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22/02/2001
The Rousseau's Residence, Kingswear, Devon
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[ b l a c k m a i l ]

"ELLIE! ELLIE, COME UP HERE!"

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"ELLIE! ELLIE, COME UP HERE!"

George Weasley had managed to dissipate into thin air without taking responsibility of anything.

He didn't say a single 'sorry', he didn't respond to Elinor's rampage after she discovered his sly trick. He didn't even say goodbye.

But it was Friday evening and Elinor hadn't seen him for more than one week. The knot around her stomach slowly loosened with every ticking second he wasn't around and she finally stopped glancing over her shoulders, looking for any shade of ginger.

Elinor had thought long and hard about the whole SAH thing, and, in conclusion... She was content.

She was supposed to die during the Battle of Hogwarts, but the Rousseaus revived her again and provided her with a life she could only dreamt of.

This was enough. Twenty-one years was enough.

Now, she even felt a bit grateful to George for convincing her to take three extra months so she could prepare herself.

Elinor pulled out an ornate paper and began writing:

Dear Mama,

First, it's not Cameron's fault. It's mine. I chose this path myself.

Do you remember the first time we talked, and you brought me an assortment of baked goods? You patted my head and told me that I looked more beautiful if I smile. You rarely show it, but you made me experience love once again. You gave me a new passion, a new life, and a new mother. For that, I am

—then came Ezme's scream.

Elinor glanced at her clock and saw that it was almost seven. Maybe it was dinner time.

"ELLIE! ELINOR ROUSSEAU, GET UP HERE!"

Or maybe not. Dinner wouldn't work her up that much.

"Coming!" Elinor hollered back.

She hid the unfinished letter under a book and jogged her way up. There was a staircase in her room that was directly connected to the kitchen.

"Is there something wrong, Ez—"

Her eyes widened.

In the middle of her living room... One man, ridiculously clad in yellow-blue polka dot suit with matching pants and green leather shoes, holding a gigantic bouquet of roses. He was grinning expectantly and confidently, his right ear a bit crooked.

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