Hey! Whats up? (Was that lame? Probably) But anyway, I know that this isn't my fist fic here on the love FanFIctionsite, but I still feel like a newbie at this. But it's explaining time. Before you start, in this story, though it doesn't come out in this chapter, I will be putting it in at a later date all the details of Fred's death. But Fred didn't just die, he died saving someone else. Hopefully that will save you all a lot of confusion at some of the sentences here, and save me having to answer questions on that. But all other questions, suggestions, critisim, or presents are welcome and sought after! So feel free to ask me, ask me anything you want, I would love to hear your thoughts and feedback, because that's how you learn right? Right! So go on and enjoy this story I have for you, and leave me a review please!
Peace!
Angelina had been squatting in the snow, simply to gain a better vantage point of the grave site. She stared through eyes pricking with unshead tears. She wouldn't cry. Not anymore, there had been too much crying lately, and he hated to see her cry, especially because of him. There was no telling how long she had been there, because she had told no one she was leaving, and time held no authority here, at least not to her. Because Fred didn't deserve for her to be checking her watch every few minutes, trying to decide if she should be getting back or not. He deserved to have her full and undivided attention, he deserved to have her for as long as he liked, but mostly, he deserved the right to live. Live much longer then he had.
Fredrick Arthur Weasley. April 1st 1978 – May 2nd 1998. Given the Order of Merlin 1st class in recognition of his outstanding bravery in the face of danger andthe sacrificial act that cost him his life in the final battle against Lord Voldemort's rein.
The words etched in stone moved magically across it, rolling in a continuous loop so as to fit all of it on the small slab of earth. She knew this was no where close to what Fred would have wanted on his headstone, he would have wanted a joke, or a prank on any who dared to come near enough to read the words 'Watch Out' and have no time to react before a great puff of black smoke would engulf you, leaving you sputtering for your breath and sight to return to you, only to discover later his name written on your forehead in ink that would last for weeks on end. He would have thought this quite bemusing. But she still found the words of praise lacking. Like there weren't enough words on that stone that lay above him, like the words were too few to sum up the man Fred had been. She saw him as a man, though the first time she had ever met him, on the boat ride to her very first day at Hogwarts, she would have told you nothing of the sort. You would have found from Angelina the information that he was more accurately described as an infant. Completely absorbed in his own world, in which everything should make him laugh, and all others should oblige him. She would have told you that Fredrick Weasley was capable of very little. His range on the spectrum of all humanity and maturity went from sleeping late, and still managing to be cranky when he finally did disentangle himself from his sheets that afternoon. To jokes he and his twin played upon unsuspecting people which bordered upon being taken too far. But things were different now. Much different.
Different in the way that people spoke of him in past tense, when they spoke of him at all. This had always been something Angelina had pretended to be deaf to until once Molly had slipped and didn't speak of her son as though he had only just left the room, and would burst back in at any moment, a ball of energy as he normally was. The room had gone quiet with her statement which had begun with,
"Fred always used to complain about doing these damned dishes…"
Her voice trailed away, and she turned very white, and she dropped the slippery dishes her wand had been cleaning, but no one took notice. Angelina excused herself from the room, and stood with the wall supporting her, because she was sure he legs no longer would, and was a touch to scared to try. Up until that point it had all seemed a horrible dream which she couldn't seem to wake from, a sick game they all played with each other, and every one was desperate not to lose, but Mrs. Weasley's acknowledgement that her eldest twin was indeed gone, made things, different.
Different in that way that most didn't mind saying the name Voldemort when they spoke of the night Fred had perished. Different in that way that she, Angelina, had married a man she hadn't loved. Not the way she had loved Fred, which in her mind was the only proper way to love another person.
George had been there for her. He had been a reminder of Fred in a way no one else could. Save for the fact that he lacked an ear his twin had managed to keep; he was a perfect mirror of him. Most would venture to guess this was why she had taken to spending all of her time around George after Fred's death rather then anyone else, and for the first year of their marriage this had tortured Angelina's very soul.
But she knew now what she hadn't known then, that the cheapening statement of her attachment to George being only because she had loved his brother, was perfectly untrue. Though George did being reminders of Fred, everyday, by the truck full, it was through some of the things he would say, or something he would do, which were so utterly Fred like that they wouldn't be ignored. Because never once in all the time she had spent with George, did her heart flutter at the mere mention of his name. Her skin didn't chill and flush in the same moment when their skin would brush. She did come to love George. Eventually. Some say it was wrong what she did, but she came to love him and this is what she chose to see because it was all that truly mattered. After so many hours around a soul so infectious, you couldn't help but arrive at that unavoidable end. But it was a different love. One that was easy, one that was nice, one that was a comfort to her when she had needed it the most.
Not one that she would ever call uncontrollable, or at times so unbearably large that she could hardly stand it, as she had so often spoken of her love for Fred in this manor.
No, this love was safe.
She let her fingers graze the headstone and imagined the cold, snow covered grave to be warm and living, and very much like Fred's face had been the first time their lips had ever met. All these years later she could still recalled the way he felt, smelled, sounded, the very way that he was. She remembered lots of things about him from the days when she could see him anytime it stuck her fancy.
Like the moment she had discovered that the rush of emotions that rolled through her veins, ending at her heart, and filling it so entirely that it threatened to burst, was actually love. Of course those feeble emotions were nothing compared to the moment when Fred had said it to her.
"I love you."
The emotion filled her now. Taking not only her heart, but also her lungs, her hands, her toes, her eyes, every part of her. The words echoed in her mind, those words which had been whispered in her ear by a man who though her sleeping.
A man, whom had whispered those words in the dead of night, and then was gone. Left her to bear the weight of what those words meant, all alone.
