"Sometimes I feel so happy
Sometimes I feel so sad
Sometimes I feel so happy
But mostly you just make me mad
Baby you just make me mad…"

Chapter One: Sometimes…

- Sixth Year-

I have Muggle Christmas carols in my head. I have no idea as to where they had come from, but "la la la la la" was steadily thumping its way through my head.

'Tis the season…

The Great Hall had been decked and sprits were high. There was the usual holly and the red bows, the twinkling lights, the Christmas tree. And there was the Yule Ball, the one thing that had seemed to have consumed every mind in Hogwarts. Including my own.

And I had yet to find a date.

Alicia was at my side as we headed back towards the Gryffindor common room. She was jabbering on about her dress gown and how she was torn between two slightly different hairstyles. Merlin, love her, but I honestly didn't give a damn if she went with her hair fashioned as horns on top of her head. She apparently wasn't aware of this. "…and I'd have a few tendrils just kind of hanging there. You don't think that'd be too much, do you?" I gave her an indistinct grunt that she apparently took as a "no" and returned to her heavy pondering.

Katie was waiting for us in our usual corner of the room. Her Transfiguration notes were lying in her lap, and a frown was crossing her lips. It quickly melted into a smile as she spied us, and promptly shut her book. Alicia launched into her oration concerning her great hairstyle dilemma. I went back to wracking my brains, fervently searching for someone I could coerce into going to that ball with me.

And then I heard it…

"Oi! Angelina!" Fred. Fred and his red hair. Fred and his goofy grin. Fred, calling to me from across the room.

"What?" I hadn't even noticed that he had come in. And I couldn't figure out the grin on his face. He was up to no good. I knew it. He had to be.

"Want to come to the ball with me?"

I looked him over carefully, suspiciously, imagining all kinds of nasty tricks up his sleeve. He's infamous for a reason. Fred Weasley wouldn't ask me to the ball. Not without a reason. I realized I was still looking him over, and that he was still waiting for a reply. A reply I wasn't sure I was all that ready to give.

"All right then." He looked pleased, and for some reason, this made me want to laugh. I turned to Alicia, attempting not to giggle.

I only grinned instead.

Fred. Fred and I. It's a convoluted tale. We once played the part as enemies, but eventually realized we got along too well for that. Ever since first year, we played off each other. He pulled the pranks, I reprimanded him. I morphed into a total bitch, he mocked me for it. I annoyed him, and he annoyed me back. I pissed him off, and I was just as angry, if not more, mere hours later. It was mutual. I wouldn't call it "love/hate." Our emotions were never that extreme. With each other.

Well, maybe when we're angry…

I had to spend the whole week before the ball listening to all that inane, excited chatter enveloping me down the halls, at lunch, in the Common Room. Granted, I was excited, just not the buzzing, I'm-about-to-burst-and-explode kind.

Alicia had finally stopped prattling on about hairstyles and make-up tricks. She had moved on to a far worse topic: My love life.

"Ange, you know, this could very well be the beginning of something. All really, really good love affairs start off as friends." She was sitting on her bed, a sugar quill hanging out of her mouth, looking like she was expecting me to jump up and down.

"Funny. I always thought it was the 'star-crossed lovers' and the other horribly fated kind that resulted in the great love affairs." She hated when I was sarcastic. Even more so when I was cynical. I was just sick of hearing this. Everyday it had been the same. Everyday since Fred had asked me to the ball. Everyone was acting like it was the dawn of something new, something passionate, something long foretold.

It wasn't.

We were two friends going to a dance, doing each other a favor, guaranteeing ourselves a good evening. Nothing more.

I was sick of telling her that. I think she was sick of hearing it.

It had been a long day. A ridiculously long day. A long day that had culminated in far too much homework.

I was crabby.

And he knew it.

I entered the Gryffindor Common Room to find him there, sitting there, with George, whispering fervently, waving his hands all about. He looked pissed. That made me smile. I curled up in an armchair closest to the fire and opened my bag, digging around for a quill, some parchment and my Potions book. Tonight was going to suck.

And there he was.

I don't know how he does it. He always has this way of completely sneaking up on me. I turn away, and the second I turn back, there he is.

"Hey," he said, plopping down entirely without grace into the armchair next to mine. Without waiting for a response from me, he immediately launched into a retelling of his recent scrape with Filch: "That damn cat of his must've heard me going 'round the hall, down by the Slytherins' entrance. Next thing I know…" I tuned him out. I had heard the story a thousand times, once a week for the last six years of my life. Every time it was the same: Fred had attempted something stupid, and had almost gotten caught in the process.

