Chapter 10

The next few days went by in what Angelina could only describe as a dizzying blur. She could barely remember the win over Mongolia that Saturday. Her mornings started with a trip to St Mungos to check on her friend, Serafina's family still being MIA. But it was always a short stop, then she'd be off to join Mike at some publicity thing and then, of course, there was training on the pitch. Practices felt longer, Gwenog had a shorter fuse, and Marian's continual fights with Duke weren't helping matters. When they'd finally get off the field, Angelina would make a quick stop off at Mike's office (just to check in) and then she'd run off to St Mungos to look in on Serafina again. Wood joined her a couple of times, but more often than not Fallon Griscomb would be waiting at the lift to pull him away.

So most of the visits she was alone with just the slow scratching sound of magical quills as they recorded all signs that her teammate was still alive. There was only one night, Thursday night actually, that she even bumped into anyone else coming from the private room.

"Jase?!" Angelina gasped as the blonde burst into the hall and nearly collided with her.

The young woman blinked at her for a moment, then gave her a tired-out smile. "Oh, hey, Angelina. How are you?"

"Fine," Angelina answered slowly, studying her for a moment. "What are you doing here?"

Jasene's smile grew a little. "Helping," she said, then glanced around at the fairly unoccupied hallway. "But now I need to go."

"Are you feeling okay?" Angelina asked, frowning.

"Fine," Jasene echoed her earlier answer, but in truth the blonde was looking alot paler than usual, like maybe she was going to be ill. "Not a fan of hospitals. I'd have flooed direct, but there isn't one in her room."

"Wh-You mean for Serafina's-?"

"I've gotta go," was Jasene's quick interjection and soon she'd gotten down the corridor and slipped into the floor's break room.

Angelina followed, but all she found was an empty room with a crackling fireplace. Not wanting to be called out for going places she shouldn't, something apparently Jasene had no fear of (which she strangely felt that Fred was to blame for), Angelina tucked her hands back into the pockets of her coat and started off towards Serafina's room. She'd nearly gotten to the door again when she realized there was actually something in her pocket. A slip of paper with one sentence on it.

"The boys'll get you tomorrow at six ~ Jase."

Her mouth fell open a little, but she couldn't help laughing as she wondered how Jasene had managed to get the message into her pocket. Clearly the blonde had been learning from her marriage to Fred. Angelina was still chuckling a bit when she went into her teammates room. Then she stared.

The quills were working at a mad pace and Serafina definitely had more color to her face now. Not only that, but her eyes were moving beneath their lids-a sign that she wasn't entirely lost to a coma. Angelina glanced back at the hallway as she took a few more steps into the room and the door slowly closed behind her. What on earth?

oOoOo

"Are you trying to turn me grey before I reach forty or something?" Mike asked, slapping several newspapers and magazines onto the desk in front of her as Angelina took a seat. "The day we had a major press conference, where it was pointed out that you're probably being targeted, and you ran off to Paris?! And with Fallon's athlete?"

"I needed to get away, Mike," she said calmly, tentatively pushing the reading material around as their cover images smiled and waved or acted out towards the frame. "And if you'd actually spend more than two minutes in the room with Oliver, you'd realize he's not what the tabloids say."

"So, what? You couldn't have at least sent a note?" Mike queried, running a hand through his hair-making it practically stand on end, a look not becoming but definitely showing how often he'd done the action. "Merlin's sake, Ange, that's what the interdepartmental memos are for!"

She sighed and slouching back in the chair, effectively separating herself from the pile of nonsense. "I know, Mike," she groaned. "I wasn't thinking, I get it. But you're blowing this out of proportion-."

"Out of proportion?!" Mike dropped into his own chair in defeat, staring at her as though she'd just told him that You-know-who wasn't the deadliest wizard in the world. "Angelina," he continued in a forced calm as he pressed his fingertips together, "you hired me because of the harassment issues. We have new protocols because of the kidnapping and death threats. Serafina was poisoned by a necklace that could have been heading for you. Please, tell me how I'm blowing the fact that you up and disappeared for an entire evening without telling anyone out of proportion!"

