Author's note: Hey! So, there's something seriously up with my maths... How I got to be in the higher maths class is completely beyond me. How can I be on the eleventh day of Christmas, when it's only Christmas eve eve? So I've had to make some minor changes to my plotline, but this will probably work out better anyways... I'm busy tomorrow, and I'm sure none of you will be checking your fanfiction on Christmas day, and neither will I, as I said on chapter one. So I might finish the story tonight... Emphasis on might.

It's so close to Christmas! Merlin, this is exciting... It doesn't even feel like Christmas. How can it be less than two days away? I'm so excited! XD

Isabel: Oh, your poor brother... Books make good misiles, though, don't you think? I once threw one at myself (long story!) and I hate a bruise for days... Anyways. And as to the confusion with the twins, no George didn't die... Don't do that to me! I'm never going to get over Fred's death, and then I see a sentence like that, and Holy Merlin... :'( So, yeah. It's really weird, but everytime I write Angelina and George, I end up writing Angelina and Fred... What even is that? I think it's because I've got so used to writing Fred/Ada stuff, and... I don't know. I proof read, but I guess I missed one or two. So sorry about that. It was Never gonna be alone by Nickelback... yeah. And I don't know that one! That's frustrating... Tempted to open google and type it in. But no, I'm a good girl. I won't cheat. Okay, so second to last one: Who cares what they're wearing, on Main Street or Saville Row? It's what you wear from ear to ear, And not from head to toe. Holy Morgana, you know it's Christmas when I can't get that out of my head... Hope you have a wonderful time with your brother! And I had 10ml last Saturday and was dead proud of myself... Drank it at four o clock, was still lying awake at midnight. I've come to the conclusion that energy drinks and me shouldn't be mixed...

Bubblecloudz: okay, here goes: thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou... You're a wonderful person! So, so glad you like it!

I don't own Harry Potter...

On the eleventh day of Christmas, my true love sent to me, 11 Pipers piping, 10 Lords a Leaping, 9 Ladies Dancing, 8 Maids a Milking, 7 Swans a Swimming, 6 Geese a Laying, 5 Golden Rings, 4 Calling Birds, 3 French Hens, 2 Turtle Doves and a Partridge in a Pear Tree.

It took Angelina a moment to figure out why she felt so excited, and so nervous. Then she remembered what day it was, and almost squealed in excitement.

"George! George, George, George! Wake up!"

"Ugh." George mumbled into his pillow, inhaling a mouthful of feathers as he looked up. "What is it, Ange? Is the apocalypse coming?"

"No- Oh, wake up, you prat! It's the day of my first real match, remember? The Harpies Christmas eve game, and I'm playing, and Merlin this is so exciting!"

"Okay. Well, while you be excited, I'm going to get some more beauty sleep."

Angelina mock pouted. "Thought you'd be happy for me, Georgie dear."

"I am. Very happy for you. It's just that I'm going to spend the next couple of hours being happy for you whilst catching up on some sleep."

Angelina laughed, jumped out of bed and took the stairs three at a time as she ran to make pancakes.

Even the dire news on Potterwatch, bringing in tidings of death and disappearance and dark marks from all corners of the country, couldn't do much to dampen her mood. The flurry of snow which had swept once more across the country the previous evening had subsided, leaving the conditions calm and clear, if somewhat cold...

Everyone had been so worried recently. Every face you saw had a grim expression on it, every day the news seemed to get worse. Angelina felt as if she had been carrying around a great bundle of worry and hopelessness and fear in the pit of her stomach ever since the previous year.

This Quidditch match seemed much more than just a Quidditch match; much more, even, than a lifelong dream... It seemed like an opportunity, proof that good things still existed, that you could rebel in little ways.

Yes, they were at war, and yes, terrible things were happening... Friends, family, neighbours... Strangers. All taken from their midst. But good things still existed. George kissed her, and her heart skipped a beat. Ada, Fred, Alicia, Katie... All still smiled at her, hugged her and wished her a Merry Christmas, reminding her that she wasn't alone. Carlotta still drove her mad...

Quidditch matches, love, friendship, pranks, family and Christmas still went on, war or no war. Whether this was the end, or just the beginning, the world would go on regardless.

