The March day was crisp and clear, the stands half-full; a good turnout considering the "Muggle-borns Unwelcome" signs posted by Ministry decree at every Quidditch stadium. Angelina Johnson strode onto Puddlemere United's home pitch, uncomfortably aware that she'd still be the Harpies' Reserve Chaser if the witch she'd replaced hadn't been one of the unwelcome Muggle-borns. Her gaze found an unsmiling opponent in blue: Oliver Wood. He gave her a look she'd seen before. Get your head in the game, Johnson! She followed his example and concentrated on the match about to start.
Final Score 170-160! The Harpies win!
Angelina bought Oliver a pint of pale English ale and a shot of Firewhiskey at the after party. "Cheer up," she said as he gulped the Firewhiskey. "Unlike your first match at Hogwarts, you didn't get hit in the head with a Bludger."
"Thanks, lad."
She leaned sideways on her barstool to elbow Oliver in the ribs. "Sexist as ever."
His lips twitched. "No respect for a former captain. I should've knocked you off your broom."
Angelina snorted. "You were afraid I'd think it was a come-on. That's how you got Alicia, isn't it? Invited her to fly with you over the Quidditch pitch and then knocked her off her broom?"
"She flew too close to me and our brooms knocked together."
"She always did get called for Blatching." Angelina sipped her choice of cider, one with low alcohol content since she planned to Apparate soon. "What's Alicia up to these days?"
"Normal stuff. Helps her mum run their shop. Spends weekends at my place."
Including this one?
Before she could ask, he continued in the same relaxed tone, "You two don't talk anymore?"
"Not much." Not after what happened at the Yule Ball. Angelina had sipped too much peppermint Schnapps from Fred's flask, made an innocent mistake that became not-so-innocent and no amount of apologies or promises to never do it again had truly put things right. She drank down her cider and gave him a hug. "I'm off. Good seeing you on and off the pitch, mate."
He tried to get her to hang around and get to know the PU Beater who fancied her, but Angelina declined. "I have to keep up my reputation as the dedicated athlete who goes to bed early instead of partying. I'm the team's poster girl for clean living."
"Oh yeah?"
Was alcohol affecting his brain, or had Oliver always been so gullible? "And I get a bonus for abstinence," she said as she slid off the barstool.
Angelina stiffened in surprise when Oliver put a hand on her arm and kissed her on the cheek. He wasn't the type to go in for public displays of affection. "If you see a certain Rapier," he said, "tell him I listen to every broadcast."
She nodded and left the pub before she did something to ruin her composed facade like shed a tear. Outside, she centred herself with deep, steadying breaths, headed for the alley between the pub and a corner shop, and Apparated to another spot in Dorset.
.
The farmhouse looked abandoned, which was technically true since Death Eaters had murdered the Weasleys' Muggle neighbours the day of Bill and Fleur's wedding. Heirs had stripped the place of furnishings, but no one wanted to live there thanks to Fred and George's Muggle Repelling Charms. The twins used the house as their base, pitching a charmed tent in the lounge for the winter. The tent had all the comforts of a home, but Angelina preferred to have a wall instead of a thin layer of material between bedrooms. The waterproof and expansion charms on the tent were permanent and nullified temporary charms like Muffliato—something Angelina learned the first and only time she'd slept there with Fred four months ago. As usual, he'd fallen asleep after fooling around, so she'd pulled on his Harpies t-shirt and gone to the tent's small kitchen for water. Fred and George filled reusable bottles using Aguamenti spells. George had entered the kitchen, still dressed in jeans and his Harpies shirt.
He said, "My brother never stops making jokes, does he? Not even during sex."
Angelina burned with angry embarrassment—damn Fred for not making sure the Muffling Charm would work! "He likes to make people laugh. What's wrong with that?" She had a tendency to take life too seriously. Fred helped her lighten up. If she laughed instead of moaning Fred's name, what was it to George?
"Nothing wrong with it." His tone, like his body language, vibrated with tension.
She almost turned on her heel and stomped out, but she was thirsty. Angelina ignored George as she reached into the coolant cabinet. She grabbed a water bottle and shut the door with a hard snap.
"I'm glad," George said.
She glanced up. His eyes weren't the warm, merry brown she was used to seeing. They were dark. Intense. It took a moment to process his words. "That he makes me laugh?"
"That you weren't joking when you called him Five Minute Fred."
.
Angelina gathered her nerve to knock on the door. It had never bothered her that sex with Fred was quick and made her breathless with laughter more than lust. She hadn't even come up with that stupid nickname. He had. It was a joke, not literal, and she'd only used it once as she'd dragged him away from a party at the flat above the WWW shop.
"Come on, Five Minute Fred. Time to live up to your name."
Correction: Fast and fun sex had never troubled her until George said it made him glad. She'd refused to dignify the remark, returning to Fred's room to dress in her own clothes and get the hell out of there, but she couldn't forget what George had said or the naked emotion in his eyes. He made her question her own feelings and actions, past and present.
The twins' security gadgets must have alerted them. Fred opened the door. "Victorious Angel! Come in and tell us about the match." He snagged her hand and pulled her into the house and then into the tent. "The final score was the same as Ireland vs. Bulgaria. Were you there when they played for the World Cup? If I've asked before, kick—no, pinch—my arse for being a forgetful bastard. Want a beer?"
The tent's lounge was only big enough to hold a worn plaid sofa and a coffee table the brothers used as a drinks bar. George sat at one end of the sofa. His longer hair covered his missing ear, and Fred had grown his hair to match. George's Harpies t-shirt was more faded than his twin's, as if he wore it more often. He lifted the bottle in his hand. "Try the Dragon Scale."
