𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗱, fred weasley

˗ˋ 99

CHAPTER NINETY-NINE
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-: seventh year :-

── IN WHICH THE PRANK
PLAYS THROUGH

. . .

The bell to signal the end of lessons for the day seemed to come rather suddenly.

Elodie had used her heritage in ways that had the twins beside her in stiches of laughter, that had to be so carefully hidden from the eyes of their watchful Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, who had a beady gaze yet the appearance of a frog, and who - following Elodie's many words spoken in rapid French - kept on glancing over to them periodically, but didn't speak another word. 

Seventh years were nor more afraid of Umbridge than they were when they were faced with Flobberworms at the hand of Hagrid's teaching decisions - to them, she was harmless, could try all she wanted to resort to only allowing them to learn theory, but she couldn't erase the prior six years they had of also gaining the ability of using spells in physical combat once in danger.

 As N.E.W.T students, they were treated more or less like adults by every other teacher in the school. Yet now they were faced with a teacher whose voice was so high-pitched, breathy and purely condescending that it was becoming increasingly hard to listen to what she said, let alone believe that her theories and beliefs that Harry Potter seeing Voldemort was something he hallucinated.

Of course, that final part only certain people actually took a liking to. There were always going to be some idiots who decided that both Dumbledore - who the Ministry had completely turned their back on despite many years of attempting to convince him that they needed his help -  and Harry Potter who was perhaps the least likely person to what Voldemort to return considering how the villian had atempted to kill him in the first place, were lying to their faces for some strange fucked up reason.

But whether people believed them or not, it hadn't stopped Umbridge from attempting to slide digs in to her never ending monologue as she tried to teach the class, one of which was suddenly interrupted by the clanging of the magical bell.

The students were up on their feet in an instance, without waiting for her to finish speaking or dismiss them - something they would perhaps do if it was McGonagall stood in front of the class - and packing up the Slinkhard books, sheets of parchment, quills and replaced the cork stoppers in the dark vials of ink, stuffing them into their bags before shuffling towards the exit.

Elodie waited in silence as Fred, George and Lee packed up their stuff, acquiring quite the dreamy, listless look in her eyes as she studied the walls - a look that someone would have if they didn't understand a word of what was going on. Which she didn't - or wasn't supposed to anyway.

As soon as Fred slung his bag over his shoulder and slid his arm around her waist, they were off, heading towards the door. "Goodbye, Professor!" Elodie shouted behind her. "Ugly cow!" She added, not bothering to lower her voice as they continued through the door and away to the classroom.

She wondered how long Fred would wait until speaking to her normally again; the lesson had been only him whispering mutters of sweet, sweet promises of what he was going to do later than night. Of course, he had been pretending to translate things to her and she had had to keep her composure as she spoke to Umbridge, which now left her waiting to actually speak to him.

As it turned out, he only made it around the corner until he was placing both hands around her waist and lifting her up into the air, an automatic reaction finding Elodie's legs locking around his torso, smiling down at him.

"You were amazing. You're so amazing - I love you, I love you, I love you." He mumbled, his arms only becoming tighter and tighter until Elodie was struggling a little for breath, being relieved only as he kissed her.

"I love you." Elodie smiled down at him.

"Good, now say it in French - you know, just for sake of the prank. Which is now going to amuse us for the rest of the year." Fred returned the gaze, eyes shining with something she recognised. Something that reflected in her own eyes.

And so she said it in French. And again, and again.

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