Angelina could still tell you to this day that very first moment she had looked at Fredrick Weasleywithout the slightest hint of annoyance or loathing. Not that she had fallen in love with him on the spot, far from it, but there was something, something so unexpectedly foreign in that moment that she wouldn't be able to understand what it had been until much later. But it was certainly the first time she had truly believed that he could experience more on the spectrum of human emotion then humor, and fierce competitiveness.
It had been most strange. Seeing him in such light, because never once in the five years she had known him, had there ever been a hint of chivalry roaming around inside of him, she hadn't thought he even knew the word, much less knew that he could preform such acts of it's description. But it had, it may have been the fact that it was so out of character for him that it stayed with her, even days after it had happened, it may have been that she had been waiting for the day when anyone would stand up for her, other then herself of course, and it just so happened that it was Fred who had been this person.
It had been their 5th year at Hogwarts and the whole Quidditch team had been on the pitch, performing various tasks. Oliver and Katie were trying to strap down a bludger that had accidentally been let loose and was now chasing Alicia round the field, Fred and George were hovering high about the rest, speaking in hushed tones and pointing at the three rings which stood fifty feet high. And then there was Harry, he was engrossed as always, in what the rest of his teammates had begun to called his pre-game warm up, because it was much catchier then "Harry's spinney thing on his broom that makes us want to vomit." He was circling the field lying flat on his broom, going as fast as he possibly could, before he would pull up into a deadly spin, soaring higher then most 3rd ears would have dared, leaving everyone on the ground dizzy from the action of only watching, andwondering aloud to one another how it was that he wasn't falling off his broom like a drunken bar patron. Angelina for her part was sitting on her broom, her toes only inches from brushing the ground, trying to get the quaffle, which lay quite forgotten, to levitate with little success. After what had seemed an eternity, Oliver and Katie had managed to rescue Alicia from the rogue bludger and strapped it back down. All brooms mounted and in the air Oliver started calling speed drills, but Fred wasn't participating, he was prodding his twin to his left, and pointing to the entrance.
The Slytherins were striding on, heads high, brooms in hand, Quidditch robes on, and obviously under the outrageous impression they were to practice there. Following Oliver, Angelina came to hover near the ground in-between Fred and George.
"Gryffindors still have another hour." Oliver said icily.
Angelina stare at Marcus Flint, the captain of the Slytherin team as all eyes swiveled to him, gauging his reaction.
"Yes," He sneered slowly, a smile growing on his oddly pinched features, "But our seekers just got back from sick leave, and he's a little rusty, and Professor Snape assures us practice time before the match. Seeing at you Gryffindors saw fit to soak up our unused practice time." He leered at them triumphantly, holding out a folded piece of parchment.
Oliver hastily unfolded the creases, Angelina would have read over his shoulder, but Fred, Harry and Katie were between them, so she didn't bother to crane her neck resorting instead to shared disbelieving looks with George and Fred.
"What's it say Oliver?" Harry asked, his eyes never having left the white haired by she recognized as Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin seeker, recently and some what miraculously recovering from the injuries that had kept him so disabled he hadn't even attended the last two matches against Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw.
"Professor Snape is ordering us of the pitch or we'll all be suspended from Quidditch indefinitely." Oliver said, looking as thought someone had just informed him, he only had a matter of hours to live, and he didn't bother to drop his hand when Alicia, perched at his right, snatched the crumpled parchment from within his grasp.
Harry was on the ground before Alicia could read the note, and engage in outrage for herself, "We'll just see what McGonagall says about this!" He exploded hotly, as Oliver, Katie and Alicia made to follow him, but Angelina stayed where she was when Fred and George shared a look a small shake of their heads, and didn't even twitch when Flint grunted loudly at them.
"No, we won't." George said from her left, tilting his head to one side, contemplating the shift in the Slytherin team.
"That's right, I think we'll stay here thanks." Fred agreed from her right, nodding to further show his allegiance to this statement.
The entire Slytherin team beamed at the three still hovering above them, this had clearly exceeded the reaction they had been hoping for, andnow thought their minor rebellion over with, as Flint took a masked step forward standing just beneath Fred.
"Instead," Continued George, shifting atop his broom to address Flint directly for the first time, "How about we play you for it, if you lot win, then we will let you practice here the rest of the day, no pestering from us, and no running to McGonagall."
The little color Oliver had been able to keep in his face drained, and he dropped his broom, seeing as his hands were much too busy running through his hair, over his face, and cupping his gaping mouth in shock at what his beaters had just done, and his chaser had silently participated in, to hold it any longer.
"But," Fred offered, flicking a brief glance to his ashen faced captain, "If we win. You gits get the bloody hell off of our pitch, no protests, and no running to Snape."
"Unless of course, you are too chicken." The twins chorused, seven pairs of eyes narrowed at Fred and George, and by default Angelina.
There was a war waging inside of Flint as he stood flexing his grip upon his broom handle, he knew full well if he walked away from a blatant challenge from the Gryffindors that it would reach the school before they had even taken off their Quidditch robes. But the last time the Slytherins had met the Gryffindors in a match, the Gryffindors had dominated them in ever aspect.
The confusion cleared from Flint's face, and without turning to consult his team, Marcus strode towards the middle of the pitch, his team taking care to knock their shoulders against the Gryffindorsraining on the ground, as they trailed after Flint.
Oliver hastily came to stand in front of his beaters, craning his neck upwards he growled, "What the devil did you do that for?"
"Come on Oliver," Fred shrugged casting a glance at the Slytherins gathered in a tight huddle in the middle of the pitch, "We could best those idiots withour brooms chained to the ground, anda blind seeker."
Angelina laughed, and Fred turned to smile at her, and George nodded vigorously, "Yeah, maybe we'll even beat them so bad, they'll forfeit Saturday's match and spare themselves the public embarrassment."