"Charlie sent it," Fred told her. "The company paid generously to become the official beer of dragon reserves worldwide." He opened a bottle for her and one for himself. When she tried to sit on the opposite end of the sofa from George, Fred nudged her toward the middle cushion.
"I left Oliver drowning his sorrows with ale and Firewhiskey," she said. If Fred wanted to discuss the match, she'd oblige.
She'd sipped her way through two bottles of beer to Fred's four by the time they'd used up Quidditch as a topic of conversation. George had nursed a single beer and mostly listened, eyes on her. Did he suspect the true reason for her visit?
Fred propped his feet up on the coffee table. He chuckled. "Talking about Quidditch brings up old times. Remember the Yule Ball?"
It was a night Angelina couldn't forget.
After an hour of dancing, two cups of punch and half the peppermint Schnapps in the flask Fred carried in a pocket of his dress robes, Angelina left him to visit the girls' lavatory. When she returned to the Great Hall, the group they'd been chatting with had scattered, and she found Fred standing alone in a shadowed corner of the ballroom. She realised why he looked glum when the enchanted candles dimmed slightly overhead and the band struck up a new song.
"Don't try to tell me Weasleys don't slow dance." She twined her arms around his neck. "Don't say anything. Just feel." She swayed, happy that she'd taken off the filmy dress robes that had covered the skin bared by her evening gown. She slid her fingers into gorgeous red hair and slowly wound her body against Fred's. His hands tightened at her waist. His hips pressed closer; a slight, involuntary betrayal of what he'd really like to be doing with her.
She wanted him too. He wasn't joking around, treating her like just another teammate. Fred was finally treating her like a lover. Angelina rose up on tiptoes to kiss him. Before her mouth did more than brush his, she heard a choked, "How could you?"
Angelina turned to see Alicia and George. Alicia's hands were clenching and unclenching. George sputtered with laughter. "Don't get your knickers in a twist. She obviously thinks he's me."
"I remember," Angelina said. Fred was giving her an opening, although it wasn't the way she'd intended to start the conversation.
He grinned. "It was a toss-up, who Alicia wanted to hex first when I said, 'Honestly, woman, you call yourself our girlfriend'?" He waggled his brows. "Has an interesting ring to it, don't you think?"
"What are you going on about?" George's tone was a warning.
Fred winked at Angelina. "Being second out of the womb made him slower in other ways." He leaned forward to tell George. "I'm asking Angel what she thinks about being our girlfriend."
Angelina waited for Fred to laugh at the expression on her face and admit to taking the piss out of her. He said, "We're all mates, and watching you two would be like seeing myself in one of those Muggle pornos. Hot." He shrugged. "And if we fall in battle one day, at least my best mate won't die a virgin."
Angelina shifted to face George. "Is that what you want? To share?" He shook his head, freeing her to act. He tensed when she climbed onto his lap, straddling him.
"Looks like Angel isn't taking no for an answer." Fred sounded slightly disturbed, but he didn't tell her to stop. She grazed her lips along the line of George's jaw. His skin smelled clean, with a faint trace of soap instead of the spicy colognes Fred favoured. She whispered in his right ear, "Is he wearing anything that has a permanent Shield Charm?"
"No," George whispered back.
She kissed him the way they'd danced at the Yule Ball: slow and erotic. She wasn't betraying Alicia anymore—her friend had moved on—and Angelina sure as shite wasn't betraying Fred. The "with benefits" part of their friendship was over. In her heart, it had ended the night of her eye-opening talk with George.
"I'm having second thoughts," Fred said in a disgruntled tone. "Watching isn't as much fun as I'd imagined." He closed his eyes, his head lolled to the side, when Angelina cast a Morpheus Charm.
She climbed off George's lap and held out her hand. He started to take it and then glanced at his brother.
"I didn't come here tonight to be with Fred. I was going to admit I have feelings for someone else. You, if you didn't already know," she said.
George put his hand in hers and let her pull him to his feet. "I know. I was just wondering how long he'd stay knocked out." His voice was rough with desire, but his lips curved in a naughty smile.
Merlin, she wanted him. "Eight hours."
"Might be enough time." George led her to his room, where they laughed softly together, grew breathless with need and moaned each other's name.
.
The next morning, Angelina returned to the hotel on the bank of the River Piddle where the Harpies were lodging. She packed her bags and Flooed back to Wales with the rest of the team after owling the twins a Harpies team schedule postcard. She wrote on the back:
Stay safe.
Angelina knew George would try to meet her after a Harpies' away match if he could.
On April first, she owled separate postcards to George and Fred along with a Birthday card that showed a pair of chimpanzees leaning over a table to blow out candles on a cake. She'd written Happy Birthday, cheeky monkeys inside the shared card. The next afternoon, she received a couple of postcards in reply. The first showed rainbow-tinted soap bubbles on the front with a drawing of a bar of soap and All fingers, no flannel on the back. She shivered. As much as she and George had enjoyed the tent's shower, she couldn't wait to get him into a bathtub.
The second postcard had a white background and Since 1978 printed above AWESOME BODY with Perfected By Time below. She shook her head in amusement and turned the postcard over to read:
I noticed my postcard had a single chimp in the bath holding a rubber ducky while G's had two chimps in the bath with pink and blue towels on the floor. April Fool's joke, or is the Holey One no longer holy?
Angelina returned to the wizard stationery shop. When she handed over the new drawings she wanted transformed into colourful postcards, the wizard assisting her with her order asked if she'd ever considered a career in graphic design. She hadn't, and they chatted about his training before he started casting spells to create a postcard of a chimpanzee heading toward a river with a fishing rod in hand and a postcard of a woman who resembled herself reclining in a bathtub with the caption: Celebrate Bubble Bath Day Year Round!
