A/N: This occurred to me in the advert breaks when I was watching "The Voyage of the Dawn Treader". I don't think these two were too weak to recover after Fred's death, and I don't think they ended up together because, well, because. Comfort and all that. Anyway, enjoy!
No Point
It was a lovely, warm Thursday afternoon in September. As I walked down Diagon Alley, I enjoyed the sunshine on my face and the few yellow and red leaves already falling from the trees. It was one of the rare moments which made me feel at peace; not because I was overly troubled in any way, but because I wasn't a lazy or inactive person. I always had to be doing something, to have an aim, a purpose. Maybe that was why I was so calm – I had no idea what I was doing here or where I was going. Weasley's Wizard Wheezes seemed a good address, though. The familiar sign was swinging slightly in a breeze, the shop windows bursting with colour. I pushed the door open and a little bell rang, inaudible to anyone in the shop. The noise was incredible, I had forgotten how loud it was in here. Somehow I managed my way to the stairs, walked up and patted on the familiar-looking redhead's shoulder. "Hello, George."
He turned, his face brightening, and hugged me instantly. "Angelina! How are you?"
"Fine, thanks." I looked round. "No point in asking you, though, is there? Business seems to go splendidly."
"I can't complain." He grinned, and I grinned back, because he was so happy. Suddenly I knew what had driven me to go here. "They love your stuff."
"Can't imagine why", George said proudly and opened the back door to his office. When I hesitated, he held the door open. "Do come in, Ange." He took two bottles from a cupboard above what looked like a workbench, and handed me one of them. I closed the door and turned the bottle in my hand. "What's in there?"
"Butterbeer." He must have seen my suspicious look, because he added with the hint of a laugh, "It's not tampered with, I promise."
"Because it's you, I'll believe you."
"Huh?"
We drank to seeing each other again (after more than a year! What a horrible friend I had been!) before I carefully admitted, "I wouldn't have believed Fred."
George laughed. "He'd probably have put something in to make your hair turn purple, or your nose stretch until you looked like Pinocchietta."
I smiled. We both went quiet. Then, very hesitant and in a low voice, I asked, "George…don't you ever miss him?"
His face fell and he turned his head away so I could see the scar where his ear had been. All of a sudden he looked tired, sad, wounded and more like the boy I remembered crying over his twin's body. Even his voice was pale and frail when he murmured, "I do. I miss him daily, and I miss him terribly, and I wish he was there to talk to me." He took a deep breath and looked at me. "But there's no point in grieving, is there? He wouldn't have wanted that. Besides, we are twins. I don't need him to talk to me – I know exactly what he would say." A small smile appeared on his face, it nearly tore my heart apart. George put away our bottles. "What about you, Angelina? Do you miss him?"
"Of course I miss him!" I stared at him. "He was one of my best friends, among Alicia, Katie, Lee…and you."
"Yes, but…" He sat down. "It was him you went to the Yule Ball with, not Lee or me."
I took the other free chair, folded my arms and stretched my legs under the desk between us. "George, do you want to know if I miss Fred as a boyfriend?"
He blushed. He blushed? How sweet.
"Because you know that relationship didn't last longer than a week."
"Yes, but – I always thought – you felt more for him."
Hearing a Weasley boy talking as shyly and bashfully as a little first-year (Harry Potter, for example) was the weirdest thing I had ever experienced. Especially because it was George, whom I had known for eight years and with whom I had spent so much time playing Quidditch, cursing Wood or even studying (!) for the OWLs. And it made me say something I wished to take back the very next second. "George…the only thing I felt for Fred more than for you was this 'Come on, let's play a prank'-best-friend sort of feeling."
He stared at me in amazement. "Really?"
Alright, cat out of the bag. I decided to be honest. "I mean what I say."
"You mean you even hate me more than him?" Bloody jerk. I could see the mock in his eyes, but there was more. Happiness, maybe, joy. I raised an eyebrow and smiled slightly. "It's got to balance the love somehow."
We looked at each other for an eternity. Finally, I sighed. "Do I have to do everything myself?" But when I bent across the table, George stopped me. "No. Wait." He got up and pulled me with him. "No point in waiting any longer", he said, and then we kissed.
And boy, could he kiss.