Chapter Twelve: Just Friends vs. Something More
"Here we are, Twin. Our last year at this august institution," said George, shaking his head, as they got up from the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall.
"Thank god for small favors," said Fred. "I have to say, I'm getting right sick of school."
"I don't like the look of that new Dark Arts teacher at all," said Alicia Spinnet.
"Looks like a fat toad," said Angelina, "and what's all that rot about 'changes' and what?"
"Umbridge," said Fred thoughtfully. "Umbridge...wait a minute. I know who she is. She used to be at the Ministry. Dad mentioned her, remember George?"
"She was at Harry's hearing," said George, remembering. "She was working closely with Fudge."
"If she's close to Fudge you know what that means," said Lee darkly.
"Miss Johnson."
Angelina, Fred, Lee, Alicia, George and Katie all spun round. Professor McGonagall stood behind them, looking as imperious and severe as ever.
"Yes, Professor?" said Angelina, stepping forward. She and McGonagall were now of a height; probably the two tallest women in Hogwarts.
"I would like to speak with you in private," she said, her voice betraying no emotion. "In my office."
Angelina glanced nervously at Fred, who grinned at her, then at Professor McGonagall.
"What's she done, Professor?" he asked cheekily.
"Shut up, Fred," Angelina hissed, trying not to smile.
"You'll find out all you need to know soon enough, Mr. Weasley," said McGonagall. "Miss Johnson?"
McGonagall turned on her heel and swept out of the Great Hall. Angelina looked at Fred, who shrugged, and she followed McGonagall sheepishly out into the corridor.
"What was that all about, I wonder?" said George.
"Dunno," said Fred. "But usually when McGonagall wants to speak to you in private it's nothing good."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Fred was sitting in the common room playing a game of Exploding Snap with Lee when he heard somebody burst into the common room. It was Angelina.
"Hey," he said, standing up quickly just as several cards exploded. "What happened?"
"I have to talk to you," said Angelina shortly, giving Lee a quick grin. She walked right up to Fred, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him toward the portrait hole.
"Hey, Johnson, Fred and I WERE in the middle of a game, you know," said Lee.
Angelina shot Fred a pleading look, and he turned back to Lee.
"I won't be long, mate," he said. "Get George to play."
"He's off snogging Alicia somewhere," said Lee. "Never mind. I'll ask Ron."
Fred followed Angelina out of the portrait hole.
"So where are we going?" he asked.
"McGonagall's classroom," she said, and said nothing else until they had, in fact, reached the Transfiguration classroom. Angelina pushed open the door and shoved her way into the darkened room, and Fred followed her, wondering just what she was on about.
She shut the door behind her and turned to look at him.
"What?" he asked her. "What's up? Did McGonagall give you fifty detentions or something?"
"No," said Angelina. Her normally coffee and cream face was ashen.
"Angie, what's wrong?" said Fred, now concerned.
"Uh, well," she said slowly, "I guess...McGonagall just told me I'm Quidditch captain."
Fred's jaw dropped, and there was a long moment of silence.
"For real?" he said. "Captain?"
Angelina opened her mouth to speak, couldn't seem to do it, and settled for nodding. Then she broke into a very sheepish sort of smile.
"Angie, that's brilliant!" said Fred, and he grabbed her round the waist, lifted her off the floor and twirled her in a bear hug. She was laughing. He was so happy for her that before he knew he was doing it, he kissed her on the lips.
Angelina gasped in her throat, but she didn't pull away immediately.
Comprehension flooded his brain and he quickly let go of her and broke the kiss before it completely ventured into the non-platonic. But as he pulled away his lips were tingling.
"Sorry," he said quickly, feeling his neck get hot.
"It's okay," she said, looking at the floor.
Fred mentally cursed himself. How many times had this happened in the past several months? Ever since their drunken attempt at shagging after the Yule Ball last year, their relationship seemed to have been on edge. Fred was walking an increasingly thinner line with her that teetered on the brink, between Just Friends and Something More. He told himself that to explore Something More with her would ultimately be disastrous. He didn't want to risk losing her friendship. Wasn't that the reason they had never dated?
And yet here they were, yet again explaining away another "accidental" kiss that had behind it feelings that went beyond the platonic. This had been happening with increasing frequency lately. They would be talking, laughing, joking with one another, flirting, and by some coincidence, their lips would touch accidentally on purpose. Fred could never really determine how it happened or who initiated it, but it had happened quite a bit.
She and Fred had always managed to brush off their kisses as expressions of friendly affection, and after a few awkward minutes, things went back to normal.
Except that things were not normal, not to Fred, at least. He was slowly, painfully becoming aware of how difficult it was to control his ever- present attraction for Angelina. He had tried dating other girls, had shagged a few, but the experiences and the girls themselves were forgettable and even regretful. Fred realized that however horny he might be, sex with a girl he didn't care much for didn't hold a lot of allure. The initial excitement gave way to a kind of restlessness afterward, the sense that he hadn't had a very good time, that something was missing.