Maybe our lives were only important because they were short. Maybe you might wake up tomorrow and found everything that made life living was gone... But just because everything might be taken from you tomorrow, didn't mean you shouldn't enjoy what you had today.

Maybe if someone Angelina loved died in this war, it wouldn't mean the world came to a standstill. It wouldn't mean the end of the world. But it would be the end of the world for Angelina. And that was all that really mattered, all that made life worthwhile.

And so, kicking off from the ground, Angelina felt pretty good.

It wasn't a surprise to anyone when the Holyhead Harpies won the Christmas match that year. Angelina played amazingly well, scoring 3 of their 6 goals. But then again, who wouldn't with a barking mad Weasley twin cheering them on in the stand?

After she had been congratulated by the entire Weasley clan (which had turned out in full force... Or rather, what was left of them had.) Her mother, grandmother (who was practically glowing with pride, and still holding on to George's arm) and Carlotta, Angelina turned to George.

"Meet me after, okay?" She asked, before kissing him quickly on the cheek and running off to the changing rooms to get a hot shower, which, with a bit of luck, could remove the frostbite from her fingertips.

George sat, leaned against the railing from the stands with his hands in his pockets, whistling under his breath. "Fancy seeing you here, Miss Johnson." He called.

Angelina laughed and rolled her eyes, stomping her snow boots to try and keep the cold from her toes.

"Quick game with me, Georgie dear? For old times sake?"

"Why the hell not?" George asked. "Though after that game I'm pretty much certain I'm about to be royally beaten."

Angelina laughed, shrugging. "Maybe so."

As it turned out, however, George had a fun way of holding his own. "Alright, Ange. Quaffle for a kiss."

"Stop cheating you idiot!" She laughed, bouncing up and down on her broom as the stretched her fingertips in an attempt to reach the ball.

"Don't recall anything in the rulebook about holding the quaffle out of your girlfriends reach, and offering to give it back to her in exchange for a kiss. Come on, Ange. There's mistletoe!" He pulled a pouty face and hovered a bit higher, as airborne mistletoe coiled out of nowhere and hovered over his head...

"Give me the quaffle you prat!" Angelina laughed, reaching a bit higher as George shot out of reach.

"Too short, Ange?" He laughed.

"Holy Merlin, remind me why I agreed to go out with you in the first place." Angelina grinned, rolling her eyes.

"Because I'm tragically funny, astonishingly good looking, smart, brilliant, amazing and-"

"Exceptionally big headed?" Angelina suggested, as she tried in vain to reach the quaffle yet again...

"That too." George conceded with a grin. "But that's besides the point. Don't you want to kiss me Ange?"

Angelina pretended to consider for a moment, before grinning at him. "I'm gonna have to go with... yes."

Grinning triumphantly, George wrapped his arms around her neck and kissed her soundly...

It was freezing, Angelina suddenly realised. Her fingertips, toes and the end of her nose were all icicles... Even her hair seemed to be cold. But George's lips were warm. He tasted of spring, of butterbear and warm fires crackling in the hearth and comforting childhood memories...

"Aha!" She declared, pulling away quite suddenly in triumph, and holding up the quaffle.

George pouted. "You don't play fair."

"Never said I did." Angelina retorted, racing towards the goal. Suddenly, and without warning, the quaffle flew out of her hands, and began to hit her repeatedly on the head.

Squealing, she covered her head with her arms, trying to bat the ball away... "George!" She cried reproachfully.

"Neither did I, Ange. Neither did I." George laughed as he flew to join her. Suddenly, he took out a pipe and began to play, out of tune and out of time, but with a distinct and strange quality... Suddenly sleepy, Angelina found her eyes drooping.

"Isn't funny." She muttered half heartedly as she yawned widely.

"On the eleventh day of Christmas, my true love sent to me, 11 Pipers Piping, 10 Lords a Leaping, 9 Ladies Dancing, 8 Maids a Milking, 7 Swans a Swimming, 6 Geese a Laying, 5 Golden Rings, 4 Calling Birds, 3 French Hens, 2 Turtle Doves and a Partridge in a Pear Tree."