Author's Note and Disclaimer: This fic was written as a Christmas gift for Caliente, who asked for a story featuring Angelina Johnson and the Weasley twins. I don't own them, sadly, that honor belongs to JK Rowlings. I'm just borrowing them. Thanks to Risty for beta-ing!

Double Dating?

By Sue Penkivech

"Alright, then."

Angelina rolled her eyes at her own reflection as she strung a bead onto the last of her braids. Admittedly, "alright, then" might not have been the most appropriate response to being invited to the Yule Ball, but then, it wasn't as if Fred had put any real effort into the invitation, either.

Of course, she'd never really expected him to. It wasn't as if he ever had before.

George, now…every so often, George would exhibit a rare moment of sensitivity. Or, more likely, would manage to fake one. She was in a unique position to compare the twins- over the last two years, she'd gone on the occasional date (if you could call it that) with each. There'd been tea at Madam Puddifoot's with George (spent going over the last Quidditch game blow by blow), a trip to Honeydukes with Fred (where she'd ended up paying for the trampled frogs after he'd knocked over the display), any number of chats on the field after practice where things almost developed into dating.

They never did, though. Because, somehow, she never managed to go anywhere with just one of the Weasleys. Oh no. Every single time, the other showed up. And every single time, she ended up playing third wheel as the Weasley brothers concocted yet another of their infamous schemes.

Of the two…well, she supposed she rather fancied Fred, for all his faults. Not that it had managed to sink into that thick skull of his.

On the other hand, George had his good points too. Sadly, a thinner skull wasn't one of them.

Ignoring the voice shouting inside her head that it was small wonder she never got close to either if she couldn't even decide which she was interested in, she turned her head this way and that to ensure the gold and crimson crystal beads she'd strung onto her braids were even. And set her jaw. Tonight was going to be different. If her almost (but not quite) filmy dress robes didn't clue Fred into the fact that she wasn't one of the lads and manage to hold his attention, she was quite prepared to take matters into her own hands and knock the git about the head with his own bat.

Or, alternately, to grab up George and see if she had better luck with him.

"Aren't you ready yet?" Alicia asked from across the room, and Angelina turned to see her friend shifting uneasily from one foot to the other, whether due to nerves or uncomfortable shoes Angelina wasn't sure. "We're going to be late."

"Right, like Fred's going to be standing at the foot of the stairs waiting," Angelina retorted with a smirk as she got to her feet and crossed the room to where the shorter girl was standing. "More likely I'm going to have to go haul him out of his dorm."

"Well, he might surprise you," Alicia replied doubtfully as she made her way to the door, pale green chiffon floating behind her. "I'm just glad Lee asked me. I mean, it's the first Yule Ball in three hundred years, and I don't suppose there'll be another while we're at Hogwarts. It would've been a shame to miss it."

Angelina made a sound best described as non-committal as they made their way down the stairs, her focus on not tripping over her floor-length robe. At least she didn't have to fuss about heels; one benefit to the Weasleys being no taller than she was herself.

"Wow."

Angelina looked up from her feet in time to enjoy the vacant look on Fred's face. Apparently she'd gotten it right; normally the only time he deployed that particular expression was when Professor Trelawney was rambling about the portents evident in the tea leaves and his mind was off concocting some new torture for first years. She felt her face warm but simply arched an eyebrow as she looked him up and down.

Surprisingly, he'd cleaned up pretty well. The cut of his navy blue dress robes was classic, and he'd actually taken a few minutes to do something with his hair that resulted in it not looking as if he'd just played a round of Quidditch in high wind conditions. Not bad at all.

"Ready for this?" she asked carelessly as she reached the bottom of the stairs, taking only a moment to flick her fingers in a "see you later and good luck" gesture to Alicia, who was hurrying off, presumably to find Lee.

"Well, I…actually, I'm not…yeah," Fred stammered.

Laughing, Angelina slid her arm into his and began dragging him toward the door. Fred Weasley, rendered speechless. She was pretty sure she was going to have to mark this day on the calendar. It was just too bad, she decided as she glanced around the couple-filled common room, that George was nowhere to be seen. She would've liked to have seen if she could've managed two for two.

