Chapter 8

FredsAngel

A/N (and Disclaimer): I've not a clue who the founders of Beauxbatons were. Aiglon is one of the four houses listed at Beauxbatons Academy (the other three are Renardue, Loupard, and Lincornet), which can be found at avidgamers.com. I hope they don't mind. My fellow members of Tumultuous and I own ourselves. And I'm sure it will be painfully obvious that I don't have a thing about sewing.

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I must be seeing things. Surely, the redhead and the brunette carrying bags from Tiffany's couldn't be my former sister-in-law and her best friend. After all, they'd have no reason to be in New York. Unless… I let out a groan. They both live at the Burrow…and so does Fred. He's probably told them everything that's gone on between us. Therefore, they must be here to talk to me. Or maybe they're on a ridiculously expensive shopping trip (I hope). Judging from the amount of bags they're carrying, they spent a small fortune at Tiffany and Co.

"You know who they are, Toni?" Vera asks me. She's in just as much awe as I am, but for a different reason. After all, she thinks Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley are fictional characters from a book, not real life people who walk into her exclusive boutique. No, she's startled because two incredibly young girls walked into her shop (which specialises in wedding dresses, of all things), clutching bags in the unmistakable blue of Tiffany and Co., and she can't pinpoint which famous family they're from.

"Well, do you?" she whispers again. I need to answer but what am I supposed to say? 'That's Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger. I'm sure you've heard all about their friend Harry Potter.' She'd call Alex and the two of them would have me in a mental hospital quicker than I can say 'I'm Angelina Johnson.'

"They're…old friends." That should work. Oh please, do not let them call me 'Angelina,' not while Vera is here. Wait, what am I worried for? We're all former Head Girls; they have better sense than that.

"I told you it was her, Gin. Now pay up," Hermione says to Ginny as her companion reluctantly hands over a crisp hundred-dollar bill. Then she turns to me. "How have you been, Toni? We haven't heard from you in forever." Since when has two years been 'forever?' Or more to the point, since when has Hermione used exaggeration?

Dammit! She spoke to me and I can't very well call her by name. What is Hermione's middle name? It's something really common that starts with a 'J,' but I can't put my finger on it. It's right on the tip of my tongue. I'm going to take a stab in the dark here and I pray that I'm right. "Just fine, Jane. What about you two?"

"Perfect. Except that ditz" she says, pointing at Ginny "didn't believe that it was you walking here. Where's your car?"

My car. A 1996 Corvette convertible that my parents gave me after I got the letter that declared me both Gryffindor Quidditch Captain and Head Girl. Abby got one, too, for the same reason. They were so proud of us. (After all, how many parents can say that all their children were both Quidditch Captain and Head Girl?) Whereas my car was painted scarlet and gold in honour of Gryffindor, Abby's was powder blue and silver for Aiglon, her house at Beauxbatons. Fred drove it more often than I did; said he deserved it after learning to drive on his father's old Ford Anglia.

Vera looks at me quizzically. I know what she's thinking; why in the hell would my car be in New York when I live in France? As a Muggle, she wouldn't realise that my auto can fly. "It's home. In France. You know, where I live." Damn, that sounded harsh. Lucky for me, Ginny and Hermione laugh it off.

"Funny, An-toinette," Ginny says. Shit. So much for them being smart enough not to call me by my given name in front of Muggles. Thank Merlin my mum named me after an aunt whose name began with 'An.' Otherwise, I would have a difficult time trying to explain my ex-sister-in-law's screw up.

Vera looks at me. "I had the shop closed for the entire day for this," she says. Now I really feel bad about Gin and Mione showing up like this. "You go catch up with your friends." I nod. "Call me later this afternoon when you're ready to have the dress altered." And with that final statement, she disappears in the back.

"Oh, were we interrupting something?" Ginny asks, putting on her most innocuous face. It's the same one Fred and George used after they did something to Alicia, Abby, Katie, or me. It annoyed the hell out of me on them and it's infuriating me on Ginny.

"Drop the innocent act, you two," I snap. "What are you doing here?"

They hold up their bags. "Shopping. We heard such good things about Tiffany's…" Hermione starts, but changes her statement after receiving a glare from me. "Fred's been in a funk all week and he won't tell us anything. So we reckoned it had something to do with you. And since you were in New York…" Ginny cuts her off.

"Why are you interrogating us? The real question isn't 'why are we in the States?' It's 'why in the bloody hell are you in a boutique owned by a designer that specialises in wedding dresses?' No wonder my brother has been ready to AK himself! Whatever happened to 'if anything happens to Fred, I'll never remarry', huh? Tell me that!"

