author's note: such. a long. chapter. sorry, i wanted to fit the whole summer in so we wouldn't have to suffer through a "part two". chocolate ice cream and toffies to anyone who endeavors to read my story.
𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁
June 15, 1993
Snape's flat was small and dark, and it had a damp scent about it. The living room walls were stacked with books, more books than Elodie would have imagined any one person could've owned. But they all had a thick layer of dust on them from the yearlong absence of their possessor.
Elodie's room had most clearly been thrown together in a matter of minutes-there was a thin cot rather like the ones in the hospital wing at Hogwarts, and a very small, moth-eaten dresser.
"Unpack." Was the first word her father spoke to her that day-he had been completely unforthcoming the entire journey to London.
Elodie sat her suitcase on the bed, miserable.
Fred and George had sworn to write over the summer, and made the additional promise to ride their broomsticks all the way to London if Snape was in any way maltreating her.
Elodie didn't think this would be too much of an issue; it looked as if her father didn't have any intentions on speaking with her, much less abusing.
The owl that Dumbledore had sent her sat carefully on the dresser, narrowing its yellow eyes at Cheese, who was curled up on the edge of the cot.
The kitten didn't like new places, much less dingy old flats that didn't have comfortable armchairs or warm fires like the Gryffindor common room.
The owl was large and night-black. Elodie decided to name it Indigo: Fred's favorite color.
Having little else to do, she constructed what would be her first letter of the summer.
Hello wankers,
Get home all right? It's weird here, really dark and creepy. Bet you a sickle I get mold poisoning by the end of the month. I don't think Snape plans on talking to me, so please please please write back soon or I'm bound to go mad.
All my love, Elodie
P.S. The owls name is Indigo, you like her?
She tied the letter around Indigo's leg and sent her out the window, sitting back down. There was nothing to do except wait hopelessly until the letter from the twins arrived.
"Dinner." A drawling voice came from downstairs.
Elodie's nerves were on end. This didn't feel normal whatsoever. She had pretty much ignored the fact that Snape was her father all of last year, and she had been keen on acting the same now.
But that was made rather difficult as a peeved looking Severus Snape appeared in her doorway, pursing his lips.
"Did I not call for dinner?" He said irritatedly.
"Yes, sir." Elodie said, placing very carful emphasis on the last word.
She followed him downstairs, and they sat at the table in a fit of awkward silence eating bowls of Gazpacho.
"You'll be helping me with work, over the summer." He informed her callously.
"Okay."
"And I won't have any of those Weasley boys in my house."
"Okay." She had expected nothing less. "Can I go camping? In September?"
"Possibly," Was his tart response. "Who with?"
"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.
It made her feel silly; after all, could she really call him her father? Ceci n'est pas une pipe, Elodie thought. The image of a father was not the father itself.
However, weekdays were harder to discern. Elodie supposed today was somewhere around Wednesday-the height of Snape's maniacal obsession with his potion making.
"Elodie?" He would call up, when the first beam of sunlight hit the living room window.
"Yes. Coming." She would say back.
On Wednesdays he was usually pacing back and fourth in the kitchen, fumbling through ingredients and frantically writing down notes in a little journal.
Elodie's job was to make breakfast first, which was always-every day-eggs Benedict. He liked it with rosemary. Then she was to add all the ingredients to the potion like he told her to: if the potion was going to blow up in someones face, it would be hers.
At night, to amuse herself, she would read the scribbles he made, and sometimes added her own. He never mentioned it to her afterword, but he always followed her notes like they were his own. That was possibly the only truly kind thing he did for her.
On July 14th, she got a letter.
Els!
We miss you loads, Egypt has been great! We come home on the 30th, and were coming to get you on the 31st to go shopping at Diagon Alley for our school things. Whether Snivellus likes it or not, mind you.
Love and unbridled rage at Snape for keeping you cooped up in that place,
- Gred and Forge
It was the first letter she had gotten in months, besides a very short one from her mother asking if she had any money to lend.
She hadn't. And she didn't want to bother her dad with that either; she knew he wouldn't loan Penelope money even if he had it.
Now, all she had to do was wait until the 31st rolled around and the twins would rescue her from her very own little slice of frog-spawn scented hell.
It wasn't all bad, though. Elodie liked the potion making; it relaxed her. She picked up on the little things very quickly; memorized the stirs necessary for any number of potions, the number of beetle eyes in polyjuice potion versus a veritaserum brew.
Brief interactions with her father were generally civil, yet arguments occurred whenever Elodie was feeling especially brazen.
She knew from muggle films she had seen that father-daughter relationships were almost never what they were chalked up to be, so she took everything to do with Snape in stride.
July 16th,
July 19th,
July 24th,
July 30th.