Well, when you put it that way... Angelina sunk further into her chair, her fingertips tracing the fabric of the armrests as she tried to find a way around the heaping barrel of guilt he'd just handed her. "You're right," she said quietly, not wanting to meet his gaze. "I should have thought about who would be effected by my choices the other night."

"Thank you," Mike said, looking fairly drained as he dropped into his desk chair. He sighed and ruffled his hair again. "Is it really so hard to just let me know?"

"I'm just-I can't do anything anymore," she said in a huff as she tried to put her frustration into words. "Every ounce of my time I have to be accounted for and around hordes of people. You know what I miss most? Tuesdays! I miss how Tuesday was my day of freedom. Nobody interviewing me, nobody forcing me onto the pitch or anywhere else. I could go to the coast or shopping or to someone else's match or-did you know I had to give up tickets to the Wicked Sisters' concert back in September? Ever since I joined this bloody team, I haven't had a proper day off, my fridge is empty, and I'm running out of shampoo!"

Mike regarded her strangely, almost sadly, but he nodded. "So you don't like being on England's representing team?"

Angelina felt like she'd been hit in the stomach with a stunning curse. Did she like it? It was something she'd been working towards since Hogwarts, wasn't it? "I do," she said slowly. "Or did. But... I think I like just playing in the national league. There's less pressure."

To her surprise, Mike chuckled. "I couldn't agree more."

She blinked at him. "Seriously?"

"Of course," he said, laughing outright and sounding something along the lines of relieved. "Are you joking? I'm counting the days until Fallon Marcomb goes back to being on an opposing team and I don't have her trying to copy my every move or interfere with my schedule or mucking up my time with-uh, with other people in the NQA."

Angelina raised an eyebrow at him, which made Mike go a little red and shuffle together some of the articles.

He cleared his throat a little as she started to smirk. "Yes, it's the pinnacle of my career getting you here, but all brilliant things come with price tags. I'd take a comfortable pace life with you on the Tornados over the insanity of global teams any day. Plus, General Stonewood is like my own uncle and would kill me if anything happened to you on my watch."

"Oh, so that's the only reason?" she teased, folding her arms.

"Well, that, and I'd be out of a job, you see," he said, casting her a cheeky grin.

"Ah, yes, that's definitely the most important thing," she chided through her smile.

"It is," he agreed, before he chuckled again and shaking his head. "So... How's Serafina?"

The somber mood was instantaneous and Angelina sighed too. "Better," she assured him. "Last night-she started turning her head in her sleep."

Mike nodded, but looked at her curiously. "You didn't see her this morning?"

"I kinda over-slept," she admitted.

"Oh, well, no worries," he said briskly. "I'll be stopping by there later anyway."

"You will?" Angelina asked.

"My day includes more than this office, you know," he retorted cheerfully.

"Sure it does," she said with a smirk, then sighed and gestured to the array of magazines on his desk. "So is that it? For the post?"

Mike smirked as well, then held up a decent sized pile. "You've got a dozen fan letters that aren't obsessive and should be answered. Three bills that should be paid—."

"Can't you?" she whined, flipping through Quidditch Weekly.

"Not even if you pay me more," Mike said without skipping a beat as he looked at the names on the envelopes. "And...well now... what's this?"

Angelina looked up as Mike pulled a parcel from the center of the pile. Mike's typically confident face looked strange with the frown of confusion on it and Angelina found herself mimicking the expression.

"What?" she asked.

"I... I sent all parcels down to the Aurors on the third floor this morning," he said, still staring at the package in his hand. "This shouldn't be here."

Red flags and all sorts of alarms went off inside Angelina's head as she looked from the package to her agent and back again. Was she imagining things? Or was it changing color? "Get rid of it," she said, locking eyes with Mike. "Put it down!"

Mike's eyes went to his hands again, but he didn't move. "I can't."

