𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁
When Elodie was 8, her grandfather had a stroke. He wouldn't wake. She didn't remember much, but she remembered one of the doctors telling her that people in comas can still hear you. She wasn't sure if she believed him or not, but nevertheless spent the numbered days up until his death on his bedside, telling him about the most arbitrary of things.
Some days she would tell him about her schoolwork. Some she would tell him jokes. Some, she would disclose the fact that she had made a book fly in the air, or that she had accidentally set Ernie Smith's hair on fire when he had called her ugly.
Her mother refused to drive her, so every day little Elodie would walk from her primary school to Woodthrope Hospital to talk to her grandfather; whether he could hear her or not.
February 14, 1993: 11:47 p.m.
Footsteps.
"You have to let us see her, Poppy!"
"No students in the Hospital Wing after 9 o'clock! I'm afraid you two will have to come back in the morning."
"You can't do this, we're her best friends!"
"Hey, Poppy, did you hear that?"
An explosion; faint.
Footsteps.
"Els! Els! Oh, Els."
"Elodie... Merlin..."
"Well, on the bright side, she'll miss exams..."
"Don't joke, Freddie, she's petrified!"
"And Hermione... do you reckon they're going to be okay?"
"Yeah, Fred, I bet they're having a right splendid time."
"Shove off."
"You shove off."
"Can you not? Our best friend's been petrified!"
"You mean MY best friend's been petrified."
"What's that supposed to mean?!"
"You know what it means."
"What, just 'cause we haven't talked in weeks means we aren't best friends anymore? It's just a fight, Georgie!"
"Okay, so maybe you don't know what it means."
A laugh, a huff of frustration.
February 15, 1993: 5:00 a.m.
"Someone's up bright and early."
"I wanted to see her. Can I?"
"I suppose. Be quiet."
"Why? It's not like any of them can hear me..."
"Weasley."
"Alright, alright, I'll be quiet."
Footsteps. A hand in her's. It's warm, and large.
"Hey, Els."
Silence.
"George is still asleep. I thought I'd come up here because-well, I wanted to say sorry, even though I know you can't hear me."
A pause.
"So, I'm so sorry, and I regret everything that happened back at home, and I was being stupid, and it's been miserable not being able to talk with you."
"And, you're probably right about Georgie, but I've been so hopeless because I think about what you said all the time but I can't think of anything to do about it."
"I wish you would wake up."
"Blink if you can hear me."
"No, that's stupid, you can't blink. Fuck!"
"A-Anyways, me and George are thinking of painting a portrait of you and keeping it in the common room so it's like you're there. We'll do Hermione, too. It's not going to end up very good, of course, but we're gonna do our best. Maybe get Dean or Parvati to help us out, they're good with all that art stuff."
"How about, we play a game, where I talk and if I make a funny joke, you wake up."
"Hey Elodie, how do billboards talk?"
(Falsetto) "How, Fred?"
"Sign language."
Quiet chuckles.
"Nothing? Well, I'll think of a better one tomorrow."
Silence.
"Do you remember when we were going to jump off the train to become recluses in the woods? That would've been fun. Maybe you wouldn't be frozen right now.
"I'm sorry."
"You and George said I couldn't make it in the forest because there wouldn't be girls around to laugh at my jokes, but I think you're wrong."
"Because... all I really want is for you to laugh, and you'd be there, so the problem'd be solved, really."
"I'm going to go now, before George or Lee notice I'm gone. I'll come back later. Okay, I'll see you, Els."
"I love- I love you."
February 18, 1993: 8:00 a.m.
"Hey, hey, hey, Els. Listen to this one,"
"Did you just come out of the oven? You're pretty hot."
"Oh, fuck me, that was terrible."
Frustrated sighs.
Receding footsteps.
February 20, 1993: 11:00 p.m.
"Misters Weasley, how many times have I told you two you're not allowed to come here after nine-Oh, It's you, Severus. C-Come in."
