This is for spritesinger, who I promised that I would write this for! Read her fics 'Who am I?' and 'Letters to Padfoot' - some of the best things I have ever read!

Fred/Angelina: based on my MV story, Diamonds Never Able To Be Given…

I don't own anything

Angelina's POV:

I can't believe he is dead… he cannot have left me. He can't have succumbed to the Death Eaters, have left me here alone when he told me that he loved me. I mean, he basically promised me that he would never leave me. But he has. He revoked that promise he made me; he tricked me into believing that I would never be alone and just disappeared from this earth a millennia before his time.

I first realised, really, that I loved Fred Weasley in our 6th year, when we went to the Yule Ball together. I realised that, beneath the carefree idiotic attitude he had, he cared for me and he didn't just want me as a piece of arm candy on his arm. He actually wanted to be with me… it was sort of a dream come true, I realise because it was what made get through everything that happened the year after…

… I also regret it so, so badly.

You see, if he hadn't have asked me to the Yule Ball, if George had managed to do it first or any of the other people who wanted to ask me, I could have saved myself this heartbreak I am feeling right now, as I sit in my house and hold his jumper. I could have prevented myself from having to feel this utter pain and desiccation of my soul, the way that I can barely see a foot in front of me because of the continual streaming tears down my cheeks.

He died three weeks ago and the hole in my heart seems to simply keep on growing, rather than shrinking or even remaining the same. Every single day, I regret that I wasn't with him at the time that he died, that he died and I survived; I wish that I hadn't, for to live in a world without him is torture. To live here without him feels as if I am going to collapse into pieces every single minute of the day, every single second. I can't believe that he would leave me, that he would depart the world of the living without me…

I sit upright on the sofa and wipe my eyes, trying to be able to see straight for the first time. The funeral was the worst part: I tried so hard to be happy because I knew that that would be what he wanted – he wouldn't have wanted tears but rather happiness and joy, the only emotions he lived for. But when I got home here, I broke down. I changed into his old jeans and t-shirts and haven't let go of his 'F' Weasley jumper for the past week and a half.

This time is supposed to be the happy time, the time since Voldemort died… but it isn't. For, you see, why did it have to be Fred who died for the cause? Of course some had to die but why Fred? He had his entire life in front of him; he didn't have the right to die! But I guess that everyone would think that about their loved ones that died then… but it isn't fair!

Fredwina, our owl, comes back from her daily travels to wherever she normally goes to, clutching the morning mail. The only reason I look at it every day is to see if Fred has managed to send something as a present, having told our owl (named as a cross between our names) to deliver it today. Nothing ever comes though… and anything else is thrown to the side with an utter lack of interest. Apparently the Weasleys and other friends have been worried for me, but I don't care: they have lost a son but I have lost my future partner, the person I thought I would be with for my entire life. I can't believe that he has gone…I just cannot accept it.

But Fredwina brings me a parcel, a small box shaped thing that instantly grabs my attention. It isn't anything like what I normally receive as post; it is so unusual that it holds my attention for longer than the requisite attention span the post normally gets.

The fact that it has a note on the front in Fred's handwriting grabs my attention as well, of course.

I pull the jumper on over my head, savouring the sweet scent of the man I love before opening the parcel. A note falls out, which I decide will probably be better to read before observing the content of the hard box…

My smexy Angelina

Sorry for sending this in an owl message: Dad thinks that the entire thing with Harry vs the big baddy in the black cloak will come to a head soon, so I think it's best to be asking you this via a letter… sorry for how impersonal and entirely not Fred Weasleyish this is, but I don't care…

… Angelina Johnson, I have loved you for so long; underneath the absolute idiocy of my actions there was the adoration I have for you…

Look in the box… I'll still be here

The tears begin to stream down my cheeks as I read this, stopping as he tells, from beyond the grave, me to look at the parcel in the wrappings. With a hesitant movement, I remove the blue velvet box from the box and pinch the lid between my fingers. I shut my eyes as I dare myself to open it, taking a deep breath before opening it…

… A dream image appears before me. The ring I have desired for so long, the ring that I pointed out to him so long ago – before Voldemort took over properly – in the jewellers around the corner from my house is in a box in my hands. It is silver and has a huge diamond on the front of it, one which glistens in even the low light in here.

I turn my attention back to the letter in my hand, blinking away hot tears to continue to read it through my shock: he has managed to propose to me from beyond the grave. That is so Fred; he has to do everything that others probably wouldn't manage to, and in such a Fred way.