How he had never been expelled, I will never know.

"Are you even listening to me?" He was staring at me.

"No." I never lied to Fred. It seemed impossible; I just didn't know how. He looked pissed. Friends are apparently supposed to listen. "Really, Fred, I think I know how this story goes." My attempt at an explanation apparently came off as me being a cold-hearted bitch.

"Of course you do." Shit. I had fucked up.

"It's just…Merlin, Fred, it's always the same with you." Definitely the wrong thing to say. "I mean…well…it's just…since first year, it's always been the pranks, always the war with Filch…it's just…I mean…Dammit, aren't you getting a bit old for that?" Why, why, why, why, why do I always feel the need to be brutally honest?

He frowned. Frowns were rare when it came to Fred Weasley. He had an infinite number of grins and smiles, chuckles and laughs. Frowns were another story. "Right." His voice was like steel. I didn't like it. "Silly Fred. Silly, Stupid, Thick-Headed Fred. I get it. Too immature for the sophisticated likes of you. 'Night, Angelina."

Great. The Yule Ball was in one day and my date was severely hacked off at me.

I was staring at the mirror. My face was glowing back at me.

For once, I wasn't just Angelina Johnson, Quidditch player for the Gryffindor House Team. I wasn't Miss Johnson, good student and all-around well-mannered girl. I wasn't Angelina, friend of Katie and Alicia.

My brown eyes looked bigger than ever and my cheeks were flushed. I looked like the me I imagined myself as.

I felt...pretty.

I opened the door and descended the stairs into the Common Room. He was waiting for me. For a second, I forgot the fight we had the night before. I forgot all the shit he had pulled. I forgot how he used to trick me all the time, how he used to make me shriek with rage.

Damn, he looked good.

The night was more fun than even I had expected. Apparently last night was a distant memory. Either that or he was just choosing to ignore it.

We had danced, or according to some people, "caused a disturbance." My feet were aching, my mouth was dry and I hadn't had that much fun in a long time. But we kept dancing. Surprisingly, Fred was a pretty good dancer. Surprisingly and thankfully.

As the night waned on, we moved closer and closer together. I didn't notice the space between us subtracting until he was right there. Up against me.

Maybe it was the dancing. Maybe it was the heat and the sweat. Maybe it was the excitement of the room. But I wanted him. I wanted Fred Weasley, my best friend.

His hand slid down my back, tracing the curves beneath my robes. I rubbed myself against him, not sure what I was getting myself into. He leaned in, he mouth dangerously close to mine. I waited.

Nothing happened.

Instead, I felt his mouth by my ear, could feel his hot breath skating across my already heated skin. "Let's get out of here." I stifled the laugh that was creeping its way up. He sounded like a Muggle movie. A cheesy one, at that. The laughter evaporated as his teeth skimmed across my ear lobe.

Somehow we made it into the hallway. I don't remember going there. My hand was tightly clenched in the fire of his, and he was practically dragging me down the halls. I didn't know where we were going. I never traveled these passageways. The portraits that lined the walls were utterly unfamiliar, and my head was already spinning.

We were in the dark. We were in some obscure, dark passageway. And I was up against the wall. And he was leaning towards me. His lips were mere inches from mine; I could feel his breath filling my pores.

And then he pounced.

His lips were fused with mine, and his tongue was already pursuing entrance. We were tangling and gliding, fighting, like we always do. His hands were creeping up and down, his knee pressing between my legs. I kept my hands tangled in his hair, not quite comprehending what was exactly occurring. His hands were on my breasts. My hands fell to his hips. Hands, hands everywhere. Back, front, hips, ass.

He lifted me up.

And it was all over from there…

We had made it back to the Common Room. I could feel my hair out of place, and my dress robes just didn't feel right. My head had finally stopped spinning.

The room was empty, abandoned. I had no idea what time it was. I don't think he did either.

I looked at him, curious. "What just happened, back there?"

"I'm pretty sure we fucked." He said it dryly, sarcastically, taking a page out of my book. I arched an eyebrow. He smirked.

"This doesn't…change…anything…does it?" I asked. Not sure I wanted the answer. Fred was my friend, one of my closest friends. I didn't want to lose that. I didn't want to lose that just because we decided to take advantage of the fact that our hormones were racing.

He laughed. He actually laughed. A full-on, belly-shaking laugh. "Of course not. We were just two friends who fucked. And besides," he grabbed my elbow, "I'm far too immature for you."

Insufferable. Really.

"Baby, you just make me mad…"

A/N: Song lyrics from Pale Blue Eyes- Velvet Underground.

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