I look over my shoulder to make sure that Vera hasn't come out after hearing Ginny's outburst. "Keep your voice down!" I hiss. "Do you want Vera to hear everything?" She starts to open her mouth again, but I beat her to it. "No, I am not marrying Alex! I just had that conversation with Vera! I'll explain it over lunch. But first, I need to have my dress altered. I've lost weight and, judging by Vera's assessment earlier, I've lost a lot."

"Well, you look good," Ginny says, trying to make small talk. Her face is no longer flushed with the anger she had been expressing less than a minute ago.

Hermione rolls her eyes. "Don't lie to her, Weasley." She turns to me. "You look haggard and emaciated. Whatever diet you're on, get off of it; it's horrible. Besides, you were a bloody beanpole in the first place."

Damn. I forgot she was a mediwitch now. "I'm not on a diet. I'm just tired and overworked."

"Whatever. I'm picking the restaurant. I heard about this neat little place called Cinquanta. Apparently it has a buffet. And we are going to force you to eat, even if it kills the three of us."

"Fine. I'll meet you there at 1:00. Now go so I can get my dress refitted." I watch them head out the door and Disapparate with a very loud crack. Shit. The whole block must have heard that.

I walk towards the back of the store and call Vera's name. "Come on in," she calls. She turns around and faces me. "What happened to your friends?"

"They had more shopping to do. I told them I'd meet them for lunch at 1:00. After all, I still need my dress altered and you have wedding dresses to design for far more important people."

"Oh come off it, girl. You know the only person more important than the 'World's Sexiest Celebrity's Future Wife' is the 'World's Sexiest Celebrity' himself."

"Vera, we've been through this," I say as I put the gown on and step onto the stool. "I'm…"

"Not going to marry Alex. I know, I know." A pin stabs me and she ignores my yelp of pain. "Can't a designer wish?" Another pin pricks me. "Will you stay still? We'll be here all day if you don't."

I groan and roll my eyes. "You know what?" I say. "I hate this. I really hate this."

"You ought to be used to it by now, considering what your line of work is," she answers.

"Don't remind me."

"What's wrong with you? Do you not know how many women would kill to have your life? You get to wear nice clothes and have talented, sexy boyfriends for a living."

"They can have my life; I'm sick of it anyway. Nobody understands you or gives a damn about what you're really like underneath all the Gucci and Versace. Or off the arm of the handsome boyfriend, who understands you about as well you understand him. Which is none at all."

"He loves you, you know. Or at least that's what he told Mandalynn, Brandon, and Daniella."

"How do you know what he told them?"

"It's all over the tabloids, hun. Besides Daniella told me when she was in here to drop off the dress design for her wedding."

"Yeah? Alex told me that Jay finally got up the balls to ask her. It's about time. According to him, they'd been together since grade school." Daniella, the bassist for Tumultuous, has a peculiar off-again/on-again relationship with Canadian actor and Seeker, Jason Kennedy. I happened to be one of his brief flings between break-ups. Between that and Daniella being Alex's best friend, I probably know more about their relationship than the two of them do.

Then we get back to the original subject after a few moments of silence. "I can't believe you don't want to marry him," Vera says while continuing to pin up my dress.

"He just thinks he loves me; he doesn't really know what he wants."

"Like you do," she retorts sarcastically.

"I resent that remark. I know exactly what I want."

"And what is that?" Fred. He's all I want, no matter how much I try to fight it. My thoughts keep drifting to him. In fact, right now I'm wondering what he's doing. I hope he's thinking about me because all I do is think about him. "Ah, silence. So either you're lying or…" Her voice trails off. "You're in love with someone else, aren't you? An ex-boyfriend I'll bet. So who is he?" Wow, she's perceptive, isn't she? But I'm going to have this conversation with Ginny and Hermione later, and Vera doesn't even know the half of it, so I'm not going to tell her.

"I'd rather not talk about it."

"Fine. Be that way." It's amazing what this woman can do. She hasn't stopped working once throughout the conversation. "Okay, I'm done now. Put on the shoes and walk around a bit, so I can see the full effect and make any more changes." I do as she requests. "Hmm, you'll need some stronger double-sided tape to keep you from flashing everyone. Though some people might not see it as a bad thing," she says while raising an eyebrow.

I know what she's getting at and I'm still not going to tell her anything. "He's not going to be there to see me flash everyone." Please make her drop the subject, I silently plead. Thankfully, she does.

"So where are you meeting your friends for lunch? Wait, don't answer that; let me guess. Hmm… Cinquanta?" I nod. "I just don't get you, Toni. Three of New York's best restaurants are located in your hotel and you refuse to eat in any of them. What's so great about Cinquanta, anyway?"

"It's casual atmosphere. As classy as it is, it still has that air of relaxation around it." She nods. "Can I go now?"