A few days later, after a gruelling practice, she found a cellophane wrapped basket filled with bath products waiting on the doorstep to her flat. The card from George read:
Think of me while you celebrate.
Angelina sighed. She was going to stay in the bath until her fingers became prunes.
Fred's postcard was a photograph of a colourful school of fish. He'd written: I'll never forget the one that got away.
She smiled, although she'd bet Fred wrote the sweet words to try and annoy George as much as to acknowledge what he and Angelina had shared—which never included a shower or a bubble bath.
The Harpies played two away matches in a row, but George couldn't meet her. There were too many Snatchers hunting for "Undesirables," and George and Fred were near the top of the Most Wanted list for their not-so-secret support of the pirate radio programme Potterwatch. Angelina and George sent letters and postcards back and forth, and one rainy morning in April an owl delivered a postcard of a wolf pup. The back read:
It's a boy!
Professor Lupin and Tonks had a baby boy! Angelina didn't know Tonks very well, but Remus Lupin had been the best professor; patient, funny, and kind. He'd be a great dad. She sent them a teddy bear and a set of nappies with charms that permanently shielded against wetness.
Angelina continued to owl George romantic postcards, with an occasional chimpanzee card for Fred, but for two weeks got no reply other than a blank white postcard with Staying with L. Keep your lucky coin in your pocket on the back. "L" was Lee Jordan. The lucky coin was the fake Galleon that would heat and change numbers to inform the members of Dumbledore's Army of the time and date of the next meeting.
Angelina started practising spells every morning and night. Protego! Reducto! Expelliarmus! Petrificus Totalus! She was physically fit, but being a professional Quidditch player had insulated her from the danger other witches and wizards—even her parents, who as Healers practically lived at St. Mungo's—faced on a daily basis.
When the summons came, she was ready.
In the musty upstairs room at the Hog's Head, Alicia was the first to move away from the assembled group to hug her. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I've missed you."
Katie wrapped her arms around them both. "About time you two made up properly."
They hadn't seen each other in months, yet it seemed like only yesterday when they'd sat on Katie's dorm bed talking about every boy's nauseating obsession with French Veelas. Angelina said, "Whoever said blondes have more fun was hanging out with the wrong brunettes."
Katie laughed and swept her dark brown fringe to one side. "Lee says brunettes make better psychos."
"He'd know," Alicia said. She fluffed her caramel curls. "Blondes have more fun, but brunettes remember it the next day."
They used to go on like that until two of them couldn't think of another brunette superiority statement and the last cheeky girl standing was declared the winner.
"Time's wasting, men," Oliver said gruffly. He raised his hands in surrender when the women turned on him, but they hugged him, ruffled his short hair and kissed his cheeks until he was red in the face anyway.
Katie giggled. "So much love! After the battle, let's have an orgy."
"Pervert," Angelina said with a smirk. "I prefer one on one debauchery."
"With Fred?" Alicia asked.
"No. I'm with George."
Pain flashed in Alicia's eyes, but she said, "If you're happy, I'm happy."
Oliver stepped between them before they could hug. "Save it for after the battle." He took Alicia's hand and pulled her toward the painted tunnel that led from the pub to the castle.
"I think he's cranky that the orgy's off," Katie said to Angelina as they followed.
"Alicia will make it up to him." They were about to fight against Death Eaters and stars knew what kind of Dark creatures, but Angelina wouldn't be anywhere else. Like Katie, she'd missed her friends.
Oliver cleared his throat.
Katie, irrepressible, said, "Yes! Give us a speech, Captain Wood."
"Shut up," Oliver said without heat.
Nostalgia hit Angelina hard. "This is the best team Gryffindor's had in years," she said. "We're going to win. I know it."
"We won the Quidditch Cup and we'll win this war," Oliver said.
Katie tugged one of Angelina's plaits. "I can give a Captain Johnson speech." She took in a breath and shouted, "Look sharp, do what we bloody practised, and hit the enemy with curses and spells, not your mates!"
Alicia and Oliver laughed.
"Shut up," Angelina said with a wry smile. "I'm blunt when I'm stressed."
"You're shirty," Katie replied.
"A regular McGonagall," Oliver said. After a pause and a muffled "Ow," he added, "That's a compliment."
"Yes, it is," Alicia said approvingly, as if she hadn't pinched or elbowed her boyfriend.
They finally reached an enormous chamber filled with students.
Katie whistled. "Look at all the hammocks."
"I'm too busy drooling over the books." Alicia pointed to the bookcases.
Angelina looked for George.
"Angelina Johnson!" a girl cried.
Heads turned, and then students crowded around Angelina. Former housemates like the Patil sisters gave her hugs while others wanted to ask her questions or request an autograph. Stuck in the equivalent of a giant barracks, Dumbledore's Army had passed the time reading, Wizard duelling, and listening to the Wizarding Wireless Network. They'd tuned in to every Quidditch match broadcasted and knew the stats of her teammates and players on the opposing teams better than she did.
"Are the Harpies going to renew your contract at the end of the season?" a familiar looking boy asked.
Ravenclaw. The one who used to date Ginny Weasley. "Corner, right?" At his nod, she said, "You never know. Competition is fierce." And heading my way.
Ginny had changed since Angelina had seen her last. She hadn't grown taller, altered her hairstyle or gained or lost weight. She'd matured.
"It's so good to see you!" Ginny gave Angelina a squeezing hug. "I wanted to hex Fred for not inviting you to Bill and Fleur's wedding, but considering how that turned out, I'm glad you were safe in Wales."
"You have to visit. I told the coaching staff how amazing you are, and Coach Glamorgan wants you to come to postseason training practices."
"Like a tryout?" The lilt of excitement reminded Angelina of the girl Ginny had been.
Angelina put a finger to her lips. "A private one." She glanced around. "Is George here yet?"
