Title: Sentimental Reasons
Rating: PG
Notes: Written for angieweasley on 12-30-2006.

After Harry and George left, all the energy seemed to go out of the crowd. The Slytherins slunk away to their changing rooms, and Angelina, Katie, and Alicia were able to let go of Fred. He was breathing hard, but at least he didn't seem to want to murder anyone any more.

"Are you all right?" Alicia asked.

"What do you think?" he snarled, and stomped off towards the lake.

Alicia and Katie looked to Angelina, who sighed. "I know, I'm the team captain. I'll go calm him down."

Fred was kicking and punching a tree when she found him, his face scarlet. "That little punk! I'm gonna smash his pointy little ferret face in!"

Angelina rolled her eyes. Completely unsurprising. She walked closer and grabbed his elbow as he aimed the next punch.

"Oh, Angelina!" he said, surprise momentarily drowning out his anger. His arm was still shaking, though, and she didn't let go of it.

"You idiot," she said, though not unkindly. "Don't let that little twerp get under your skin that way! What if you had gotten yourself suspended?"

"It's all about the Quidditch with you, isn't it Angelina? You're no better than Oliver." But already he was relaxing his shoulders and the tension was leaving his voice.

"You should be glad we were holding you back. Harry and George are going to get detention at the very least. They might even get suspended for a game, if any of the Slytherins got really hurt."

It was the wrong thing to say. "They're Slytherins. They don't get hurt," Fred said, all hostility again, with an ugly undertone to his voice.

Angelina sighed. "What is it with you and them? I mean, they're not my favorite people either, but it just seems so personal with you and George."

"'S not all Slytherins," Fred protested. "Just Malfoy. If you knew even half of what his family's done to us--"

"Fine, fine, whatever," Angelina said, holding up her hands. "But could you tell me about them inside?"

"Oh, uh, I guess it is kind of cold. Sorry, Angelina."

As they walked back, Fred treated her to an obviously censored version of his family's ongoing feud, which somehow wandered into a digression about playing Quidditch with his brothers, which in turn morphed into a very silly discussion on the potential merits of riding picnic tables instead of brooms. By the time they reached the Gryffindor common room, they were both laughing, and Fred wasn't angry at all.

He had noticed her efforts to distract him though. "I don't know how you put up with me, Angelina," he said as they reached the Fat Lady's portrait.

"Well, you've talked me down a few times yourself. Gryffindor tempers and all. Besides, there are certain other benefits," she purred, moving closer.

Kissing Fred had been horribly clumsy after the Yule Ball last year, but by now it was as natural as breathing. He put his arms around her waist, tilting his head down just as she tipped hers up. Their lips moved closer—

--and the Fat Lady harrumphed loudly. Angelina jumped, but Fred just laughed.

"Mimbulus mimbletonia, you old hag," he said, and swept them both into the common room.