The entire team knew that no such a thing would occur, but Oliver mounted his broom trying to hide a grin anyway. The game lasted well past the allotted hour, each team neck andneck for nearly every second of it, Angelina had been so focused on the quaffle she hadn't even noticed the capture of the snitch. Until Fred came screaming by, flat on his broom, calling over his shoulder to Angelina to looked down. She turned to find Oliver beaming. They had won!
Throwing her hands in the air, she opened her mouth with the intent to cheer evident on her face, and the sound bubbling up her throat, but the sound that left her mouth more resembled a yelp of pain, then a whoop of delight. Losing her balance, as the bludger that had been lobbed at her met her spine, with a resounding crack sounding like an appearing house elf, she fell forward off of her broom, and was sent hurtling towards the Earth, turning over mid air trying to clutch at the handle of her broom and missing it by only inches.
George and Katie rushed to her side, while Oliver hollered to Alicia and Harry to alert Madam Pomfrey, before he too came to her aid.
Casting her stinging eyes around, she saw a flash of ginger out of the corner of her watering eye, andtaking a moment to clear them she focused properly. Her heart stopped in its tracks, Fred, wand out, and pointed at a boy whose name she couldn't recall through the pain, who had been laughing the loudest out of his teammates as she fell probably the one who had hit the bludger at her.
They were hissing through tightly clenched teeth, and the rest of those around her, turned slowly to find what had captured all of her present attention, even fading the pain from her right arm into the background as she watched the scene unfolding before her. Oliver and Katie set off at a run towards them, while George only smiled, keeping his hands steadily on her back should she suddenly feel the need to collapse.
Fred suddenly threw the wand away, reared back and released. Fred's fist hitting the boy, whom George had just identified as Vincent Crabbe, square on the nose, before he dove on top of him andproceeded to hit every square inch of him. Shucking off all attempts to stop him, until he was hit from behind with a full body bind; and he fell limp to the ground beside Crabbe. His face turning purple as he tried to move andscream. Wheeling around they all watched as Madam Pomfreycalmly replaced her wand inside of her robes, andmoved steadily towards them at a totter, seemingly unconcerned with Fred for the moment. Bending over Angelina, Pomfrey proceeded to mutter to herself quietly, andprod at parts of her body, watching for a reaction, pointing her wand, and saying clearly, "Brackium Emendo!"
Until she seemed satisfied with Angelina's medical state and allowed her to stand. Taking her by the newly mended elbow and leading her towards the Hospital Wing. Only pausing briefly to tell Oliver, "Go and get Professor McGonagall, tell her that one," She said eying the motionless and continually purpling Fred disgustedly; "Will be in need of a serious detention." And walked away muttering about the good ole' days, when Wizards were still humble about their powers.
Angelina was made to lie in a bed, and eat her weight in chocolate for the remainder of the day. Even after repeatedly informing Madam Pomfreythat there as absolutely nothing wrong with her; each time receiving less of an answer then the time before. Lying there bored, so bored she wished that her arm had been turned to jelly as Harry's had all those years ago because the pain would have distracted her from all of the thoughts she didn't wish to be having. Instead she was perfectly fine, feeling no pain at all, andstill lying in a bed with nothing to fill her mind but her avid consideration of the events of that morning on the pitch.
Fred had defended her. She hadn't been sure until that morning that anyone saw her someone in need of defending. At least not the way they saw Alicia and Katie. Even though the two could be as tough as nails when the situation called for it, the rest of the time was spent talking about hairstyles they might want to try, or boys they are interested in, or ball which they would very much like said boys to accompany them to.
It wasn't that Angelina didn't enjoy all of those things; it was just that she didn't talk about them as often, or as open as they did. Also she couldn't bring herself to be so hopelessly oblivious to the boys on their team, Oliver and George in particular, all craning their necks to listen in on their conversation. Every thought came back to one. Fred had defended her. He knew better then most all of the things that could land one in detention if they were so inclined, and yet he had still been the one to step up and stand up for her. The memory of him swinging at Crabbe flashed though her mind, and she stomach gave an odd jerk, like she was being jumped through a port key. In the middle of trying to decipher this reaction, the Gryffindor team had arrived, bringing various sweets they had pilfered from dinner, and news of what had happened after she left.
"McGonagall got there before anyone even went to find her, and she was raving mad," George was saying, including exuberant hand gestures and a very convincing imitation of their head of house, "But when she released him, he went at Crabbe again, you should have seen him it was brilliant!"
"He's lucky he didn't get us all suspended!" Oliver added from behind Katie.
"Still it was very noble wasn't it? Coming to her defense like that." Katie said over her shoulder at Oliver.
"Very stupid is more like it." He muttered loud enough for all to hear, but no one took notice.
"It took me, Oliver and George to pull Fred off him, because they rolled at the last second and McGonagall's bind hit Crabbe instead." Harry said unconsciously touching the rim of his glasses.
All their heads turned to look at Vincent, who was lying near the doors at the front of the wing, and Angelina just realized he had been brought it. From the distance between them she couldn't have told you for sure, but the usual porkish ways of this boy seemed particularly large, and he had a purple hue to his skin, which she was quite sure he hadn't possessed before.
"So—where is Fred?" Angelina asked, trying to keep her tone as though he had not been the first person she had wanted to see when she saw the scarlet and crimson stripes of her teammate's ties.
They all looked disbelieving at her, "Well—detention of course." Alicia said, and Angelina felt the urge to smack herself in that forehead. Of course he would be in detention; he had attacked someone—twice.
"Does anyone know why he was so mad?" She asked, staring into the blank faces of her normally myriad of emotional teammates.
