Disclaimer: I claim no ownership over ANY characters...although if I did own the Weasley Twins...

One: Notes

Fred twitched as the slightest gust of wind ghosted the back of his neck. His lips pursed as he tried hard to ignore the feeling of paper brushing against his knuckles. He ground his teeth when he felt the enchanted paper-bird nip him. He wanted so badly to just tear the thing apart, but he knew better. He grabbed it with more force than was necessary and unfolded it. Written across the mostly-blank piece of parchment in Angelina Johnson's tiny handwriting was the following sentence:

When are you going to tell him?!

Fred sighed miserably; when was she going to lay off? Wasn't it bad enough that she knew in the first place? Did she really have to torture him?

He dipped his quill in the inkpot on his desk and scrawled a very untidy reply.

never

He watched with amused satisfaction as the bird transformed into a paper bludger and landed violently on Angelina's desk. She read the note and sneered. About thirty seconds later, the bird was back, and this time it bit Fred's finger hard enough to leave a severe paper-cut. "Ow!" he shook his hand and licked the injured finger, getting spots of blood on the paper as he unfurled it.

Wimp

This is ridiculous, thought Fred. He scribbled back,

Am not!

to Angelina, and sent the bird on its way. She caught it and just shook her head at him; he ignored it.

Then, "Fred, what're you guys arguing about now?" George asked. He was getting fed up with this Angelina vs. Fred thing. It was amusing the first five times…now it was just stale.

"Oh, nothing of great importance." He said, wishing with all his heart that it were true.

"If you're sure." George said before giving Fred a pat on the hand. Fred shivered.

I'm never sure, thought Fred.

Angelina didn't know how much more she could take: watching her fellow Gryffindor; her Quidditch teammate; her friend torture himself like this was awful. And yet, he was just so stubborn – so stupid! She thought. You see, Angelina knew Fred's secret: he was gay…and he was in love. She wasn't sure just yet as to whom he was in love with, but right now, she only wanted to see him happy. He was moping and sulking and being in a way that is as unhealthy for a Weasley Twin to possibly be.

She had come to find out that Fred was gay through a very complicated series of events that is best left to the short version: at some point during class, she had been sitting next to Fred and George. George was being his usual spacey self, jotting down ideas for new Weasley's Wheezes stuff, while Fred had his textbook open. By no means was he paying attention, though. No, he had a smaller book opened up behind his schoolbook, and was writing fervently with some special, glittery ink.

I see the sunrise in your eyes;

On a bright summer's day, they're like sparkling waves.

On a cold winter night, I can count on those eyes

For warmth and light.

In the dark when I'm afraid, I think of those eyes

And know I'm safe.

You're such a beautiful boy: how can we be so…

"Fred! What are you writing?" She whispered.

Fred almost toppled out of his seat, "Stop looking at it!"

"No!" A fight ensued where they were quietly trying to have possession over Fred's book. And of course, somebody had to notice.

"Mr. Weasley! Ms. Johnson! What are you doing?" Professor McGonagall strode over to the pair of them and gave them one of her sternest looks.

Fred was holding the book in the air, up and away from her when Angelina replied, "Professor, he took my diary!" she pointed at the scandalized redhead, whose blue eyes widened to the size of tea saucers.

"I did not!" But of course, not wanting to admit the diary was his, he was forced to give it to Angelina, who took it into her arms with glee.

"As it is," said McGonagall, "You shouldn't be writing in it in class, Ms. Johnson. And Mr. Weasley, I expect more gentlemanly behavior, even from you. Detention with me tonight, here in my office."

Fred groaned and did a face-plant onto his desk; Angelina shrugged and stuffed the diary into her bag to be looked at later.

She spent her entire study hall reading the diary: clearly, Fred was crushing on someone – a boy, at that – but he never once wrote the name in there. Not once! It was maddening, really, trying to figure out who this mystery boy was. The only clue she really had was that his eyes were blue.

But that could be anyone! She thought. And it was certainly true. There was no mention of how old this person was, nor any other physical details: hair color, height, nothing. Only Fred's apparently "Undying love" love for this boy. Angelina didn't mind that Fred was gay…in fact, she sort of thought it was cute. And this lucky boy would never know. Then again, maybe Fred was crushing on a straight guy. Maybe that's why he hadn't told this mystery guy yet: because it would just be worse.

That night in detention, Angelina gave Fred his diary back.

"Have a good read?" he asked angrily.

"I'm rather disappointed in you, Fred." She kept her smile intact. "I would have expected more description from you. Very poetic, though." She patted him on the back before returning to her bucket of water: they were cleaning the Transfiguration classroom without magic. Angelina was currently working on the windows.

"Very pathetic is more like it, really." Said Fred, plunging his arm into a bucket of warm, soapy water.

"Why haven't you asked the boy out yet?" she asked.

"Because, I don't think he'd like it too much." Fred said as he washed down the sill. "He's not even gay that I know of."

"Maybe I could figure out if he's gay or not…if you tell me who it is."

Fred spluttered, laughing into the water. "Pa-leese! Angie, you have some of the dullest gay-dar I've ever seen!"

She blushed. "I do not!" she waited a moment before adding, "Just because I asked out Ron doesn't mean I miss it every time!"

Fred could no longer control his laughter.

"What?" She protested, "Ron is a very masculine sort of gay." She said. This just made Fred laugh harder, and before detention was over, they were both clutching their sides with mirth.

So now she had been nagging Fred for the last two months, as well as attempting to figure out who his crush was. It was daunting, but it kept her on her toes. She had narrowed it down to another Gryffindor though, and sure – that might not seem like such a huge dent, but it really, really is. That was literally one fourth of the castle's residents. To add to that, since Fred was gay, that made it about half of the Gryffindors.

She'd soon find out who it was, and when she did, it would mark the start of a race inside her head: the contestants would be Guilt and Good-Conscience.

A/n: as usual, reviews equal love!...and another chapter of course.