"Thank you."
Footsteps. A creaking chair.
1:46 a.m.
Receding footsteps.
February 21, 1993: 7:00 p.m.
"Hey, Els!"
"Wotcher!"
"Merlin, I hate seeing her like this."
"I know, Freddie. Hey Els, I think it's about time you woke up."
"I agree. You would think our joke game would wake her up, I've told her SO MANY great ones, by now..."
"Somehow I seriously doubt that."
"Hey!"
The creaking of two chairs.
"So, Professor Sprout says the Mandrake draught will be ready near end of term. Maybe you won't miss exams after all! That'd be fun, wouldn't it?"
"I'm sure 'Mione over there will love that."
"Ron's been visiting her loads. As has Harry. They've been acting pretty odd, though."
"Yeah, I'm not entirely convinced Harry isn't the Heir of Slytherin."
"Fred!"
"Just joking, good Godric."
"Ginny's been acting strange too, you'd think a little sister would want to spend an ounce of time with her supercool older brothers once and a while..."
"She's always scribbling in that little book of hers. I suppose it's all about Harry."
Laughing.
"Can't blame her, he is the Boy Who Lived."
"Looks like a twig, though."
A door opening. Footsteps.
"Talking about me?"
"Hey... Harry. Hey, Ron. Definitely not."
"Yeah, Harry'd appreciate it if you didn't talk about him to your petrified friend. If you would."
"But Els needs to here the latest gossip, don't you Els?"
(Falsetto) "Yes, George, darling, it's essential to keep up with the times while petrified."
A scoff. "Like she calls you darling."
"Hey, it's been known to happen."
"I don't look like a twig, do I?"
"Course not, mate. You're a whole branch."
A sigh.
March 1, 1993: 10:00 a.m.
(Four different voices)
"Hi, Els."
"Hi, Elodie."
"Hey."
"Oh Merlin."
"We've come to visit you before, but it feels worse, this time. Another boy's been petrified. Fransisco Tramond, we had Transfiguration with him, remember?"
"He was nice."
"Maura and Lee snogged again."
"Shh, Alicia!"
"He's fancied you since first year, it's about time!"
"Wait... you and Lee have snogged before?"
"I always forget how Iri isn't caught up on things yet."
"Hey, that not my fault!"
"Anyways, it wasn't even good. He had to leave a couple minutes in because bloody George needed his help on a prank or whatnot. You'd think he'd give me an ounce of attention after four years of pining!"
"This is why I don't fancy men."
Quiet giggles.
"We miss you, Elodie."
March 2, 1993, 6:00 a.m.
Knocking.
"Can't either of you think of times after six in the morning to visit your friend?!"
"Sadly not, Poppy. I need to talk to her, it's urgent."
"Fine, come in."
Footsteps, a creaking chair.
"Els, I'm really stupid."
(Falsetto) "How are you stupid, Georgie?"
"Well, let me tell you. I fell for someone who doesn't want me, and it's not one of those 'Awh, George, just hang around them awhile and I'm sure they'll come along' things, the odds are actually 100% not in the favor that they'll ever like me back."
"And it's just... it's crap, Elodie, because you would know what to say but you're not here, and it makes me so angry."
"It's not fair."
"And... I'm not going to tell you who it is, on the off chance that you actually can hear what I'm saying, because that would ruin everything, and everything's already pretty fucked up."
"But I'm pretty sure they had a splendid night yesterday with one of our other friends, so that's that, really."
"Bye, Els. I'm sure Fred'll be by to tell you his joke sooner or later."
A defeated sigh, receding footsteps.
8:30 a.m.
"Oh my Merlin, Elodie. I think I'm going to go mental."
"You remember the whole Jordan disaster- well, ugh, he asked me to Hogsmeade with him on the next trip, which is... the 15th, if I remember correctly. I said... well, I said maybe because -oh God I can't believe I'm saying this out loud- I'm rather holding out for someone else to ask me. Not that she ever would..."