He knew that Angelina, too, had dated a bit. She had had a summer fling with Eddie Carmichael, a Ravenclaw sixth year, but that had fizzled out, and Fred got the sense that she hadn't been all that into it. Ever since her heartbreak over Roger Davies (who, to Fred's great delight, Fleur had dumped in favor of his oldest brother Bill), she had been extremely cautious about opening her heart to anyone. Except Fred. But her openness with him had its limits. Platonic limits. Fred guessed that she, too, was still attracted to him, but that she would never pursue Something More with him. That fact bothered him. Even hurt a bit.
The silence between Fred and Angelina stretched, and he forced himself to look at her. He was overcome with the urge to kiss her again. Really kiss her. He didn't. Instead he cleared his throat and fought past the latest episode in an increasing number of awkward episodes between them.
"I can't believe it," he said, looking at the floor again. "No, wait, yes I can. You're only the best Chaser on the team."
She seemed relieved by his words; she gave a sigh and jumped back into Just Friends mode.
"Fred," said Angelina. "Shit. I'm so nervous! I wasn't supposed to tell anyone until tomorrow but...I had to tell you."
"I'm honored," said Fred, grinning, trying to ignore an uncomfortable pressing in his chest. "Wow. Captain. That is so cool."
"I guess," she said, and she began to worry her hands. "I mean, I have big shoes to fill. Wood was a great captain and we won the Cup that year and--"
"Angie," said Fred, taking her shoulders in his hands, "you'll be fine. Better than fine. You'll be excellent."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," he said, brushing his hand across her cheek softly. He meant the gesture to be reassuring, but his hand tingled, and her eyes met his, and once again the urge to kiss her crashed over him. She blinked and pulled away.
"Try-outs are Friday," she said. "We need a new Keeper."
Fred cleared his throat again and fought his way back to the land of Just Friends.
"Be there with bells on," said Fred. "Well, maybe not with bells on."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Dammit," said Angelina furiously, as she paced round the Gryffindor Quidditch tent. The rest of the team watched her anxiously. All except Harry Potter, who was serving detention with Professor Umbridge, and Katie Bell, who was just outside helping people sign up for the try-outs.
"Angie, come on," said Fred, watching her pace. "It's not that bad. So Harry's in detention. We can manage without him."
"I know," said Angelina, throwing up her hands. "Just...dammit. We haven't played in a year, Fred. No Quidditch last year--I mean, sure, the Triwizard and all, but look how THAT turned out. Cedric wound up dead and half the school thinks Harry and Dumbledore are nutters. I missed playing, you know? I just want the team to be great. It'll be tough to replace Oliver, that's all."
Katie appeared inside the tent.
"We're all set, Angelina," she said. "A pretty good group of people. Ball chest is all set up."
"Right, then," she said. "Let's do this." She checked for the whistle that was hanging round her neck (she'd done this a dozen times already).
She picked up her broom--a Nimbus 2001 (she'd gotten it last year)--and led her teammates out onto the pitch.
Fred squinted against the sunlight and then stopped dead in his tracks; George ran right into him.
"Holy--" George began.
"--shit," finished Fred.
"RON?" they both said, looking at each other, then back at their younger (albeit taller) brother, who was clutching his new Cleansweep tightly in his hands and looking like he was about to throw up.
"Oi!" said George. "Ickle Ronnie! What're you doing here?"
"George, don't," said Alicia.
"H-hi," said Ron, his eyes on his shoes. "Just, uh, thought I'd give this a try."
George snorted; Alicia swatted him on the arm. "I think it's great, Ron," she said fervently, giving George a dirty look.
"Just be careful up there, Ickle Prefect," said Fred, winking at him. "Don't fall off your broom or anything."
"Shut up," said Ron, turning crimson. Fred and George both clapped him on the back. Ron looked thoroughly miserable. Fred felt a bit guilty. It wasn't really cool to tease Ron on the day of a Quidditch try-out. And Ron wasn't too shabby a Keeper, anyway.
"Piece of cake, Ron," said Fred quickly, clapping him on the back.
"No sweat, Ronnie," said George.
"Okay," said Angelina in a clear voice. "Let's just go down the list here. We'll start with Frobisher, Vicky."
A girl with golden brown hair to her chin stepped forward, and she followed Angelina and the other players out onto the pitch.
"Let's get up there, yeah?" said Angelina. "Vicky, take your position at the goal."
Vicky Frobisher mounted her broom and kicked off from the ground, flying neatly and smoothly to the goal hoops. She had an easy, confident way of flying.
Angelina signalled to the team and they all shot up into the air; Angelina had the Quaffle under her arm.
"I'll release the Quaffle," Angelina yelled. "Ready, Vicky?"
Vicky gave a thumbs-up, and Angelina threw the Quaffle to Alicia, and the try-outs began.
