This a bit of a sad story... it sort of shows how I portray Angelina's feelings... because I think she saw the twins as individuals, and loved then both equally, but in different ways.

Don't think I hate her by the way, I love Angelina!

Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine!

Katie Bell clung to Angelina Johnson as they made their way to the great hall.

"Katie, it's alright. We get to have a break, we can fix you're leg. You can keep fighting." The older girl tried to sooth.

Katie clenched her teeth and nodded. She couldn't believe she missed so much fighting. Stupid leg.

Angelina smiled at her, concerned. Katie was determined to keep going, but she'd really rather that she could somehow keep her safe.

They finally came through to the Great Hall.

"That," Katie clenched her teeth under the pain again. "Slimy- snakefaced-"

"Shh," Said Angelina. "Talk when you can rest a little. You don't want to strain yourself."

"One hour." Katie whispered. "He thinks he can dictate everything we do, giving us one bloody-"

"Katie, you sit here. I'll get something to put on your wound." She guided her to a bench and let her lean against the wall, panting.

Professor Sprout seemed to appear out of nowhere.

"Thank you Angelina, I'll take care of it." She said. Angelina was about to object, but the head of Hufflepuff turned her away.

And then she couldn't turn back.

Because if the world was falling apart, how could anyone move at all? If the Universe was caving in on itself, what was the point of trying?

And her knees seemed to shake as she took in the sight before her.

Because he could not be dead.

Fred Weasley could not be lying on the floor, unbreathing, with his family crying around him.

It was an impossible notion. That one of the Weasley twins could by motionless, frozen forever without a light in his eyes, while the other knelt by his side and wept for him.

And she felt her knees weaken. Surely she should be dead then, when the impossible was happening.

Angelina had learnt long ago that it was possible of fall in love with two people at the same time. She had understood that it was possible for her very heart to be split both ways, for there to be two halves of the whole.

And as she took in George's face something akin to joy rose inside her, but it died as soon as she noticed it's presence, sickened with herself.

She wasn't happy, was she?

Because Fred was dead, and George was alive.

And while her heart twisted and fell in on itself, it rose and pounded in her head with a crazy wild beat. And she simply couldn't work out how she felt.

Was she happy? Was she glad that it had been Fred, and not his twin?

No she wasn't, she could never be.

Then did she wish that it had been George? Did she want to trade one for the other?

No she didn't, she could never wish for that.

So what was happening then? What was happening to the choice she'd made? What had happened to her? When she had promised herself that she would never be able to do a thing about these feelings, because to choose one would be to break the other, why did this have to happen instead?

Wouldn't it have been best if she had gone? If she could have taken Fred's place. Then George wouldn't be wishing for his twin, his brother.

And Fred... He would be alive.

They would have gotten over her; she was only a girl, only a girl who they both had a sill school-boy crush on.

Because they could recover if they lost that. But this? Could one recover if he lost the other?

Eventually... but for now? George, dear, loving George... his heart would be broken, he would loose half of himself.

And she could never forgive herself for that tiny moment of joy when she had seen he was alive.

But her gaze went back to Fred's face, and she realised, numbly, that she was falling.

When she hit the floor she took the skin right off her knees, but she didn't notice.

Because she understood that Fred was gone, and it didn't make sense. Because Fred was the craziest, most reckless boy she'd ever met, and nothing could touch him, could it?

She realised someone was helping her two her feet, and she couldn't even stand, so she just leant on them, clinging to their robes.

She panicked as the dead, frozen figure of her love began to melt, and then George did too... what was happening? They couldn't be melting. That wasn't possible.

Then Angelina blinked, and the tears obscuring her vision tipped over and fell down her cheeks. She could see George again. She could see his beautiful face, and see the detail of each and every one of his freckles.

The face that she'd never see in double again.

And her heart was hurting, like a gaping hole in her chest, pain she'd never felt before.

"Angelina," Said a quiet voice, it was familiar, but it wasn't George's voice, and it wasn't Fred's, so she found it hard to pay any attention.

"Angelina, you need to stop screaming. Stop screaming his name."

Suddenly she realised she was making sound, noise tipping fourth from her mouth, and she clamped it shut, biting her lip so hard she felt the blood in her mouth, without really tasting it she swallowed, and then began to sob.

She clung to the person beside her, burying her face in her robes, she saw tartan, and in a distant, detached part of her brain, she knew it must be McGonagall.

"You're in shock dear," She said, in a soft voice Angelina had heard her use only once before, when talking to the frightened second year who didn't understand she was only growing up.

"Fred..." She croaked again, her voice barely decipherable. "Fred..."

"I know," She whispered, her hand tracing circles on Angelina's back "I know,"

"I didn't know it could hurt so much." She whispered.

Minerva pulled her back and looked into her wide brown eyes. She knew her own were all misted up.

"I thought it was painful when I knew I could never date either of them, never marry then guy I loved... when I decided I wouldn't break them apart..." She paused "Because I love them both you know."

"I noticed." Minerva said, filled with compassion.

"I am in love with both Weasley twins." She said one more time, and her voice broke.

She sat in Minerva's arms for a few long moments, she'd never be able to gage just how long it took, but at some point her brain seemed to start working.

"Who killed him?" She asked, the fierceness that had been so endearing to half the boys in her year was back.

"Who killed him?"

"I – we don't know exactly who it was." Minerva said softly. "I'm sorry."

"Then I'll kill them all." She sat up straight and wiped fiercely at her tears "I'll kill every last one myself if I have to."

Angelina would do it for them, for the men she loved.

She would avenge the broken heart and then life they had taken.

Aww... now I'm all sad... Don't forget to review!