"Tomorrow" by Redcandle17
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and elements belong to J.K. Rowling. No copyright infringement is intended.
Montague doesn't really care that Angelina has a boyfriend; he's just grateful for the couple of hours a week they spend in the room of requirements. But he figures they should talk about the boyfriend issue eventually. So he says, "What about Weasley?"
"Fred and I understand each other very well," Angelina says, smiling. "We're going to get married and raise a bunch of kids after we leave Hogwarts. There's no harm in having some fun with other people while we're still here."
Montague feels something that might be jealousy. "Isn't that a little unusual?"
"Montague, are you lecturing me on morality?" Angelina laughs. He wonders if she even knows his first name, if she even remembers he has one.
"Of course not." He forces himself to smirk, "If Weasley wants to share, I'm happy to help him."
"Oh, I can see how happy you are to help," Angelina says as she straddles him.
"So Weasley knows about us? About this?" Montague persists.
Angelina doesn't reply. She leans forward and kisses him. Montague lets her. He kisses her back just as aggressively. When the kiss ends, though, he says "Well?"
"He doesn't know it's you," she replies. "I don't ask him for details and he doesn't ask me."
"I bet he'd end your 'arrangement' if he knew it was me."
Angelina's hands are busy trying to distract him. "Montague," she says, "Why are we talking about Fred instead of fucking?"
He shuts up then. But afterward, he can't help what he says. He knows he sounds like a Hufflepuff but he says it anyway. "If you were going to be my wife, I wouldn't need to fuck other people before we were married. Or after."
"Well, isn't that romantic." She laughs softly then rests her head on his chest.
"Was it his idea or yours?" he asks. She doesn't reply, so he continues. "It was his idea, wasn't it? How do you know he won't keep fucking other girls after you're married?"
Angelina sits up. "Thanks for your concern, but it's none of your business."
"I guess not." Montague gets out of bed and pulls on his clothes. He's angry with Angelina and angry with Fred, and angry with himself; and he's not certain why.
"Same time Friday?" Angelina says, stretching out on the bed and watching him dress.
"If I've got nothing better to do," he replies. It's a lie and they both know it. He's already rescheduled Slytherin's Quidditch training sessions more than once to meet her when she wanted.
"It's always you, you know. Only you," Angelina bites her lip before continues. "Fred fucks all the girls who'll have him, but I choose only you."
Montague pauses in the middle of lacing up his boots. He keeps his head bent as he silently digests this bit of information. Finally, he looks up at Angelina. He's already said too much tonight, already been too foolishly sentimental. But he can't stop himself from asking, "Why are you telling me this?"
Angelina shrugs. "No particular reason. Just so you know I don't do this with half the school."
He tells himself that he's not feeling disappointed. He's just tired - it's been a long day and he still has to stop by Professor Umbridge's office for whatever reason she's summoned him. So he forces a smirk onto his face and says, "Oh, I knew those rumors about you couldn't be true. I mean, surely not Neville Longbottom in the broomshed or Professor Snape in the Potions classroom." He dodges the pillow she throws at him and leaves the room laughing.
Once the door closes behind him though, his laughter fades. He wishes Fred Weasley would just vanish from the face of the earth. He wonders how Weasley would react if Montague told him. Surely the redheaded bastard hates Slytherins enough that he'd break up with his girlfriend if he knew she was sleeping with one of them. Surely he wouldn't want her anymore if he knew she'd been with Montague. Tomorrow, Montague tells himself, he'll talk to Weasley tomorrow. For now he heads to Umbridge's office, where he sees Warrington, Malfoy and some other Slytherins already waiting. Tomorrow.
End