Elodie awaited an owl from her friends the night of the 30th, Cheese curled up and clawing at Elodie's stomach.
Come Undone (Duran Duran) was playing on the scratchy old radio that Elodie had scrounged from the side of the road, and she hummed along.
My, immaculate dream made breath and skin
I've been waiting for you
Signed, with a home tattoo,
Happy birthday to you was created for you
Oh, crap, Harry's birthday was tomorrow. She would have to pick up something from Diagon Alley.
A tap on the window. Indigo was home.
"Indi! My darling, I missed you. Got back alright?" She told the bird, stroking its black feathers.
There was a letter clutched in Indigo's talons, and Elodie greedily tore it open. It must have been nearly morning, she had stayed up all night thinking about the events tomorrow-or today, rather, was sure to hold.
Els-
We'll be flooing to your flat at ten, I expect we'll meet Maurs and Lee at the alley. This is Fred writing-Georgie told me about him and Lee. I don't want to put all my thoughts in a letter, seems much to inconsequential. Obviously I told him I love him no matter what. Can we talk tomorrow? I've missed you loads.
Yours, F.G.W.
Elodie smiled without meaning to. Yours. Obviously she wouldn't write back, it was too late. Rather, she'd like to get drinks, maybe. Then they could talk.
Inconsequential? Elodie smirked as an afterthought. The boy better not've gotten posh while he was away.
The sun was just peaking out from behind the shutters.
"Elodie?"
"Yes. Coming."
Elodie shifted from foot to foot while pushing the eggs onto a slice of toast.
"The Weasleys are coming to get me today." She said, uncertainly.
"Oh?"
"Yes, around ten. What time would it be?"
"Eight, maybe. Up all night?"
"Yes. Just waiting for a letter." She nodded, hoping she wouldn't get scolded for staying up.
But he said nothing. Elodie knew he didn't sleep most nights, either.
"They won't be coming in the house, will they?"
"Yes, by floo powder. Only for a minute, though!" She added quickly, seeing the look on her father's face.
"You know how I feel about the-" Snape started angrily.
"Yes, father, I know! Only for a minute, just to pick me up, I promise."
"Not those blasted twins, they'll blow up the whole house in a matter of seconds!" He rose from his seat, fork clattering back on the plate.
"They won't! And they have names, you know." Elodie rose to match his stance.
"Trouble and trouble." He sneered.
Elodie glared. "I'm going. You won't mind if I stay with them for the rest of holiday, do you?" It was more of a statement than a request.
"It would get you out of my way, that's for sure." Snape jeered. "A minute, and a minute only should they be in my house. And take the damned cat with you."
Cheese was on the counter, getting dangerously close to the Felix Felisis they had brewed the day earlier.
"Gladly." Elodie sniffed.
"You'll be seeing me on Wednesdays and Thursdays, at school for potion making." He said finally, folding his arms.
"I already take your class, isn't that quite enough?!" Elodie raised her voice ever so slightly. This year was their OWLs year, not to mention Mcgonagall had mentioned something about career resolutions and extra revision.
An owl came flying in the open window, smacking Elodie right upside the head. She saw the corner of her father's mouth twitch.
"It's my Hogwarts letter." She told him coldly. Snape seemed very settled on the matters of Wednesday and Thursday evenings, but didn't say more.
Elodie Florence, 5th Year
* All previous equipment from last year
* Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5 by Miranda Goshawk
* Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard
* Telescope and A Guide to Astronomy and Understanding Moon Phases, Level 7 by Irka Moshhart
* Magical Beasts and How to Fight Them- Class XXXXX Only by Elliot Bridge
* Ancient Runes Made Easy by Lorenzo Fauce
"How to fight them?" Elodie wondered aloud. "Seems a bit harsh, doesn't it?"
"Some creatures are better off dead." Snape scoffed. Elodie thought this was a bit despotic.
"I see they haven't made you a prefect." He added displeasedly. Elodie remembered he had been one, when he was at school.
Disappointment. She hadn't experienced this with Snape yet, and she thought it might've been worse than scolding and shouting combined.
She tried to make a joke out of it, choking out a laugh. "Who in their right mind would make me a prefect?"
"True." Snape smiled cruelly.
Elodie flattened her lips in a grimace. "More time to spend with my friends, I suppose."
"More time on revisions and OWLs, you mean." He corrected her sternly.
"Sure." Elodie tried to sound half-convincing.
"AAAGHHHHH." Their fireplace flared green, and three red-haired men stumbled out into the sitting room.
"You made it!" Elodie gave a delighted squeal, ignoring her father's loathsome glare.
"Wotcher!" The twins chorused. Elodie embraced them both fleetingly, shaking Mr. Weasley's hand and flying back up the stairs to grab her trunk.
