Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in the story or the universe the story takes place in, I'm just borrowing them for personal amusement.

On A Night Like This

Summary: How two different nights and two different men changed Angelina Johnson's world around.

Rating: PG-13

On A Night Like This:

Angelina & Graham

Christmas 1994

The Weird Sisters' music filled the Great Hall and Angelina Johnson could see the Yule Ball was a great success. She was certain there was plenty of 'international magical cooperation' going on in the dark corners of the castle and under the cover of the enchanted rosebushes outside. Her own date was bridging the gap between France and England as he received private lessons in the French art of kissing by the Beauxbaton witch she'd pointed out to him earlier.

Fred Weasley had proven himself a gentleman for the evening, something she supposed took great effort on his part, after he had been kind enough to ask her to the ball when there were certainly several other real dates he could've taken in her place. But he had asked her to go when no one else dared since Angelina Johnson was still Oliver Wood's girlfriend, regardless of Wood's absence from Hogwarts and ineligibility to attend the ball. She had cut him a break when she'd seen the pretty French witch eyeing her ginger date from across the room and sent him on his way to 'have a bit of fun'. Angelina ran her finger along the rim of her glass of pumpkin juice, watching the other students dance wildly to the loud music; Alicia and George were dancing, her arms around his neck securely while he was saying something that was making her body shake with laughter and Angelina could see over to the drink table where Graham Montague was chatting with the other Slytherin Chasers, nursing a bottle of butterbeer. For a second, she caught his eye across the Great Hall.

For the past six years, Angelina had sat in classes with Graham Montague and they had never spoken much except to trade barbs on behalf of wronged teammates, but Angelina had never felt animosity towards the Chaser; not like with Flint or Warrington, who had always tried to get a rise out of her with leering comments or rude behavior. The cancellation of the Quidditch tournament nearly broke her heart and then not being named Hogswarts champion had succeeded in convincing Angelina it would be an awful year. Montague had approached her one evening on the pitch when she was alone with a proposal to put aside house conflict, since the Cup was suspended anyway, and train together. He had somehow known that she wanted to pursue a League career and Angelina supposed he assumed she would follow her boyfriend to Puddlemere. She had found that a lot of people seemed to think that she would spend her life riding on Wood's coat tails, disregarding anything they knew about her before she began dating the Keeper. She had accepted his arrangement on the basis that their friends didn't know about the meetings, Angelina wasn't sure she could deal with the twins' criticism. Thus, their secret friendship had begun and Angelina often wondered how many other Slytherin/Gryffindor pairs had been forced into hiding due to house prejudices.

Angelina looked away from the knot of Slytherin boys when a pale, blond witch in grey dress robes sidled up to Montague and decided that she needed some fresh air, the hall was starting to become quite warm from all the night's exertions. She exited the Great Hall, passing a fourth-year Hufflepuff crying on the steps with her girlfriends, and moved slowly outside to the courtyard to admire the twinkling fairy lights and appreciate the cool air and the fresh scent of winter. Professor Flitwick had created a beautiful garden for the ball and mother nature had provided a fresh coat of powdery snow as a finishing touch. It was breathtaking.

She walked along one of the winding paths created by the rosebushes and after a few moments heard footsteps behind her. Angelina turned around to find Graham Montague standing a few feet away, looking quite fetching in his dark dress robes, holding two bottles of unopened butterbeer. They stood in silence for a moment eyeing each other uncertainly, the only sounds were the distant music from the Great Hall and the gentle splash of the fountain behind her.

Finally she spoke, "Where's Morgan?" referring to his Slytherin date.

"Don't know," Graham shrugged, "I saw Weasley with that French witch and thought you'd want company."

"Someone can see us."

"No one's looking," he moved closer to her a couple steps.

Angelina looked around, the few people who were close enough to identify them were obviously engaged in each other and paying no attention to the unlikely pair.

"Sit," Graham ordered and pressed one of the bottles into her hand as he moved by her to take a seat on the edge of a fountain depicting a merry elf with water spraying out of its palm. Angelina took a seat beside him and opened her drink.

"Thank you," she said quietly, unsure how to act. They had never spoken in public before, usually down on the pitch while they trained or, on occasion, in the classroom when it was unavoidable.

"You enjoying your Christmas?" Graham inquired politely, taking a long drink.

Angelina chuckled, "I shared a cracker with Katie earlier and got a new Weird Sisters' top. That was quite nice."

"You're a fan then?"

"You're not?"Angelina whirled around to face him, shock written on every feature.

"I don't get why a band of wizards call themselves 'The Weird Sisters'," Graham grimaced and Angelina laughed, she didn't have an answer for him.

"You're one of those girls who goes mad for Wagtail, aren't you?" Graham laughed when Angelina made a face and corrected himself, "No, you fancy Quidditch players, not singers. I bet you sneak about the castle following Krum around, trying to pick up a sweets wrapper that he touched?"

"I think you're mistaking me for that Malfoy git," Angelina pointed out, referring to the Slytherin Seeker's love for the Durmstrang champion, "Besides, I fancy one Quidditch player, not plural."

