Where are you going?" A voice came from behind her, sounding tired and confused.

Dorothea's heart fell, Fred.

She considered just going, just taking the portkey and leaving without even turning around but she couldn't bring herself to do it. The witch hesitated and momentarily wrapped it back up.

"What are you doing?" He asked again, his voice quieter this time, but more serious. She knew he knew.

Dorothea turned around and Fred's heart fell, she looked distraught.

"I have to," was all that she said.

"You're leaving?" He said, in almost a whisper.

"It's for the best."

Fred shook his head and stepped towards her, pushing her trunk out of the way and putting his hands on her shoulders, shaking her a little.

"Dorothea, we're helping you, you're going to see Moody, we're going to help-"

The witch shook her head and felt a tear fall from her eye.

"Thea," he continued, pulling her into him. "You're fine, it's fine. We're going to help you. The order-"

"I don't want the order's help," she lied, speaking more firmly as she stepped back from him and wiped her eyes. "I don't want your help."

"Bullshit," he said, speaking rather loudly for five o'clock in the morning. "Fucking bullshit-"

"I have to get back," she repeated, sounding more stern than she wanted to. "I'm Dorothea Rosier, you've always known that. I have a duty."

Fred shook his head, stepping back from the woman, stumbling a little, not recognising her in that moment.

"Who you are has never made a fucking difference to me, has it? Hell, who I am clearly doesn't matter to you much either. And duty? You don't care about that, you don't want the life that comes with that."

"I'm engaged," she said shakily, thinking of every possible thing to push him away.

"I couldn't care less that you're engaged, get Ezra here right now, please fucking do and I'll tell him-"

"Fred," Dorothea said, speaking calmly, wincing as she noticed an upstairs light go on. "I have to leave. I'm leaving. I don't want help."

"This all been a lie, then?" He asked, sniffing slightly. "This been your grand plan all along? String me along then go back to the death eaters? You were always leaving?"

"Yes, I was always going to go back."

"Fuck you then, Dorothea," he said angrily, pushing her trunk back towards her. "Really, really fuck you."

"What's going on?" Elvira asked, rubbing her eyes from the doorway with George and Oliver stood behind her. The dark haired witch noticed Dorothea's trunk and her confused expression faded a little, instead focusing on how livid Fred Weasley looked. "Thea?"