DOROTHEA {fred weasley}

sixty seven

The tenderness that Ezra had initially shown on Dorothea's return had vanished by the evening. He'd gone straight to Clementine, once her daughter had returned, just as the woman had told him to, he'd put the wards on the house that she taught him, to make sure Dorothea couldn't leave. Clementine had thanked him, but that was it, promptly sending him back to the Rosier Manor, turning back to Barnaby Nott and snapping at him for something he had gotten wrong in an article he was writing in her honour for The Daily Prophet. Ezra narrowed his eyes as Barnaby quickly apologised, the whole world seemed to turn just as Clementine Rosier wanted it to. And then, worst of all, when Ezra had enquired about where his fiancee was, the woman had shut him down, laughed him off, and waved a dismissive hand. She refused to tell him. Who did she think she was? Dorothea was an adult witch, she didn't need her mother anymore, she was to be his wife. She was his. Clementine had made him feel as if he was utterly out of order by asking about where the woman that she was forcing him to marry had been for the last few weeks. 

Now, he paced downstairs, wondering how best to approach Dorothea.

He didn't bother knocking on the witch's bedroom door, pushing it open, making it slam against the wall. Dorothea didn't flinch at the noise, she sat on her bed, chewing her lip, staring into space as she appeared deep in thought. Ezra stood in the doorframe, breathing heavily, ignoring any part of him that pitied the witch and whatever Clementine had dragged her away from.

"Yes?" Dorothea asked curtly, after both had been silent for a minute.

Ezra frowned, she could be so like Clementine when she wanted. He decided he'd give her two chances. Two chances to tell him exactly where she had been and exactly who with.

"Where did you go? Your mother wouldn't tell me anything."

This seemed to perk Dorothea up a little, her eyebrow raised. Clementine hadn't told?

"Nowhere special," was her response.

"Where?"

When she shrugged Ezra raised his wand and Dorothea let out a dry laugh, probably knowing that she didn't even need to reach for her wand to disarm the man. 

"Legilimens," he said quietly, and Dorothea's eyes flashed with fear. That would show her.

Ezra grimaced as he combed through Dorothea's mind, painting a perfect image of the past three weeks. He saw her in bed with Fred Weasley, his arm around her, her on top of him. He saw their casual touches, her leaning against him, Elvira Jones against Oliver Wood. He saw Dorothea talking to Harry Potter, laughing with his mudblood friend. Worst of all, he saw Dorothea leaving, he saw Elvira mention her own blood status. His friend Elvira. She was a mudblood. 

Ezra staggered backwards with a hiss, Dorothea panting with her hand to her head, looking at Ezra with more hatred than he had ever seen her embody. She winced as she moved but refused to show any more signals of pain. Ezra didn't know what to mention first, his situation with Dorothea was clearly much more dire than he had expected. Barnaby had spoken to him about her, privately, about containing her, making sure she was less trouble than her mother.

"I didn't know you knew legilimency," she said calmly and Ezra's heart thudded, he hadn't expected her to know what it is. Dorothea was frowning, though, feeling utterly betrayed. 

"You're a slut," he hissed. "A blood-traitor slut."

Dorothea didn't move, she hadn't expected any other reaction from Ezra. 

"You're tainted, I should as to call this off-"

"Be my guest," she interrupted.

Ezra stepped towards her, furious, and grabbed her shoulder roughly, "do not interrupt me. You really think your bitch of a mother would allow that? She'd- she wouldn't."