Disclaimer: Don't own it, wish I did.

Chapter One:
The Trouble Of Accepting Chewing Gum from a Weasley

"Pssst, Angelina!" A shred of boomslang skin sailed through the air and bounced off of one annoyed Chaser's cheek. "Oi, I'm tryin' to talk to you!"

Angelina shot a withering glare at the notoriously freckled twin sitting at a table adjacent to hers.

"Didn't your mum ever tell you that flicking pieces of dead carcass at a girl isn't any way to get a date?" She hissed across the room.

Suddenly, the bat like figure of Professor Snape swooped into view, and Angelina pretended to be immersed in slicing up a mound of beetle eyes. Fred Weasley, however, was not about to be deterred by a morose potions master, and continued tossing flakes of snake scales in her general direction.

"If you think for one instant that I won't assign you a fourth detention this week, Mr. Weasley, you are very much mistaken." Snape barked, rewarding the cheeky redhead with a sharp cuff on the back of his head.

"Sorry, Professor." Fred quipped, not looking apologetic in the least. "Salamander lard makes the hands quite slippery, don't you think?" Angelina choked at the look of disdain on Snape's sallow face.

"You may want to read the ingredients again, Mr. Weasley." The dryness of his tone could have sucked the moisture from water. "I'm afraid the instructions call for coriander, jarred and not salamander lard. Adding that particular substance to an energizing potion would cause a rather large explosion, and we wouldn't want that, now would we?"

Trying not to erupt into a fit of giggles at the feigned look of surprise on Fred's face, she clamped a hand over her mouth. As bothersome as he could be, the nerve of the carrot topped weasel never failed to force a laugh from her lips.

The boy in question turned his eyes towards her again, batting his lashes in a poor imitation of innocence.

Once Snape's attention had been captured by the steam-belching cauldron of a despairing Hufflepuff, Fred leaned forward and whispered, "I take it you're not mad at me, after all?"

Ignoring him, the ebony skinned girl tossed her long hair over her shoulder and grimaced past the rim of her cauldron, her resolve strengthening. She was mad at the half-witted git for a reason, she reminded herself, the memory of earlier that day crushing her amusement. Mashing her pile of bug eyes with a renewed fury, she imagined it was Fred's face under her pestle instead.

That morning, her dreams had been cut short when Alicia Spinnet's disheveled mane of blond hair popped through the curtains of her four poster bed. Before Angelina had the chance to flop a pillow over her head, blocking out the bright sun, Alicia had shrieked, "I forgot to cast the Awakening spell last night- We're already ten minutes late for McGonagall's lesson!"

Without another word, her friend flung Angelina's school robes at her groggy face and yanked the scarlet draperies back into place.

Snapping abruptly into awareness, the panicking Gryffindor shrugged out of her nightgown and into her witch's robes in record time, then leapt out of bed to find the rest of the 6th year girls scrabbling around the room, desperately throwing on whoever's socks and shirts were within grasping range.

Cursing her luck and sorely missing her morning pumpkin juice, she pushed her way past the horde of shrieking girls and scampered, Alicia quick at her heels.

By the time she skidded to a halt in front of McGonagall's foreboding classroom door, she was a mess. A red and yellow tie was draped loosely around her shoulders, beads of sweat were forming along her forehead, and her hair was sticking out from her scalp like the spikes of an angry horklump. Beside her, Alicia was panting heavily, cheeks flushed and blotchy.

In a last and perhaps hopeless attempt at appearing respectable, the two smoothed down their uniforms. Then, Angelina swung open the door to face the inevitable wrath of Professor McGonagall.

"Now, does anyone know the process of transfiguring a mobile object into- Ten points from Gryffindor!"

Emerald fabric swirled around Minerva McGonagall's tightly laced boots as she turned sharply, her feathers quite obviously ruffled at the thought of students interrupting her lecture. Her wrinkled face was sterner than usual, and her thin lips were pressed into a white line.

"Honestly, girls, you've been attending this school for six years now. Is it too much to ask that you arrive on time?" The two tardy girls stuttered out one or two feeble excuses and, heads hanging in shame that only their Head of House could bring, slipped into their seats.

The point deduction caused several Gryffindors to grumble, but the Slytherins in the room smirked, positively overjoyed at the thought of the rubies slipping from their rival's hourglass.

"Not trying to take after yours truly, are we?" Said a teasing voice in her right ear. Craning her neck around, Angelina's dark eyes met those of Fred Weasley, and she felt slightly less miserable at the sight of her friend.

"Don't have a stick of gum on you, do you?" She whispered discreetly, anxious about getting another reprimand. "Didn't get the chance to brush my teeth."

For a moment or two, Fred's hand rummaged around in his bag, and then he triumphantly pulled out a minty piece of chewing gum, wrapped in unidentifiable foil. He's a regular bloody Mary Poppins, that boy, Angelina thought fleetingly. Sneakily, her hand snaked under the desk and she took the gum from him, too grateful to see the redhead's mischievous grin.

Exactly 6.7 seconds later, the young Chaser realized that there was something very, very wrong.

Wrong mainly in that her brain felt about ready to burst out of her skull. There was an odd pressure building in her head, and something was decidedly unnatural about it. Angelina felt blood rushing to her face, and winced as the pain reached a crescendo. A shrill whistling sound rung in her ears.

She felt dizzy... she swayed in her seat... she was about to pass out...

BAM! FZZT, FZZT, FZZT!

Thirty heads snapped up to where Angelina sat, a few people yelping in surprise. Without warning, sparks began shooting out of her ears so forcefully that she was thrown backwards in her seat. Brilliant red and emerald green flames erupted from her head in such a blinding display of light that students nearby had to shield their eyes with their arms. After a few terrible moments of mad crackling, the fireworks died down, and Angelina sighed in relief as the rest of the class stared in shocked silence.