Vicky was a strong contender, Fred saw. She blocked most of the goals and neatly dodged the Bludgers he and George sent her way. After about twenty minutes Angelina blew her whistle, and Vicky Frobisher's try-out was finished.
The six of them flew to the ground; Vicky trooped back to the benches where other Quidditch hopefuls sat.
"Next up," Angelina called, all business, "Hooper, Geoffrey."
Fred recognized Geoffrey Hooper from Quidditch try outs all those years ago. Fred recalled that Alicia had referred to him as a "whiner."
Alicia's assessment was correct; Hooper complained about everything. Fred was amazed Hooper had the concentration to block as many goals as he did (probably about 80% worth of them). He was a capable flyer, but by the end of the twenty minutes Fred and George had both made rather more attempts to unseat him with Bludgers than they'd made with Vicky Frobisher.
They landed again, and Hooper took to the benches. Several more hopefuls came along, including Colin Creevey (who was dreadful) and Seamus Finnegan (who flew well but wasn't fast enough to block enough goals) and even Parvati Patil (who was better than Fred ever would have imagined, in terms of flying, but not so much in terms of keeping goal).
At last, it was Ron's turn. Ron gulped and Fred seriously wondered if his little brother would in fact vomit before he even got into the air, but Ron simply swallowed again, mounted his Cleansweep and took his position in front of the goals.
Angelina blew her whistle once more, and the try-out commenced. Fred watched as Ron blocked many of the goals. He wasn't as good as Frobisher or Hooper, but he was working hard, and he'd managed to avoid almost every Bludger (one grazed his shoulder and knocked him out of position, which allowed a Quaffle through a hoop). It was clear that Ron had been practicing; he had a good feel for his broom and for the most part, he kept his mind on what he was doing. Ron's height and long limbs also gave him an advantage--he had a longer reach than anyone else who'd been up today. He would be a good enough Keeper, with a little work.
Angelina blew her whistle a final time, and the six players descended, Ron bringing up the rear.
Once on the ground Angelina led them back to the line of Keeper hopefuls and announced briskly that results would be posted tomorrow evening on the common room notice board.
Fred and George gave Ron the thumbs up as he headed back toward the castle. He still looked slightly sick and he was trembling.
"Let's get into the tent, yeah?" said Angelina, motioning her teammates to the Gryffindor tent.
Fred took a seat next to George on the bench inside the tent as Angelina stood in front of them.
"It would have been easier to do this with Harry here but as he's not, he'll just have to live with our decision," said Angelina. "And I want it to be everyone's decision, not just mine."
There were appreciative nods and murmurs at this.
"Right," Angelina went on. "Only a few good ones out there. Vicky Frobisher was the best flyer today, I think. Agreed?"
Nods of agreement.
"Problem is," said Angelina, "she's already committed to all sorts of clubs, and she told me point blank that her Charms club takes precedence over everything else, including Quidditch."
"Well, THAT'S not on," said George.
"No, it's not," said Angelina. "It's my last year and my only year as captain and maybe I'm being selfish but I want a teammate who puts the team first."
"Hear, hear," said Fred firmly. Angelina grinned at him.
"So, that's a no on Frobisher," said Angelina, and there were more nods of agreement.
"That brings us to the next possible candidate, Hooper," she went on. The sound of his name elicited groans from everyone.
"It wouldn't do to have a teammate we want to murder all the time," Fred said dryly.
"Hooper's such a crybaby, isn't he?" said Alicia. "Hasn't changed a bit since second year."
"No on Hooper, then," said Angelina. "I don't need the headaches, that for certain."
There was a pause as everyone nodded.
"The only other person who showed any skill at all today was Ron Weasley," said Angelina. "He's not brilliant, he'll need some work, but it's obvious he wants to be on the team, it's obvious he'll work hard. With some training I think he'll be good. His height helps him, he has a good broom. He comes from a family of excellent Quidditch players."
"Why, thank you, Angelina," said George solemnly.
Angelina rolled her eyes and smiled. "If there are no objections, I'd like Ron on the team."
"No objections here," said Fred, smiling wickedly.
"And we're more than DELIGHTED to be in charge of Ickle Ronnie's training," said George, winking.
"No," said Angelina firmly, but she was trying not to smile. "That's Harry's job, thanks. The two of you'll just make fun of him. Besides, Harry owes us for getting himself in detention when he knew he was supposed to be here."
"Damn," said Fred. "Oh well, we can save it for parties, then."
"So," said Angelina, "I guess with Ron as Keeper, we've got our team."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Lessee, with the upfront sales of the Skiving Snackboxes, twelve pre- orders of Fever Fudge, seven upfront sales of Fainting Fancies, two dozen orders of Canary Creams..."
Fred dipped his quill into his inkpot again and worked out the figures on a very worn piece of parchment.
"What have we got?" George asked, as he and Lee peered over Fred's shoulder.