She had had it packed for days now, in foolish anticipation of today.
"Cheese, come." She beckoned the small cat, and it leapt into her arms.
"Indigo, go to the Burrow." She told the owl, giving it a small treat.
She wasn't sure if Indigo was technically hers to keep, but Dumbledore had stolen her summer, she might as well take his bird.
"Come on, now!" Fred yelled up at her. "What're you doing, writing a manuscript?"
"Bug off!" She shouted back, taking up her trunk in one hand.
"I won't have shouting in my house!" Snape sneered loudly.
"Snape!"
Elodie arrived downstairs just in time to see George clasp her father around the shoulder as if he were an old mate.
"Weasley."
"Fancy a toffee?" George held out his hand inconspicuously. A couple of sweets were held in his palm.
"Under no circumstances will I ever be eating something you give me." Snape scoffed, removing George's hand from his shoulder as if it were sticky.
"Aww, why not?" George grinned. "I'm your daughters' best pal!"
"Regrettable; that." Snape retorted.
"Now, now, Severus, let's all be nice." Arthur injected nervously, checking his pocketwatch like an anxious tick.
"Ready." Elodie stated firmly from the bottom step, ending any and all arguments.
"Any of your boys make prefect, Arthur?" Snape cocked his eyebrow as if he was simply making pleasant conversation.
"No. But Percy's head boy this year." Mr. Weasley smiled proudly.
"...Congratulations." Elodie's father said with a twisted smile.
Fred scoffed. "If by head boy you mean huge-"
Mr. Weasley held up a hand. "I've heard enough of the head boy puns for a lifetime. Be happy for your brother."
Both the twins were very clearly trying not to say anything.
"Let's go now, Elodie, get your trunk and say goodbye now." Mr. Weasley smiled amicably.
"Goodbye, father. I'll see you on Monday." Elodie nodded at Snape.
"See you on Monday." He agreed. They didn't hug.
𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁
Diagon Alley was just as wonderful as Elodie remembered: the shops and restaurants a wonderful array of colors and shapes.
They were in the Quidditch shop, admiring the new Firebolt model that had just come out.
"I'd give up my right arm for this broom." George said longingly.
"I'd give up my bloody knob if I could." Fred grinned, shaking his head. Mrs. Weasley had cut his hair over the summer-Fred had sent her a letter all about it-but he had been so angry it only grew back twice as fast, flowing shaggily over his ears.
"Eurgh. I forgot how gross being around boys was." Elodie shuddered, whacking her friend on the shoulder. They had not yet had a chance to speak on the most recent letter, though Elodie was anxious to.
"Snape's a boy." Fred pointed out.
"Hardly. I reckon he's a statue." George giggled.
"Still, he must be one, cause Els is standing before us today." Fred grinned.
Elodie made a disgusted face. "Why couldn't we have just stuck to 'the stork brought me'?"
"Ah, Georgie, I don't think Elodie's had the talk yet!" Fred exclaimed.
"Shut up." Elodie rolled her eyes, but George had already started on a much, much too loud speech.
"You see, Els, when a witch and wizard love each other very much-"
"I will hex the living daylights out of you." Elodie warned.
Before George could finish his little rant, a familiar voice came from behind a crate of bludgers.
"Hiya, skivers." Maura's auburn bob-well, Elodie supposed it couldn't quite be called a bob anymore, It had grown a fair four inches since the last time she had seen her-bounced near her shoulders.
"And to you, Maurs. Suppose you haven't seen Jordan anywhere?" Fred greeted her with a smile.
"Not in a long while. He's off with Alicia, as it would seem." She shrugged. George swallowed uncomfortably. "And Els! Goodness, we haven't talked in ages! Did Snape fair alright..."
The two girls wandered off towards the ice cream parlor, chatting about their summers.
"Get you anything?" A young man said from behind the counter. He had roguish brown hair and a sincere smile. Cute.
"You're not Florian." Maura frowned. Elodie shoved her in the ribs.
"Indeed." The boy laughed. "I'm the prodigal son."
Elodie didn't want to sound rude, but she almost laughed. He noticed, catching her eye with a smile.
"Hey, don't laugh until you taste the ice cream. I'm bloody brilliant."
"Modest." Elodie remarked, and it was Maura's turn to shove her.
Forrest wasn't lying, however: Elodie thought the ice cream was the best thing she'd tasted in all her life. However, this might've been partially because her food intake had been limited to eggs benedict and different types of soup for the last two months.
She gave the boy, "Forrest", a fleeting grin and promised to see him later. ("I get off work at 4, will you girls still be around?")
"Well he's pretty." Maura smirked, once they were out of earshot from Forrest.
