Author's Note: So some people say to me "Rose, you should really get over Fred's death and move on with your life." To those people, I say "Screw you." Plus, all these little plotbunnies keep popping up in my head. I've got to use them! I simply must! But I'm not over Fred's death yet. So read this fanfic. I know that Angelina was technically at the Battle of Hogwarts, but do me a favor and forget that for this story, mkay:D
Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, I'd be off writing Harry Potter 8 right now. And Fred would be alive. And with Angelina. And Albus Severus would have a much, much better name. But Rose Weasley would still have the same name. I swear, that name was like a subconcious tribute to me.
My Angel
A FredxAngelina Fanfiction
Febuary 19, 2008
"He can't be gone. He can't…God, please no…"
The quiet sobs of a young woman, about 21, echoed in the quiet of her London flat. Dark brown eyes were welled with tears as she clutched a picture frame in her long hands, tears dripping onto its glassy surface. Long strands of midnight black hair tumbled from a messy bun, and her lips were twisted into an agonized grimace.
Angelina Johnson glared up at the Ministry wizard, her eyes silently daring him to tell her that the person she'd loved for so long was, in fact, dead. "You're lying to me," she stated quietly. "I know you're lying to me, because Fred wouldn't do something like that."
A quiet sigh heaved from the mousy man – he hated this part of his job. "I'm sorry, Miss Johnson. It's true."
"You're lying to me," she stated simply, wiping the tears that were, for some reason, coming slower and slower. "Obviously you're lying, because that's just not how Fred would want to go. And, well, we all know that Fred Weasley always gets his way." A bitter grin cracked across her lips as she placed the picture frame back on the table.
"The Ministry offers its condolences in this terrible situation. We are truly sorry, and if there is anything we can do for you, by all means contact the Department of Magical Grieving, and we will recommend a counselor to you." With a nod of his head, the little wizard turned on his heel and walked out of the flat. There were other places he had to go, other families he had to shatter.
Angelina stared blankly after him, shaking her head. "Untrue," she muttered. "So untrue. If Fred died, he'd go out in a more interesting manner, and George would be at his side. Obviously."
It wasn't too long ago that the two of them had that uncomfortable conversation. Angelina smiled fondly as she remembered that nearly ruined date: it had been awkward to the point of discomfort.
"So, my Angel, are you ready for our date?"
The sudden sound of his voice made Angelina jump, and she laughed quietly. Of course he would just sneak into the house without her permission. It wasn't like he needed it, but it was still a formality that she wished he would respect.
"Nearly, my Demon," she smiled, using the nickname shed come up in retaliation to the cheesy one he'd bestowed on her. Her eyes scanned the vanity for the diamond earrings Fred gave her on their three year anniversary, finding them quickly and placing them in her ears. "There we go."
"How do I look?" Angelina asked, twirling as she stepped into the living room. Fred whistled low between his teeth, eyes roaming across her body. It wasn't like her outfit was complicated, but Angelina had to admit that she looked good. A small black dress clung to her ample curves, and her hair waved down her back in midnight ripples. The diamond earrings were a good accent to her ruby lips, and her eyes twinkled with excitement.
Fred, of course, looked perfect, though that was only to be expected. The Weasley twins were known for being god looking bachelors – though Fred wasn't exactly a bachelor – but Angelina had always been partial to his style over George's. Fred tended to clean up a bit more, and tonight was not an exception. A powder-blue dress shirt was left casually unbuttoned, revealing a white t-shirt underneath. Dark jeans covered his legs, but they didn't look to casual – in fact, it brought the outfit up a bit.
"Angel, you look gorgeous," Fred said, bringing Angelina out of her stupor. He flashed one of those perfect, crooked grins at her and extended his arm for her, which she gladly accepted. "Shall we go?"
And, of course, without asking permission, he apparated on the spot.
Coughing, Angelina felt her feet slam onto the ground and her temper rise in her chest. "Frederick Weasley, how many times do I have to tell you not to do that?"
"Ah, darling, you could tell me that twice a minute for the rest of my life and it still wouldn't stop me."
"I know. Sometimes I wonder why I love you, you know that?"
"Why ask for the reason? I'm perfectly fine with the simple fact that you do love me."
"You know, an 'I love you too, Angelina' would have been more appropriate there."
"Why state the obvious?"
"Oh, I don't know, because it's what every girl wants to hear from her boyfriend?"