"My brothers are waiting over there for Harry to return from Ravenclaw tower." Ginny waved a hand toward the other side of the room, her quizzical gaze on Angelina.
I said George, not Fred. "Thanks." She strode in that direction, smiling whenever she was greeted but refusing to pause and chat. Glimpses of red hair drew her like a moth to flame. Or a bonfire, seeing that "brothers" meant all of Ginny's brothers, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were there, too, along with Professor Lupin and Fleur Weasley.
Angelina stared at George, willing him to stop eating her up with his eyes and say something to help her out. All she'd managed was "Hullo."
Professor Lupin thanked her for the gift she'd sent. "Would you care to see a photograph of Teddy?" he asked.
"Yes, please," Angelina replied gratefully. Edward "Teddy" Lupin was adorable. "I love his hair. Turquoise is a friendly, happy colour."
"He takes after his mother," Professor Lupin said with a smile.
"You look happy too," Angelina told him.
"I am."
"Couldn't have happened to a nicer bloke." Fred clapped Professor Lupin on the shoulder before hooking his arm through Angelina's. "C'mon, Angel, George and I need insider Quidditch information to bet on the next match." He pulled her toward a shadowed corner. "This is as private as it gets in here." He let go of Angelina and puffed out his lips, opening and closing them like a fish. "Want a snog for old time's sake?"
She kissed him on both cheeks. "Turn around." She took out her wand. "Muffliato!"
"Bzz, bzzz, bzzzz," he grumbled.
Angelina clasped George's hands and backed up until she was sandwiched between the stone wall and her lover. "We could cast Disillusionment Charms," she said, "but it's been too long since I've seen you." She released his fingers to slide her hands up his chest. He met her mouth with his, sliding his hands around to cup her backside. She stared into George's eyes, hoping he read in hers everything she felt for him and how desperately she'd missed him.
"Oi, snogbirds, come up for air. Harry's back!"
George kissed her one last time, and then they walked over with Fred to hear the news. Voldemort was approaching the castle; they had to prepare to fight. Everyone filed out, heading for the Great Hall.
"C'mon, Harpy," Katie called. "You're part of our Brunette Battalion."
Angelina nodded. "Stay safe," she told George.
"Hey, what about me?" Fred asked.
"That goes double for you," she said.
"Because you love me best?" Fred pressed his hands to his heart.
Angelina's eyes flickered to George. "Because you have half his common sense."
.
Voldemort's offer to leave the school and everyone in it unharmed if they gave him Harry Potter echoed throughout the castle. Only Slytherins were cowardly enough to think it was a good idea. They scurried to evacuate when Professor McGonagall told them Harry wasn't going to be handed over. Kingsley Shackleford stepped up to speak, and Angelina focused on his battle plans as if he were her coach and she would do whatever he said to ensure a team win.
Oliver, Alicia, Angelina, and Katie were sent to patrol the school grounds. They kept their wands at the ready, wand tips glowing dimly to illuminate their path without becoming easy targets. The fragrance of blooming night flowers sweetened the air. The walk would've been enjoyable in other circumstances.
Katie broke the silence. "I feel like one of those Aurors who protected the school," she said. "No wonder Tonks's hair lost its colour. This job is dead boring."
"You're out of shape," Angelina said. "I can hear you breathing."
"That isn't her," Alicia said. Her wand shook as she pointed it and cried, "Incarcerous! Lumos Maxima!"
The bright beam of light illuminated a hulking wizard bound with cords. He grinned at them with pointed teeth.
"Who are you?" Oliver demanded, striding forward.
Angelina caught his arm. "He's a werewolf." Partially turned, covered in black hair. "Don't get too close." She raised her voice. "Tell us how you crossed onto school grounds."
"Come closer, girly, and I'll whisper it in your ear." He tilted his head. "I hear your mates screaming." His eyes glowed amber. "Now it's your turn." He sliced through his bonds with fingernails transformed into claws and lunged.
"Reducto!" Angelina shouted.
A spark of light flashed. "Didn't expect an animal to block spells, did you, girly?" the werewolf said. "Fenrir teaches his people well."
She cast a Shield Charm in order to do some blocking of her own.
Oliver and Alicia hurled their spells.
"Expelliarmus!"
"Impedimenta!"
More sparks.
Katie cast a single spell rapid-fire. "Melofors! Melofors! Melofors!"
Two sparks flared, and then a pumpkin encased the werewolf's head.
"Petrificus Totalus!" Angelina cried.
Their attacker became a living statue.
Katie gave a victorious whoop while Oliver pumped a fist in the air.
Alicia let out a shuddery breath and asked Katie, "What made you think of a pumpkin spell?"
"I'm training to be an interior designer. I solve problems you don't know you have in ways you can't understand." Katie grinned like a jack-o-lantern. "I got that from a t-shirt."
Angelina was too worried about George and all their other friends to smile. "We have to help defend the school."
"What about our prisoner?" Alicia asked.
Oliver cast a charm that bound with chains instead of cords. "That should hold him."
They rushed toward the closest entrance. Halfway there, an eerie chittering sound brought the group to a halt.
Oliver said, "Johnson, Bell, Shield Charms. Spinnet, Impediment Jinx."
"Aye, aye, Captain," Katie whispered.
Oliver flicked his wand, drew it back, and flicked it forward, arm outstretched. His silent spell flooded the area with light, allowing them to see the Acromantula perched on the wall above the side door, lying in wait. The giant spider was a creature of nightmares. In the dark, it had chittered in excitement. Now it flinched away from the light, but if it leapt from the wall, stabbing at them with its venomous fangs and dagger-like claws at the tips of its massive legs, one or more of them could die.
"Petrificus Totalus!" Angelina's cry was echoed by the others.
