A/N: Hullo everyone! I hope your summer is going well so far! I see some of you found me on facebook...haha. Anyway, I hope you like the chapter and thanks for reviewing!

June 20

Continued

She had to be kidding. I mean, really. It was probably some twisted joke. A dream. How could things start off so lovely and suddenly end in such pandemonium? Fred and I had finally gotten it together, had realized how silly we were being and now, it was crumbling to dust. I could only stare at Alicia, my mouth flopping open and closed, like one of those goldfish with the bulging eyes.

The band was playing some jaunty melody. Everyone was on the dance floor, clapping and squealing, oblivious to the tragedy at hand. The cake had been cut, a towering monster of vanilla batter with mounds of chocolate frosting. George and Lee were standing by the culinary masterpiece, shoveling food into their mouths and rehashing old memories.

"Angelina?"

I lazily met Alicia's gaze, feeling like the wind had been knocked out of my lungs. This was just a silly dream, that's all it was. A terrible nightmare and when I woke up, I'd be safe and sound in my bed, curled up in Fred's arms. I pinched the skin on my forearm. I pinched harder, the dull pain delayed. I looked down. An angry welt was beginning to form, a sliver of white against my dark skin.

"Alicia, if you're joking, I swear I'm going to hex you," I hissed.

Alicia shook her head, snatching my wrist.

"Why would I joke about this? I'm serious. I was talking with Ginny and Lavender scampered over. Ginny mentioned that Luna Lovegood was expecting. Lavender took it as her cue to butt in and said, Can you keep a secret? So, naturally, I lied and said yes. And that's when she announced she was preggers."

Something was stuck in my throat, a bitter, vile substance that made me want to gag. I attempted to push it down, but the revolting abomination remained in tact, clogging my esophagus. I put a hand to my stomach. Alicia released her fingers from my wrist and grabbed my shoulder. The room was starting to spin. The surrounding scenery resembled an abstract painting, the aftermath of a crazed artist. Bodies were blending together, various colors melting and dripping. There was a roar in my ear, like the rushing of wind, like the screech of a breeze through a tunnel.

"Are you all right?"

"Do I bloody look like I'm all right?!"

Alicia sighed.

"Well, I just thought I'd ask. You look like you're going to be sick."

"She has to be lying. She has to be!" I declared.

"That's what Ginny said. I don't know. Why would she lie about that? She doesn't know that you've gotten back together with Fred. No one knows. With the exception of myself."

"This is just awful. Downright awful. Leesh, everything was perfect. Fred kissed me and I just knew that nothing could keep us apart. That we're meant to be together. I finally realized that I didn't have to doubt myself anymore, that I don't have to question things. And now, now-I'm back to where I bloody started! It was all so perfect, so perfect in our own way, and now it's all just gone and fallen to pieces!"

More than anything, I wanted to cry. But I felt too drained and the words came out hollow and dead, rather than morose.

"But he doesn't love her," Alicia reminded.

"That doesn't matter, now does it? Love doesn't matter anymore. If she's pregnant, he can't abandon her, can he? Fred may not be the most moral person, but he upholds the importance of family. And if Lavender's carrying his son or daughter, he'd feel obligated to her."

"He'd be miserable with her. You know it and I know it! And Christ, Lavender Brown as a mother? You might as well hand that kid over to a pack of wolves. They'd do a better job than that ditz," Alicia passionately argued.

"It's hopeless."

"No! Don't you dare talk like that. You've come too far and put up with too much to give up."

"She's got his kid, Alicia. The fact that he slept with her doesn't bother me too much. What bothers me the most is that she's forever snatched a piece of him. Whether he likes it or not, they've got a connection. A connection that right now, is far more superior to the one I've got with him. Fred's supposed to be mine, as I'm his. And now, Lavender's taken it away and nothing will be the same. Nothing."

I thought of Hogwarts and sleeping in the common room, watching the fire sputter and die. I thought of walks in the rain, tossing dirt and falling into the mud, laughing with bits of grass tangled in my hair. I thought of forever and how it didn't seem long enough. I thought of forever and wondered what would happen when that forever ran out.

It'd taken nearly three years for Fred to really notice me. It'd taken one look to fall in love with him. It'd taken just one minute to demolish whatever hope I still retained. I was a sinking ship, sending out an SOS that no one would hear.

"You've got to talk to him. He wouldn't keep something this big from you. Did he say anything when you were outside?" Alicia questioned.

"No."

"No, you're not going to talk to him or no, he didn't say anything?"

"That's a no for both," I informed.

"Angelina!"

"What?" I wondered, with a tad of bewilderment.

"Seriously, you need to go find him and get to the bottom of this," she protested.

Her cheeks were flushed, her body rigid.

"Fine. I'll go tell him that I changed my mind. That I was in a state of temporary insanity and that I didn't know what I was saying. That I didn't mean any of it," I stubbornly outlined.

"WHAT?"

