Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and if I did I would never admit it here

A/N: This is my first fan fiction and after years of reading other people's I thought I'd give it a shot. I'm a graduating college senior from the States with way too much time on my hands. The main characters of the HP series i.e. Harry, Ron, and Hermione are way overdone and while I'll always remain a HP/GW and RW/HG shipper for life, I thought it might be fun to explore the story of Fred Weasley and Angelina Johnson. This story takes place after they graduate from Hogwarts and continues on into the unknown future, but assumes that Fred and Angelina were dating at the time of his early departure. The prologue happens in the present, but the rest of the story will lead up to that moment in time (and hopefully if you all enjoy my work, I'll be able to catch up to that moment in time and continue forward). Reviews are greatly appreciated, but I ask that you be gentle. Enjoy!!!

Prologue: Confirming His Fears

For two days he had stayed away, it was all he could bear. He missed the sound of her laughter, the smell of her hair, the rhythm of her body. The last time he saw her had been a wake up call, as he stood in their foyer and listened to his proud and beautiful wife threaten to leave him.

As he stepped through the beveled glass of their front door, he automatically went to hand Wilkins his bags, but their butler of two years wasn't there. He had come home to make his apologies but was surprised to find the house dark and the furniture covered. A single white sheet of paper lay resting on the calling table. Even before he opened it, he began to fear that she had actually gone through with it; a sharp intake of breath echoed off the vaulted ceilings as he read, confirming his worst fears

The Civil Court of Great Britain's Wizengamot

On the 17th May, 2001

Will meet to hear to unbinding petition brought forth by

Mrs. Angelina Johnson-Weasley

against

Mr. Frederick B. Weasley

at 2:00pm, Ministry of Magic Building London

After everything they had been through, after all they had shared; his Angel was giving up on them. It finally got through his thick skull that he had pushed her too far. He stumbled blindly into the half-finished study, a project he had recommended she undertake. Now the room was a mess, he made himself a stiff drink and made his way to the only piece of furniture not covered, a relic from their first home. He hadn't wanted to keep it, proclaiming it was too shabby to take with them to their fine new home, but she had insisted the memories were too important, so he told her to keep it somewhere no one could see it. He remembered her face then, as if she were the chair and that what he really wanted to do was try and hide her. He sat down, lost in liquor and pain to try and figure out how he could possibly get her back…