"It actually worked!" An awed voice mused. As the embarrassment of the moment sunk in, Angelina whipped around, fury flashing angrily across her features.

"Weasley!"

"Johnson!"

Slowly, mortification and horror sweeping through her, she turned towards McGonagall, who looked absolutely furious. The older woman's hat had fallen to the floor, and her mouth was opening and closing in speechlessness beneath the formidable knot of her bun.

"That is twice today you have needlessly and heedlessly interrupted this lesson, Ms. Johnson, and I will. Not. Have it. In my classroom. Is that clear? A reckless display of immaturity such as the one you have showed me today has earned you thirty points from Gryffindor-" Several groans from the scarlet clad teenagers in the room here. "-And a session of detention after school today."

"But, Professor, it wasn't m-" Angelina's outburst was immediately stifled by the reproachful glower that McGonagall sent her way, and she sank even lower in her seat.

Despite the fact that a) she wanted nothing more than to throttle the idiot twin behind her, and b) having detention meant she would miss a valuable Quidditch practice, she knew that arguing would just get her into deeper trouble.

So, that's what Angelina was brooding about as she ground out her mixture of beetle eyes, root of asphodel, and armadillo bile. In fact, she was so intent on the subject that she didn't notice that her bubbling potion had turned a sickly shade of yellow instead of the blazing purple it was supposed to be- but someone else had.

"Ms. Johnson, it appears that your Gryffindor brain is simply unable to grasp the elementary concept of stirring one's potion." Scoffed Snape, who was staring arrogantly down at her from his hooked nose. He rapped the blackboard with his wand.

"Step three clearly states to stir the substance three times clockwise before adding any ingredient. Luckily, however, it seems that not everyone in this classroom is as dimwitted as you. Flint's potion, for instance, looks absolutely perfect." Angelina fumed- she had seen Snape giving Flint tips in the corner earlier. With a smirk, Snape slithered like the snake he was into the storeroom.

Marcus Flint, the knobby headed captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team sneered at Angelina, his acne scarred face contorting intimidatingly. Repressing a shudder, she squared her shoulders and tried to give him the haughtiest look she could muster, right before a crumpled bit of parchment struck her right between the eyes.

Flint didn't bother to hide his snicker.

Frustrated, Angelina squeezed her eyelids shut, resisting the urge to scream. Why was Fred Weasley always so... so... insufferable? He was waving ecstatically when she was finally calm enough to open her eyes, motioning for her to open the note.

The twin's barely decipherable scrawl appeared as she unfolded the page impatiently. She stared at the childlike scribbles that she could only assume said: Add a bit more asphodel and then stir counter-clockwise three times.

Angelina sniffed, debating whether or not this was another one of Fred's tricks. As much as she didn't want to become a guinea pig for his experiments, the perfectionist in her decided that getting another P on a potions project would be considerably worse than putting a sizable hole in Snape's classroom. Besides, Fred was a whiz at potions and never bothered to hide it.

Quickly, she chopped up the remainder of her roots and scattered them over the cast iron rim of her cauldron. After a moment's hesitation, she stirred rapidly.

The affect was immediate- the potion frothed, hissed, and then transformed into a perfect shade of purple. Sighing with relief, Angelina flashed a quick grin at Fred, who winked secretively.

Just then, the bell rang, and relieved students hurried to fill sample beakers and scourgify their cauldrons.

As she slapped her potion down on Snape's desk, she decided she rather liked the victorious feeling that flooded through her when Snape stared at her flask in shock. Before the potions master could deduct any points for "mysterious success," she shot out of the dungeon doors.

The rest of the students were filing out behind her when she felt someone clap her on the shoulder. She swung around to find Fred's mop of ginger hair, and for the briefest instant, she found herself admiring the way it fell casually into his thickly lashed eyes.

But Angelina shook herself, feeling incredibly foolish, and was once again aware of the current of 6th years pushing past her.

"You should feel very lucky, Angie." He said, his flashy red trainers falling into step with her.

"Oh, and why's that?" She tried to keep her voice cool, but the words seemed to catch in her throat.

"Well, not only are you privileged enough to have gorgeous me as a friend, but I'm actually going to give you the first apology I think I've ever given anyone. Er, except for that time I accidentally turned Percy's skin blue for a week, but he deserved it, he was being a total git-"

Angelina raised an eyebrow. "You were saying, Fred?"

"Oh, um, right. Anyway, I'm really sorry about that gum episode this morning. I'd no idea that McGonagall would go mental on you. I figured she'd just blame it on me, like she always does."

"It's alright, I'm already over it." Fred's lips quirked at the corners, and Angelina found herself distracted by the shape of his mouth. She stared determinedly at the floor.

"In that case, I'd like to ask you a few questions on behalf of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Did you experience any unfavorable side effects after sampling the product? Naesau, unexplained sweating, the urge to kick small children?"

"Fred!" Rolling her eyes, she playfully swatted at him.

While the students were pouring out into the Great Hall, a petite brunette bounded over to the two.

"Hi, Fred." Katie Bell launched herself onto the redhead's side, still slightly out of breath from rushing over. She pecked him quickly on the cheek. "Hello, Angelina. Heard you were ditching us at practice tonight."

"Ah, well, not intentionally." She mumbled as Fred slipped a slender arm around Katie's waist, amazed at how fast the two had adjusted to dating each other.

When Fred leaned down to whisper something in Katie's ear, an unexpected pang went through her stomach, and Angelina forced herself to turn away, unable to watch.

Why did she feel this... jealous out of the blue? They'd been friends for years without her getting all brassed off about one of his girlfriends, so it wasn't as if she had a crush on the irritating Weasley or anything.

Because that would just be ridiculous.

Wouldn't it?