42: Portraits
February, 2085

He didn’t love her in the way she wanted him to. That was what he said. But he needed her. How could he need her and not love her?

Boiling water ran into the tub she sat in, the room turning slowly into a blur of steam, quiet sobbing and pain.

If Coulson didn’t love her then she had no love left for herself and her artwork proved that. A bathroom painting would make her forget.

Except he was outside and he needed her.

The tub drained, her art utensils got cleaned and so did she.

He loved her not.

88: Sweet Tooth
December, 2084

Another boy who couldn’t stomach the magnificent that was spaghetti and ice cream. Marcello’s face had been a picture, and she appreciated that he’d tried it despite his disgust. Conversation turned to his legs, and her feet found their way to his lap. “Keep it up, Marcy. You might just get a gift.”

From a crush to a date and a rose.

This could be her boy.

“What kind of gift, hm?”

“It’s a surprise.”

She was bad at surprises. She was bad at waiting.

Sitting herself on his knee, she met his Moretti lips with her ice cream ones.

52. Bore
March, 2081

“You’re such a princess!”

Because Tag Kildare thought that that was the way to offend this Robertser with only hate for him.

“Better a princess than a people-pleasing try hard.”

She was smirking at that point as he droned on about how they needed to be civil for Bliss. Elodie couldn’t bear to spend a minute longer with him and was half tempted to steal his wand and blast the door down, but only after she made a final comment.

“I have no reason to be civil with, or try with someone with less personality than a plank of wood.”

98: Pajamas
December, 2078

Elodie had a proper best friend, and she was making sure that he was involved in all of her holiday adventures. Even spending Christmas Eve over at the Darcy household in pyjamas with exploding snap and wizarding chess. She and Coulson had snuck off to get food whilst the brothers bickered over who got the next turn.

“Els?”

“Do you want biscuits or cake?”

“Biscuits. Els?”

“What?”

“Why do you keep telling me you love me?”

“I know how it feels to not hear it from your parents, and that makes you sad.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Well it makes me sad.”

65: Ooze
February 2085

Three minutes.

One hundred and eighty seconds.

For him, those three minutes were the one hundred and eighty seconds in which he was potentially an expectant father and also potentially still just a teenager with the worst relationship status in history.

For her, those three minutes were the one hundred and eighty seconds in which she already knew the outcome. She had a gut feeling. Elodie always trusted her gut feelings. The blood made her sure.

She wasn’t pregnant.

She had been two days ago.

She wasn’t pregnant anymore.

“It’s negative. We’re okay. I’m not pregnant!”

A little white lie.

7: Care of Magical Creatures
April 2069

“’fessy Robbysah!”

Jessie Robertser looked from her blackboard notes to the smallest desk of the class. Her two year old daughter had climbed from her seat onto the desk and had somehow acquired paper feathers and eggs. It was usual for Elodie to turn this Beauxbatons classroom into an art studio, but her rendition of a Fwooper’s song was enough for her mother to frown.

Elodie laughed loudly and wiggled her nose.

“I’A FOOPAH!”

“Fwooper, little bug.” She smiled fondly and turned her attention to her students. “Five Fwooper facts on my blackboard in thirty seconds, and we’ll forget homework!”

8: Potions
January, 2075

“Unaycorn blood!” Water.

“S’liva of a leprechaun!” Apple juice.

“Pee pee of a fwoop—“ Definitely just some chocolate sauce.

“Toenails of a Cornish Pixie!” Pumpkin seeds, and some added dirt.

With a hand on her lip, Elodie stirred her ‘potion’ with what was left of the twig from outside with full force. She was angry, she was upset, and she couldn’t explain how much one side of her chest hurt. It ached and her everything was empty. But this was going to make Mummy better and so people stopped saying she would die.

She wasn’t going to die.

No.

26: Quill
February, 2086

Her foot tapped as her assistant tended to her hair and Elodie Robertser folded her arms. “Your facts need updating. I haven’t been with Coulson in years.” And she was thoroughly disappointed that it had been brought up in this interview. “In fact, I’ve been dating Marcello Moretti for the past eight months.”

“Moretti? Isn’t that the name of—“

“Yes, yes. My best friend.” And Caterina was perfectly okay with it because they were happy.

“Your best friend’s brother?”

“No. Marcello is my boyfriend, and Caterina’s brother. Two different things.”

And yes, she actually was in love with him.

62: Amortentia
October, 2068

“CHISTAN DOBCY! ChiiiiiiSSSSStan?!” Where WAS he?

He was going to be demoted if he didn’t turn up to their wedding. She was going to END their best friendship right this very second if he didn’t show his face and smile and blow kisses in her direction and compliment her pretty white dress (which was definitely Mrs. Darcy’s, and she was probably going to kill her).

“L—Little R—Rob! I’m here. I am here. Tristan Darcy is here.”

It was a good job! She hadn’t put love dust in his milk for no reason!

“My HUSBA—Where is your TIE?!”

13: Quidditch
Spring, 2086

Three reasons.

There were only three reasons that Elodie Robertser would attend a quidditch match when still terrified of brooms that flew and brooms that cleaned. All three of those reasons were on one team now. Tristan, her best friend since she was a toddler. West, one of the only people she trusted with everything. Mo, her best friends L-O-V-E.

With Caterina on one side and Charlie on the other, she felt uneasy and sick as she watched two of the chasers and the new seeker of one of the teams through her fingers.

“How soon until it’s bloody over?”

89: Past
June, 2066

Braison hadn’t wanted another sister. “Mum, she’s ugly.”

“Don’t say that about your sister.”

“He has a point, Mum.”

“She’s just doing her business.”

“You mean she’s taking a dump when we’re here?!”

“She’s wearing a nappy, Braison.”

“Ew, Elodie! Ewwwwodie!”

“Is that her name, Mum? Elodie?”

The baby cooed back in recognition.

“Hey Mum, she smiled at me!!”

“She’s gassy, Braison.”

“Hey, Trouble. I’m your big brother. Let me hold her, Mum! Let me hold her!”

“Me FIRST, Buttbrain.”

The Robertser siblings spent at least the next eight hours arguing over who was going to hold the baby next.

59: Ignore
June, 2089

Every part of Elodie wanted to accept the man at her door inside the house and they could live happily ever after, but she had been hurt by him and been made to feel like she was worth very little in his eyes. Aidan Stone did not understand how easy it was for his words to stick with a woman with self-confidence problems.

Through the crack in the door, the woman stuck out her hand and instructed him quietly, ”hold my hand until I’m ready.” Because right now, she wasn’t.

And Aidan Stone needed to understand the hurt he caused.

67: Quell
August, 2092

The baby was sleeping and given the last few weeks, it was a blessing. Elodie finally settled into the arms of her boyfriend on their sofa and sighed. “My head feels empty,” she confessed. “I’m so used to hearing her cry that the quiet is deafening.”

On cue, the crying resumed and both Aidan and Elodie scrambled towards the moses basket in the room and began to calm their daughter with words and then cuddles.

Parenthood in the Stone household was impossibly full of love and the need for sleep thanks to Cecily Annavieve.

“It’s your turn to change her!”