A/N- Hello lovely readers! I have finally begun to work on this fic again! It was on hiatus for a while, but I just couldn't stay away. Thank you all for your patience and support!

Enjoy!

~Dot

Chapter 4

Up, Up and Away

It was a chilly Christmas morning and Angelina could see snow falling out of her window. She begrudgingly got out of bed, annoyed by the fact she was awake so early. Her body was used to waking by seven for work and was seemingly unable to sleep in. Despite her warming spells her room was frigid, so she wrapped herself tightly in her quilt as she stood. She peeked out of her snow-frosted window and saw children playing in the street. They looked so happy and carefree and she couldn't help but stare longingly at the scene.

Hunger brought her out of her reverie and she fumbled down the stairs to the kitchen, her quilt billowing behind her. After starting the teapot she surveyed her home. She hadn't planned to decorate. After all, what was the point—she was on her own this Christmas, and she didn't much feel like celebrating. Katie had called her a "grinch", (the irony of this insult wasn't lost on her, as Angelina was the one who introduced television to the household) and she stated that she would not stand for it. Katie had covered the sitting room with fairy lights and had hung baubles on their only house plant, leaving Angelina's presents wrapped beautifully underneath it.

Katie left a week ago, going home to spend the holidays with her family and Alicia had done the same just a few days previously. Angelina's brother had invited her to stay with him and his fiancé, but she declined—it was going to be their first Christmas as an engaged couple, and she didn't want to spoil it. She could have gone to her mums, but it was likely her sister would be there, and she just couldn't find the energy to deal with her.

So, Angelina planned to spend this Christmas on her own, and she wasn't upset about it. Firstly, it meant that she could open her presents right now, and no one could judge her for it. Secondly, it meant she could spend her Christmas how she wanted—with Chinese take away and muggle telly Christmas specials. Since her ex-brother-in-law had been a muggle, she had grown up with television and she made it a requirement when the girls moved to their flat that they have one. That and a phone (it made it so much easier to order take away).

After watching Top of the Pops, (the Spice Girls won for the third year in a row with their song Goodbye, to no one's surprise) the Queen's Christmas Address, and the Noel Edmonds special, Angelina started to feel hungry and decided to take a break from mindlessly watching telly to order her dinner.

However, as soon as she got to her kitchen phone she was startled by a loud pop, which made her jump. She hastily dropped the phone and it fell to her knees hanging limply by its cord as if it was a bungee jumper. She spun around with her wand raised, ready to face an intruder. Through the kitchen, she could see that it was not an intruder who got through her many safety wards but instead was George. Or at least she assumed it was him—she hadn't seen him for months and he looked off. He appeared exhausted, with deep purple circles under his heavy-set eyelids. His hair and his beard had grown to extraordinary lengths, making it impossible to see his injured ear—or lack thereof. She had never seen him like this—so distraught and wild-looking—not even at the funeral. He looked like he could collapse at any moment. Of course, their time apart was not something she planned. She had tried to write as often as possible, but she rarely got a response. Of the many times she tried to visit him at the burrow, he had refused to see her. Though, she hadn't taken it personally, as he had refused any visitor that tried to see him.

"Happy Christmas," he said with a monotone, his face blank.

"George?", she asked, walking nearer to him, knowing that something was wrong.

"I can't do it," George said as his voice broke. "I can't do it," he repeated pitifully over and over.

"Okay," Angelina reassured, trying to wrap her arms around his large body. "I'm here," she said, not sure that it would help. She didn't know if he wanted her to comfort him—she wasn't the only person who lived in the flat. She guessed that he had tried Lee's flat first, but he was also staying with his family. On top of that, she wasn't exactly sure what he was upset about. Though she could guess. This was his first Christmas without Fred.

George barely cried. Instead, he let her hold him and stared blankly ahead. Her reassuring didn't seem to help his predicament. She had to try something else. So, she took his hand and led him to her room, where she got a heavy coat and a scarf and led him out to her balcony and beelined to her broomstick.

Flying was one of the only things that calmed her when she was upset. It was the perfect way to forget all of her anxieties. Even without quidditch, she found herself flying most days, especially since the battle. He didn't protest as she patted the back of her broom for him to sit on. He wrapped his arms around her and they took off.

The cold air stung her face as they flew over London, but she didn't mind. She flew higher until they could no longer see the light from the streetlamps. George's arms stayed steady around her and she found herself stalling her broom to close her eyes and take in the feeling of weightlessness. They flew around for what felt like hours before diving back down to the city.

The snow had left a white blanket over the buildings, blinding Angelina as she flew closer. As her eyes adjusted, she was taken aback by the beauty of the lights illuminating London. Green, red, white, and blue spots twinkled throughout the city, giving it the appearance of an electric watercolour painting. She paused for a moment, entranced by the magnificence of the sight, before landing gracefully on her flat's roof.