"What? Why not?" Angelina demanded. "Have one of them come get it!"

"No, I really can't," he said. "My hands—I can't put it down."

Swears coursed through Angelina's mind and her heart was racing as she tried to think of what to do. Had they ever covered something like this in a Defense class? Merlin knows she'd had a rather awful exposure to that subject, with a new teacher every year, but still-someone had to have warned them about this sort of thing! Who could she remember? Dibbens, Fellure, Quirrel, Lockhart-none of them were helpful, and one of them turned out to have You-know-who living on the back of his head! Lupin? That guy knew his stuff, but they hadn't gotten into dealing with hexed objects so far as she could remember.

Moody would've known and made sure they knew what to do, you know, if it had actually been Moody instead of some death eater with a love of Polyjuice potion. And Umbridge wouldn't have taught them how to deal with anything even if their lives depended on it.

There was one thing, though. And it wasn't a professor who'd taught her.

Angelina quickly pulled her wand from her boot and flicked it through the air. "Expecto Patronum!"

Instantly silver mist appeared, taking the form of an eagle that turned its head in her direction. Hoping she was doing this correctly. "Chiamanta vocale," she said into the wand point. "Auror offices, NQL, level three. Dangerous package on level six, Mike Smithers' office. Help ASAP."

The patronus eagle let out a screech and took to the air, flying faster than its real-life copy could have as it disappeared through the closed door. Angelina tried to keep her thoughts clear and upbeat, which was easier than she'd have guessed. After all, her thoughts were overly happy that Harry and his friends had started up that defense club in her senior year and taught her this.

Moments later a man's voice called through the tip of her wand, "On our way, we'll be there momentarily."

Angelina sighed, letting the patronus spell drop as she looked up to Mike again. The sports agent looked like he wanted to be relieved, and to a certain level Angelina was sure he was, but it didn't last long as the parcel changed color again. It was even brighter in color now and for the briefest of seconds she thought that was why his hands looked different-that they just contrasted horribly against the reddish color. But horror quickly filled her as she realized his hands were turning to stone.

"Mike," she said, trying not to sound anything less than calm-and failing miserably.

"Get out of here, Ange," he responded, sounding pained.

"Mike," she said again. "Your hands..."

"I know," he said. "Just get out of here. You don't need to see this."

She nodded, understanding his pride better than anyone, but she couldn't make herself move when she looked up to see beads of sweat on his brow and the panic in his dark eyes.

"Out of the way," a deep voice commanded, making Angelina jump as a hand moved her from the chair and back a few steps.

"Bundy?" Angelina gasped as she tripped backwards into a pair of arms that pulled her safely away.

Her former classmate barely paused to look back over his shoulder and cast her a smile of greeting before turning to Mike with three other Aurors.

"No!" she yelped, pulling against the arms holding her as she was moved into the corridor. "Let go! Karl! Stop! I can't just-."

"Lina, calm down," Wood's voice echoed in her ear. "Leave room for them to work. I promise, we won't go farther than this."

Her knees felt weak as she turned to find his face next to hers, looking just as concerned but far more level-headed to handle it. She gripped his arms tightly, keeping them around her in case she did actually fall. But a moment later, they were sitting on a bench by the large windows nearest to Mike's end of the hall.

"What was it?" he asked after a moment with nothing but the sounds of of muttering and the flashes of spells to fill the silence of the hallway.

Angelina shook her head, a very clear image of the parcel in her memory. "The post again," she said slowly. "It was in the post again. Heaven sakes, Lee was right. Its my fault."

Wood's grip tightened ever so slightly, clutching her to him protectively. "No. No, he's not right," he said, firmly rooted in denial. "I don't know how he even found out about Serafina, but he's not right. Okay?"

She forced a slow breath, nodding. Wood was right. He had to be right. It was ridiculous and a coincidence.

"Er... so," Wood said, tying to break the awkward silence. "Bundy?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, Karl," she said, her mind still on Mike. "He was in Ravenclaw, my year. We were desk-mates for potions."