The Acromantula crashed to the ground. Even stunned, it was so fearsome none of them moved.
Oliver cleared his throat. "Well done," he said. "The best players are the ones who adapt."
Katie raised her hand. "I was reacting to the threat of imminent death."
"I remembered the Triwizard Tournament," Angelina said.
Alicia nodded. "Thank Merlin for Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory."
"Like I said. The best players adapt." Oliver used a Locomotion Charm to move the Acromantula away from the castle door.
Angelina cast Incarcerous Spells to tie the Acromantula's legs together with thick ropes. Oliver covered her ropes with chains.
They fell into line in the same order as they'd walked down the tunnel. Oliver said, "Johnson, Spinnet, your job is to protect with Shield Charms. Bell, you and I will take down enemies by any force necessary."
"Beaters and Chasers," Katie said. "Go Gryffindor."
Oliver's light-creation spell was fading. Angelina moved to stand behind Katie. "I've got your back."
A howl sounded off to their right: the front entrance to the castle. They jogged across the grass, Oliver and Alicia side by side in front, Katie and Angelina close behind. They took turns casting Lumos Maxima spells.
"We'll lure our enemy to us," Oliver said.
What charged toward them wasn't a werewolf, but dozens of Acromantulas.
"Form a wall," Oliver shouted.
The four of them stood shoulder to shoulder.
"We'll fight in pairs," Oliver said. "Nothing gets past us."
He and Alicia aimed their wands at the Acromantula leading the others. Angelina and Katie aimed for the next closest spider.
After half a dozen of their brethren fell, the spiders formed their own wall.
Angelina pointed her wand at the Acromantula in the middle and screamed, "Reducto!"
It exploded into gruesome pieces.
Katie, Oliver, and Alicia cast their own blasting curses. Gore splattered across grass and stone; the fetid stench of entrails stung their noses. Like gladiators hacking and slashing their opponents in the arena, the four kept blasting away until the last monster's blood soaked the ground.
None got past them.
.
They had cleared the last Acromantula remains with Vanishing Charms when Voldemort's voice rang out.
You have fought valiantly, but in vain. I do not wish this. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a terrible waste. I therefore command my forces to retreat. In their absence, dispose of your dead with dignity.
Voldemort gave Harry an hour to leave the castle and face his fate, threatened to kill every man, woman, and child if he didn't, but his words were strangely muted to Angelina, drowned out by the phrase that reverberated in her mind: dispose of your dead. She had to find George. She had to see that he was alive. Fred could take the piss out of her for the rest of their lives over her lack of faith in their duelling skills and twin luck. She'd gladly be the butt of his jokes as long as she could hold George tight.
A hand gripped hers. Katie's hand. Angelina nodded and they broke into a run for the school entrance and the Great Hall.
Bodies were laid out. Angelina couldn't look at them. She needed to see the living, not the dead.
"There's Lee!" Katie cried.
Angelina watched her friend rush to embrace her boyfriend, who stood a short distance away from a group of people mourning around a body. A group of people with red hair. Angelina wrapped her arms around her middle and forced herself to take one step and then another. Her vision blurred.
It's Percy. It has to be Percy. He works in an office. He's out of practice casting spells.
She blinked and a tear trickled down her cheek. It wasn't Percy. He was kneeling next to his mother. Angelina bit her lip. Who was she going to hope was dead next? Charlie? She heard a despairing cry and her gaze flew to a man holding his head in his hands. His long red hair covered his ears. Tears poured down Angelina's face and clogged her nose and throat.
No, not George. Not George!
The man bowed his head and blackened skin became visible through the bright strands. She wasn't aware of making a sound, but he glanced up, and all she could do was drink him in with guilty joy. George wasn't dead. He was alive!
Fred's body was the one surrounded by family.
Angelina shook her head. It was a spell, something that slowed the heart and breath until those around the victim thought he was dead. Fred needed a Healer.
"He's gone," George said. His face crumpled and Bill and Charlie wrapped their arms around him as he cried.
Angelina backed away. Fred was gone. Gone.
Someone touched her arm. It was Alicia. Her eyes were wet.
"Colin Creevey came back to fight. Oliver helped Neville carry his body." Alicia looked past Angelina. "Oh my God. Who died?"
Angelina couldn't speak. She left the castle, returning to the spot where she'd blasted Acromantulas. It seemed fitting. Half of George's heart and part of her own had been torn out, and no Healer's spell could repair the damage. She sank to the grass, memories rising like ghosts. The first time she and Fred had sex, each of them had expected the other to have more experience. They'd laughed their way from kiss to climax.
"Bill told me I'm supposed to ask if it was good for you," Fred said over the music that was almost as loud in Lee's spare room as it was in the flat's lounge. They were dressing to return to the party.
Angelina hid a smile. "Couldn't you tell?" He gave her a hopeful grin and she smacked his cute white arse. "Pay attention next time."
When she'd had doubts about playing professional Quidditch, Fred had been her sounding board.
"Why not try it," he said. "If it doesn't make you happy, you can help me and George at the shop until you decide what you want to do."
He'd been a comfort when her parents made her feel like an ingrate not living up to her potential after she'd confessed she didn't want to become a Healer. He'd shared that his mum hadn't fully supported him and George running a joke shop until they began raking in Galleons. Angelina had snuggled next to him on the sofa and gently turned down his offer to cheer her up in bed. He'd pretended to be astounded.
"So you're telling me you'll let me get a leg over in any old spare room at parties with loads of people around, but you won't get naked when it's only George next door?"
"Yes."
"Loony." After a pause, Fred asked. "What are we going to do, then?"
"What we're doing now. Cuddle."
He grimaced. "I thought you were about to get handsy."
She pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. "Cuddling won't give you hives. You can endure it for a few more minutes."
