Summary: Death is hard. The death of a loved one is harder. It is one year after the downfall of Lord Voldemort and George and Angelina are still trying desperately to pick up the pieces.
Author's Notes: My first collaboration and my first George/Angelina fic. I would like to thank my partner in crime, Tearlit.
Promises
By Lacklustre and Tearlit
It was a quarter past three in the morning and Fred Weasley was sitting wide-awake with a cup of hot chocolate (which by now had cooled) in the kitchen. He hadn't bothered to turn on any of lights, preferring instead to remain in the darkness. The young man had tried falling asleep earlier, but when his wristwatch told him it was two hours past midnight he had simply given up and headed to the kitchen. The events that had occurred earlier that night played repeatedly in his mind's eye. Seeing George like that was… horrible… devastating. Sure the holey-ness of it all did reassure him to a great extent, but everything was hitting him now like angry waves upon a defenseless rock.
Everything was just like seasons changing in a faster speed; the added repercussions everywhere, the Ministry warnings, disappearances in Diagon Ally it was all like a dream. George getting hurt was like a big Petrificus Totalus charm set on everything. The world seemed to slow and he felt each emotion, each change in the environment three times worse. It made the war much more real to him now than ever before - people killing, people hurting, people dying. Fred Weasley now felt genuine fear.
Thud. Fred had his wand out, pointed and at the ready when the intruder came through the doorway. "Blimey Fred, I didn't hear you there!" George's voice came from the corner where Fred was pointing.
Fred pocketed his wand smoothly and said with a grin. "I wouldn't expect you to since you're holey now."
George grinned but it didn't quite reach his eyes, "What are you doing down here anyway?"
"I couldn't sleep," Fred said, handing George a new cup of hot chocolate.
"Yeah," George whispered taking a sip as he sat down.
"Listen, I was just thinking about… everything," Fred said seriously, eyeing the spot where George's ear should have been. "I was wondering if you could do something for me."
George quirked an eyebrow but said, "You know I will, but what is it?"
Fred continued on, "Well with Moody and all that has happened… well if I don't –"
"Make it?" George supplied in a loaded tone.
"Yeah… just promise me you'd take care of Angelina for me," Fred finished, silently begging his brother not to argue.
Fred knew if anything did happen to him George would, but he just needed reassurance. George blinked for a second and remained silent. Then, "Alright, I promise."
oooo
2 years later
Beep, beep, beep, the cash register was happily punching in the items of a young boy with eager eyes and sandy colored hair. Angelina smiled down at the youngster as she gave him his purchases in bag with Weasley's Wizard Wheazes written messily all over it. The boy grinned back with his front tooth missing. Angelina giggled, "That's quite a load you've got there."
The boy nodded excitedly, "It's my brother's birthday tomorrow!"
"And you're going to give him those for his birthday?" Angelina asked with a note of surprise in her voice.
The boy's grin became bigger still. "Oh no, I'm going to pay him back for the spider he gave me on my birthday," he said with mischief. "Wait 'til he sees what I have in store for him!"
Angelina shook her head in amusement as the boy walked out of the store with the bell on the door jingling merrily as it closed.
"I like him," a voice said from the back. A moment later George came out, hands filled with boxes, "I like how he thinks."
"Of course you do," Angelina smiled. "I specifically remember Ron saying something about a spider incident when he was three."
George put the boxes down and sighed with the expression of remembering the happiest of memories. "Yeah Ickle Ronniekins hasn't been the same since."
"You're cruel," she said with a grin. "Say, where is Ickle Ronniekins anyway?"
"I dunno probably out with Hermione." George said with a shrug as he headed once more toward the back of the store.
"George?" Angelina said, causing George to double back.
"Thank you for giving me this job," she said seriously.
The bell on the door rang out again announcing the arrival of a customer. It was a tall woman in black robes that began to browse the new items near the window. When she didn't seem to need anything, the two continued to talk.
"No problem." George said genuinely. "Besides we needed the help, since Ron seems to have finally discovered Hermione – and honestly you're a great worker, sales have risen by three percent since you've been here."
Angelina had nothing else to say to that and instead settled with a soft, "I don't know what I would do without you."
George smiled but it was strained somewhat and before Angelina could read further into it he bowed and turned to go back to the storage room.
"He is fine," a woman's voice said. The costumer who had come in earlier was now in front of the cash register casting an appraising eye at George's retreating back. Angelina recognized the woman - it was Pansy Parkinson and apparently Parkinson also recognized her.