"Ah." Wood nodded, fidgeting with his wristwatch. "Then, er, then he's, uh, good at his job?"

"I guess so," she said, shrugging absently. "I haven't seen him since graduation."

"Oh."

Long moments passed in silence, with both of the Quidditch players simply listening to the hushed mumble of voices coming from Mike's office. It felt like ages had passed before any movement came and, when it did, it was in the form of Karl Bundy.

"What was it?" Angelina asked, springing to her feet.

The tall young man ran a hand through his neatly styled auburn hair and let out a his of a breath, looking back over his shoulder at the office as he continued towards them. Angelina and Wood exchanged glances.

"I've seen worse," was Bundy's eventual answer with a wry smile which quickly faded to a darkly serious frown. "Whoever sent that package wanted to do some damage."

"What was it?" Wood echoed Angelina's earlier question.

Bundy continued to look uncomfortable and gave another stressed breath. "Have either of you heard of the Gorgon Charm?"

Angelina frowned, shaking her head in confusion. Wood, however, looked mortified. "You're sure?" he croaked. "It didn't get far, did it?"

"Not that we can see," Bundy said, his wry smirk returning for a moment. "We've managed to contain the spell so it can neutralize and we'll be able to get him back in working order before a fortnight passes. Good news is that we don't have to worry about more of him turning to stone."

"Stone?" Angelina repeated, finally understanding and staring at Bundy like he was speaking Greek. "It was turning him to stone?"

The taller man nodded, looking back into the room with a disappointed sigh. "Like I said, whoever put that there definitely wanted to do some damage," he said, then gave her a small, reassuring smile. "But don't you worry, Johnson. He'll be right again soon enough."

"Oh," Angelina sighed, nodding. It felt like she wasn't really there. This was just some form of nightmare that she'd wake up from soon to find Kellen sitting on her stomach and yowling for food. "Good. Right, then. Well, we have to get to the pitch."

Bundy nodded and gave her a reassuring smile. "No worries," he said. "I fully get it-just make sure you take Egypt in the next match! The lads and I have galleons riding on you getting against Ireland."

Angelina gave a laugh and Wood chuckled. "Sure, Karl," she said, relieved to be smiling again. "We'll keep your betting in mind... Just...get me if there's anything I can do."

Her former classmate nodded and turned back to Mike's office. Angelina watched him for a moment before Wood's grip on her shoulder tightened slightly before he let go to lead the way back to the lift. With one more glance back, Angelina followed, trying to fight the feeling that this was all her fault.

oOoOo

Angelina got word that Mike had been admitted to St Mungo's after she came back off the pitch. "Precautionary," they'd told her. "Because if something goes wrong, he's better off where people can help him."

She'd nodded and agreed, but she felt like screaming as she rushed to get over there. Mike hated hospitals, the fact that he'd been planning to visit Serafina had been amazing. But now he was in a room only a few doors down from her. Visiting that night, though, that had been more like a bludger to the stomach.

In her fourth year at Hogwarts, there had been cases of petrification. Several students turned up looking like those porcelain dolls her grandmother had given her when she was little. The whole thing had scared the living daylights out of her, especially when her friend Sydney brought her to the hospital wing for a sprained ankle. She was fairly sure she'd had nightmares for the following three months. Her dolls hadn't seen the outside of her brother's trunk since then.

That was how she found herself standing outside her agent's room, trying not to let memories of seeing that aspiring paparazzo or the whiny Hufflepuff keep her from going inside. She'd nearly turned to give up when a sound stopped her.

"Hey." The voice that called to her was hoarse and had a grating edge to it, but you could still hear Mike through it. He gave her a sort of stiff smile as she hesitantly made her way across the room. "I don't like it either."

She forced a laugh.

"You're okay, right?"

Angelian nearly started laughing, though it only brought tears to the fore when she let out the gasped sound. She quickly checked to make sure no mascara was out of places and shook her head in disbelief. "I'm fine," she assured him. "You're the one who was holding the parcel."

