A/N: Hi! Thank you for checking out my story. I wrote it at one in the morning, and I was quite proud when it turned out to not be crap. Even though a relationship between George and Angelina seems to be a little bit too perfect, and that Angelina just went for Geroge because he looks like Fred, it also holds a bunch of sweet fanfiction material. That's what I was thinking about when I wrote this. Reviews are appreciated.
Reminiscence
Fall has completely faded away. Not a trace of sun or warmth is left. Cold grey clouds cover the happy blue sky; a bitter wind blows through the empty streets. It will snow soon.
This is the weather that gets Angelina Johnson down. Summer is slow and Lazy, Spring brings life, fall is still crisp and cloudless, but Winter… Winter never seems to end. It is dead, lonely, cold and dark.
Angelina walks down Diagon Alley. No-one else seems to be as crazy as she. The Leaky Cauldron is glowing warmly and people are crowded in side. There is no room there for Angelina. Many shops are closed for lunch, few are open. The ones that are are lonely and empty. Signs forlornly welcome no-one, for the children are at school, and the parents are working, or at home where it is warm.
It is these sorts of days that feel as if the world hasn't moved on. They take Angelina back and she can't move on either. She remembers hearing the news. She had mercifully been informed of his death before she had seen his body laid out with so many others. Molly Weasley tearfully told her when she had asked about the twins' whereabouts. George was with him, saying good-bye. Angelina found them, and cried over Fred's body with him. He told her to keep in touch. Then, she had moved away, unable to bear the pain.
No matter where she went, however, she couldn't escape the bitter loneliness of winter. Finally, she has come back, just to see the changes. She had hoped that going in winter would help cure her of her scars. But Diagon Alley hasn't really changed. Suppressed memories come flooding back, pouring over her as snow begins to fall. The cold brushes her cheek keeping her tears in her eyes. She hasn't cried in three years. There is no point in it.
She shivers, not form cold, but from a hollow feeling. Something beyond despair or loneliness. She can't feel any sort of existence in her self. Angelina thinks it was a mistake to come back. Nothing has changed, but she hasn't seen any of her old friends. There is no-one around to share feelings with.
She thinks about giving up and going back home when a sign catches her eyes. It is flashy, bright and attractive. Small red print announces it is a joke shop. Large gold letters announce the name: Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.
Angelina doesn't know if she is surprised to see the shop or if she had been expecting it all along. Perhaps this is where she was hoping to see all along. She looks through the door window. A fire is burning, but no-one is around. Angelina opens the door quietly. There is no bell on it, and her entrance goes unannounced. The fire is warm, and Angelina realizes how cold she is, realizes she is covered in cold wet snow.
She wanders around the shop. Familiar objects are on display. Angelina was guilty of buying a few of them back when Umbridge had taken over Hogwarts. She smiles at the memories. Fred had informed her that he would let her pay in kisses, but that it wouldn't be fair to George.
"And everyone knows I'm the good-looking one, so I know that you wouldn't want to kiss him as much as you want me, so we'll just have to go for the standard pay, but you do get a discount."
There are a few new products. Angelina picks them up so read what the do. She makes her way to the checkout counter. On the wall behind is a collage of newspaper articles and photographs. There are a few articles about Harry Potter, his deeds, his current doings, and his personal life. One announces his recent marriage to Ginny Weasley. Nest to it is a picture of Harry and Ginny, happily kissing at their wedding. Under that is a picture of Ron and Hermione cutting a cake. Angelina smiles. There are also many old pictures of Fred, George, and Lee Jordan, and a few pictures of her.
A wolf whistle startles Angelina. She spins around and sees no-one. She wanders back to the fireplace, and notices a large portrait over it. The plate below it reads: "Our brave brother: Fred." Sure enough, Fred is above her, arms crossed, a humoured look in his eye.
"I was wandering what was taking so long. You're smarter that that, I thought," he says. His eyes twinkle, messy red hair falls in his face. Freckles sprinkle his cheeks, and he smiles warmly. This is the image of Fred Angelina tries so hard to remember. But no matter how hard she tries to hold on, his lifeless body haunts her visions. Now, here he is, so vivid, exactly as he should be. Angelina can't help it. Tears fall and she sinks into a chair, sobbing.
"Did I scare you? Oh, I'm sorry," Fred's portrait panics. "George! George! I didn't do it…"
Days like this always get George down. He finds it hard to look at pictures of his brother, and he spends most of his time in the back room, sitting and thinking. They are usually slow days, and he sends Ron home and enjoys a little peace and quiet.
But now his brother's portrait is calling to him, and he hears something else. It sounds like crying. George emerges form his back room as Fred announces his innocence.
"What did you do?" George demands, grabbing two mugs and a pitcher of butterbeer form the back room. The crying woman looks up, defending Fred while George pours the pitcher's contents into the mugs.
"I'm sorry. Nothing- he just… the smile, and…" George hands her a mug. "It's Fred," she finally finishes.
