𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐏𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 | 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲

Summer 93'

"Fred and George. And Maura, 'Licia, and Katie." She shrugged.

Snape sniffed. "The mudbloods and blood-traitors. Interesting crowd you've chosen."

"You'd do good to remember you're half-blood too. As am I!" Elodie said indignantly.

Snape said nothing for the rest of the night.

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

At around 2:00 am, a tapping sound came from her window. Elodie opened it excitedly, stroking Indigo's soft feathers.

Dearest Els,

We don't know what mold poisoning is, but if its that bad, than we COULD always come and get you now...

Anyways, you'll never BELIEVE what happened! Dad won the galleon draw at the ministry, and we've won nearly seven hundred of them! Mum says maybe even enough to go on vacation this summer, and we've never been anywhere outside've the UK!

She insisted on sending you these mince pies, says she doesn't want you to starve over there with Snape. What are you going to do all summer, anyway?

Love you, ya slag.

- Gred and Forge

Fred and George always signed letters like this, so you couldn't tell who was writing. It drove her mad.

She was delighted to hear about the galleon draw- if there was anyone on earth who deserved the money, it was the Weasleys.

There was a package attached with Mrs. Weasley's delicious pies, and a second note that had obviously been slipped in at the last moment.

I miss you

It read.

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

July 3, 1993

Letters had been exchanged and sent, books had been read and finished, and potions had been made.

A whole fucking lot of potions.

It seemed to be all Snape spent his time doing, when he wasn't reading on the fraying couch. They tried lots of different recipes; ones that couldn't have possibly been in the textbooks.

Some of them worked. Some of them blew up in their faces.

Elodie supposed that her father was just making guff up at this point, but he seemed to be pretty good at it, all things considered.

Anyone else would've surely been dead by now, experimenting as he did with their potions.

Elodie didn't like it, but she threw herself into the concoctions as much as possible.

Fred and George were in Egypt with their family for the rest of the summer: the camping had been indefinitely postponed.

They sent her postcards, but more rushed and abbreviated, and much less in quantity, because of the long distance put between them.

It had gotten to that monotonous point in the summer where all the days blend together until you don't really have any sense of what time or day it is:

Elodie could tell when it was the weekend, because weekends they took off, and he would go out to the town, leaving her alone in the house. These were her favorite days, sometimes she liked to curl up in the chair that he usually sat in and read the books that he usually read.