"You mean besides the fact that you got hurt?" George asked, his tone telling her, he knew a lot more then she.
"Well, yes obviously besides that. He went at Crabbe twice, after being in a full body bind for at least a minute or three, I rather thought he would have calmed down by the time McGonagall got there."
George fell silent, looking like he felt he had said too much already, but Oliver piped up to save him, "It's kind of sounded like Crabbe was taunting Fred. Telling him the only reason Fred would best him was because he hadn't brought his wand to practice. That was when he threw the wand away."
"Yeah," Katie said nodding to him, "But before that, it kind of sounded like he had been calling you names." She said pointedly, and then snapping her mouth shut she turned to glare at Oliver who, though no one had seen, had just pinched Katie in the side, effectively shutting her mouth. Angelina would tell herself later in life to find Katie and thank her for those words.
"What—what had he said?" Angelina tried to pretend her voice wasn't quivering as she attempted to speak.
The team looked sheepish and suddenly found something else to look at other then her, something they all seemingly found very interesting. Clearly, they had already discussed what had happened.
"He um—" Harry started, trailing off, and resuming to not look at her any longer.
"A—Mudblood." George finished, more quietly then she had ever heard one of the twins before.
Angelina looked over at Crabbe, it wasn't exactly a secret that her parents were muggles, and she certainly wasn't ashamed of it, but this was the reason she refrained from broadcasting it about the school. She blinked back tears, not entirely sure why it was they were prickling at her eyes, but she didn't want to cry in front of the whole team, and Malfoy and Goyle who had just come to Crabbe's bedside andnow the three were watching the group piled around her bed.
She looked away from her team, and took an unsuccessful nonchalant swipe at her eyes; no one pointed it out. They just looked at each other, and back to her. Even George reached out and patted her hand in a reassuring way.
"But now at least everyone knows you can't mess with Gryffindorswithout ending up in the Hospital Wing knocked silly." George said grinning at the others.
Everyone wanted to laugh and grin at this, but no one moved until Angelina let a smile and an almost breathless laugh escaped her lips. Because laughing was better then trying not to cry, so they laughed, laughed until they were breathless and clutching their sides, wondering why it was so funny, and then laughing so long they tried to recall what had caused their glee in the first place. So long was the laughter, and so loud that Madam Pomfrey came out of her office and shooed them all away. Making everyone chortle to themselves, when she turned to berate Malfoy and Goyle; sending them out of the Wing as well.
Angelina's dinner that evening was confined to the Hospital Wing, and consisted of a portion of the feast being sent up by a sickly looking house elf. It's bat like ears drooping slightly as they carried that tray that looked to weigh about as much if not more, then the creature. Large bright blue orb like eyes stared in quite reverence at her when she told it thank you. As they placed the tray on top of the small table that had been conjured beside her bed.
"Hope all is satisfactory mistress." A high, squeak of a voice told her, and they shuffled off.
She wanted to say something else to the house elf, but she hadn't. The frail slight thing had slinked of, without appearing to touch the door that opened before them, and closed silently after their exit. Angelina thought later that she could have thanked him or her for bringing her this food all the way up the stairs from the kitchens, when they could have appriatedfrom one spot to the next. But she knew apparition with food was a difficult task, because you couldn't be touching all of the food at once.
Angelina had never been able to sleep comfortably in the beds of the Hospital Wing, and more so on this night. It might have had something to do with Crabbe snoring louder then the Hogwarts Express several beds over, or it could have been that her first dream and the ones following had been only of Fred's face, different expressions, laughing very hard, crying very loudly, extreme boredom, but the last was just a smiling Fred. Not overly expressed, just a slow and lazy smile of a very contented man that pooled heat in her stomach as she though about him smiling like that at her one day. But it held an even greater likelihood that her sleeplessness in this instant was due to the person crouched over her, and reaching out as though to caress her cheek.
Sitting upright in bed, she pushed the figure back with one hand, and withthe other groped under her pillow, where her wand normally resided, and shouting, "Expelermous! Unnecessarily, seeing as her wand was locked away inside of Madam Pomfrey's office. Her empty hand was facing the unknown being in front of her, andher heart was racing, sending adrenaline through her system, wondering what kind of sinister act was in store for her, when two large pale, and freckled hands shot out from the darkness one grasping her shoulder, andthe other covering her mouth, silencing the scream that was on it's way up her throat, and quickly choking on her tongue.
A face slid into a patch of pale moonlight, a face almost as pale as the moonlight itself, but so covered in freckles that the user of this face appeared almost tan, but she knew this person quite well, and would venture to say that she knew his face even better. When you considered that she had been watching this very face dance across her mind for over half the night, the venture wasn't really a venture at all, but crossed more over into fact then anything else.
"Angelina! Calm down! It's just me!" He hissed, moving even closer to her, and ineffectively back into shadow as the windows light didn't cast that far into the room. But she didn't need light anymore to know who this was in front of her, and upon that thought she was suddenly very aware of how close Fred Weasley was to her face.
For a very long few moments, he only stared grinning at her, taking in as much of her as possible, and she of him, because, though she was entirely slow to admitting it, she had missed him. After seeing him day in and day out, what with classes, and Quidditch practices, Angelina had become quite used to wishing him a good morning, and being able to bid him good night, and now that she hadn't done that, she rather felt her day was incomplete in a way.
For another very short almost non-existent moment, while they sat in silence just taking in one another, she thought his eyes had flashed to her lips, and he might have even leaned, telling herself firmly once the moment was gone that she most certainly had not leaned into him. But the space of time, in which they tried to block out the world, andjust be witheach other, ended, as all spaces of time must. This time ended a more violent death then more, as Crabbe gave an especially loud snore that sounded as though he were beginning to choke. Fred broke their eye contact and removed his hands from her shoulders hastily. Angelina's entire system chilled at once, and she stared distractedly at his hands, and wondered whether or not he had placed a heating charm on them, to keep them so much warmer then the temperature of the Wing, which she knew to be several degrees warmer then the rest of the castle, because Madam Pomfreywas convinced it helped with the healing process.
