Chapter 14

Angelina took off from work the next few days. She and George stayed in, trying to communicate their way through what had happened while she was out of town. She was working on forgiveness, which was difficult because she kept thinking of Annika showing up at their door, asking for George. She kept imagining the two of them, touching, kissing. It was hard to get past, even though he hadn't slept with the girl, thank heavens.

Then, early one morning, there came an unfamiliar black owl tapping at the window carrying a small, rolled up note. George let the bird in, and it swooped carefully around the room several times before sticking out a stocky leg towards Angelina.

Angelina,

Will you please tell me what's going on? I'm worried about you. What happened? Tell me you didn't take that wanker back after what he did to you.

James

"What's that?" George asked.

"It's just—it's nothing. She's just…just delivering a message from SPC," Angelina said quickly, crumpling the paper up. She was due back at work today, and she needed to get ready or she would be late.

"What did you rip it up for if it's nothing?" George said suspiciously.

"It's from a friend, that's all," Angelina said. She walked quickly to her room, their room, whatever it was, for his things and her things were all mixed up together these days.

"What friend? Is it a man?"

George had followed her, and now stood blocking the doorway looking cross. Angelina sighed impatiently.

"You want to know what it says so badly? Fine. Here you are," she said, tapping the scroll gently with her wand and sending it flapping gracefully across the room to George's waiting palm. His eyes skimmed the page, and when he looked up, his face was red with anger.

"Is this the same James that you went to Dorset with? The one who was undressing you with his eyes? And he has the audacity to call me a wanker? I'll box his lights out," George spat out. "Just you wait until the next time I see him–"

"Oh, stop it George. For God's sake, he's just a friend." Angelina paused, anger bubbling up inside of her. "And you have some nerve getting jealous over James when you let some tart come here and suck you off while I was away on business!"

"Oh, come on! Are you really going to keep throwing that in my face?"

"Maybe I am! And if I did every day for a year, so what? You did it!"

"I thought we agreed to just move past that. I told you I wouldn't do it again, Angelina."

"I've heard that so many times. It's getting a little old, to be honest."

George looked at her, blinking. "You don't believe a word I say. You'll never believe a word I say again, will you?"

"And I suppose I should, because your word is as good as gold, isn't it?" Angelina shouted.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Angelina said angrily, her heart clenching in her chest. She brushed by him with her clothes. "Excuse me, I've got to get ready for work."

"Have a great day," George called after her. "When you get back, I'll be gone."

Angelina stopped, whirling around. "What? What do you mean, you'll be gone?"

"You're not happy with me. I thought we were finally getting somewhere, but I was wrong. Then you went and told him about our problems, got him forming his own fucked up opinions when he hasn't a clue as to what I've been through. And you're picking fights with me- it's obvious you don't care to continue in this relationship. So I'll just be on my merry way."

"I never said I wasn't happy, but I swear, being with you is like a choose-your-own-adventure game! I don't know what kind of mood you're going to be in, who you'll turn to when you lose control of yourself. I'm exhausted, George!"

George rolled his eyes, shaking his head in disgust. "You know what? I am as well."

Angelina refused to let him do this to her, make it seem as if it was her fault. "Well, if you want to leave, you do that. I don't know how to please you. I've bent over backwards trying to accommodate you, I've let you move in, I've shagged you senseless, and it's still not good enough. One note from someone who I've never even come close to fooling around with, and you're ready to call it quits. You're a hypocrite! And you're unfair and I don't care anymore! So just go! But remember you were just crying the other night and telling me how you were nothing without me!" She was screaming again, as he'd turned furiously from her, slamming the door to the other bedroom.

Angelina wiped hot tears from her face and rushed into the bathroom, slamming it as well. She had to hurry; she didn't have time for this bullshit, not now…there was no telling how much work she had piled up on her desk…

Angelina hiccupped, fighting a total meltdown as she pulled her clothes on. She didn't understand what had just happened. George was so fucking unpredictable! How could he cry on her lap and tell her how much he needed her, how much he loved her one moment, and the next, threaten to move out and end everything? He was hot and cold, yes and then no. Was it wrong of her to be tired? It hit her suddenly, like a ton of bricks, how exhausted she felt in this moment. She had been emotionally drained since he'd come into her life. She'd tried so hard to be there for him, to love him no matter what. How could he behave this way over a silly note?

Before she left for work, she knocked on George's door.

"I'm leaving now. Will you come out?" she called. In response, she heard the sound of things crashing from the other side of the door.