"Excellent," said Fred, grinning. "That's forty-two Galleons in ready cash and another twelve Galleons and twenty Sickles in pre-orders."
"Cool!" said Lee.
"Very cool," said George. "Twin, we are geniuses."
"Naturally," said Fred. "Now, all we have to do is solve the little problem with the Fever Fudge before it goes to market..."
"I thought you two had worked that out," said Lee, returning to his bed and looking down carelessly at his Herbology homework.
"No, that was the Puking Pastilles for the Skiving Snackboxes," said George.
"Let's just say the Fever Fudge has a very unpleasant side effect that makes it painful to sit down," said Fred, grimacing with the memory of the horrible boils that he and George had come down with while testing that particular product.
"Testing our products would be a lot easier if Hermione would just let us hire some testers," said George. "My arse is still sore from the Fever Fudge experience."
"Hermione Granger, break the rules?" said Lee, rolling his eyes.
"She breaks rules all the time," Fred scoffed. "How many times has she gone off gallivanting with Harry and our brother?"
"Be nice if she could charm Ron to be good at Keeping," George muttered.
"Don't get me started," said Fred. "Honestly, what's his problem anyway?"
"He's not so bad," said Lee.
"No, he really IS so bad," said George. "I mean, he can do it if nobody's paying attention. But then he gets all nervous and cocks everything up."
"It doesn't help that the Slytherins are taking the mickey out of him every other minute," said Fred.
"You take the mickey out of him all the time!" said Lee. "What's the difference?"
"The difference is, he's our little brother," said George, "so we're allowed. The Slytherins are a bunch of snot-nosed toerags, which means they're not allowed."
"Makes sense, I guess," said Lee.
"Malfoy's particularly loathsome this year," said Fred. "Must be because his dad's buying off half the Ministry."
"You know, between that Umbridge cow not teaching us defense and Quidditch sucking eggs and everything else, I'm beginning to wonder just why we stay," said George.
Lee and Fred said nothing. This was not the first time George had expressed this sentiment, and it was hardly the first time Fred himself had not felt it. The year had thus far not been going all that well. True, they were making a fine success of their joke products business, and with the Triwizard earnings Harry had given them, they were in a position to rent premises, even to afford such premises in Diagon Alley, where rents ran high. From the moment Harry had told Fred and George he was giving them his winnings, Fred had entertained grand notions of a seventh and final year at Hogwarts that would outclass all others in terms of mischief-making and simple joy at knowing that he was nearly free of the confines of school.
It hadn't quite worked out that way. The arrival of Umbridge, the denial of the Ministry to You-Know-Who's return, and Umbridge's ever-tightening control over the school had made this year far less fun than Fred could have imagined. The only real joys left were Quidditch--though the charms of the game were losing their allure, considering how poorly Ron was doing for them--and producing new products for the shop.
Fred rolled up the scroll of figures and started on his Potions homework, but his mind began to drift almost at once. No, there weren't that many things about Hogwarts that Fred liked anymore. He knew he was only staying in school out of consideration for his mother. Ever since Percy had turned into the World's Biggest Prat, Fred couldn't bear to upset his mother. Well, not too much. She would never approve of the joke shop, but perhaps she would accept it if Fred and George finished out school without making too much of a mess of things.
Except that every day it became harder and harder for Fred to WANT to stay at school. Not even having Angelina around was doing much for Fred's mood. If anything, it was worse. Their relationship, on the surface, was the same as always. But underneath it had grown tense.
Fred knew why, at least mostly. For his part, it was his own damn feelings for her. He didn't want to admit it to himself, because every time he did it felt like he was wrenching his own heart out of his chest, but he was falling in love with her. Or perhaps, he had always been in love with her, but was only now realizing it.
Whatever the answer, it had become near agony to be around her; Fred sought excuses to spend less time with her. Except that NOT being around her brought no relief, either. When he wasn't around her he missed her terribly. He felt trapped in a situation that was slowly becoming untenable.
Angelina, for her part, had become short-tempered and irritable. Fred didn't kid himself that it had anything to do with her feelings for him. No, it was due to the pressures of being the captain of the team, the pressures of the studying for N.E.W.Ts, the pressures of preparing herself for a career when she still wasn't quite sure just what career she wanted.
Fred blinked and realized he had read and re-read the same line of text in his Potions textbook for an eighth time. It was no good. He couldn't concentrate.
"I'm going to the library," he announced. "For, uh, more market research stuff."
Lee and George both waved at him; by now they were used to Fred ducking into the library. Ironic that the one place Fred had avoided like the plague for so long was becoming the one place that brought him some comfort. At least in the library he could hide himself in a corner and read books that interested him and pull his mind away from the strain of his seventh year.
Except that as Fred sat down at his favorite table in the library and pulled open 101 Most Famous Wizard Gag Gifts, all he could think about was the softness of Angelina's lips when he'd kissed her, that evening in McGonagall's classroom.