They hurried back to her room as they were both ice-cold. She immediately cast a warming spell on the room and began to take off her slightly damp clothing. George was doing the same, stripping down to his pants and magicking his clothes warm before putting them back on.

She turned when she took off her top. Her friends were used to changing in front of one another, whether it be in a quidditch changing room or after a long night out, they were all pretty comfortable with one another. But Angelina didn't feel like exposing herself completely (or at least into her bra and knickers) at the moment and hurriedly put on her warm jumper.

Even with the warmed clothing and the heated room, they were both still cold—their hands trembled and their teeth chattered. So, Angelina cast a warming spell on the blankets on her bed and they both climbed in. They laid like that for a while, side-by-side, Angelina wondering if anything she had done had helped him at all.

"I don't know if I can face them," George said finally, his voice soft and pained.

Angelina turned to look at him, but he did not reciprocate. Instead, he laid motionless, his eyes staring at the ceiling hopelessly.

"I can't pretend; I can't pretend that everything is normal," George said, still looking at the ceiling. "Hey, it's Christmas, a time to celebrate," he said in an exaggeratedly peppy tone. "Celebrate what exactly? Mum didn't cook at all, she hadn't since… Fleur did most of it. Did you know she's pregnant?", he asked in his normal voice, finally turning to look at her.

She responded in the negative.

"A new kid; a new life. Should be great, right?", he asked sarcastically. "And the way they all look at me. Or don't. Dad can't look me in the eyes. I don't blame him, I look exactly like… I don't even look in the mirror. Thought about dying my hair or something. But it wouldn't make a difference."

Angelina was looking at him, trying not to show her concern at his statements. He was rambling, but everything he ranted about came back to one person—to Fred. Of course he was still upset, that didn't surprise her. What surprised her was how lonely he sounded; how weak and exhausted.

"I probably ruined your Christmas plans," George stated regretfully.

Angelina shook her head. "No, I didn't have any."

George looked at her curiously and she felt like she needed to explain.

"Alex is getting married. He and Mark finally decided to tie to knot, at least in the wizarding world. I didn't want to intrude; no fun being a third wheel and all. And other than them...well, you know."

George nodded his head.

"I was gonna order take away before you came, if you're interested?", Angelina offered, guessing that he likely needed to eat as well.

"That sounds great," he said solemnly. "But, I should be getting back. I kinda stormed out, and I'm sure they're getting worried."

He stood to leave, putting on his boots and zipping his jacket. Though before he disapparated, he paused.

"Hey Ange?", he asked.

"Yeah?", she replied.

"Do you think—would you want to come with me?", he stuttered. "It's just you don't have any plans, and I—well, I could use a friend."

"Of course," Angelina responded. "I suppose I should put on something more festive," she said looking down at her all-black attire and began to rummage through her dresser.

After finding a reasonably Christmas-y outfit, Angelina and George apparated side-by-side to the burrow.

The Weasleys were glad to see George, though Angelina surmised that George storming out was a common occurrence. They were surprised to see Angelina, but quickly made her feel welcome and heated a plate for her to devour.

Along with the Weasley's, Harry and Hermione were there, and it seemed to Angelina that they were both dating a Weasley. Ginny was practically sitting on Harry's lap and she noticed Hermione and Ron holding hands on more than one occasion. For some reason, their romances shocked her, not that it was a surprise that either couple were dating. But, she couldn't help feel a little disgusted. It wasn't because of the pda, she was fine with that. Instead, it was because of the love—something felt wrong about being happy and in love at this moment. She wasn't sure how anyone could feel those feelings after what happened. But she supposed that it was a good thing—finding a light in the darkness and all that.

She knew she was there as a buffer to protect George from any probing or Fred-related conversations. Thankfully, with Harry and the rest of the Quidditch-obsessed Weasleys, it was easy to keep the conversations light and sports-related.

By half-past 11, she knew it was time to go as most of the Weasleys had left or gone to bed. She didn't want to overstay her welcome, but she also felt uncomfortable about leaving George. While he was in better spirits than when he arrived in her flat, he still wasn't himself.

"George," she half-whispered, trying not to disturb a sound-asleep Hermione and Ron sprawled out on the couch. "I'm going to head out."

She tried to gauge his expression, to see how he felt about her leaving, but she couldn't. His stare was as blank as ever.

She leaned closer to him. "Drop by whenever," she invited. He nodded his head and she reiterated her statement: "whenever, I mean it." She stared into his eyes trying to get her point across.

He nodded once again, but this time he looked back at her, his eyes expressing that he understood. She left the burrow having had a much better Christmas than she expected. However, something didn't feel right. An uncomfortable feeling fixated itself in her stomach, and she knew it wasn't because of the mead. The discomfort acknowledged the concern she felt. She made her mind up to visit George tomorrow. And the next day. And the next. Until that feeling went away.