Angelina performed her work duties like a robot, avoiding James nearly all day. He cornered her towards the end of her lunch break, which she had skipped because her insides felt funny. "You didn't answer me this morning. What's with you?" James asked her out of earshot of others.

"I'm fine, James, really. You wouldn't understand, he's been through a lot," she assured him before slipping away to her office and closing the door. She'd been unsettled all day, barely able to concentrate. Her hands hadn't stopped shaking since she'd left her flat. All she could think about was George, and whether or not he'd be there when she got home, how much she loved him and how much she just wanted to abandon every piece of shite on her desk and go home this instant to see if he was still there. It had been seven months they had lived together. His brother and sister's double engagement party was this weekend, Christmas was after that. It was the season of love and caring, not arguments and…break ups? No….no…

As soon as she was able, Angelina Apparated straight home to an empty flat. All of George's things, all of his furniture, everything that belonged to him was gone. He'd even taken Hestia.

"George?" she called out, only to hear the empty echo of her own voice return to her.

He'd done it; she couldn't believe he'd actually done it. He'd left her. She plopped down on her couch and burst into tears.

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"Fuck him," Alicia said as she handed Angelina a fresh tissue. "You should have known he wouldn't be the same after Fred was killed. Of course he's not able to be in a healthy relationship. He's terrified to get close to anyone."

"But I still love him!" Angelina wailed, crying into her tissues. Damn, but she'd been an emotional wreck lately.

"Sometimes love isn't enough," Alicia said, putting a comforting arm around Angelina. "I'm sorry, Angelina. Really, I am. But you're better off. Just find a normal bloke, one who doesn't have issues. George is unstable right now. It doesn't mean that his feelings for you were false, it's just that he's not able to give you what you want right now. You or anyone else, not that there is anyone else. You shouldn't have taken him back after what he did with that last girl."

"I know!" Angelina wailed, crying harder.

Alicia rocked her. "Come on, cheer up, love. We'll fix you up with someone nice. I'll ask Richard who he knows–"

"I don't want to date anyone. I'm just going to be single for the rest of my life!"

"Well, that might not be a bad idea either. Half the time, I'm ready to box Richard's ears."

This last comment, at least, made Angelina chuckle. But more tears came soon after that.

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Angelina didn't go by Wheezes, but Katie did and reported to Angelina that George was indeed still working there, but she didn't think he was living upstairs anymore because the door leading up had been sealed shut.

"There were so many people there, he couldn't possibly have noticed me," Katie assured her.

Angelina waited days, then weeks, for George to owl her, to stop by, to let her know somehow that he was sorry for what had happened, that he missed her and wanted to come back. She received the invitation to Ron and Ginny's party in the mail, and scribbled a lovely note of apology about being unable to attend. She didn't add that she and George had split, leaving him to tell his family the bad news, if he chose to even attend. As Christmas came soon after, Angelina spend her break with her family, smiling to everyone during the day and crying at night. She didn't receive so much as a card or an owl from George on Christmas day. She was heartbroken, but tried her hardest to carry on as normal. She started eating more, and though she felt dismayed when her clothing began to fit tightly, she couldn't stop stuffing her face. She had a taste for fish and chips especially, and often had it delivered to her on the job. Work took up more and more of her time, and she started spending regular nights at the office. It was sad that her office felt more like home to her than her flat did, but it was the truth. James dropped small hints that he would like to take her out, but she gently brushed him off.

Weeks turned to months, and by late January, Angelina began to accept that she and George had truly broken up, and that he was probably shagging every giggling twit who batted her eyelashes at him.

One afternoon at work, Mr. Boggains called everyone into the Board Room for a special meeting. Angelina came late, cross, her lunch of roast beef and crackers half eaten. She was starving as usual, and didn't understand why the meeting had to be now, of all things.

Mr. Boggains, what a silly old fool, she thought grumpily. She had been in a horrid mood the past few days, unable to sleep properly and always having to use the ladies room. She wondered on more than one occasion if George hadn't "given" her something, since the gods only knew what he'd done and not admitted to. But he wasn't like that, was he? He'd told her he hadn't slept with another girl, and she believed him. She was doing it again, thinking about the man she had not seen or spoken to in eight weeks. Well, she wasn't too proud to go to the doctor, and if she–

"As you all know, Angelina Johnson and James Turpin did an outstanding job of earning a grant for an expansion of this company. I am here to announce that I will be relocating to Dorset to manage a sister company of SPC. In my place, I am recommending that Miss Angelina Johnson take over the position as the manager of the London branch!"

Everyone broke out into applause, turning to look at her. She was caught completely off guard by this. James had been right; he'd told her this might happen, only she hadn't thought about it again once they'd returned from their trip.