While she took up her time watching Fred's hands, which were now flexing absentmindedly under her scrutiny, and she would feel him staring back at her, and she blushed lightly, taking her eyes from his hands, and his whole person for that matter, wondering to herself when exactly it was that she had become the girl who would blush with only a look, or when this person had turned into Fred, or when he had stopped being the annoying ginger beater from Potions.
Meeting his gaze Angelina smiled, and Fred seemed to visibly relax, his shoulder that he had unconsciously tensed when she had said nothing about his sudden and obviously alarming arrival, dropping and his features, which had been drawn tightly together in thought as to how she would react when she finally did register that he was sitting on the edge of her bed, softened, and he really seemed content to just watch her.
But this would not work, because his gaze was making her fidget nervously, pulling at her pinky, blushing furiously, andbrushing perhaps non-existent wisps of hair from her face before resolving to tuck an entire strandof hair behind her ear, andtaking a large gulp of air, hoping to find courage in the oxygen.
"How did you get in here?" She asked finally, looking annoyed at herself, and again brushing at hair Fred could not see.
This had not been what she had meant to ask, she hadn't set out to ask anything at al, she wanted to say something, something charming, and witty, and possibly even a little bit flirtatious, she had very much wanted to channel Alicia or Katie, but it hadn't worked. As was her usual, she managed to come off as blunt andall together stand offish, even her tone wasn't welcoming, it sounded as though she were ready to run to Percy and inform him o what his brother had done, not like she was in awe that he risked come up here an managed to get in. But now that she had asked, and the question was out there and she stopped to think about it, the door was locked, and Madam Pomfrey worked very hard to keep people, Fred and George in particular, out.
Fred laughed and pointed towards the row of very high, and equally as ancient windows, which stood severalten feet about the marble floor that was presently gleaming in the moon bathit was receiving, casting an oddly romantic glow about the place. One window, she realized upon further inspection was opened, "It's kind of hard to do, lots of concentration and a good bit of talent," He added, in the Fred Weasley way that didn't really sound like he was giving himself a pat on the back, "You've got to Alohamora the window and it'll swing free, hen you fly up on your broom except it won't fit through the window so then you need to levitate yourself down from there. That's the part that takes concentration."
Angelina stared horror-stricken; looking from Fred to the window and all of the very large quantity of unoccupied space between that window and the cold and merciless floor below, "You levitated yourself through the window and down to the floor?" She asked loudly as Fred looked over his shoulder at the window, simultaneously checking to see if she had awoken Madam Pomfrey or Crabbe, "That's at least a hundred feet! What if you had fallen?" She asked, pleased that the anger she had wanted to spit at him hadn't reached her tone, and she more sounded like she was exceedingly concerned, rather then furious that he had been so incredibly stupid.
"Well," He started, thinking over her question, as he gazed back up at the window, and then back at Angelina, who had arranged her face into what she hoped was an awed and concerned expression before he smiled at her, "Madam Pomfreywould have found me in a couple of hours, back broken no doubt, and I still would have ended up in the Wing. So if I had fallen, I say mission still accomplished."
Rolling her eyes, Angelina couldn't help but smile, Fred looked one last time at the window, and turned back fully to face her, shifting on the bed as he did, his hand coming to rest on top of her covered knee, andstilling. Angelina foundherself quite still as well, either he didn't know it was her knee he was touching, which she thought doubtful as it was protruding from underneath her bedcovers at an odd angle, and was more pointy then she thought anything on her person to be besides perhaps her elbow. Or he didn't mind him touching her knee, they were friends after all, andshe had seen him on more then one occasion sitting on a couch of their common room, with Katie andAlicia's legs thrown over top of his, his hands resting listlessly on top of their knees as there was no other place to put them during their conversation. Or the last, which she told herself she was wholly indifferent too, Fred liked the feeling of having her knee trapped beneath his hand, and didn't feel the want or see the need to move it.
"So, why did you come up here?" She asked sheepishly, pretending she didn't have an answer in mind, and it wouldn't matter if his answer was different from hers because there was nothing between them.
For a moment the skin of Fred's face was indistinguishable from his hair, and he looked down flexing his fingers, making it feel as though he were massaging her knee, which Angelina thought would have felt quite nice, if she had felt anything towards Fred, which of course she did not.
"Well," He managed, though only after his coloring again returned to normal, "Well ah—you could say I wanted to—oh hell, I was worried—about—about you." Fred finished quietly and looked up from under thick red eyelashes, as though waiting for a snort of laughter or a look of disgust. Both of which he could have accepted, but Angelina did neither of those things, or any other form of rejection he could have thought of. Instead she reached out and covered his had with hers smiling at him, in an odd sort of way, a way he rather like though he couldn't have told you why, but still quite odd.
Ignoring her now inflamed cheeks, and the pull behind her navel, "Thanks." She said giving his hand a squeeze before removing it, only a few inches from his head now, as to remain close to him, and mussing her hair again, hoping to get some air to the heated back of her neck.
"Aw, it was nothing," He said in a smile covering his face, as he looked away from trying to hide his hair color again reaching her cheeks, "I would have been here earlier, but McGonagall had me doing lines. I think she didn't really care all the much about Crabbe once I told her what happened—" Fred paused, looking away from her, as though begging her not to ask her about it.