So, you like the ring?

Will you, Angelina Johnson, marry the biggest fool in the world and make him the happiest fool as well?

Love you, as always…

Fred xxxx

P.s… don't get annoyed with me for the spell that makes your hair pink – it will disappear once you come to me!

I cannot believe this.

This is even worse than before; I mean, he has managed to now propose to me. He has shown that he wanted to be with me forever… but he is dead.

I close the box and clench it in my hand before pulling it into my chest and sobbing, yanking Fred's jumper up to cover my face as I try and remove this from my memory. I don't want to know that Fred was going to marry me… I don't want to know that he was going to tie himself to me in holy matrimony… I can't cope with that knowledge.

What feels like hours later, I run out of tears… I can't cry anymore: I mean, I have this wonderful message from Fred that I have managed to achieve from beyond the grave – who else can say that? Who else can say that their partner who died left them a message that they didn't receive for three weeks after they died?

After all, I have pink hair that I need to get rid of.

Slowly, I stand up and look in the mirror to see a tired and old looking woman, someone who lost her vitality weeks ago, when the person she loved died. It scares me to see her, but I like the pink hair: it's the last physical link I have to Fred, something he managed to influence somehow from beyond the grave.

Purposefully, clutching the letter in my hand with the box, I stride to the door and into the garden, preparing to Apparate to the final resting place of my lover. I reappear with a strange dizziness, caused from a lack of eating throughout the past weeks because I haven't had the inclination to, before striding over purposefully to the gravestone that marks the place where my Fred lies.

I feel the change occurring in my hair and know that this is as close as I can get to him ever now… for he is dead and I cannot do but anything to change that. I can continue to dream of him as I do every night, but I cannot bring him back; we cannot bring back the dead but nor should we try to. That is something, though it is the most painful thing to accept, I have accepted now…

"Hey, my Fred," I smile as I sit down on the still fresh dirt which is in a mound over his body. I don't care about getting dirty because it only means that I am entirely close to him, able to read every word on his headstone as if it has been magnified:

Fred Weasley

1978 - 1998

Beloved brother, boyfriend and fellow prankster

Died in combat fighting for the side of the light

You will never be forgotten… only cause your pranks will live on!

I half smile as I reread the last line for the thousandth time, remembering the way that Mrs Weasley walloped George for having that added on the bottom in removable stencilling, ever to be seen. But it's the truth: the Weasley twins have left a legacy of their own in Hogwarts, in the wizarding world, that will never be forgotten, no matter how long they are dead for. I know this… they will never be forgotten just as I will never forget my Fred.

"So, Fred, how are things?" I ask him in a conversational manner, tossing the ring box lightly in the air. "Great? Yeah, they are here as well… see, the boy I have loved for years asked me to marry him! I know, isn't it great? I just… I want him to know how much I love him so I thought I would do it here, if that's ok?" I continue, babbling slightly but not caring because I open the box and see the ring I absolutely adore.

I tease it out of the box gently and hold it over the headstone, as if he is giving it to me himself. "Yes, Fred, I will marry you," I say entirely ridiculously, knowing that this can never happen and that I am only causing myself more heartache in the long run but not caring because, for right now, I feel absolutely amazing.

Carefully, I slide the ring onto my finger and admire the way that it shines a rainbow onto the headstone of the dead lover I still desire so badly. "You see that, Fred? You see how it shines? That's the love I have for you: it sparkles so brightly. Never leave me, Fred, ever," I end up begging him as I curl up in the dirt at about the level where his head is and begin to sob again, unable to believe that he has given me this amazing thing but can't complete it. He always was one for completing half a job: he would do half of his homework and then get bored, or complete half of a training movement in Quidditch. I guess that this is just another thing he will never complete.

I have, once again, no idea how long I lay here, but I know that the sun sets and the air takes on a distinctive chilly feeling. Yet I am still warm in my jumper of Fred's the 'f' on the front keeping my heart warm from the nighttime breeze, the one thing that stops me from becoming as cold as he is…

… The one thing that stops me from giving up on life entirely.

He loves me. I love him. But he left me. He died and left me here, alone, with nothing but a ring and a desire to marry him. I ought to hate him… I ought to despise the way he left me.

But, lying here, the only thing I feel is contention. Strange, huh?

What did you think?

Please review!

Vicky xx