E x-girlfriend, ex-witch
"Whizzby, lead Miss Clearwater down to level nine," the leering man said, waving his hand dismissively.
Percy moves to take her arm, and she jerks away violently, barely registering the fact that he moved as if to escort her, rather than arrest her. In the elevator, they both stare straight ahead. "I suppose you were right, Perce," she said in clipped tones. "Our relationship would have seriously compromised your career with the Ministry." The irony holds all of the fury and disgust she feels toward him at this moment.
All those times in their fifth year, sneaking around to meet in deserted corridors in the dungeons, she had imagined he was fearless – to be out with a Muggleborn with the heir and monster of Slytherin rampaging through the school. She had thought he would always stand by her, no matter what. She had learned, just out of Hogwarts, that that was not to be case. She was nothing more to an ambitious pureblood than an embarrassing entanglement.
Now the Heir of Slytherin and his monsters had exploded into the world, and she was once again descending into the dungeons with the boy she had thought would stand with her against them. She was not a giggling schoolgirl hiding behind a mirror now; she would stand proud and dare them to declare her a thief of magic. Perhaps she would yet again survive.
But, "I never thought you would be my Basilisk, Percy Weasley."