𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐏𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 | 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲

We Can't Always Get What We Want

author's note: well.

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

New Years, 1994

Elodie had been explaining to George how everything had happened when a sharp thwack! and a shout came from the hallway.

They both ran out to see what was causing the noise, to find Fred on top of Forrest on the stone floor, throwing neurotic punches.

"Stop!" Elodie shrieked. "Stop it, now!"

She and George grabbed Fred by the arms, yanking him back.

"Petrificus totalus!" Elodie shouted, and Fred fell to the floor like a wooden board.

She rushed over to Forrest, who had a black eye and a cut in his lip that was spilling blood all the way down to his jawline. "Oh, shhhh, shhhh..." She stroked his face, sealing the cut with her wand and wiping away the blood. "I'm so sorry, love, I'm so sorry." Elodie whispered.

George had relived his twin from petrification, but was talking to him in acerbic tones. "You can't fucking do this, mate. Go around beating on everyone who wants to shag Elodie, and you'll eventually get the worse end of it. She can take care of herself."

Elodie had never been more fond of George than in that moment. She still had Forrest's head cradled in her arms, his eye getting more purple by the second.

"It's fine, doll, I'm fine." Forrest muttered, not looking fine whatsoever.

Elodie turned to Fred, seething. "You had no right." She hissed.

"I had no right?! He had no right! He's using you, Elodie!" Fred shouted.

"Using me?! Not everyone is as desperate for a shag as you are, Freddie!" She retorted.

"Calling me desperate!? Fortescue here just went after you because he knew you wouldn't say no." Fred scoffed, glowering at them.

Elodie stood up, leaning Forrest gently against the railing. All she could see was red. She stormed up to where Fred was standing, and smacked him, hard.

He staggered back, spluttering.

"Stay away from me and my boyfriend, you sadistic arsehole." She spat.

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

So, Elodie spent most of the night sitting by Forrest's side in the hospital wing. She read him the rest of Jane Eyre, trying not to burst out in angry tears.

That was it. That was the line. Fred had gone too far. With Oliver, it was understandable-he was a bit of a prick. But Forrest... he hadn't even fought back. He was a good person, inside and out.

Fred was known for pushing the limits. It had once been one of the things Elodie loved most about him.

But sometimes limits aren't fences, they're cliffs.

And Fred had just fallen off.

Elodie's fingers were intertwined with Forrest's as she read. He was almost on the verge of sleep: it was nearly three in the morning, after all. Elodie stopped reading, voice hoarse, as his eyelids finally shut. She realized she would give anything to sleep.

"Poppy?" She whispered.

Madame Pomfrey put down her pen softly, looking pitifully at Elodie. "Yes, dear?"