The music slowed, and Angelina grinned breathlessly as Fred's arm, which had been flailing around exuberantly in a way that suggested he thought it was part of some sort of dance step, dropped to his side.

"Want to sit this one out?" she asked, and felt a soft flurry of…something in the pit of her stomach as he shook his head no.

"I'm good," he replied with grin. His arms awkwardly settled around her back and he laughed. "Well, good might be something of an overstatement, mind you. But I think I can manage not to trample –"

Whatever he'd been about to say (and Angelina could only hope it'd been a promise to not trample her feet) was abruptly cut off indignant gasps, and she turned just in time to see a red-headed figure pushing his way through the dancers, throwing in mumbled comments in various languages as he went and probably hoping they'd pass as apologies. Considering at least one girl paused to slap him, it apparently wasn't as effective as he'd hoped.

"Well, good job Angelina," the twin said with a long-suffering sigh as he approached, still rubbing his cheek. "I've been standing down in the common room for an hour waiting for you to finish primping or whatever it was you girls were up to up there, and all the time you're here - with George!" he inserted indignantly as the Weasley Angelina'd been dancing grinned smugly.

"Well, she asked me – what'd you expect me to do? Tell her no?"

"Hold on half a moment – you're George?" Angelina asked, crossing her arms over her chest and fixing him with a look she'd found affective when warning off other teams' beaters.

"It says so on my underwear," her date replied, turning as if to verify and encountering his dress robes. "Well, you can take my word for it, or you're welcome to check if you'd rather."

"Pass, thanks," Angelina retorted, then turned back to Fred who had an incredulous (and perhaps a trifle hurt) expression on his face. "Sorry?"

"Sorry? You mean, after all this time, you still can't tell us apart? I'm hurt. No-"

"Crushed?" George supplied helpfully.

Fred nodded acknowledgement and directed a grin at his brother, then shook his head. "No, not crushed. What's the word I'm looking for…"

"Making a scene?" Katie Ball inserted with a smile as she and her date (some boy from Ravenclaw whose name Angelina couldn't think of off-hand) paused beside them.

"Well, that too," Fred admitted with a smirk, then attempted an expression of righteous indignation. "But come on. I'm the wronged one here."

"Which you wouldn't have been if you'd been there when she came down," George pointed out as he wrapped an arm around Angelina's waist.

She brushed it off. "And you pretended to be him!" she rounded on him.

George had the gall to look injured. "I never did!" he protested. "You didn't ask! You just came down looking drop-dead gorgeous and dragged me off to the ball."

"Well, you might have told her you weren't me," Fred pointed out. "She was supposed to have been my drop-dead gorgeous date, not yours."

"Well, she might've known I wasn't."

"True."

"How was she supposed to know that?" Katie inserted in Angelina's defense. "Not like you've got your names on your robes."

"Well, no. But they're in our underwear…"

Angelina rolled her eyes up to the ceiling and shook her head. Somehow, she should've known it would end like this.

"Oh, Angelina" another voice spoke up from behind her. "I was thinking – tomorrow's weather's supposed to be perfect, and we really can't afford to be not practicing for the entire term, just because there's no tournament, right?"

Angelina turned around to see a rather sulky looking Harry Potter standing behind her. Given she'd noticed Harry's date hanging on the arm of some boy from Beauxbatons, small wonder he was thinking of Quidditch in the middle of the Ball. She glanced back over her shoulder where the Weasleys, Katie Ball, and the nameless Ravenclaw boy were debating whether or not she should have been able to identify which git she'd gone to the ball with, and whether or not their names being in their underwear was comparable to them being on their robes. With further input from nearly everyone in the immediate vicinity, who'd taken up the debate on one side or the other.

She closed her eyes for a moment, then turned back to direct a hopeful grin down at Harry. There was only one way to salvage this situation.

"That practice? You don't suppose we could hold it now, do you? I was thinking of trying out for Beater…"