"Here we are, Twin. Our last year at this august institution," said George, shaking his head, as they got up from the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall.
"Thank god for small favors," said Fred. "I have to say, I'm getting right sick of school."
"I don't like the look of that new Dark Arts teacher at all," said Alicia Spinnet.
"Looks like a fat toad," said Angelina, "and what's all that rot about 'changes' and what?"
"Umbridge," said Fred thoughtfully. "Umbridge...wait a minute. I know who she is. She used to be at the Ministry. Dad mentioned her, remember George?"
"She was at Harry's hearing," said George, remembering. "She was working closely with Fudge."
"If she's close to Fudge you know what that means," said Lee darkly.
"Miss Johnson."
Angelina, Fred, Lee, Alicia, George and Katie all spun round. Professor McGonagall stood behind them, looking as imperious and severe as ever.
"Yes, Professor?" said Angelina, stepping forward. She and McGonagall were now of a height; probably the two tallest women in Hogwarts.
"I would like to speak with you in private," she said, her voice betraying no emotion. "In my office."
Angelina glanced nervously at Fred, who grinned at her, then at Professor McGonagall.
"What's she done, Professor?" he asked cheekily.
"Shut up, Fred," Angelina hissed, trying not to smile.
"You'll find out all you need to know soon enough, Mr. Weasley," said McGonagall. "Miss Johnson?"
McGonagall turned on her heel and swept out of the Great Hall. Angelina looked at Fred, who shrugged, and she followed McGonagall sheepishly out into the corridor.
"What was that all about, I wonder?" said George.
"Dunno," said Fred. "But usually when McGonagall wants to speak to you in private it's nothing good."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Fred was sitting in the common room playing a game of Exploding Snap with Lee when he heard somebody burst into the common room. It was Angelina.
"Hey," he said, standing up quickly just as several cards exploded. "What happened?"
"I have to talk to you," said Angelina shortly, giving Lee a quick grin. She walked right up to Fred, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him toward the portrait hole.
"Hey, Johnson, Fred and I WERE in the middle of a game, you know," said Lee.
Angelina shot Fred a pleading look, and he turned back to Lee.
"I won't be long, mate," he said. "Get George to play."
"He's off snogging Alicia somewhere," said Lee. "Never mind. I'll ask Ron."
Fred followed Angelina out of the portrait hole.
"So where are we going?" he asked.
"McGonagall's classroom," she said, and said nothing else until they had, in fact, reached the Transfiguration classroom. Angelina pushed open the door and shoved her way into the darkened room, and Fred followed her, wondering just what she was on about.
She shut the door behind her and turned to look at him.
"What?" he asked her. "What's up? Did McGonagall give you fifty detentions or something?"
"No," said Angelina. Her normally coffee and cream face was ashen.
"Angie, what's wrong?" said Fred, now concerned.
"Uh, well," she said slowly, "I guess...McGonagall just told me I'm Quidditch captain."
Fred's jaw dropped, and there was a long moment of silence.
"For real?" he said. "Captain?"
Angelina opened her mouth to speak, couldn't seem to do it, and settled for nodding. Then she broke into a very sheepish sort of smile.
"Angie, that's brilliant!" said Fred, and he grabbed her round the waist, lifted her off the floor and twirled her in a bear hug. She was laughing. He was so happy for her that before he knew he was doing it, he kissed her on the lips.
Angelina gasped in her throat, but she didn't pull away immediately.
Comprehension flooded his brain and he quickly let go of her and broke the kiss before it completely ventured into the non-platonic. But as he pulled away his lips were tingling.
"Sorry," he said quickly, feeling his neck get hot.
"It's okay," she said, looking at the floor.
Fred mentally cursed himself. How many times had this happened in the past several months? Ever since their drunken attempt at shagging after the Yule Ball last year, their relationship seemed to have been on edge. Fred was walking an increasingly thinner line with her that teetered on the brink, between Just Friends and Something More. He told himself that to explore Something More with her would ultimately be disastrous. He didn't want to risk losing her friendship. Wasn't that the reason they had never dated?
And yet here they were, yet again explaining away another "accidental" kiss that had behind it feelings that went beyond the platonic. This had been happening with increasing frequency lately. They would be talking, laughing, joking with one another, flirting, and by some coincidence, their lips would touch accidentally on purpose. Fred could never really determine how it happened or who initiated it, but it had happened quite a bit.
She and Fred had always managed to brush off their kisses as expressions of friendly affection, and after a few awkward minutes, things went back to normal.
Except that things were not normal, not to Fred, at least. He was slowly, painfully becoming aware of how difficult it was to control his ever- present attraction for Angelina. He had tried dating other girls, had shagged a few, but the experiences and the girls themselves were forgettable and even regretful. Fred realized that however horny he might be, sex with a girl he didn't care much for didn't hold a lot of allure. The initial excitement gave way to a kind of restlessness afterward, the sense that he hadn't had a very good time, that something was missing.