Graham didn't need to be a genius to catch onto the reminder that the witch before him was still very much attached to her former Captain and off-limits to the likes of him. He smiled at her, "You look lovely tonight, I'm sure Wood's wishing he was here tonight. He's a lucky man, you know."

She'd taken great care into her appearance that evening. Her long black hair had been painstakingly straightened and smoothed with liberal amounts of potion before being tied up in a braided knot and the emerald satin of her dress robes went well with her coloring. Part of her was loathe to admit that her hard work had not been solely for the photograph she'd sent to Oliver with his Christmas present, but because she'd been bothered when Graham told her he was taking some Slytherin bint as his date and she didn't have a date at the time.

"I suppose," Angelina blushed under his approving gaze.

"He is," Graham assured her and then suddenly stood and held out his hand to her, "I've been wanting a dance all night, I'm sure Wood wouldn't want his girl to be sitting all alone on Christmas."

"I'm sure he wouldn't want me dancing with a Slytherin," Angelina argued playfully, "Besides aren't you worried I might scuff your very expensive, shiny shoes."

Graham chuckled, "Well, it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make."

After a beat, Angelina took his offered hand and allowed him to pull her against his chest and slip his arm around her waist. She replied in kind, wrapping one long slender arm over his shoulder around his neck. They swayed to the distant music, not speaking.

Angelina closed her eyes and breathed in his scent: a mixture of some spicy aftershave and, even in dress robes, grass. It was very similar to Oliver's scent, she supposed it must be a Quidditch thing and wondered if she smelled of grass as well. Graham's fingers moved in small circles over the smooth satin and she enjoyed the sensation. Angelina could feel his heart pounding in his chest underneath their clasped hands and it stirred up a curious sense of longing for closeness.

She missed Oliver dearly. She had been dreadfully spoiled the previous year when they were at school together. She had never thought of how different or difficult it would be when she still had two years left at Hogwarts and he was off playing for Puddlemere's reserve team. Since school began, she had seen him once during the Hogsmeade weekend at Halloween and while his letters were long and frequent, she missed being held and she missed the flirting banter they used to enjoy. Parchment could only convey so much.

She had been shocked when Graham had proposed training together and they'd found it ridiculously easy to put aside House differences when they were alone and could talk about their teams or plans to try out for the League. It had been a mutually beneficial arrangement and she found the quiet and determined way he worked to be refreshing after years with the noisy Gryffindor team. He'd taught her how even she could strong arm a Chaser of his size out of the way and she'd shared with him of bit of the grace she'd always shown in the air. She sometimes wondered how different things would've been had circumstances had allowed them to be friends over the past six years.

Graham rested his cheek against hers lightly, enjoying the press of her smooth skin. She was quite tall, a departure from his previous dance partners, and he didn't know where to rest his cheek, as it usually rested against his partner's hair. The skin-to-skin contact seemed very intimate and he was acutely aware of the dangerous territory he was venturing into. He was also aware of how right she felt in his arms and how much he'd come to admire her over the years they'd known each other for her skill on the pitch and her grace in the air. She was brilliant on the pitch and off of it, he knew he wasn't the only wizard unable to take their eyes off her. Oliver Wood obviously knew that too.

The reminder that he gave himself felt like eating a whole case of ice mice. Angelina was off-limits. Graham Montague had been raised a gentleman by his mother, a witch from the noble Rosiers line, and he would not behave in an unseemly manner. Graham also held a deep level or respect for Oliver Wood. As a Chaser under Marcus Flint, one learned to appreciate good organizational skills and leadership when they saw it.

The music changed from the slow tune to something more along the lines of the band's usual style. Montague released Angelina reluctantly and saw a glimmer of something in her honey-colored eyes for a second. The cold winter air hit her suddenly, their proximity having driven away the December chill, and she felt something stir at the loss of contact. Angelina turned suddenly towards the fountain to vanish their empty bottles of butterbeer, not wanting him to see her face. She turned quickly when Graham grabbed her hand unexpectedly and she instinctively closed her fingers around the small velvet pouch he pressed into it.

"Happy Christmas, Johnson," Montague said abruptly and with the swish of dress robes, he turned and strode away quickly back towards the castle.

Angelina watched him go confused at his sudden departure before she remembered the parcel he'd given her. She perched on the edge of the fountain and opened the small black pouch, the velvet soft under her fingers, and turned it over so its contents slipped into her lap. Angelina grinned as she held up the silver bracelet, catching it briefly in the moonlight, and fingers the delicate silver broomstick hanging from it. The metal was cool to her touch due to the night's chill setting in and she tucked it back into its warm pouch, which was slipped inside her robes for safe keeping.

On the first day of term, Angelina made sure that the silver bracelet was prominent on her left wrist as she made her way down to NEWT Potions, where she shared her table with Graham due to the odd number of Gryffindors. She knew he saw the bracelet when she passed him a bowl of scarab beetles, his eyes lingering on the charm for a moment before he returned to his work with a small smile.

They never talked about the bracelet, but Angelina wore it every day for twenty-five years until she passed it onto her daughter, Roxanne, when she was made the Captain of her House team.