Title: Saying Goodbye
Author: Cassieopeia
Ship: Angelina/Fred; Angelina/George
Rating: T plus
Word Count: 1287
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Series is created and owned by JK Rowling and all respective publishers and film companies. No profit is being made off this story and no copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Angelina and George say goodbye to Fred.
The silence is what gets her, chilling her blood in the dead of night and filling up space just like a real person would. It suffocates her, pressing against her lungs while she tries to breathe past it. It's become a chore and no longer comes naturally. She remembers to breathe. In. Out. In. Out. It's comforting in a way, the repetitive motions give her something to concentrate on besides the empty space in her bed and the hole in her heart that weighs her down everyday.
She's been round for tea since the funeral. She remembers that day, it's in her memory like a bad dream or a sad book, everything seen through a stranger's eyes. It was ironic, seeing his family and everyone hugging and telling them how sorry they were. Shaking Harry's hand. But what about her? She had been his girlfriend for years hadn't she? Didn't she deserve to be remembered? But no one offered her sympathy or condolences. No one told her how sorry they were that she'd lost Fred.
George had been there, of course, but she hadn't heard him say a word. He stared at the casket and she felt a pang in her heart when she looked at him. She'd never realized how much he looked like Fred. There were very small differences. They held themselves differently and had a different air about them. Something that always let Angelina know which one she was supposed to kiss and which one that she smiled at in greeting. But when she really looked at him, he looked just like her lost love. Down to each freckle.
But she had seen his body, limp and lifeless and not at all how she'd picture him when she thought of Fred. She would cry eventually, but not here. Not in front of everyone. She was his and he was hers and it was personal, what they had and so she would not cry so publicly over what they'd had together so personally.
She looked for George after the funeral, but she found herself lost in a crowd of grief and when it had finally parted she suspected that he'd already left. Something inside her knew not to go looking for him.
She had visited the Burrow, sipping tea that Mrs. Weasley had offered, not entirely sure why she was there. Part of her hoped that she'd find George there, the other part just finding comfort in being around the people that looked so much like Fred.
It was hard for Mrs. Weasley to see her. She was Fred's girlfriend and sometimes she'd cry when she came, but always patted her hand and offered her a biscuit instead of turning her away with an aching heart.
It seemed to her that everyone had someone to comfort them. When Mrs. Weasley burst into tears her husband or one of her children came running. Sometimes Ron got this lost look on his face and his vision went unfocused, but Hermione would gently touch his arm and he'd smile softly at her, sorrow momentarily forgotten. It was said that Percy was away, spending time with his girlfriend, Audrey. She was told that he was taking it hardest.
Well, besides George, they would always add.
Ginny was taking it the best. Of course, she was upset. She'd cried at his funeral and before , but it seemed like after that, it was all out. She was able to move on with her life, jump headfirst into anything with Harry at her side.
She had no one. George had no one. They were the only ones left to deal alone.
That's how she found herself standing outside the Wheezes in the middle of Diagon Alley, rain pouring and soaking her all the way through. But she couldn't make herself go in. Instead she stared at the door, unsure if she should just go home. But she found herself pushing the door open, bells chiming and announcing her entrance. But the shop was empty. She walked up the stairs to their flat as if possessed, her hand fisting and knocking soundly on the door without her mind telling it to. For a moment, all was quiet and she was sure that George wasn't in. But then she heard the rustle of movement and footsteps clomping over to the door.
George opened the door. His skin was pale and sallow and sick looking, his hair sticking to his forehead and standing up in other places. He looked like he'd lost weight and had circles under his eyes. His pupils were dilated, swallowing up his irises and eyes looking nearly black. He resembled a prisoner of war. He had never looked so little like Fred.
They stared at each other. The silence had returned, swallowing her whole. She felt dizzy and knew that she couldn't bear the quiet any longer.
"Can I come in?" she asked, her voice raspy from the wind and lack of use. The noise cut through the air like a knife, breaking whatever spell she'd been under since she left the Burrow. He nodded and moved aside for her to walk in. He closed the door and locked it. She was looked at him when he turned to face her.
"You haven't eaten," she said slowly. He turned dark eyes to the ground, eyelashes casting shadows across his cheekbones. His flat was a mess and there were no lights on. She could hear the rain beating against the roof.
"I forgot," he admitted.
"You haven't slept either," she said. He looked up at her. There was more pain in his eyes than she'd ever felt in her whole life.
"I forgot," he repeated. She raised an eyebrow.
"You forgot to sleep?"
"I can't remember to do anything anymore," he admitted and slowly walked to the sofa, pushing the blanket and pillow that had been on it to the floor to clear a space for them to sit. She realized that he must've been sleeping here and looked to the bedroom he'd shared with Fred. The door was shut firmly, closing off anything of Fred's. Locking away the memory of his lost twin, half of him gone.
"You've been sleeping out here, haven't you?" she whispered. He didn't bother confirming it. They both knew the answer. Slowly, she turned around and started towards the bedroom.
"No!" George shouted, jumping over the couch and racing to stand between her and the door. She paused.
"Why not?"
He just stared at her, fear in his eyes. He looked like a scared child, and she had the sudden urge to wrap her arms around him and kiss him. He had never looked so much like Fred. It hurt.
"What do you want, Angelina?" he whispered, broken.
"I just-I had to see you," she muttered.
"Why?" George demanded, suddenly angry. "I'm not him you know. I can't be him. I can't bring him back!" His voice broke on the last word and suddenly, just like that, he was crying. She put her arms around him and led him back to the living room. She sat him on the couch and he cried. She held onto him and he held onto her and it was then that she realized that she was crying too.
She wasn't sure how it happened, but the next second they were kissing. He was running his hands along her body and her top had come off. Then they were kissing more frantically, hands exploring, buttons opening, zippers coming down. And they were naked and crying and kissing and making love. She found herself asleep with the man who looked so much like Fred. But it hadn't felt like a betrayal, no, it wasn't a betrayal at all. There is no guilt in this act. She knew this was how Fred would've wanted it.
She was something they had shared. They always shared, ever since they were born-even before that. They'd shared their mother's womb and they're shared a room and a school and a dorm and the same Quidditch position. They shared the Wheezes. And now they were sharing Angelina.
It was always FredandGeorge. Not two people-just one. Wherever one was, the other would soon follow. They'd never had anything of their own, ever. For awhile, she had been Angelina, Fred's Girlfriend. The one thing George didn't have. But they'd shared so long and so why would now be any different, just because Fred was gone?
It was no longer FredandGeorge. Just George. No longer having to share anything, or to have someone just the same as him on the planet, now he was himself, his own individual. George.
And Angelina who had once been Fred's, the only thing solely Fred's, and now she was George's. She wasn't leaving Fred for George, she wasn't discarding him, or choosing George over him, because really how could she choose George over Fred or Fred over George? How could she choose one half of a whole? No, this was not a betrayal.
It was her and it was George and, together, they said goodbye to Fred.
A/N: I've always loved Angelina. And I always thought it was kind of odd how she dated Fred and then married George.
I had started this intending it to just end with her and George saying goodbye to Fred, minus the whole romantic side of their relationship. Just as Fred's girlfriend and Fred's twin. But somehow all this spilled out.
Anyway, I've been on a role lately! Enjoy and review please. (:
-Cassidy