He knew that Angelina, too, had dated a bit. She had had a summer fling with Eddie Carmichael, a Ravenclaw sixth year, but that had fizzled out, and Fred got the sense that she hadn't been all that into it. Ever since her heartbreak over Roger Davies (who, to Fred's great delight, Fleur had dumped in favor of his oldest brother Bill), she had been extremely cautious about opening her heart to anyone. Except Fred. But her openness with him had its limits. Platonic limits. Fred guessed that she, too, was still attracted to him, but that she would never pursue Something More with him. That fact bothered him. Even hurt a bit.
The silence between Fred and Angelina stretched, and he forced himself to look at her. He was overcome with the urge to kiss her again. Really kiss her. He didn't. Instead he cleared his throat and fought past the latest episode in an increasing number of awkward episodes between them.
"I can't believe it," he said, looking at the floor again. "No, wait, yes I can. You're only the best Chaser on the team."
She seemed relieved by his words; she gave a sigh and jumped back into Just Friends mode.
"Fred," said Angelina. "Shit. I'm so nervous! I wasn't supposed to tell anyone until tomorrow but...I had to tell you."
"I'm honored," said Fred, grinning, trying to ignore an uncomfortable pressing in his chest. "Wow. Captain. That is so cool."
"I guess," she said, and she began to worry her hands. "I mean, I have big shoes to fill. Wood was a great captain and we won the Cup that year and--"
"Angie," said Fred, taking her shoulders in his hands, "you'll be fine. Better than fine. You'll be excellent."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," he said, brushing his hand across her cheek softly. He meant the gesture to be reassuring, but his hand tingled, and her eyes met his, and once again the urge to kiss her crashed over him. She blinked and pulled away.
"Try-outs are Friday," she said. "We need a new Keeper."
Fred cleared his throat again and fought his way back to the land of Just Friends.
"Be there with bells on," said Fred. "Well, maybe not with bells on."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Dammit," said Angelina furiously, as she paced round the Gryffindor Quidditch tent. The rest of the team watched her anxiously. All except Harry Potter, who was serving detention with Professor Umbridge, and Katie Bell, who was just outside helping people sign up for the try-outs.
"Angie, come on," said Fred, watching her pace. "It's not that bad. So Harry's in detention. We can manage without him."
"I know," said Angelina, throwing up her hands. "Just...dammit. We haven't played in a year, Fred. No Quidditch last year--I mean, sure, the Triwizard and all, but look how THAT turned out. Cedric wound up dead and half the school thinks Harry and Dumbledore are nutters. I missed playing, you know? I just want the team to be great. It'll be tough to replace Oliver, that's all."
Katie appeared inside the tent.
"We're all set, Angelina," she said. "A pretty good group of people. Ball chest is all set up."
"Right, then," she said. "Let's do this." She checked for the whistle that was hanging round her neck (she'd done this a dozen times already).
She picked up her broom--a Nimbus 2001 (she'd gotten it last year)--and led her teammates out onto the pitch.
Fred squinted against the sunlight and then stopped dead in his tracks; George ran right into him.
"Holy--" George began.
"--shit," finished Fred.
"RON?" they both said, looking at each other, then back at their younger (albeit taller) brother, who was clutching his new Cleansweep tightly in his hands and looking like he was about to throw up.
"Oi!" said George. "Ickle Ronnie! What're you doing here?"
"George, don't," said Alicia.
"H-hi," said Ron, his eyes on his shoes. "Just, uh, thought I'd give this a try."
George snorted; Alicia swatted him on the arm. "I think it's great, Ron," she said fervently, giving George a dirty look.
"Just be careful up there, Ickle Prefect," said Fred, winking at him. "Don't fall off your broom or anything."
"Shut up," said Ron, turning crimson. Fred and George both clapped him on the back. Ron looked thoroughly miserable. Fred felt a bit guilty. It wasn't really cool to tease Ron on the day of a Quidditch try-out. And Ron wasn't too shabby a Keeper, anyway.
"Piece of cake, Ron," said Fred quickly, clapping him on the back.
"No sweat, Ronnie," said George.
"Okay," said Angelina in a clear voice. "Let's just go down the list here. We'll start with Frobisher, Vicky."
A girl with golden brown hair to her chin stepped forward, and she followed Angelina and the other players out onto the pitch.
"Let's get up there, yeah?" said Angelina. "Vicky, take your position at the goal."
Vicky Frobisher mounted her broom and kicked off from the ground, flying neatly and smoothly to the goal hoops. She had an easy, confident way of flying.
Angelina signalled to the team and they all shot up into the air; Angelina had the Quaffle under her arm.
"I'll release the Quaffle," Angelina yelled. "Ready, Vicky?"
Vicky gave a thumbs-up, and Angelina threw the Quaffle to Alicia, and the try-outs began.