"That's what she said," Fred replied, chuckling when she finally cracked a smile.
Angelina curled into a ball in the darkness and wept.
.
She didn't know how much time had passed before Oliver tracked her down, his wand softly glowing. He patted her on the shoulder and handed her a flagon. "Strengthening Solution to get your physical and magical strength back. Slughorn's handing these out." He gave a hand up after she drank the pomegranate flavoured solution. "Terrible, all the lives lost. I'm getting pissed as a newt when this is over."
Angelina didn't want to deaden her pain. The battle continued, but Fred was gone. Someone had to pay.
They returned to the castle entrance. Oliver tried to steer her in a different direction than the one she needed to go. "Team's over there."
"I'll find you."
She made her way through the crowd and a gauntlet of Weasleys to reach George. If she touched him, she'd break down and be no good to anybody. She stood close to him and looked into eyes dark with rage and loss. "I love you," she said. "Do anything—curse, maim, or kill—to get back to me." She left him staring after her and went to re-join her friends. Lee stood beside Katie.
"I was never good enough to make the Quidditch team," he said, "but I'm ace at casting curses."
"Did you kill the Death Eater who murdered Fred?" Angelina asked sharply.
"It wasn't like that," Lee replied. "There was an explosion and the castle wall shattered." He swallowed hard. "The rubble—"
Katie pressed her fingertips to his lips. "That's enough."
Angelina agreed. She didn't want to imagine friends and brothers pulling the stones away to reveal Fred's lifeless body. Picture George's horror.
"Johnson! Eyes on me!" Oliver's tone of command snapped her to attention the way it had when he was Quidditch Captain. He looked at each member of his "team" and stood shoulders back, chest out: Captain Wood preparing to give a speech. "Weeks before Gryffindor played Slytherin, it would start," he said. "Name calling. Snide remarks about one player's flying skills and another player's inability to remember she wasn't team captain yet when she tried to call time out."
"Hey!" Angelina and Alicia said at the same time.
"When the trash talk got ugly," Oliver said as if he hadn't heard them. "What did I tell you?"
Katie's hand shot up. "Ignore those losers!"
"And keep your head in the game," Oliver said. "When the battle continues, it's going to be ugly. People we know are going to get hurt, but we can save lives if we remember to keep calm and keep our heads in the game."
"He got that off a t-shirt," Katie told Lee, who replied that he would buy them all matching t-shirts with the inspirational Keep Calm slogan after they won the battle.
"Circle up," Oliver said. "Time to talk strategy."
They were still huddled in a circle when Voldemort's magnified voice pronounced that Harry Potter was dead. They were given a choice: kneel and be spared or die.
Katie muttered, "Ignore that loser."
"I'm chill," Lee said. Like the rest of them, he kept his calm until someone shouted at Voldemort, and then they screamed defiance with the rest of the crowd. There was a bang, followed by silence, and then word trickled back that Neville Longbottom was facing down Voldemort. The defenders cheered.
"The Sorting Hat!" someone yelled.
Angelina looked up to see it float out of the castle.
Voldemort decreed that Sorting and Houses were no more.
"Still ignoring you, loser," Katie said. "Slytherin Green isn't my colour."
Gasps echoed through the crowd. Those who could see told those who couldn't, "He put the Sorting Hat on Neville's head and lit it on fire!"
"Keep calm!" Oliver said. "Keep calm!"
Angelina took centring breaths.
The ground shook, and screams of "Giants!" sent the crowd into retreat, surging toward Hogwarts.
"New plan. Defend the Great Hall!" Oliver yelled as their group of five held onto each other and went along with the rush of defenders to avoid becoming separated.
Angelina glanced back and caught a glimpse of red hair. George was alone. She couldn't bear it. "Lee! Partner with George!" she shouted. He immediately turned to wade through the wave of people charging into the castle.
"Right! Original positions," Oliver said once they reached the Great Hall and stood back to back. "Beaters and Chasers. Keep focused. I'll haunt the woman who gets me killed."
Death Eaters streamed into the Great Hall. Angelina cast a Shield Charm at the closest enemy. Katie hurled a Stunning Spell, which he deflected. The battle was on. Chaos reigned around them, but Angelina tuned out the screams of combatants the way she'd tuned out the cheers of the crowd during a Quidditch match. She had a job to do, and she did it. One by one, Death Eaters fell.
Only the two vilest enemies remained duelling. Angelina stood with hundreds of others, watching Molly Weasley battle Bellatrix Lestrange.
"What will happen to your children when I've killed you? When Mummy's gone the same way as Freddie?"
Hatred blinded Angelina. She'd cast a Blasting Curse to rip Bellatrix apart. Blood rushed in her ears as she imagined the pool of blood, the pieces of foul carcass.
"You — will — never — touch — our — children — again!"
The crowd went wild.
Katie shook Angelina by the shoulders. "Mrs. Weasley killed her! She killed Bellatrix!"
"Harry's fighting Voldemort," Oliver said.
He and the others went with the crowd to watch. Angelina remained where she was, even when the crowd roared and she knew Voldemort was dead. Voices called her name. It was her parents, come to help treat the wounded. She received their hugs, led them to Madam Pomfrey, and followed their instructions whenever they needed her assistance. She didn't look for George. It was enough for now that he lived. They each needed space to grieve.
.
That dress is rather sexy for a funeral. I approve.
The voice sounded like Fred's, her mental health Healer had explained, because Angelina would always carry his memory in her heart. During their first session two days after the battle, Healer Wells had given Angelina a copy of the poem Union of Friends.
.
Death is but Crossing the World, as Friends do the Seas; They live in one another still.
For they must needs be present, that love and live in that which is Omnipresent.
In this Divine Glass, they see Face to Face; and their Converse is Free, as well as Pure.
