A/N So I've been working on this for far too long. It started its life as a little plot bunny a year ago before I even had my account here. I always thought that George and Angelina was more than just George going after his dead brother's ex and so this was born. There is something like seven chapters, all already written and the last chapter will be of a mega size. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own George or Angelina or anything else mentioned in this fic.
Nine years was how long Angelina Johnson had known the Weasley twins and she had never been able to avoid them. They were just there at every integral point in her life. Looking back, Angelina couldn't think of anything important in her life at which one or other hadn't been present since she was eleven years old.
However, there were so many days when she wished she had never met Fred and George. Today was one of them. Silent tears cascaded down Angelina's cheeks yet she made no sound. Alicia was sobbing. Lee was arguing with Bill: he wouldn't believe it.
"No! No, Bill, you've got it wrong. Fred can't be... he just can't," Lee choked.
Alicia put a comforting hand on his arm but he threw it off and stormed from the room in tears. Bill just looked hopelessly after him before sinking down onto the floor and crying.
Neither girl knew what to do. The world was falling apart, that was the only explanation. Or maybe this was a dream? Lee Jordan never stormed off in a huff. Bill Weasley was always in control and as for Fred, there was no way, absolutely no way anyone so full of life could possibly be dead.
Nonetheless, Angelina knew deep down that Bill wasn't lying. Fred Weasley was dead. Somehow she could accept the idea and that scared her. Alicia was comforting Bill now. Angelina tried to help but nothing came out of her mouth. She tried to help Bill up before realising that she hadn't moved. She was petrified to the spot with shock.
Suddenly the reality of the situation- Fred, George- hit her and she began to hyperventilate. Drawing in deep breaths she sprinted up the staircase, collapsed onto her bed and sobbed into her pillow. That was the first time Angelina had broken a promise.
"Fred," Angelina caught her boyfriend's attention. He looked up from whatever latest experiment he was working on and grinned up at her.
"Hey girlfriend," he said in a rather girly way.
"Fred, I think we should go back to being friends," she gabbled.
Fred frowned slightly but didn't betray any other sign of how he felt.
"Okay," he said simply and went back to his work.
"Okay?" Angelina asked incredulously. "I just broke up with you and you say 'okay'?"
"Sure," Fred shrugged nonchalantly. "We both knew this wasn't going to last, what with the fact that I fancy anything in a skirt and you fancy my twin brother."
Angelina was gobsmacked. "How did you... I thought..."
"You thought I was an unobservant idiot," Fred smiled. "It's cool, Angelina, I really don't mind. You and me were never serious."
She was relieved. "Thanks Fred. I never thought you were an unobservant idiot. I never knew you were so understanding, though. Maybe I should reassess my evaluation of the Weasley twins."
Fred just chuckled. "Just promise me one thing though. Make sure George makes me best man at your wedding," he half-joked.
Angelina blushed, and then laughed. "Of course, Fred. I promise."
No one questioned why George Weasley was sat on the floor in the middle of the Great Hall. They'd moved the bodies but his gaze didn't stray from the exact spot where Fred had laid just a few hours previously. He rocked back and forward, back and forward. Over time people came, people went and he just sat there.
It was around noon, judging by the angle that the sun poured into the windows in the Hall, when a stocky, well-muscled redhead came to sit beside him. For about 10 minutes they just sat in perfect silence until Charlie finally spoke.
"You need to get some sleep, George," he said. George said nothing.
"Maybe you're right," the older Weasley continued. "You're probably getting more rest down here than I was up in your dorm."
Even with no response from George, Charlie continued. "The girls didn't want to stay in their dorm alone so I had to deal with Angelina sobbing into her pillow, Lee destroying what's left of the common room, Alicia attempting to reason with him, what I'm told is your old ridiculously uncomfortable bed and the bed that no one would go within a few metres of."
Still George said nothing. Without a word Charlie picked him up and slung him over one shoulder. George's 'hey' of surprise was muffled by his brother's upper back.
"You always forget. I may be smaller than you but I'm still ten times stronger."
Charlie stomped decisively out into the warm May air. It smelt like poppies, beautiful red poppies and sure enough and brand new poppy garden had sprouted to the left and was spreading halfway down to the gate to Hogsmeade. Looking much further down George could see the source. Professors Sprout and Flitwick were busy creating the garden, looking as though as soon as they stopped they would burst into tears. Flitwick was building a gigantic obelisk and carving words on it with his wand.
Both men looked away quickly. Charlie continued all the way down to the Black Lake and sat George down not very gently onto the bank. The sun had turned the lake into an incredible mosaic of sparkling mirrors. The tranquil blue water just sat there, still, oblivious to the fifty-plus lives that had been lost just metres away. Fred loved the lake; it always seemed to reflect his mood out onto the surface.
When he was in a creative mood it twinkled mischievously. When he was sad or brooding it was an unreadable grey. When he was initiating a plan it rippled restlessly. When he was happy it was a silent, still blue.
George couldn't cry. Charlie was sobbing away to his right. There was only one thing that George processed in his brain all of that day. Fred was happy.