Vicky was a strong contender, Fred saw. She blocked most of the goals and neatly dodged the Bludgers he and George sent her way. After about twenty minutes Angelina blew her whistle, and Vicky Frobisher's try-out was finished.
The six of them flew to the ground; Vicky trooped back to the benches where other Quidditch hopefuls sat.
"Next up," Angelina called, all business, "Hooper, Geoffrey."
Fred recognized Geoffrey Hooper from Quidditch try outs all those years ago. Fred recalled that Alicia had referred to him as a "whiner."
Alicia's assessment was correct; Hooper complained about everything. Fred was amazed Hooper had the concentration to block as many goals as he did (probably about 80% worth of them). He was a capable flyer, but by the end of the twenty minutes Fred and George had both made rather more attempts to unseat him with Bludgers than they'd made with Vicky Frobisher.
They landed again, and Hooper took to the benches. Several more hopefuls came along, including Colin Creevey (who was dreadful) and Seamus Finnegan (who flew well but wasn't fast enough to block enough goals) and even Parvati Patil (who was better than Fred ever would have imagined, in terms of flying, but not so much in terms of keeping goal).
At last, it was Ron's turn. Ron gulped and Fred seriously wondered if his little brother would in fact vomit before he even got into the air, but Ron simply swallowed again, mounted his Cleansweep and took his position in front of the goals.
Angelina blew her whistle once more, and the try-out commenced. Fred watched as Ron blocked many of the goals. He wasn't as good as Frobisher or Hooper, but he was working hard, and he'd managed to avoid almost every Bludger (one grazed his shoulder and knocked him out of position, which allowed a Quaffle through a hoop). It was clear that Ron had been practicing; he had a good feel for his broom and for the most part, he kept his mind on what he was doing. Ron's height and long limbs also gave him an advantage--he had a longer reach than anyone else who'd been up today. He would be a good enough Keeper, with a little work.
Angelina blew her whistle a final time, and the six players descended, Ron bringing up the rear.
Once on the ground Angelina led them back to the line of Keeper hopefuls and announced briskly that results would be posted tomorrow evening on the common room notice board.
Fred and George gave Ron the thumbs up as he headed back toward the castle. He still looked slightly sick and he was trembling.
"Let's get into the tent, yeah?" said Angelina, motioning her teammates to the Gryffindor tent.
Fred took a seat next to George on the bench inside the tent as Angelina stood in front of them.
"It would have been easier to do this with Harry here but as he's not, he'll just have to live with our decision," said Angelina. "And I want it to be everyone's decision, not just mine."
There were appreciative nods and murmurs at this.
"Right," Angelina went on. "Only a few good ones out there. Vicky Frobisher was the best flyer today, I think. Agreed?"
Nods of agreement.
"Problem is," said Angelina, "she's already committed to all sorts of clubs, and she told me point blank that her Charms club takes precedence over everything else, including Quidditch."
"Well, THAT'S not on," said George.
"No, it's not," said Angelina. "It's my last year and my only year as captain and maybe I'm being selfish but I want a teammate who puts the team first."
"Hear, hear," said Fred firmly. Angelina grinned at him.
"So, that's a no on Frobisher," said Angelina, and there were more nods of agreement.
"That brings us to the next possible candidate, Hooper," she went on. The sound of his name elicited groans from everyone.
"It wouldn't do to have a teammate we want to murder all the time," Fred said dryly.
"Hooper's such a crybaby, isn't he?" said Alicia. "Hasn't changed a bit since second year."
"No on Hooper, then," said Angelina. "I don't need the headaches, that for certain."
There was a pause as everyone nodded.
"The only other person who showed any skill at all today was Ron Weasley," said Angelina. "He's not brilliant, he'll need some work, but it's obvious he wants to be on the team, it's obvious he'll work hard. With some training I think he'll be good. His height helps him, he has a good broom. He comes from a family of excellent Quidditch players."
"Why, thank you, Angelina," said George solemnly.
Angelina rolled her eyes and smiled. "If there are no objections, I'd like Ron on the team."
"No objections here," said Fred, smiling wickedly.
"And we're more than DELIGHTED to be in charge of Ickle Ronnie's training," said George, winking.
"No," said Angelina firmly, but she was trying not to smile. "That's Harry's job, thanks. The two of you'll just make fun of him. Besides, Harry owes us for getting himself in detention when he knew he was supposed to be here."
"Damn," said Fred. "Oh well, we can save it for parties, then."
"So," said Angelina, "I guess with Ron as Keeper, we've got our team."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Lessee, with the upfront sales of the Skiving Snackboxes, twelve pre- orders of Fever Fudge, seven upfront sales of Fainting Fancies, two dozen orders of Canary Creams..."
Fred dipped his quill into his inkpot again and worked out the figures on a very worn piece of parchment.
"What have we got?" George asked, as he and Lee peered over Fred's shoulder.
