A/N: My first HP fic, Please R&R - hope you like it!
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or it's characters, etc etc
It felt like falling, Angelina decided, losing the only person you ever loved. Like falling through blackness and knowing that there was no one to catch you.
She apparated in front of the Forbidden Forest and began to walk slowly, half wishing that she could remain lost in it forever. So many memories…all those nights she and Fred had crept out of Hogwarts and wandered through the forest. It had always been dangerous, but with Fred it never felt that way. He didn't think of it as danger, he thought of it as an adventure. She had always loved going on adventures with him.
"I can't believe you're really gone," Angelina whispered, sliding down the trunk of a tree and onto the soft ground, "I can't believe you're really gone."
She pulled her knees to her chest and cried. Never could she remember crying like that before – but then, she had never lost anyone like Fred. How could that happen? They were supposed to be together; they were supposed to get married and grow old and die together. He wasn't supposed to leave her…he had promised he would never leave her. She remembered the last time she'd been alone with him. The night before he died…
The fire burned low in the hearth. Angelina and Fred sat side by side in front of it, staring into the embers. They could've been like that for hours, maybe just seconds, and then Fred spoke.
"I love you," he said, "And I can't believe we've been together for this long and I've never really said it."
"You didn't have to," she replied, "I always knew…sometimes I think I figured it out before you did," Angelina let out a small laugh.
"You always were the smart one."
They sat in silence for a few moments until Angelina spoke again.
"Fred, what's going to happen to us?"
"You mean after this war?"
"After this war, after this moment, after forever...fuck, I don't know."
Fred turned to face her, "We're going to get married," he replied, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, "We're going to get married, and have a house, and children, and we'll lead totally normal lives involving absolutely no power-crazed mass murdering wizards. Of course it might get a bit dull…"
"I love how you can make me laugh even when there's nothing funny," she said with a smile.
"You can find humor in anything love."
"Well," Angelina said, "there's one bit of this master plan of yours you seem to have overlooked."
"Hm? What's that?"
"You haven't officially proposed, and I haven't officially accepted."
"Good point," Fred got down on one knee in front of Angelina and took her hand in his, "Angelina Johnson, I love you. I've loved you since the moment I met you, and I might be a fool and I might not be perfect, but I want to spend the rest of my life with you. What'd ya say?"
"I say yes."
Fred got up off the floor and pulled her out of her chair, "No kidding?" he asked, fitting his arms around her waist as though that was the one place they belonged.
"No kidding," she replied, wrapping her arms around his neck.
And Fred kissed her. Softly at first, and then more passionately. And all Angelina could think was how lucky she was that she was going to spend the rest of her life with this boy – this man. And how she had always sort of known, despite all their fighting, their break-ups, their make-ups, that they were meant for each other.
Angelina didn't know if she had stopped crying or not. It didn't really matter anyway. No matter how many tears fell from her eyes, Fred could never come back to her. No one even knew they were engaged. Everything had happened so fast after those hours they spent in each other's arms next to the fireplace. Angelina wished she could go back to that night and live in it forever. Live inside his kiss and inside the way he made her feel.
Getting up from the ground, she realized how dark it had become. And suddenly she knew her next destination. She couldn't rejoin the Weasley family just yet; she couldn't return to the Burrow and share in their grief. Hers was something different, and she thought they knew it as well as her. They understood that she couldn't stay through the rest of the funeral – couldn't watch Fred's body buried in the little graveyard in Ottery St. Catchpole.
The Quidditch pitch looked just like it had on the night Fred had asked her to be his girlfriend. Stars glittered above it and the goal posts gleamed in the moonlight. Angelina climbed into the stands and sat down, observing the scene in front of her and remembering how she and Fred had played a one-on-one game before settling down in this very spot. He had seemed so nervous about asking her, as though certain she would say no. He'd had no idea that he already had her heart.
Angelina began to cry again, and as the tears fell she had to wonder if they ever would stop. Would she ever stop missing him? Ever move on? Ever love anyone but him?
"You need to help me," she whispered, "You need to help me get through this. I'll fall on my own, I can't do it. I just can't, not without you here."
Suddenly she froze, listening. That voice…she could have sworn she just heard that voice. And then again, so quietly it could be mistaken for a breeze.
Angel, I'm always here with you.
And it felt as though a pair of arms slipped around her, protecting her once again.