"Yes, I'll tell him that it was a big mistake. In the heat of the moment type of thing. That way, it'll be easier. And then he can just go back to hating me again and have a nice little family with Lavender. Then we won't have to go through this Romeo and Juliet melodramatic bollocks. No more secret looks across the hall, no more temptation to kiss him when no one is looking. We can just get on with our lives," I gloomily predicted.

"Don't be stupid. That'd be even worse. I'm telling you, no, I'm begging you, go find Fred. Talk to him. You're on the brink of victory. Don't wave a white flag because you don't want to get your hands dirty."

"You're saying I have to get my hands dirty? Go and steal the father of some poor girl's baby?"

"Ok, you're taking that the wrong way."

"No, I don't."

"ANGELINA! I'm not going to stand here and argue. We're just going to repeat ourselves. You need to find Fred and talk to him. End of discussion. If you don't do it yourself, I'll do it," Alicia threatened.

Her latent fury had broken the surface, her eyes sparkling with emotion. I felt like a little kid, getting scolded by her mother.

"Fine," I snapped.

I whirled on my heel and started for the door. It felt satisfying to escape the overwhelming euphoria of the wedding reception. The excess happiness was a reminder of my predicament. I didn't need reinforcement; although I was happy for Katie, it added to my distress. I needed a drink and foolishly, I'd rushed out of the ballroom before grabbing a glass. I returned to the balcony, electrified. Fred had his back to me, casually leaning over the railing.

Once he heard the harsh click of my heels, he turned around. He brushed the hair out of his eyes and smiled. It seemed cruel to ruin the moment. I started to think that I shouldn't have come out there in the first place. Why had I gotten the stupid urge to rush out here? I should have danced with Oliver, ignored Fred. End of story. But watching him, gaze locked on his playful smirk, my anger turned inward. The harmless arrogance reattached to his swagger. He looked like a man who thought he had nothing to lose.

Would this be the extent of our relationship? Would we always just miss each other? Just miss our chances? It's like the cinema duo that's jumping a train. The first person successfully hops onboard and offers his hand. The second person can only grab their partner's fingers and soon, the train whizzes by, the latter passenger stranded as the whistle shrieks.

Fred wrapped me in his arms and my body sagged. He kissed my forehead and I didn't protest. He merrily bequeathed a peck to my lips. He grinned and I thought he was showing too many teeth. The romantic splendor of the countryside had vanished. In addition to my optimism, joy shriveled and dried up like a raisin. I thought about the people down the hall, frolicking about, not a care in the world. And I wished I could have been as blithe, my movement as lithe. I wondered if any of them were actually happy, if any of them wore their radiance like a mask, only to disguise the ugly falsehoods underneath.

"Are you ready to leave?" he asked.

I pulled back, my embrace lax. I was a prized boxer, pinned up against the ropes, unable to retaliate, enduring blow after blow.

"What's wrong, love?" Fred whispered.

"Congratulations," I murmured, my voice gravelly.

"For what?"

"You're going to be a father, aren't you?"

Fred's eyes widened, frantically looking at my flat stomach. His eyes darted from my face and then to my abdomen. His hand tenderly reached out, falling onto its center. Despite the fabric of my dress, I could feel the heat of his skin. I inhaled, nearly asphyxiating on my own breathe.

"You're not-"

He faltered, the rest of his question fading away. So he really didn't have a clue. Either that or he was the world's greatest actor. I hoarsely laughed and seized his lips, wishing that a kiss would erase the pain. In my head, I was screaming, thrashing about and throwing things against the wall. In my head, I was burning the mementos of our relationship, watching the scraps catch the flames, bursting into orange and finally into black ash. Here lies Angelina Johnson and Frederick Weasley. May they rest in peace.

"Angel, does this mean…?"

"Not what you think it means. I haven't spoken to her yet, but I can imagine that Lavender's excited. Probably picked out the names, a few girl names, her favorite boy names. He or she…whichever it is…will probably have your eyes and her hair. Maybe a few freckles. Not like our kids, you know? Your eyes…my hair…a head full of lovely curls and skin like weak coffee with loads and loads of cream."

My shoulders were trembling, my voice surprisingly even. I got distracted by something in the distance, nothing in particular. I squinted, gazing at the space behind his shoulder. The grip around my waist loosened, his hand removed from my stomach. It was like Fred didn't know what expression deemed fit. His face contorted into a spasm of emotions, utter disbelief melting into fury, morphing into bleak hopelessness. It was a hideous medley of sentiments, the shocked look of a victim as they're shot in the back. Right between the shoulder blades, when you can feel the bullet tearing into their muscles. It's the recognition of total betrayal, the sort of betrayal that's self-inflicted.

"No…she…no, that can't be!"

"You did shag her, didn't you?"

"Once! But that couldn't have been…No, I swear, we were careful, I was careful. And it was awhile ago. Before we got together, before the wedding. I can't be the father, I just…I can't," Fred objected.

But I witnessed the flicker of doubt in his eyes, slipping behind his conviction, tweaking the strength of his voice.

"But who else could it be?"

"How should I bloody know?" he disputed.

"There's no way out of this one. There's no loop hole. We can't write this off and discard all the facts," I reasoned.