"Excellent," said Fred, grinning. "That's forty-two Galleons in ready cash and another twelve Galleons and twenty Sickles in pre-orders."
"Cool!" said Lee.
"Very cool," said George. "Twin, we are geniuses."
"Naturally," said Fred. "Now, all we have to do is solve the little problem with the Fever Fudge before it goes to market..."
"I thought you two had worked that out," said Lee, returning to his bed and looking down carelessly at his Herbology homework.
"No, that was the Puking Pastilles for the Skiving Snackboxes," said George.
"Let's just say the Fever Fudge has a very unpleasant side effect that makes it painful to sit down," said Fred, grimacing with the memory of the horrible boils that he and George had come down with while testing that particular product.
"Testing our products would be a lot easier if Hermione would just let us hire some testers," said George. "My arse is still sore from the Fever Fudge experience."
"Hermione Granger, break the rules?" said Lee, rolling his eyes.
"She breaks rules all the time," Fred scoffed. "How many times has she gone off gallivanting with Harry and our brother?"
"Be nice if she could charm Ron to be good at Keeping," George muttered.
"Don't get me started," said Fred. "Honestly, what's his problem anyway?"
"He's not so bad," said Lee.
"No, he really IS so bad," said George. "I mean, he can do it if nobody's paying attention. But then he gets all nervous and cocks everything up."
"It doesn't help that the Slytherins are taking the mickey out of him every other minute," said Fred.
"You take the mickey out of him all the time!" said Lee. "What's the difference?"
"The difference is, he's our little brother," said George, "so we're allowed. The Slytherins are a bunch of snot-nosed toerags, which means they're not allowed."
"Makes sense, I guess," said Lee.
"Malfoy's particularly loathsome this year," said Fred. "Must be because his dad's buying off half the Ministry."
"You know, between that Umbridge cow not teaching us defense and Quidditch sucking eggs and everything else, I'm beginning to wonder just why we stay," said George.
Lee and Fred said nothing. This was not the first time George had expressed this sentiment, and it was hardly the first time Fred himself had not felt it. The year had thus far not been going all that well. True, they were making a fine success of their joke products business, and with the Triwizard earnings Harry had given them, they were in a position to rent premises, even to afford such premises in Diagon Alley, where rents ran high. From the moment Harry had told Fred and George he was giving them his winnings, Fred had entertained grand notions of a seventh and final year at Hogwarts that would outclass all others in terms of mischief-making and simple joy at knowing that he was nearly free of the confines of school.
It hadn't quite worked out that way. The arrival of Umbridge, the denial of the Ministry to You-Know-Who's return, and Umbridge's ever-tightening control over the school had made this year far less fun than Fred could have imagined. The only real joys left were Quidditch--though the charms of the game were losing their allure, considering how poorly Ron was doing for them--and producing new products for the shop.
Fred rolled up the scroll of figures and started on his Potions homework, but his mind began to drift almost at once. No, there weren't that many things about Hogwarts that Fred liked anymore. He knew he was only staying in school out of consideration for his mother. Ever since Percy had turned into the World's Biggest Prat, Fred couldn't bear to upset his mother. Well, not too much. She would never approve of the joke shop, but perhaps she would accept it if Fred and George finished out school without making too much of a mess of things.
Except that every day it became harder and harder for Fred to WANT to stay at school. Not even having Angelina around was doing much for Fred's mood. If anything, it was worse. Their relationship, on the surface, was the same as always. But underneath it had grown tense.
Fred knew why, at least mostly. For his part, it was his own damn feelings for her. He didn't want to admit it to himself, because every time he did it felt like he was wrenching his own heart out of his chest, but he was falling in love with her. Or perhaps, he had always been in love with her, but was only now realizing it.
Whatever the answer, it had become near agony to be around her; Fred sought excuses to spend less time with her. Except that NOT being around her brought no relief, either. When he wasn't around her he missed her terribly. He felt trapped in a situation that was slowly becoming untenable.
Angelina, for her part, had become short-tempered and irritable. Fred didn't kid himself that it had anything to do with her feelings for him. No, it was due to the pressures of being the captain of the team, the pressures of the studying for N.E.W.Ts, the pressures of preparing herself for a career when she still wasn't quite sure just what career she wanted.
Fred blinked and realized he had read and re-read the same line of text in his Potions textbook for an eighth time. It was no good. He couldn't concentrate.
"I'm going to the library," he announced. "For, uh, more market research stuff."
Lee and George both waved at him; by now they were used to Fred ducking into the library. Ironic that the one place Fred had avoided like the plague for so long was becoming the one place that brought him some comfort. At least in the library he could hide himself in a corner and read books that interested him and pull his mind away from the strain of his seventh year.
Except that as Fred sat down at his favorite table in the library and pulled open 101 Most Famous Wizard Gag Gifts, all he could think about was the softness of Angelina's lips when he'd kissed her, that evening in McGonagall's classroom.