.
She'd stopped reading to say her inner Fred was snickering over the word "Pure." Healer Wells had replied that the author, William Penn, was born in 1644 and had been a Muggle minister.
Minister Penn would break a few Commandments if he could see you in that dress.
Angelina could picture Fred waggling his eyebrows as she gave her appearance a final once-over in the mirror above her parents' entry hall table. She was meeting the others at the central London Floo station to travel to Dorset for Fred's funeral.
"Merlin's knickers, you took different without plaits," Katie exclaimed when she saw Angelina's straight, shoulder-length hair.
"It's lovely," Alicia said. She gave Angelina a hug. "How are you?"
"I've had sessions with a mental health Healer," Angelina said. "She thinks Battle of Hogwarts survivors would benefit from a support group."
"We lived. The families of those who died are the ones who need counselling," Oliver said.
Alicia turned on him. "And you don't, when you wake up sweating from nightmares every damned night?"
"That's nothing compared to your anger issues," he shot back.
Alicia shrugged at everyone's disbelieving expressions. "It's true. Everything hacks me off, and I got aggro with customers when I tried to help in the shop." She gave a short laugh. "I almost told a granny that she was going to die before she chose an illumination orb at the rate she was going."
"When I see spiders now, I turn into a psycho killer," Katie admitted. "Ask Lee."
"Truth," he said. "I live in fear that one's going to crawl on my junk."
They all laughed.
Oliver said, "If a support group was like this, I'd go." He rubbed the back of his neck for a moment and then added, "If we followed it with a pub crawl."
Katie gave him a thumb's up. "I second Captain Wood's motion. All in favour say 'aye'."
"Aye!"
.
They Flooed to Ottery St. Catchpole and took a Squire Cab to the cemetery. The others commented on various wizard headstones. The murmur of their voices was background noise compared to the pounding of her heart. George stood off to the side, apart from his family. He gazed at Fred's casket with the same look she'd seen whenever a gag had misfired: disbelief that all the twins' time and effort and ingenuity had gone up in smoke or caused no reaction. Wrong reactions could be fixed, after all, but they couldn't make something out of nothing.
She edged around the growing crowd to stand beside George. She told him, "If you find yourself talking to Fred, my mental health Healer says it's a natural because he'll always be with us."
George continued to stare at the casket. "Harry told me that just because it's happening in my head doesn't mean it's not real." George slanted a look at her. "Fred's voice reminded me that Dumbledore said that when Harry thought they were both dead."
"We have it on authority, then."
A trace of a smile curved George's mouth. "Has Fred told you anything today?"
"He approves of my dress."
"So do I, and I really like your hair." He lifted his hand, perhaps to touch, but his father called his name. "I'm supposed to be accepting everyone's condolences," George said. "We'll talk later."
The funeral was a beautiful celebration of life that threatened to turn Angelina into a sobbing wreck until she visualised Fred standing beside her, giving comfort in his unique way.
If you're going to bawl, do it after you run forward and throw yourself on the casket. I saw that happen when I was six, at the funeral of Prewett third cousin twice removed, and I've been jealous ever since. Of course, those cousins of Fleur's would have to launch themselves at my casket with you to rival the wife and mistress who jumped onto the casket at Montague Prewett's funeral, and I don't see those minxes anywhere. Must have been too gutted to attend.
Poker chip Portkeys were handed out to transport guests who had never visited The Burrow to the Weasleys' home after the service. Since the distance wasn't far, no one would become Portkey-sick. The post funeral reception was being held in the back garden, where Hogwarts' house-elves, supervised by Kreacher, had set up tables and chairs and provided a buffet of food.
Angelina left her friends chatting with former schoolmates and went inside the house. It was the opposite of her parents' Spartan modern aesthetic. The Burrow was stuffed with furniture, pictures and mementos. It was easy to imagine George and Fred sitting at the table in the kitchen or leafing through Zonko's catalogues on the sofa in the lounge. She went up the staircase to the second floor. The bedroom that overlooked the garden had belonged to Percy the boys had told her when they'd invited her to visit them "anytime" during summer holidays. Theirs was the big one. The one that smelled like manly magic, not flowers.
She entered the room and found George lying on the top mattress of a bunk bed almost hidden by stacks of boxes. Angelina shut the door and said, "Manly magic smells like gunpowder."
"Yeah." His voice sounded hoarse from crying.
Angelina stretched out in the bottom bunk. "Your sheets smell good," she said.
"I spell-cleaned them last night. I hadn't bathed in days before yesterday. Bill and Charlie threatened to hose me down in the garden."
Silence fell over the room for a while, and then George asked, "Want to try out the top bunk?"
"No." Fred had offered to sneak her in to see "where the magic happened" more than once, but she'd always passed up the opportunity. "I like it down here."
A popping noise gave her enough warning to turn onto her side before George Apparated onto the mattress beside her. He rolled from his back to his side so they were face to face. His red-rimmed eyes tugged at her heart. "You didn't wish Fred was alive instead of me," he whispered. "I saw it on your face and I was glad." His face twisted. "I'm a monster."
"Because you're glad I loved Fred, but I'm in love with you? That makes you human." She tugged George's black dress shirt out of the waistband of his black trousers and slipped a hand underneath his shirt to caress his chest. "I'm human too. I felt guilty that I could live with any death except yours."
George reached out to stroke her hair. "I've missed you."
Angelina leaned in to kiss the corner of his mouth. "I've missed you too." She kissed his lips softly. "I would've sent you a card, but some things need to be shared in person." She took a deep breath and said in a rush, "I'm leaving the Harpies to open a stationery and card shop in Diagon Alley." Before he could comment, she confessed, "Playing Quidditch doesn't make me happy. I'm too intense about it. I turn into a perfectionist and never measure up to my own expectations. You've heard me rant after every loss. I don't want to do that anymore. I want to do something that makes me smile like drawing those cards for you and Fred."