Angelina shook her head," I meant for earlier. With Crabbe and the Mudblood thing." She said wondering where this eerie calm was coming from, after the team had left, she found her thoughts filled though only for a few moments with vial thoughts of Crabbe, wondering how soon she would be expelled if she accidentallykilled him in his sleep. Wondering if she would be able to tell Fred thank you before they carted her off to Azkaban.
Fred sat stiller then she could ever remember him, for a minute or three, as though contemplating the word 'Mudblood'
"No one should ever get away with calling another person that," He told her through tightly clenched teeth, seeming to be more angry over the matter then she had ever been, "Besides," He started his voice rising by the moment, his fury fueled now that he was able to let these frustrations out, "Both his parents were magic weren't they? What great feat is it becoming a wizard when it's in your blood? None at all that's what! You," Fred said pointing a finger at her, almost accusingly so, and leaning closer still, as now they were almost nose-to-nose with one another, "Got magic all on your own. As far as I'm concerned, you are ten times the magical being Crabbe could ever dream of being." He finished heatedly, and Angelina smiled at him.
"Thanks Fred." She said pretending she wasn't flushing, and covering his hand again with hers, not having realized that he had left it lying palm up as he had risen it to make a point and let it fall slack.
As their conversation fell away, the silence seemed unbounded, and so permanent even Crabbe's snores didn't reach their ears, as they sat staring at their hands, Angelina took to counting the freckles on the underside of his forearm, careful not to think about how close to her face he would have to be in order for his breath to be heating the crook of her neck, like it was, and she kept counting. The distraction of his seemingly infinite freckles allowed her to forget exactly how unsettling his gaze was, and pretended that the burn of his gaze on the curve of her cheek hadn't been what had made her loose count—twice.
His thumb twitched, and Angelina lost all concepts of numbers completely. It brushed delicately against her pinky, and she fought a sigh. His fingers were moving andaligning with hers, so that the slightest turn in either direction would have their fingers entangled, and thus hold each other's hand. A deep groan sounded from inside the castle, sounding as though the stairs were shifting their positions after a very long night of remaining stationary, Fred looked towards the door, giving Angelina the option to resume her regularly scheduled breathing.
Since when had any boy, much less Fred, been able to affect her like this? She asked herself silently, but found herself unable to answer.
"Well I guess I should be heading back, I don't want to risk Pomfrey doing a late night check." Fred said, moving his fingers a fraction of an inch andhovering in-between both of hers, before he retreated, dropping his hand from hers and shoving them deeply inside the pockets of his robes.
"So you come up here often to see girls then?" She asked suddenly, hoping to lighten the mood, make things like the moon casting it's essences about the room, and the breath she could still feel tickling across her neck, and the fact that for the first time in her life, she had almost been holding hands with a boy, feel less intimate.
" I know from spending so much time up her myself," He corrected lightly, "I've never come up here after hours for a girl." He admitted. Suddenly making what she had felt was light, good-humored conversation into something she did not wish for so early, and with so little sleep while she sat helpless to do much of anything about it.
"Oh, I didn't mean to—I was just—I was trying to be funny." She admitted too, tucking yet another strand of her hair behind her ear, and looking away from him.
Fred nodded his understanding, and smiled at her, "Good night Angel." He whispered and stood, leaning much closer to her then as necessary for this action, so close that his breath instead of ghosting across her neck, as it had been doing, it left a firm imprint of itself on her neck and she shuddered.
"Night." She managed, andwatched painfully as Fred drew his wand, muttering to himself too many words to have anything to do with the spell, and flew quite unsteadily towards the window. Before he grabbed onto something she could not see, and dropped out of sight, though never from mind.
Sleep came to Angelina in fits that night, fits that left her almost less rested then before. Rising early as Madam Pomfrey did, and after one last check was given permission to leave. Walking slowly down the corridor to Gryffindor Tower, she waved to several portraits as few stretched, and offered her a lazy wave or greeting in return, while others hastened to straighten their powered wigs, but most slumbered on oblivious to her presence in the hallway, andshe found herself jealous of their easy sleep, and she longed to do just the same in the last few hours before breakfast would be served.
The castle was silent, save for the light snores several paintings gave off, which was why the pounding of heavy footfalls startled her so. The thrum of them had been so rhythmic she hadn't noticed it until it was echoing off the walls, making the hall sound as though a Calvary was marching through it's long and empty corridors.
Turning just in time to see bright ginger hair and panicked green eyes. Her stomach gave a funny jolt, which she would later try and reason was due to the fact that she was about to be trampled upon. But al she could truly recall from that moment was trying to determine if she had ever before witnessed anything as green as Fred's eyes.
Hands outstretched in hopes of smashing as little of her as was possible, Fred slammed into her full force, knocking them both into the portrait of the Fat Lady, Angelina had been about to speak to.
The Fat Lady awoke with a start, eyes wide, and looking about her frantically as she screamed loudly in their ears, this was when Angelina could clearly make out another set of footsteps now that Fred's had ceased.
Pushing her hands over her ears in an attempt o keep out the bellow that had no doubt woken all of the portraits on the seventh floor, but much of the whole castle also held a great likelihood. But before she was given time to react further to this Fred was throwing a cloak, she hadn't noticed he was carrying, over their heads, and shouting "Bibliophile!"
The scream stopped, and The Fat Lady was staring at the giant black blob that was Fred and Angelina, and ruffling her collar disdainfully at them calling them a name Angelina assumed was the height of insults whenever she had bee painted, she swung forward, knocking Fred's shoulder in the process, to which he responded by calling her a very nasty insult that was more this century.
Stifling a laugh, eh dragged Angelina through the portrait hole, andran to a book case he held out his wand andmuttered something at the third book from the left second shelf from the top, and it swung forward, surprising Angelina enough to make her take a step back. At least she would have, if Fred hadn't already had hr by the elbow and was pulling her into the nitch it revealed, andpulled at a small hole that stood parallel to his shoulder, to help it swing back silently closed behind them. Leaving himself and Angelina rather snug within the small space, which had obviously been intended for singular use only?