"How are things going in that department?" Elodie waggled her eyebrows.
Maura's cheeks went red. "Not- erm, not much going on. Been at Iris's most of the summer."
"Oh, brilliant. How's she?"
"Fine. Good. Ace." Her friend replied vaguely.
"Got Fortescue's without us? Bastards." Fred came up behind them with a new pair of quidditch gloves. He took a lick of Elodie's ice cream.
"Hey!" She protested.
"S'what you get." He stuck his tongue out at her.
"There's a nice new bloke down there, says he's Florian's son. We'll be meeting him later." Maura informed the twins.
"Oh, yeah?" George raised his eyebrows.
"You're coming with us. I don't want to look an awkward mess." Elodie said firmly.
"Why'd you be a mess?"
"Elodie doesn't know how to talk to blokes." Maura gave a devilish smile.
"We're blokes." Fred frowned.
"You don't count."
"Why?!" He exclaimed. What a drama queen.
"You just don't. Now take the rest of my ice cream, I don't want it. We should be by Flourish and Blots to pick up our school things." Elodie put her chocolate cone in Fred's hand, mostly to shut him up, and the four of them entered the crammed bookshop.
Flourish and Blots was secretly a very comforting place for Elodie, it had been the first shop she looked at when she had come at eleven. The books were stacked to the ceilings and it smelled just like the library at Hogwarts.
Thankfully, it wasn't as crowded as last year, when Lockhart had been selling his books, and they were able to pick up what few textbooks they needed without much hassle. Elodie wondered briefly who the new Defense professor was, seeing as Lockhart was incapacitated. She felt bad for the poor sod who had to do it; the job was bloody cursed.
"Fred, George! Elodie! Maura!" A delighted voice came from behind them.
"Harry!" Elodie rushed to greet him, giving the lad a soft kiss atop the head. "Happy birthday! Taking care?"
"Erm... you could say that..." He mumbled.
"Harry blew up his aunt." George stated, without a second thought.
"You what?!"
"It was an accident! And I'm not arrested, so hah!" Harry grinned.
"Wanker." Elodie shook her head. "Where's Ron and Hermione?"
"Still at Ollivander's, getting Ron's new wand."
"Getting a new one, is he? Won't be eating slugs anytime soon?" Maura smirked.
"Hopefully not." Agreed Harry. "I've got to get our books, but see you lot back at the Burrow!"
They bid him farewell, and Elodie, checking the time, pulled the reluctant twins and a neutral Maura back to the ice cream parlor.
"Hello. Fred and George? Weasley?" Forrest stuck out his hands to greet them. George shook it, but Fred merely offered him a weak smile.
"Do we know you?" He asked, confused at the recognition. Elodie heard Draco Malfoy's voice ringing in her head... Father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford... Hopefully Forrest wasn't the same.
"No, but you're basically legends. Liked the thing you did third year with the fireworks." Forrest grinned at them. "Knew you too, Elodie, but didn't want to weird you out..." He admitted.
"Oh, It's okay!" Elodie beamed. "Glad my genius is getting half the recognition these nosy sods get."
"We give you recognition." Fred grumbled under his breath.
"Shush, I was just joking." She laughed lightly. "Come with us to get drinks, Forrest? Or are you too busy with prodigal son duties?"
"I reckon a butterbeer would be alright." Forrest said. Elodie noticed all the perfectly laid out syllables and pauses in his speaking, located him from (probably) near Windsor.
It was only slightly disconcerting. She knew Fred would have something to say about Forrest's very obvious affluence, but he seemed to be restraining himself.
The five wizards and witches settled down at the dirty pub counter of the Leaky Cauldron, sipping butterbeers. Forrest was telling them all about his summer job at the parlor.
Fred and George were looking at him rather sourly.
"You go to Hogwarts, then?" George asked, as politely as he could.
"Hufflepuff. Seventh year." Forrest replied.
"Play quidditch?" Elodie tilted her head. She liked to guess what positions a person played before they told her. Forrest looked fairly well built, and peaceful. A keeper, probably.
"No." Forrest laughed. "Tried out last year but that tosser Cedric Diggory took the spot."
"Which position?" Fred asked curiously. "Elodie likes to guess the positions a person plays before they tell her. What's your guess, Els?"
Elodie was slightly taken aback by the mind reading, but she had told him this once, and Fred had a weirdly excellent memory.
"Keeper?" She cocked an eyebrow.
"Spot on." Forrest beamed. "Nice go there, Els."
𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁
additional authors note: the phrase "ceci c'est pas une pipe" is from a well known 1929 surrealist painting, called the treachery of images. it deals with the conception that an image of something is not the thing itself.
british dictionary
*guff - shit
*knob - dick
*windsor - a particularly posh part of britain