He stepped back, cutting off our physical contact. Come back, I wanted to say. Come back, because you don't know how much I need you. How much I need to just feel your hand on the small of my back, feel your cheek pressed against mine.

"Facts? What facts? All we've got is some accusation from a dizzy girl and now you're ready to call this off. She has no proof! A girl like that, Merlin! I'm not the only bloke she's had a tumble with!" Fred zealously opposed.

"Why would she make this up? And how do you know that you were careful?"

"I don't know!"

"Fred, I can't…I-"

"No, this is not happening. I won't let it," he stubbornly interjected.

I snorted.

"Well, it is and you can't stop it. What are you going to do? Tell the baby to disappear? Tell Lavender to-to…get rid of it? You and I both know that you could never go through with it. And I'm sure Lavender wouldn't either. And your Mum, she'd want you to do the right thing. Take some responsibility."

His ears were infected with a unique shade of scarlet, spreading like spilled paint.

"Take some responsibility? What? We don't even know if she's actually pregnant, and you're talking like the baby's going to pop out in the next five minutes!" he bellowed.

"Because I know the man I fell in love with. The man I fell in love with wouldn't turn his back on the people that need him. His family. The man I love has a good heart and doesn't run from his obligations," I raggedly defended.

His face paled and his shoulders drooped. He appeared as though he'd aged five years in a span of five seconds. He rubbed his temples, battling a wave of queasy misery. Everything was disintegrating, combusting and exploding. The only thing we could do was watch the fireworks.

"I don't love her."

I nodded, suddenly parched.

"I know," I said.

"I could never love her," Fred plainly admitted.

"I wouldn't want you to," I assured.

"This isn't the end."

"For us, it has to be."

He kissed me, slow and deliberate, his fingers flittering across my collarbone. I could sense his frustration and his anguish. There was nothing sweet about this kiss. It was a lethal combination of our sorrow, an affirmation of our hurt. I held him tighter, held him closer, squeezing out any space, like I was draining the air out of a plastic bag.

"Let's get out of here. Please," Fred begged.

"We can't. You've got to find Lavender," I advised.

"Only for tonight. I need to be with you. If this is it, if you want to throw in the towel, I can't end it like this. So cold, so abrupt. I would rather wake up to an empty bed, than watch you walk away."

I rested my hands on either side of his face and kissed him again, blocking out my destitution, focusing on the softness of those lips and the rustle of his tux. I briefly kissed his neck, feeling like I had a plethora of things to say, yet lacking the vocabulary to form the sentences. I needed to leave before the tears commenced. I didn't want him to see me cry.

"I won't be the one to hold you back. You're going to make a great father, you know that? I mean it. I really do. Who knows? Maybe this experience will bring you and Lavender together. Maybe you'll be happy together," I predicted.

The presumption didn't suit my mouth, as though I was gargling on a handful of rocks. Lavender Brown Weasley. The name didn't even sound pleasant, the consonance bumping into the assonance, colliding and detonating behind the tongue.

"Don't say that, all right? It's gonna be you and me. Like we've always said. Like it should be," Fred fiercely corrected.

"Go," I ordered.

His lips grazed my forehead. I didn't watch him leave. I kept my head low. I felt like an old toy, tossed aside, having lost the favor of its owner. The air seemed cool and my dress itched. Before the realization hit, I was crying. It wasn't the elegant sort of weeping, the delicate, airy breaths meant for paper shoulders and bird-like hands. I was sobbing, my eyes flooded with mascara-infested puddles. It felt wrong, to stand in that beautiful dress, admiring that beautiful panorama. I wanted my outside to match the inside. The ground was moving underneath my feet, grumbling like an earthquake.

Everything was blurry, black-tears clouding my vision. The champagne flute remained on the ground. I picked it up, studied the shiny surface. With a strangled moan, I smashed it, stepping back to avoid wayward glass. After a moment, I found the nearest bathroom. I turned on the water, watching the faucet roar. I pulled out a bunch of paper towels and vigorously scrubbed at my face. The lights were harsh, the soap scented. The mirrors were impeccable. I felt out of place. I scrubbed until the makeup was gone, my face a raw canvas.

My eyes were puffy, smears of eyeliner dragged beneath my bottom lashes. I wanted nothing more than to sleep, sleep for years and years. I wanted to collapse into my mattress with the shades down. I knew I looked horrible. That was the only comforting thought, the knowledge that I carried physical evidence of my dejection.

When I returned to the ballroom, Fred and Lavender were absent. George and Alicia were huddled in the far corner, fervently talking. Lee and Katie were chatting with Mr. and Mrs. Jordan. Lee's arm was snaked around his bride's waist. I spotted a waiter and snatched two champagnes flutes. It wasn't nearly enough, not enough to do anything. But it'd do for now.

I saw Oliver, sitting at my table. He wasn't looking at something in particular, just staring off into space. He drummed his fingers on the cloth. I swiftly walked over to him, and pulled up an adjacent chair. I gently put my hand over his, feeling the jut of his knuckles hiding below my palm. And I knew that although I felt alone, that night, I wouldn't be going home alone.