"It is," George says, sitting down. He takes a sip of butterbeer, begins to swallow it. Then he chokes as recognition dawns on him. "Angelina!" he sputters out.
"Hi, George," she says, still crying a little. "How have you been?"
George shrugs. "Well. Shop's still running. How are you? I haven't heard your name in Quidditch."
"I don't play," Angelina explains. The tears have stopped, and she has control of her voice.
"I know. Lee would have told me, or I would have seen you. You know, my sister plays for the Hollyhead Harpies."
"Really? I haven't really been keeping track…"
"Yah, but she's thinking of quitting when she and Harry get busy and pop me out some nieces and nephews. Where have you been?"
"America, mostly," Angelina replies. She looks out the window. "I had to get away."
"I understand." George is quiet while Angelina drinks a little bit. Fred simply watches over them from his portrait. While he is frozen in time, forever young, George has outgrown some of his boyish looks, but not the charm. His face is squarer, angular, manly, but still dusted with freckles. He has the beginnings of a moustache, but his smile is still friendly, playful and charming. He had pulled his hair back from his face, gut that can't hide how messy it tends to be. He studies Angelina. She wears glasses now, and has cut her hair short. She had filled out her frame more, is no longer twiggy and skinny, just slender and pretty.
"What brings you back here?" George asks. He pours himself more butterbeer.
"Nothing, really. I thought coming back would help me move on, make me feel better. Getting away certainly hasn't helped," she sighs. "Do you still cry?"
"Often, especially on days like this."
"I didn't think crying helped. I haven't been able to in so long."
"Of course crying helps, maybe not the first time, or the time after that, but it lets out a little bit of sorrow… it's okay…"
"Thank you."
"You know, I keep replaying his death and his funeral in my head… The memory kind of haunts me. But then, I have more memories of how much fun we had together. All of our pranks, the beginning of this shop… I was going to close it, just shut it down. Run, kind of like you. I wasn't sure how to go on. Even the good memories just made me think how they were over. That was it, there were no more… But then… I thought back to out last year at Hogwarts, with Umbridge. There was such misery in the school and the whole world. But Fred and I… we were able to keep people smiling, laughing. That was important. The I realized that if I stopped smiling, stopped living, quit on the store now, with Voldemort defeated, when the world should be happy, then Fred died for nothing. He died helping to free the world, so more people could laugh more, keep being happy. SO here I am. It still stings, but… so many kids drag their parents to this store, just to see. And they say we're heroes. But Fred's more a hero because he died fighting evil." George smiles.
"Hero… that fits Fred well," Angelina says. "I remember all the times he hit on me… made me sound beautiful and glorious on the Quidditch field. I suppose he's sad that I quit playing."
"You were beautiful and glorious on the field. And I think he would be sad that you no longer play."
"I'm devastated," Fred's portrait announces.
"I thought about going back, but it's not the same. But I suppose, now that I'm back here, I could try out. I wonder if I still have it."
"Of course you do," Fred and George say in unison.
"Do you have a place to stay?" George asks.
"I do, I'm all moved in."
"Good, do you need a job?"
"Probably, at least until I can try out for a team and hopefully start Quidditch again." Angelina feels hopeful, has a direction in her life again.
"Well, you can work here. Ron and Lee work for me. But Lee is only part time; his real job is an announcer for games. And Ron is hoping to become an Auror. There's a test coming up, and Harry's been helping him. I expect he'll pass, and I'll loose and employee."
"I'd love to work for you."
"And me!" Fred interjects.
George and Angelina glance at him.
"Of course," Angelina says.
"Wonderful. If you're free tomorrow, I can get you started. It's not a hard job, so…"
They are quiet for a while. For once, the silence is comforting and not awkward. Finally, Angelina stirs.
"My parents are expecting me for dinner. I better go." She stands, and George follow suit to see her out. They stand at the door together.
"I will see you tomorrow," Angelina assures him.
"Great. Take care of yourself. It was good to see you."
"It was nice seeing you," Angelina turns to leave. Then she thinks of something. She turns back. "George, thank you. I haven't felt this full in ages…"
George notices the spark has returned to Angelina's large brown eyes. His gaze lingers there. He smiles. "Well, if that made you full, you should come by my mother's sometime. You'll explode." Angelina blinks… then she gets it. She laughs.
"Oh, George…" She looks back up at him. "I better get going. See you tomorrow."
"See you," George says as she walks down the street, a bounce in her step.
She feels warm, despite the winter cold. The wind is no longer bitter, and the snow has stopped. Angelina isn't an outsider as the sun peeks shyly through the clouds, turning them silver. And the world moves on.
George feels lighter than he has in a long time, as he closes the door and looks at Fred's portrait. Fred looks disappointed.
"You had the perfect opportunity to snog her…"
"Shut up."
A/N: Again, thanks' for reading. And agian, reviews are appreciated, so that I know people are reading my stuff.