Mike gave her what he could of a smile, which was lopsided as though he was favoring one side of his face. As though that one side had nearly been lost to the spell too. "Yeah," he agreed. "Stupid me. But you're the reason I'm not a strange looking lawn ornament."

She couldn't help grimacing at his attempted humor.

"Ange," he rasped, his smile dropping to look at her seriously. "I'll be fine. The Aurors got to me before it got to anything incredibly vital-."

"What do you mean by 'incredibly-'?"

"And the healers have already applied a recessive potion," he finished, easily avoiding her question with a lopsided smile. "You'll just have to not get post for a few days or so."

She let out a snort. "Fine by me," she muttered, dropping into the bedside chair. It made him smile and she found herself smiling back. "But next time, when you say that you'll be visiting the hospital, promise you mean to see someone else and not as a patient."

Mike wheezed a chuckle, smiling more widely before shrugging almost sheepishly. "Beats waiting in the reception queue."

"Oh shut up," Angelina groaned, smirking as she shoved his shoulder-happy to note that it wasn't solid as porcelain as they both dissolved into gentle laughter.

oOoOo

When that night finally arrived, Angelina had forgotten about the Weasleys' plans for watching movies. Once she left practice, practically racing through changing, she'd sprinted to St Mungo's to see Serafina, who'd finally woken up. The young woman didn't stay awake long, but it was better than nothing. By the time Angelina had gone home and switched into lounge clothes, all she wanted to do was curl up with her cat and listen to the radio.

No such luck. She'd just gotten to a muggle pop station, having long since decided that muggle radio was far less filled with distress than wizarding, when the door was flung open, scaring her and Kellan half out of their wits.

"And cue the applause!" Fred Weasley called out, practically breaking into song. The poor little cat went scrambling to her bedroom in terror.

Angelina stared at the ginger, slack jawed. "What the-."

"Blame Jase," he said, grinning as he shrugged and sauntered the short distance across the room to shut off the radio.

"You have an amazingly basic security set up on this place," George informed her, earning him a glare.

"Interesting choice of attire," Fred complimented, holding his chin as he nodded. "Though I'd have thought you wanted to impress Wood, not scare him away."

She launched a pillow at his head, but (ever the Beater) Fred easily batted it away, nearly hitting a vase she had sitting by the window. Which, of course, meant the pillow hit the window pane and fell down to the street below. At the shouts of alarm, all three crossed to the window and looked down, but by then the accosted pedestrian was already on their way.

"What are you two doing here?" Angelina grumbled, leaning against the wall with her arms folded in front of her.

The twins blinked at her and exchanged bemused glances. "We're here to kidnap you," Fred announced. "You've got ten seconds to change your clothes or we're taking you as is!"

He curled his fingers like claws in front of himself, with George mimicking him, as they approached. Angelina let out a shout and swatted them away. "Get off! What are you talking about?"

"Trek Wars!" the twins chorused.

Angelina raised an eyebrow at them. "What?"

"Movies," George reported, apparently thinking that clarified everything.

"They're planning on a marathon," Fred added, looking fairly enthusiastic.

"Now c'mon! Wood and the girls are waiting for us," George said, giving her a sly smirk.

Even though she felt a blush rise in her cheeks, she wrinkled her nose at him and kicked him lightly in the shin. Which resulted in him over-dramatically yelping and falling onto her couch.

"Alright, time's up!" Fred announced and in seconds he'd flung her over his shoulder.

"Fred!" She screamed, pounding her fists against his back. "Put me down, you idiot!"

"Turn the lock behind you, Georgie," Fred advised as he marched out the door.

George chuckled in response and Angelina shifted so she could glare at him through her braids, only to see him grinning back at her.

"And here we go!"

A/N: Finally broke some of that writer's block away! ^_^ There's more ahead for Angelina! Fred and George's new found love of science fiction is the least of her problems... *dark laughter*