"Anyways, I'll probably go with Lee. It's only fair, I mean, he's liked me for years now. And I'm lonely without Ced."
"I wish you would wake up and slap some sense into me."
A defeated sigh.
"Fred's been taking care of your cat for you, by the way. I always see Cheese curled up in his lap by the fire. It's sort of adorable. I can see why you like him."
"I don't understand why you don't just tell him. Well, I mean obviously you can't now... and I guess you were in a fight before... but, still. He's been avoiding all the girls in the common room, it's kind of silly, but I guess the principle is cute..."
"I'm rambling, aren't I? I'll stop bothering you now, I've got class. They've been better with going to class, come to think about it. Lee and the twins, I mean. It's probably because of the damned teachers insisting on walking us."
"Alright, I'll leave you be. Bye, Els."
9:00 a.m.
"Hello, Poppy! Els!"
A sigh. "And the other one arrives."
"The names Fred, Poppy, not 'the other one'."
"The name's Madame Pomfrey, Fred, not 'Poppy'."
"Touché."
"Morning, Els. Did ya hear that Lee and Maura might be finally going out? Waited for years for that one. George doesn't seem so happy, though. Maybe he fancies Maura. I mean, can't blame him, the bird is fairly good looking."
Chuckling.
"It's joke time, Els-listen, I thought of this one last night: Shagging in an elevator is wrong... on so many levels."
Laughter.
"That was crude, Mr. Weasley. You really expect her to wake up for that?"
"Els likes that kind of stuff!"
"Shagging in elevators?"
"No! I meant... never mind."
March 15, 1993, 3:00 p.m.
Footsteps.
"Wotcher, Els."
"We brought you some stuff, from the Hogsmeade trip."
"I got chocolate frogs that we're going to eat in commemoration of you, and some joke stuff that you can have when you wake up, and some... erm..... flowers."
"What was that, Fred? Speak up, lad."
"Flowers. And fuck off, she's petrified."
Amused chuckles. "Mhm."
8:00 p.m.
Sighing.
"I went with Lee, if you must know. It went okay."
"It was totally weird, you know. I mean, after being friends all this time how could it NOT be weird?"
"We went for butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks, snogged in an alleyway-the epitome of romance."
"I wish you were here. You would say, Maura, drop that git, you deserve better."
"I know. But Lee's so eager, and he's there, you know?"
"I've been seeing Iris more, she's really quite fun. I like her a lot."
Silence.
"Pretty, too."
"But everyone thinks she's pretty, that's just obvious. But I..."
(A quieter tone)
"I just realized today that I'd much rather be seeing her than Lee, and I don't know what's going on with me, she just..."
"She makes me want more."
March 18, 1993, 7:00 a.m.
"You know, I'm starting to think you don't find me funny, Els."
"It hurts, it really does."
Quiet laughter.
"Hey Elodie, If a wizard gets robbed by a muggle, has he been muggled?"
"Yeah, I know that was a bad one. I was up all night thinking about a new joke, and I really couldn't come up with one. Complete rubbish.
"Hey, if I poured a glass of water over your head would that wake you up?"
"Poppy?"
"Yes?"
"Can I have a glass of water, please?"
"Whatever for?"
"Well, I just thought maybe, if we poured it over her head she might-"
"No."
A frustrated sigh.
"Weasley, dear, would you come here a moment?"
"Sure, Poppy. Be back in a jif, Els."
Lowered voices.
"Mr. Weasley, I sympathize with you, I really do, but I hope you must realize that Miss Florence will not wake, no matter how many terrible jokes you tell her or glasses of water you pour on her head."
A shaky breath.
"Oh, come here, darling."
Muffled sobs.
Quiet, for much too long.
Footsteps.
"H-Hey, Els, I'm back."
A hand in hers.