Was Mr. Boggains expecting an answer now? She swallowed thickly, feeling terrible all of the sudden for referring to him as a silly old fool. The room seemed to sway slightly.

"It's all…it's all so sudden, Mr. Boggains…I'm flattered, really, I am…"

Angelina found James' face in the crowd, and he nodded at her, as if to say, Take it!

"Surely you aren't turning down the opportunity to travel to foreign places? To receive a dramatic hike in pay?" Mr. Boggains said.

Damn right. What was she thinking?

Angelina smiled. "I accept. Of course. Thank you very much, Sir. I'm honored."

Another round of applause broke out, then James lunged forward and grabbed her in a big bear hug. "Congratulations, Boss. You deserve it," he said in her ear before he let her go. More hugs from coworkers followed. As a crowd formed around her to offer congratulations, Angelina felt a sudden lift in her soul. It was the first time in months that she felt happiness.

Some of her coworkers insisted on taking her out to dinner that night, which she grudgingly did. She had a great time once she got there, talking and laughing with everyone, including James, who made sure to sit right beside her. They ordered up quite a bit of food. James wanted everyone to try to Dragon Dip, which supposedly was made from the juices from the stinger of the infamous Red Tipped Squid. It was hot as fire, but delicious, especially when spread on crackers. Butterbeer and FireWhiskey was served to the table by the pitcher, and Angelina barely knew her own name as she stumbled home. James had offered to see her home, or at least a spot on his couch, but she'd insisted on returning to her own flat. She was pissed, but not so much so that she was ready to accidentally sleep with another man.

Sometime during the middle of the night, Angelina woke up feeling very sick to her stomach.

"Damn that Dragon Dip and Fire Whiskey," she grumbled as she made her way groggily to the loo. She wretched every bit of her dinner into the toilet, until there was nothing left coming up except bile. She rinsed her mouth out with water, and flushed the toilet.

Angelina clutched her stomach, hurrying back to her warm bed, and slipped underneath her covers. Just as she settled into a comfortable position, she was seized with another fit of nausea.

By morning, she was convinced that her Dip had been rotten. She dressed quickly and headed to the Tram, holding a napkin over her mouth and closing her eyes at every bump in the road. It helped with the vomiting, but as soon as she stepped off the train, she dry heaved onto the pavement.

"Oi, that's disgusting!" a teenager shouted at her, pointing.

"Piss off, I'm sick, can't you see that?" she snapped, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

Angelina was able to make an emergency appointment with a Dr. Stimples. He drew some of her blood, had her breathe into a thin tube, and performed some painless spells over her. Then he left the room with a promise to return shortly. He was gone for quite some time, but returned looking cheerful.

"Look, I don't mean to be discourteous, but I've got to get back to work. I've just been promoted, and I already know the celebratory dinner of Dragon Dip is the culprit here. If you please–"

"Promoted, you say? I supposed congratulations are in order on two accounts, then," Dr. Stimples said.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Congratulations on your promotion and congratulations on your pregnancy!"

Angelina gasped. "Pregnancy?"

"You're approximately eight weeks along, I'd say. Most pregnant women cannot tolerate Red Tipped Squid. The alcoholic beverages didn't help with the vomiting either. You really should refrain from consuming any more alcoholic drinks until after the baby is born."

Angelina sank back down on the examining table. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"You're pregnant, my dear. At your age, surely you know what happens when you have unprotected intercourse. It only takes once, you know. Only once. Were you thinking it was the meal? No, no, the food wasn't bad, you just weren't able to tolerate it. The expected due date is, ah, let's see…here it is around October 7th. It could be a little off, but we'll be able to get a more accurate date as you go along. We'll be seeing you regularly starting next month, then, you know, just to make sure things are going well."

"I don't know what to say."

"Well, I really do wish I could chat you up, but I've got patients lined up, and time is money. If you haven't any questions, good day to you, my dear. Can you find your way out?"

Angelina nodded dumbly, and left without another word.

This was not happening. This was not happening at all, this was a very bad dream. A baby coming in October, a baby whose father was someone she hadn't spoken to in three months. And now she was supposed to ring George up and tell him he was going to be a father?

No, absolutely not. She was not going to tell him a thing. She wasn't going to tell anyone a thing; she was going to make a few calls and send a few owls and do what she needed to do…

Wasn't she?

She rode to work in silence, thinking how unbelievably fucking unlucky she was.

A/N: I sat down and started typing and this is what came out. I'm just as surprised, trust me.