Angelina was out of hospital three days later, with minimal scarring on her feet. She returned to her normal olive complexion and threw herself into planning for a baby, keeping her nose clear of George's wedding plans.
"I am curious as to what he's planning," Angelina was saying to Hermione as they browsed colours for the nursery. They had several books of examples that they were looking over at the table in the flat. "I mean, I'm not angry at him anymore, but he says I'm not to butt in."
Hermione smiled. "I've had a brief look, and –"
"Oi! No spoilers!"
"And everything looks fine," Hermione continued, ignoring Angelina. "How about yellow?"
Angelina debated. "No," she said at last. Hermione put it to the side.
"How're… you know, you and Fred?" Angelina asked hesitantly. A suggestive look crossed her face. "Have you…"
"What? Angelina, no!" Hermione cried, blushing profusely. Angelina laughed.
"Oh, relax. I didn't mean to intrude."
Hermione scowled. "Of course not."
"But you're happy, right?" Angelina pushed. Hermione nodded.
"How could I not be?" she asked, smiling. "Fred's brilliant."
Angelina hummed her agreement. "George has been worried that you'd make him too boring, you know," she admitted. "But I think the damage will be less than George thinks. He'll be especially good for you, as well."
Hermione pretended to be shocked. "I can't believe George would say that! I better have a word to him."
"No! No, you mustn't tell him I said anything!" Angelina said immediately, reaching out to clasp Hermione's hand urgently. Hermione laughed.
"Oh, relax," she mocked. Turning serious, she continued. "It's not like we're a match made in heaven, I suppose, so I can see where he's coming from. Still, we haven't had an argument yet, not a real one anyway."
"A real one?" Angelina questioned, quirking an eyebrow. "All arguments are real."
Hermione shook her head. "Not really. We've just had… debates, I suppose. Especially with the wedding. Little things, like showing off his products and wearing strange clothing." Hermione smiled fondly. "Nothing overly major."
Angelina shrugged. "That kind of stuff builds up over time, though," she said seriously. "It happens with George and I a lot. If there's anything I've learned from being with the Weasley twins, it's that it's important to let them have their fun."
"I know," Hermione murmured.
She had already worked that much out for herself, but she was thankful for Angelina's support. She was, as George had put it so many months ago, a hell of a girl.
"What are you doing for Christmas?" Hermione asked once Angelina had denied her fourth colour suggestion (pale gold).
"George always goes to The Burrow, but I think my parents are holding a small get together. Not to mention, Katie's holding some sort of quidditch reunion with Oliver that she's invited me to." Angelina sighed deeply. "It's rough being popular, Hermione."
"I wouldn't know," Hermione murmured. Angelina immediately looked ashamed.
"No, I didn't mean it like that," she said hurriedly. "I just meant –"
"Don't worry about it," Hermione interrupted. "I've had my fair share of popularity, thank you very much."
Angelina appraised her with a keen eye. "Especially in the newspapers," she agreed. Then, she laughed loudly. "Do you remember what Rita Skeeta used to write about you? Blimey, that was rubbish."
"Really?" Hermione asked in surprise. "I thought everyone believed her."
"We're not all daft," Angelina said breezily. "Just unheard."
At that moment, Fred and George entered the flat, Fred tripping George over the threshold. Laughing, Fred continued past his twin gingerly, who reached out and grabbed hold of Fred's ankle and pulled him down. After a brief scuffle on the floor, the two bounced up with smiles on their faces.
"There they are!" George exclaimed, gesturing to the girls. "Right where we left them."
"Maybe a little bit to the left," Fred allowed, tilting his head slightly.
Hermione blushed under their intense gazes, and instead returned to her booklet. She'd reached the brown colours. The twins loped over and grabbed something off the table, which had previously been invisible. Now under their touch, it turned purple and silver.
"I knew we had an extra pair up here," George said mischievously. Fred was wearing an identical grin; the only difference between them was the lack of ear on George's behalf.
"How are my lovely girls?" George asked, loping over to sit beside Angelina, resting his arm on the back of her chair. Angelina rolled her eyes.
"You know that we can't tell what gender the baby is for another couple of months, right?" she asked, putting her book down.
George shrugged. "I already know that it's going to be a girl."
Fred quietly sat himself beside Hermione, offering a small smile which she returned. "The shop's all closed up, how about a night in?" he asked her quietly. Hermione nodded eagerly.
"I'm starving," she said. Her stomach groaned loudly, emphasising her point. "Do you want me to cook?"
"Nah, we will," Fred said, already standing up. He nudged George between the shoulder blades roughly. "Come on, you lazy sod. Day's not over yet."
George groaned, gave Angelina a swift kiss on the cheek, and followed Fred into the kitchen. Angelina returned to her book, but Hermione was far too distracted by her fiancé.
The twins had a strange method of cooking. It was clear beyond all doubt that they had done this before – that, or they were telepathically linked. Fred got the pots out and left them on the bench for George to fill. A small bottle of salt was then tossed over his shoulder to George, who caught it without looking, and used it. Fred turned on the stove, George put the pots on. They never crossed paths and yet always seemed to be switching ends within the kitchen. George would crack the eggs (one-handed) and Fred would whisk them, salt them, and send them back to George who put it in with the rest of the meal. The meat was thrown over their shoulders into the frying pan with a loud splat!
Angelina was snickering. "Stop watching, you'll make them fumble," she whispered to Hermione. Too awestruck to reply, Hermione simply stared at the cover of her book. Soon enough, enticing smells wafted through her nose.
"Do they do this all the time?" Hermione asked Angelina, who was holding her book up past her nose, only revealing her eyes. They looked amused at Hermione's shock.
"They're just showing off," she said, her voice muffled. She lowered the book, showing Hermione a plain colour. "What do you think of Hogs Bristle?"
"It's a bit dull."
Despite Hermione's negativity, Angelina decided on Hogs Bristle for the nursery colour, stating that it would be bright enough. As they put the books away, Fred and George levitated the food over to the tale. The twins had made a hearty meal of various red meats, vegetables, homemade pasta with herbs and scalloped potatoes.
"That was quite a show," Hermione couldn't resist from commenting, spearing a piece of potato with her fork. Fred and George exchanged glances.
"We're always out to impress you, darling," Fred said extravagantly. "Did we succeed?"
"Beyond belief," Hermione nodded.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Angelina nudge George and give him a meaningful look. Hermione knew that she was easing his fears of her making Fred boring. George, however, looked unconvinced, and that made Hermione all the more determined to prove him wrong.