"Angelina Johnson, right?" Her voice was pleasant but there was something obnoxious under it, "The great Gryffindor chaser."
Angelina forced a smile. "Can I help you with anything?"
"No." Parkinson walked a few steps away from Angelina to examine a small ball with constantly changing colors. "I'm just looking." She said eyeing the back where George had gone.
"You are so lucky," she said picking the ball up and bouncing it a bit between her hands. "With the other one dead you still have that one. I'm sure Fred doesn't mind you being with his twin."
She gave Angelina a fake smile and put the ball back in the wrong place. "Well, see you around," and with that she left.
"How dare that little bitch! She has no right! No right whatsoever to stroll in here like she own the place and say something like that!" Angelina thought angrily, desiring nothing more at the moment than to make something go in contact with her foot.
However a sly little voice in her head whispered over the angry one "What would Fred think? And why is George with you anyway? You're Fred's girl, not his."
oooo
Angelina was combing her fingers through her thick dark braids as she waited for George in her living room. She sat comfortably on her couch, which they had picked out together. He had mentioned something earlier when they were locking up the shop about wanting to tell her something and they had agreed to meet at her house at half past eight.
She remembered what it was like when Fred had first died, which had been a little over a year ago. Every time she'd see George her heart would skip a beat and then a pang of pain would follow when she would realize it was George and that Fred was dead. Fred and George did look alike but they were two totally different people.
George was so helpful then. He would let her cry on him whenever she wanted to, hugging her warmly and telling her everything would be all right. He'd stay with her until she fell asleep, when she just didn't want to be alone. He had talked her out of her self-destruction phase, telling her she had everything to live for.
Now every time she would see George her heart would skip a beat – but now for a different reason. She knew it was George now. George who would come at any hour to get a bite to eat, George who would take care of her when she was sick, George who would be there when she needed him the most. It was George. She felt so awful; she was in love with her dead lover's twin brother.
It was sick. She couldn't be in love with George, it was wrong.
The clock on top of the fireplace now read eight-thirty and the next moment, Bang! A moment later George came out of the fireplace hair unfixed and face stained with soot.
Angelina stood up to meet him. "Here let me get that," and with a wave of her wand George's face was now soot free.
"Thanks," he grinned. "I got something for you." He pulled a long brown package from behind him.
Angelina met the package with a frown playing on her face. George looked at her, confused. "Do you know what this is?" he asked excitedly.
Angelina did know what it was. It was a new broomstick, probably the new Firebolt, the one she had wanted. Her tone was loaded when she spoke, "Why did you get it for me?"
George blinked, utterly bewildered, "I got it so you could try out for the Holyhead Harpies, with this and your skills they would be mad not to have you."
"George… you shouldn't have, you really shouldn't have," her voice was soft. She sat back down. Couldn't he see? Couldn't he see that she was in love with him? How being in love with him made everything so complicated, and how he only made things worse when he did things like this? Tears were now starting to fall down her cheeks.
George now was confused more than ever, "But isn't this what you wanted?"
Angelina felt rage suddenly balloon up inside of her and shouted, "Since when have you been the expert on what I want?!"
It was his fault. It was his fault that she was in love with him now; if he wasn't so nice to her, if he didn't look so much like Fred... Everything was his fault. And besides, what was he doing, moving in on his dead brother's girl?
"I…"
Then something took a hold of her, it was like she couldn't control the words that were threatening to come out of her mouth. They were out before she could stop them. "You're taking advantage of me; you're taking advantage of how much you look like him!"
As soon as the words were out of her mouth she knew she had crossed some invisible line. George stood very still, shock and pain clearly written on his face. It was quiet for maybe five seconds but it felt like five years. Her words echoed all through the house. When George finally spoke it was pure and utter defeat. "I never meant it like that," he whispered.
He put the broom on the small coffee table near the fireplace, took a handful of Floo Power and in the next moment, he was gone.
oooo
Angelina sat down heavily on the couch, staring at the spot where George had been standing just moments before. "Oh my God," she whispered, "how could I have said those things? That's not what I really think is it?"
Unbidden the memory of a voice floated through her mind, hissing evilly, "With the other one dead you still have that one. I'm sure Fred doesn't mind you being with his twin."
"What would Fred want for me?" she whispered. She thought back to her times with Fred, to the last time she saw him before he died.