For a moment or two, they stood breathing heavily as the adrenaline of the moment ebbed from their systems leaving them to deal with the predicament of the present. Which involved Fred, practically leaning against Angelina, his hands on either side of her head, as her hands were clutching at his robes, both staring at each other.
Footsteps from the common room caused him to turn his head though neither moved the rest of them, whether to step away from each other, as a big part of them knew they should, but a small egged them to press impossibly closer to the other. Placing his fingers to her lips in a motion for her complete silence, in the same moment she let out a large andshaky breath.
Fred's entire head snapped back towards her, as his eyes cut to his index finger, her breath rushed past his finger, and they watched each other carefully for a moment, but then he took his fingers away, almost regretfully, from her, he took a step back, or at least he attempted to, and she watched his attempt to make two more steps, trying to shrink back into the wall of the alcove, but was met with inevitable resistance, though he was determined, pressing himself flat against the wall, hoping it would swallow him whole.
The footsteps had been marching around the room, and were now growing fainter, andeven fainter until they could hear no movement at all. Angelina looked downward at the crack beneath the bookcase that was casting light inside their cubby, and then at Fred who had been watching her, andshe raised her eyebrows in question. But he shook his head, motioning on his own lips this time, they still required silence. It was a full ten minutes later when Angelina found herself nearing the endof her patience, it was far too irritable to be in there much longer, she needed to finda way to get the burn of Fred's fingers off of her lips, but mostly she needed sleep. Figuring a few hours of being dead to the world would do her some good. She would be able to wake with a clear head, andconsider what all of this was. Not but a moment before he was about to complain aloud to Fred that he was acting mad, whomever had been chasing him was long gone by now, an irritated stamp of a foot connected withthe ground just outside the bookcase like a reprimanded toddler, and proceeded to march back through the common room, apparently no longer concerned whether they woke anyone or not. A real fading of footsteps this time, andFred pushed the bookcase withthe tip of his wand and the door swung forward. He paused, holding out a hand in front of himself, gesturing that she should go first. Angelina moved past him, and watched as he let it swing back into place.
"Everything alright?" He asked as she stood with confusion knitting her brow.
"Yes." She had meant to relay more, but as she tried the burning on her lips came back to her senses seven fold, and she suddenly found herself lacking the ability to speak.
Fred watched her, his hand thrust deep in the pockets of his robes, and sighed, "Well—it would probably be best if you didn't mention this," He said waving his hand, still clutching his wand about the common room tracing their pathto the bookcase, "To anyone. If Filch finds out it was me he might just take it up with Dumbledore this time."
"What did you do?" She inquired, forcing herself to remain perfectly normal as the burning rushed over her lips.
"I gave Mrs. Norris a good swift kick, she had been following me all over the ground since I left the Hospital Wing. Told her to get lost, but she didn't take the hint, so I was forced to take a more hands on approach. Or in this case, foot on approach." He said a smile gracing his features, as though kicking the feline had been the only real option he had left.
"Well I'm sure if you just told Dumbledore that, he would be understanding of your situation." She said smiling at her.
Fred laughed breathlessly, and nodded, "We should really be getting to bed Filch likes to come back after a few minutes when he thinks a student thinks they are all clear."
Straightening up, Angelina found that though she was joyous to be out of such closeness to Fred, she was sad to be leaving his company. When he wasn't showing of for first years, or pulling pranks, he was actually quite enjoyable to be around, a small voice inside of her tried to remind her that she liked him just fine pulling pranks, and showing off.
"Good Night." She said turning towards the stairs, mentally checking that off the list.
"It's morning." He said teasingly, as he backed away to the stairs leading for the boy's dormitory.
She smiled at him and licked her lips, "Well good morning then."
Fred's smile grew and he turned away from her, casting one last gaze over his shoulder at her that Angelina didn't see.
She felt as though she had only blinked before Alicia was shaking her awake, and Katie was already holding out her robes to her, light pouring in from a window told Angelina that it was well past the time she had been sent back to her dormitory.
"We're supposed to be off already. You're lucky Katie though to check your bed, we all thought you were still in the Hospital Wing. Well go on, we haven't got all day." She said, brandishing the robes nearer her face then was necessary.
Angelina took the robes from Katie and did her best not to be angry with her teammates, they had only been trying to help, and they hadn't known her plan was to sleep through breakfast so she wouldn't have to see Fred until the last possible moment when she was ready. She had no idea how she was going to make it all the way through Potions while he stood just next to her, then entire time.
Entering the Great Hall that morning Angelina cringed, the bright sun light bewitched upon the ceiling, and coming in from the high and spotless windows was blinding to the sleep that lingered in her eyes. Taking a hand to shield her eyes from it, she found her gaze locked on a tall, skinny, ginger haired boy. Her stomach gave a jump and she sucked in a breath so hard and so fast she was surprised she hadn't choked upon it. She blinked and suddenly wasn't looking at the back of a red hair boy, but was holding his impossibly green gaze.
Alicia was back at her side, looking concerned, "Everything alright?" She asked, her hand stilling mid-air, as though she though Angelina could faint at any possible moment.
"Fine." She replied so unconvincingly so, that Alicia took it upon herself to lead Angelina by the hand to the Gryffindor table.
Angelina watched, helpless to stop the ginger hair growing nearer to her, and felt the green eyes probing her. Finally, and very much to her dismay, Alicia placed her seat opposite Fred, which apparently the team had been saving for her.