"Fine then, I love you too, Angel."
"Thank you." Angelina's lips curved into a smile as she reached up to kiss him, reveling in the taste of his soft lips. It really was amazing how perfect he was for her – even his height was convenient. There weren't that many people out there that were taller than Angelina Johnson, but Fred Weasley was one of them. "And lucky for him that he is," she mused to herself. "I wouldn't have given him a second glance if he wasn't."
It didn't take them long to reach their destination – a small French café situated close to the Eiffel Tower. "It's gorgeous, Fred," Angelina murmured.
"Only the best for my Angel," Fred smiled, pulling out the chair for her. A blush rose in her cheeks as she sat in the whicker seat – she was still rather unaccustomed to his chivalrous ways. "So what are you ordering? Nothing too expensive, I hope."
Laughing, Angelina glanced down at the menu. "Oh, I don't know. Everything looks so good…I think I'll have it all." An absurdly appalled look spread across Fred's face before he realized that she was kidding.
"If you were serious, I hope you know I'd have to kill you," he joked, placing his hand over hers to let her know that he was kidding.
"Oh, please. Even though you're my 'Demon', I know that you're just a harmless little kitty cat."
"Lies!"
"Truth!"
"Please. Everyone knows I'm the most dangerous thing that ever walked this earth." He had a cocky grin on his face, and Angelina nudged him gently under the table.
"I think that particular position belongs to You-Know-Who, honey," Angelina smiled. But Fred's face suddenly became serious, and she shivered slightly at the mention of Lord Voldemort's name.
After a moment of agonizing silence, Fred glanced up at her. "What if we don't make it through this war, Angel?" he asked quietly.
Angelina was taken aback by his question. "What are you talking about, Fred?" she whispered. "What do you mean?"
Fred sighed, tipping back in his chair and gazing up at the inky sky. "I don't know, Angel. I'm just…This whole ordeal with George has me really freaked. I could have lost him so easily right there, and…And I don't know what I'd do without him, you know? What if I really did lose him? I don't know if I can handle that." His voice had dropped to a hushed, rough whisper, and his eyes were now focused on an extremely interesting flaw in the satin tablecloth.
"Why do we have to talk about this now, Fred? We should be enjoying ourselves, not thinking about what won't happen."
"But it could, Angel," he sighed. "Mad-Eye Moody is dead. Dumbledore is dead. My brother doesn't have an ear anymore. There are causalities and fatalities all around us already. I'm scared, Angel, and I don't want to have died without talking to you about this."
"Don't say that, Fred," Angelina said harshly, her eyes narrowed as she leaned towards him. "Don't you dare say that. You can't even think that, do you hear me? We're going to get out of this war, and we're going to be fine. I promise you that."
"You can't promise me that. Trust me, I wish you could, but you can't. What if You-Know-Who kills Harry tomorrow? You know it's all over then, and you know that my family will be one of the first families he targets. Hell, I'm surprised we're all still here now…" Fred's voice trailed off, and his gaze locked with Angelina's. "If I do go, though, I hope it's exciting. I hope that I'm in the heat of battle, and I hope I've got a Deatheater or two dead around me…and, God, I hope George is with me. I just…I can't imagine anything without him. Heaven without George? It wouldn't be a heaven…"
His voice cracked, and tears were welled in his eyes. Angelina shifted her gaze to the napkin, feeling awkwardly out of place for some reason. Despite their long relationship, this was the most serious conversation they'd ever had. "I…I don't know what to say, Fred. I just…really, really hope that you don't die. I hope that everything turns out okay. And I can promise you that I won't die. Okay? I promise you right now. And after the war is over, everything will be okay. And we won't have to have any more of these awkward conversations."
Fred sighed. "I promise I won't die either, Angel. Now let's drop this subject and get on with our date." And the twinkle that was strangely absent from his eyes returned and his smile turned true and genuine.
Angelina, however, couldn't shake the sense of foreboding that was so quickly overcoming her.
Body trembling, Angelina collapsed against her leather sofa. "He's really gone," she whispered, staring out at the crystal blue sky.
An inhuman cry suddenly ripped from her body, and hot tears flowed freely down her cheeks. Her hands, acting on their own intentions, flew up to her ears and brutally ripped out the diamond studs.
"So much for your promises," she muttered, clasping the bloody earrings and throwing them out the window, watching as they landed on the cobblestones, two spots of blood against the undeserved peace.