The battle was raging everywhere and Angelina was firing spells out of a window off the fourth floor. She dove to the ground as a jet of light sailed at her and watched as it bounced off the stone behind her. She stood and was moving back toward the window when she heard someone running toward her. She clung to the wall, wand pointed and waited to see if the person was friend or foe. Suddenly the runner rounded the corner in a blur of red hair and she recognized Fred.
He stopped abruptly and looked at her, a relieved expression on his face; he grabbed her hand and pulling her into a tight hug. "I wondered where you were," Fred whispered, pulling back and staring into her brown eyes.
"I've been here trying to pick them off from above. I was worried about you," she replied, touching his cheek softly. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against hers. They stayed that way until distant shouts from below brought them back to their surroundings.
He gazed into her eyes, face more serious than she had ever seen it. She studied him intently – the way his blue eyes sparkled, the freckles that lined his brow, the old scar on his left cheek from a fight he'd once had with Charlie, the new cut on his right jaw that was dripping blood steadily on his collar…
His voice brought her out of her reverie as he whispered, "I love you, Angelina. You know that, right?"
"I know, Fred. I love you too." He nodded at her, kissed her gently, and then he pulled away and was gone, running off down the hall.
She shook herself out of the memory, fingertips pressed to her lips, remembering their last kiss. "Oh Fred…" she whispered before drifting, almost unwillingly, into the worst memory she had.
In the brief respite they had Angelina made her way down to the Great Hall, looking for Fred on her way. Once she entered, everywhere she looked people were crying and running towards each other, screaming and falling to their knees as they spotted a loved one who had been slain lying on the ground, being Healed by Madame Pomfrey or other skilled people or else just standing there, looking weary. It didn't take her long to spot the family of redheads clustered around someone lying on the ground and her breath caught as she realized what it must mean.
She fought her way to them through the masses, stopping only when she was standing beside Ginny, and gasped as she saw one twin lying on the ground, the other kneeling beside him. The kneeling redhead looked up at her, tears running down his cheeks, and she whispered, "Oh God no…" as she realized the man looking up at her was missing an ear. She gazed around helplessly at the family – Mr. Weasley was holding Mrs. Weasley as she sobbed into his shoulder, Fleur had her arm around Bill who was standing very still with his eyes closed, Charlie looked as if he were in shock, Percy sat beside George sobbing unashamedly, Ron sat on George's other side, Hermione just behind him with her arms wrapped around his shoulders. She sank down across from George and Ginny wrapped an arm around her; Angelina looked and noticed that the girl was very pale and tears were welling up in her eyes.
The young woman reached out and touched Fred's hand – it was cold and stiff and she jerked back immediately with a small cry. She looked up and brown eyes met blue as she locked gauges with George, he mouthed "I'm sorry," and buried his face in his hands.
Angelina forced the memory away, only to realize that she was sobbing into her robes, partly because she still missed Fred, but also over guilt – at first she had wished it had been George lying there.
"He knew that…knows that," she whispered to herself. "He knows I wished him dead and he's still been there for me…Oh what have I done? I would never have made it this last year without George. He's been there for me always and how do I repay him? I hurt him. I wasn't the only one who lost Fred…I should have been there for him like he's been there for me."
"I still feel so guilty over the fact that I've grown to love him," she continued to whisper to herself. "But…I know Fred would want me to be happy, even if my happiness is with George." With that thought she stood and made her way outside.
oooo
George Weasley was in the kitchen of his flat above the shop washing up dishes from his solitary supper when, over the sound of heavy wind and rain, he faintly heard the doorbell ring. The puzzled man dried his hands off on a fluffy towel and made his way to the back door, which was accessible by a flight of stairs that went down to the street behind the building. He opened the door cautiously and saw Angelina standing on his doorstep, a pinched expression on her face.
"Angelina…come in, you'll get sick being out in that," he yelled over the sound of the storm, grabbing her hand and pulling her in to drip on the rug. He closed the door and turned to look at her – she was standing very still right where he placed her and was shaking like mad. George sighed and waved his wand over her, causing her to be warm and dry again.
She turned toward him and he could see tears dripping down her cheeks. "Oh Ang," he whispered, pulling her close and wrapping his arms around her.
"I'm sorry!" she sobbed, burying her face in his neck and clutching the back of his robes tightly. George rubbed her back in small circles and carefully waltzed her over to the fire. "I'm so sorry George…I know you weren't taking advantage of me. You would never do that; I don't know what made me think it. You lost Fred too… You were closer to him than I was and I've just been s-so selfish!" she wailed. "I never would have made it through this last year without you."