"Alright there, Angelina?" Oliver asked searchingly. Angelina nodded, and smiled to her. Ignoring the fact that she knew Oliver was asking out of 30% concern for her well being and70% concern for their upcoming match. It was a fact you learned to live with when you were friends andteammates withOliver WordsworthWood. But it was thought of by most as an endearing compliment that Oliver cared enough about you to associate you with Quidditch.
She stared pointedly at her food, shutting down the urge to looked up at Fred who was presently letting his gaze burn holes in he skin, starting at the top of her head, and ending at the tips of her fingers. Though she could hear him having a perfectly normal conversation with George and Oliver about their match, yet not once did the burn o his eyes watch her ever recede, relieving her skin of the melting sensation it got whenever he set his gaze in her direction.
Before long Angelina heard Oliver stand from the table and she looked up at him as he told them all goodbye, Katie and Alicia very soon followed, Alicia throwing a look over her shoulder at their table as she reached the door, and slapping a hand down on Fred shoulder and grinning very wide George asked for wished luck andstrode off after them. Angelina looked around frantically for someone, but the spots the missing teammates had left hadn't yet been filled, she searched for Harry, but he was at the other endof the table talking animatedly with another Weasley. Ron she thought his name was. But it didn't matter she was alone, and the curve of her cheek was melting.
Angelina threw a quick glance at Fred, and found him looking delicious. His hair his mother had finally become so insistent he cut, was short and spiked but not artfully like his twin chose, with lots of gel, and few ever lasting charms, no this kind of spike came from a shower and a quick towel dry, and leaving it be. He was smiling brilliantly at her, and she could handle it, what was meant to be only a brief glance in his direction turned into an outright stare. Humor was dancing in his eyes, as he too watched her reaction to him, crossing his arms he placed his elbows upon the table.
Something that sounded rather like a squeak exited Angelina's mouth, and she covered her hands over it, only an instant too late, standing from the table quickly, she hurried from the room, almost running down several first years whose names she was sure she would never known, and Abigail Trace a Hufflepuff 4th year.
Angelina stood against the wall outside the great hall, hidden behind a large gargoyle, and breathing very unevenly. She had always known there was something about arms for her. Alicia was about a boy's hair, Katie was all about the eyes, Hermione was all about what went on inside, it wasn't what they made their decision upon, but it was what had attracted them in the first place. For Angelina this had always been arms. She had always known somewhere in the back of her head, that Fred would have arms, that she had seen them every school year up until now, nearly ever day. But there was something different about seeing them today, just like there was something different about seeing him the night before, and just like there was something different about him leaving his food in order to come and find her, and not giving up when she wasn't standing in the open, but walking about the giant stone gargoyle andfinding her, arms around her sides. Not prepared to laugh at her, as she had desperately hoped he would be, because that would make sense, that is the Fred Weasley. But he was looking highly concerned for her well being, and had a hand out to her.
"Everything alright?" He asked her, as he came to stand next to her, leaning against the gargoyle, an crossing those damned arms right in front of her face, she looked away from him, and saw the gargoyle turned it's head towards Fred, and look annoyed at him using his back leg as a resting place, but she had no doubt the Dumbledore had forbidden them from using force as no doubt Filch tried to teach them to do every holiday.
The arms called to her, and for a moment she lost her head, andin her searched her brainless head found his arms andshe fought a sigh. She knew she was in love with whomever had made these set of uniforms, Fred had ditched the robes and instead just wore the slacks, sweater, shirt and tie. Also she couldn't deny, all those years of Quidditch had done him very good.
"Angel?" He asked softly, she snapped her head back up at him, and found his face, closer to her then she had previously thought it was, and suddenly they felt very alone. Not like they were standing in the middle of a highly populated and public hallway, with people milling past, some turning to call out to them, but thinking better of it upon turning and seeing them. It felt like they were back in the Hospital Wing in the dead of night, and no one was there.
"I'm fine." She murmured, and Fred stared openly at her lips when she spoke.
He took a step closer to her, and instinctively she took a step back so as to keep him from entering her personal space, two more steps like these and she found herself against a wall, she let out a fast breath, and had to look up to see his face. His eyes were searching all over her face, and body checking for any unconscious sign that she was uncomfortable with this. But nothing, she stood looking back at him, as he moved even closer. Suddenly they were one from the Hospital Wing and were back inside of that bookcase, standing so close together they threatened to be one.
His forehead was almost touching hers, and her heart was racing, he smiled dazedly and she wondered if he could feel her heart beat, because she knew it to be beating so violently inside of her chest, that it was possibe to break through her ribcage. SUddenly his eyes left her lips, and shot to her eyes searchily staring at them. While her eyes were looking for anything on his person that would possibly calm her frantic heart, but found herself without success.
"Angel?" He asked barely above a whisper.
This brought her eyes back to his and she begged inside of her head that he do something, lean, walk away, start laughing, somehing other then stand there staring at her like she was the only person he had ever seen in his life. Like she was the most interesting girl in the world. Like he was already beginning to fall hard for her. Then, he did something. Or rather he reacted to something.
"Fred!"
His eyes left hers, and he turned at the sound of his name, and he turned to find his mirror running down the stairs, jumping the last four and screeching to a halt in front of his, his appearance in disarray. His hair that had previously been artfullly disheveled, was sticking up at odd angles, as though someone had been trying to rip it out. His collar was partially turned up at the right corner, his sweater was twisted, and then she saw it. On his neck, earlobe, and cheek.
Lipstick.
Fred was grinning foolishly at his brother, rivaling his twins own grin, "George...you didn't?" LHe said happily.
"No, I didn't. I got back to the tower, and she just jumped me!" He said excitedly.
Angellina recognized that lipstick, "Screamin' Red" She thought it was called, she distinctly remembered the very tube sitting on the beside table of a one Alicia Spinnet.