"Then buy the shop." His attempt at a smile wobbled. "Life's too short not to do what makes you happy."
"I agree." She pushed George onto his back and moved to straddle him, keeping her head low to avoid bumping it on the slats of the top bunk. "Do you know why I like this dress?"
His eyes widened as she tugged the fabric up her thighs. "It's stretchy?"
She stripped the dress off and tossed it onto the floor. "It doesn't wrinkle."
"Brilliant," he said distractedly, his gaze on the cleavage displayed by her strapless bra.
Angelina unbuttoned George's shirt and lowered her body to his, resting her cheek on his chest. She said, "I'd never had a proper cuddle, skin to skin, before that night in the tent. Fred was like a cat. He permitted affectionate interaction if you were his person, but he was always mentally edging away." She smiled. "Do you remember the night you walked in and saw us snuggled on the sofa? Fred sprang to his feet, and before I knew it we were joining you and Lee for drinks at the pub."
"I remember." He trailed his fingertips down her arm. "I used to climb up and bunk with Fred during thunderstorms when we were kids. If I scooted too close, he'd say, "Roll over. We aren't Siamese twins." His hand moved to the small of her back and began tracing lazy circles. "Funny, how brothers can be alike, yet different."
"Mmm," she murmured to encourage him to keep talking and caressing her skin.
"For our fifth birthday, Fred got a toy broomstick," George said. "Our pesky little brother begged to play with it, so of course Fred said he couldn't."
"What was your present?"
"A miniature flying car. I liked Fred's toy better, but it was his, and I would never have stolen it like Ronnikins did, the jealous little numpty. He broke it and didn't get punished since Fred was so angry his magic turned Ron's teddy bear into a spider." George's low chuckle rumbled in Angelina's ear.
She lifted her head. "Are you comparing me to a toy broomstick?"
"Yes. No." His face turned red. "I didn't want to steal you from Fred because I was jealous, although I was, horribly. I said what I said that night in the kitchen because you two weren't in love, and I was. In love. With you, if you didn't already know."
Cheeky monkey, repeating the words she'd told him. Angelina kissed George to show him how well she knew his feelings and her own. He rolled her onto her back
Tap! Tap!
"George?" Ginny's voice. "Your absence is worrying Mum. She sent me to fetch you." The door handle rattled. "Why is the door locked?"
"Auto-lock to keep nosy sisters out," George said while he looked at Angelina and lifted a questioning eyebrow.
She answered by unfastening the front clasp on her bra.
"Tell Mum I'll be down in twenty minutes!" He rose up to take off his shirt and whacked his head on the upper bunk slats. "Ouch!"
Angelina dropped her bra onto the floor.
The door handle rattled again.
"Go away! I'll be down in twenty-five minutes," George called.
"You said twenty."
"I meant thirty." He cast a Muffliato Charm before telling Angelina, "I hope Fred has better things to do on the other side of the veil than watch us."
She unfastened his trousers. "We'll make it extra hot, just in case."
.
.
A/N: I admit it. I used to say George and Angelina were a match made in therapy. :D The family tree was unveiled while I was writing a post epilogue George/Alicia chapter fic called For Bitter or For Worse, and I was a trifle miffed that Jo had not only left George out of the epilogue, she'd married him off to the girl who went to the Yule Ball with his identical twin brother! I refused to believe that George and Angelina could be a happy couple until enough years went by that I was writing Rose and Scorpius fics, and somehow Roxanne's parents' pending divorce in Our Little Secret evolved to counselling and renewed love in The Green Knight Rises. Eventually, I wondered if I could ever write a story that got George and Angelina together in a way that would convince me Jo wasn't completely off her nut to have them marry. So I did!
The Muggle-borns Unwelcome signs were based on the infamous Jews Unwelcome signs. There are references to dialogue/events in the books (Oliver getting hit in the head his first match, Acromantulas taken down with Stunning Spells, the effects of Blasting Curses, the events of the final battle I related through Angelina's pov as it affected her, Dumbledore's words to Harry, Ron breaking Fred's toy broom) as well as the direct quotes from book seven when Voldemort gave his ultimatums and Bellatrix and Molly duelled. I hope readers enjoyed Oliver Wood saying Angelina was "a regular McGonagall" when Katie Bell said Angelina got shirty when stressed, remembering when he told Harry that McGonagall got shirty with him, and that readers agree that lingering emotional trauma after the battle would make support group meetings followed by pub crawls just what the Healer (almost) ordered. ; )
Dragon Scale is a beer you can buy in Diagon Alley at Universal Studios. The pumpkin spell Katie chants came from a Harry Potter Lego game, and I came across the brunette superiority statements (blame Angelina for that phrasing, not me, heh) in memes online, which is also where I found the Bubble Bath Day and Awesome Body postcards and the interior decorating and Keep Calm and Keep Your Head in the Game tshirts. When I get ideas, I Google. : )
I'd originally intended Angelina to tell Oliver that she sent Alicia a postcard now and then and have him say, "I liked the chimpanzee one" in homage to the Barenaked Ladies song "Another Postcard." But certain lyrics from the song- A birthday-wishing chimp, a chimp in black like a goth
A goin' fishin' chimp, a British chimp in the bath—(no, I didn't use the goth line and yes, the Canadian singers made goth rhyme with bath, look it up on youtube and watch the one with cartoon chimps, heh)—inspired me to use them in wizarding ways.
Thanks to every reader who not only read a one shot that ended up over eight thousand words long, but this author note that added five hundred more. Special thanks to Emcnary, who helped me decide on a title for this story.