George held her tighter and rested his cheek atop her head, tears dripping down to land in her hair. "It's all right, baby, it's all right," he whispered.
Gradually she calmed down and the couple sat upon the sofa. He pulled out a handkerchief and she took it, wiping her face and blowing her nose. "I've been a right mess," she whispered.
George nodded at her and gifted her with a ghost of his former grin. He reached out and touched her face, as she closed her eyes and leaned in to his hand he couldn't help but wonder if she was wishing his hand were Fred's. If she was wondering, as he often did, why it was Fred that died and not he. The redhead reached out and pulled her to sit sideways on his lap; she rested her head against his shoulder and he wrapped his arms around her waist, rocking her slightly. Neither of them knew how long they stayed that way, each just enjoying the comfort that the other brought.
After a while George asked, "Would you like some hot chocolate?"
"Yes, please," she replied, sliding off his lap to sit beside him. He left the room and returned a few minutes later holding a steaming cup, which he handed carefully to her. She sipped in silence for a few moments, then pierced George with a gaze from her chocolate eyes and asked, "Why are you so nice to me?"
George grew very still and studied her for a moment before whispering, "Fred…" He paused, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "After my ear was cursed off Fred realized that we could die, that one of our family probably would and he was afraid that…that it would be him. He was really worried about you, how you'd take it, what would happen to you without him there. You'd been together off and on for so long… So he asked me…he asked me to promise to take care of you if something happened. I promised him I would and so here we are."
She stiffened, eyes shining with tears, and slammed the mug of hot chocolate down upon the coffee table, causing it to slosh out everywhere. The distraught witch stood and screamed, "George Weasley, you bastard!"
"Angelina…"
"Taking advantage of me would have been preferable to this!" she raged. "I thought you actually cared…thought you might have been starting to love me. All this time I was just some charity case. You've only been around, only put up with me because he ASKED you to!"
"Angelina, please…"
"I thought when I was kicked off the reserve team and was between jobs you offered me a job in the shop because you needed the help and thought I would be a good worker; I never imagined it was because of a promise to your brother. The nights I drank too much in the Leaky Cauldron and was in no fit state to go home I thought you brought me here and let me stay in your bed while you slept in the couch because you cared, not because if you didn't you would be breaking a promise."
"Listen to me!"
"No…oh God I was such a fool to ever think you could care about me, to ever think you could love me."
He grabbed her shoulders and gave her a little shake, causing her to look up at him. "Yes, I promised Fred I would take care of you, but that's not the only reason I did those things. Yes, at first I did do those things because of that promise but that's not why I do it now!"
"Oh?" she replied icily.
"Now," George spoke, his joking manner out the window. "Now, I do it because I love you!"
She looked up at him with an unreadable expression on her face. "You…"
"I love you, Angelina."
She didn't say anything. She couldn't say anything. Her head felt very light, like it was filled with air. She didn't feel anything but the warmness growing inside of her. It wasn't uncomfortably hot, but a pleasant warmth. He loved her.
George apparently thought that her silence was a negative thing because the next moment he went from his confident stance that was the result of his brave declaration to a submissive, unsure position. "I mean," he stuttered softly. "I know it's… it's wrong I mean, with Fred… and everything… but…"
"I don't know what to do!" he stated exasperatedly.
"I am in love with you… and I shouldn't be…but I - I can't help it…" he continued earnestly. "You don't have to… I mean you don't need to feel obligated to love me back, I mean…. Merlin…" He gave a deep sigh. He ran his hands through his hair. "What I am trying to say is that… I - I don't want you to feel that you need to… pressuring you into this is the last thing I want…but…" He sighed again. "I've loved you for awhile now and I don't know how it happened or why it just did. And I didn't tell you before because I thought it would complicate things, and I just wanted you to be happy…" He was rambling now.
But Angelina wasn't listening to a word he said. She was just looking at him, at how his mouth would move, how miserable he looked, how his eyes looked at hers sincerely. She was looking at him and she knew with a clear head that she loved George Weasley, even if it was wrong.
George was still rambling away when Angelina dropped the blanket that was around her and lurched forward, throwing her arms around him. He wrapped his arms hesitantly around her and gazed on in shock as she beamed up at him through her tears.
"I love you too, George, I love you too," she whispered.
He smiled and gently pressed his lips to hers, running one had softly along her cheek. She pressed herself to him, returning his kiss, and both knew suddenly, that despite all they had been through, everything would eventually turn out all right.
The End
Author's Notes: This time if you review you make two people happy instead of just one.