Atropos → george weasley

xlii. a funerary birthday

He stepped forward and wrapped her in a tight hug. Ottilie held him back lightly. His jacket smelled like hospital, but he was warm. She couldn't remember the last time he had ever hugged her.

He ushered Ottilie into the room, where she was met with a new wave of disquiet.

Ottilie hated hospitals. She hated them ever since her sister's diagnosis, after the many times since then she'd been in the emergency department after Adelaide had been admitted for all sorts of things like kidney problems, serious urinary tract infections, or when the calcium levels in her blood had gotten too high and she'd been throwing up all day.

Ottilie hated how artificial they looked and how the antiseptic in the air never quite overpowered the scent of sick and dying people underneath. She hated all the tubes and lights and noises. She hated the way doctors treated their patients like symptoms on a page rather than human beings. Ottilie swore half of Adelaide's doctors wouldn't even look at her.

Eleanor's hospital room was dim. The lights were off, and the curtains were partially closed. She lay still, half-propped up, looking like a corpse already. Her skin was paper white, her head lolled unnaturally to the side, and face saggier than Ottilie remembered, like gravity had been stronger around her lately.

The only hint that she was still alive was the subtle movement of her chest, though her breaths were unnaturally far apart and sounded rough. Equipment loomed around her silently, though she was connected to none of it.

This was the hospital room of a dying person.

"You told me she wasn't going to be here, Simon," hissed a ragged voice to Ottilie's left. Her grandfather looked about as awful as his son. Henry was sitting right next to the bed, fingers threaded in his wife's limp hand, glaring at Ottilie with hatred plain on his face.

"Eleanor wouldn't want her here."

"Dad! How could you say that?" cried Willa, who'd been slumped over with her head on Kanna's shoulder. Adelaide was fast asleep with her headphones on, curled up on Kanna's lap, even though she was getting too big to fit comfortably.

Aunt Willa's curly blonde hair was a version of Simon's, though longer. Her normally bright blue eyes looked dull, and the usual air of aloof, effortless beauty that hung around her was missing.

Henry ignored Willa. "Get her out of here."

"Dad, please," Simon said in a weak voice.

"She said she never wanted to see her again," said Henry.

Simon swallowed hard. "She said that in a moment of distress and disorientation."

"What are you talking about?" asked Willa. "She's her family!"

Henry suddenly rose to his full height. "She's not my family. She's a witch!" he shouted, leaving the room in ringing silence. Kanna gasped and adjusted her knee so she could press Adelaide's earphones over her ears, although it wasn't working, and Adelaide began looking around in confusion.

"You don't know what you're saying; you're sleep-deprived!" said Willa.

"It's your fault!" Henry bellowed at Ottilie. "You killed my wife! You are demonic! Evil!"

Ottilie was paralyzed. However awful she was expecting this visit to be, it was turning out much worse than that. She stared at her grandmother, the only person in the room who looked even slightly relaxed.

Suddenly, there was a forceful knock on the door, and a nurse came in looking horrified.

"What's happening? Do we need to call someone?" she asked.