"Yeah. I'll take the pins out and sew everything tonight and you can pick it up Saturday afternoon in time for no one to see what you're wearing to the premiere."

She is such a jewel. "Thanks, Vera. You're a jewel."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just remember me if you marry that ex-boyfriend of yours," she says with a wink.

I take the gown off gingerly, so as not to lose any of the pins or mess up the dress in any way. After all, I don't want anything to happen to it before I get to have all eyes on me at the show. I walk out of the back room and into the main boutique. I check behind me to make sure that Vera didn't follow me out. I pray that I still remember how to Disapparate. It shouldn't be that hard, though; after all, I passed my Apparition test with Distinction in France, where the Ministry is stricter than Britain's by every stretch of the imagination.

I take a deep breath and pull out my wand. I need head back to the hotel for a quick shower and to change clothes before I go to the dreaded lunch meeting with Ginny and Hermione.

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At 12:55 PM…

I pull up to the curb of Cinquanta and hand the keys to my rental car, a black Mazda Miata, to the valet. (After my conversation with Ginny and Hermione I went out and got one.) He asks me for my autograph and I oblige. It's so exhilarating when some recognises you. I've always felt that way, though I must admit that being famous for how you look is a lot different than being famous for your skills at Quidditch (A/N: Angie played for the Harpies before her split from Fred).

Okay, time for a quick spot check. I pull out my mirror. Hair still in place, makeup isn't running, no lipstick on my teeth… All right, then. I look down at my clothes. The scarlet pinstripes of my suit are straight. My Louis Vuitton sandals and purse match perfectly. My shoes and the cut of my suit make my already statuesque frame look taller and thinner than it's 1.86 metres (A/N: 5' 11") and 45 kilos. Damn, I look good.

It's funny how concerned I am with looks now; I never used to be. I chuckle to myself; the way I'm primping, you'd think Fred was going to be here. I guess it's because whatever happens, it'll get back to him via my lunchtime companions.

I walk into the restaurant and Silvio fawns all over me. Unfortunately, being a wizard himself, he slips up and calls me "Mrs. Johnson-Weasley" instead of "Ms. Toussaint." Luckily, no one hears him. But I notice that many of the male patrons are staring at me and the women are staring daggers at me. I've officially changed my mind; it's not fun when people recognise you. At least it's not when you're a pretty young woman in Muggle America.

Silvio leads me toward a private table in the back of the restaurant where Ginny and Hermione sit, respectively sipping espresso and coffee. When they look up at me, their jaws drop to the floor.

I sit down. "Silvio, can you have a waiter bring me a cappuccino, please?" After he runs off, I turn to my former sister-in-law and her best friend. "What?"

"You don't look like the Angie we knew. You're dressed to the nines. I expected you to walk in here wearing something along the lines of ripped jeans, combat boots, and a Sex Pistols T-shirt. You know, something casual. Like what you were wearing this morning," Hermione answers after she finally closes her mouth.

"Well, this isn't exactly a casual restaurant, Hermione. Despite the fact that it tries to be."

"You've never been one to care. But that," Ginny pipes up, gesturing at my carefully pulled-together ensemble, "looks like something the CEW of a billion Galleon-a-year company would wear. Actually, it looks like something Mione would wear."

I expect Hermione to throw something at Gin, but she doesn't. Instead, she just nods in agreement. "It does, actually. It's classy and the cut flatters your body. What designer is that?"

Maybe this won't be as bad as I thought. My ex-husband's name hasn't been mentioned once. But then I haven't been here very long. "Why? Do you want one?"

She crosses her legs and takes another sip of her coffee. "Of course I do; as a mediwitch, I need something that commands respect. It's so well tailored, I'd swear that it was from Gladrags. That is, if I didn't know any better."

"I don't think Donna Karan works for Gladrags in her spare time."

"I thought she only designed street wear for teenagers."

"You thought wrong."

A waiter comes over to the table with my cappuccino and two menus. "Here's your cappuccino, Ms. Toussaint. Extra cinnamon."

"Thanks, Anthony. And how many times do I have to tell you to call me 'Toni?'"

"I'll only do it if you do the same."

"Haven't you heard that the customer is always right, Tony?"

"Of course, Ms. Toussaint."

"What did I just tell you?"

Anthony leans over to whisper in my ear and his wavy brown hair tickles my neck. "Just between you and me, Toni, Silvio would have my hide if he heard me call you by name."

I slip him a twenty. "Here. Take Christina to a movie after work."

He looks at the money in his hand. "This is double the amount you usually give me!" he exclaims, albeit quietly.

"I know. I couldn't do it last time since Alex was here."

"Alex Daniels is jealous of me? The world is coming to an end."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Christina is giving me dirty looks from across the restaurant so you had better go." I'm kidding, of course; she's really taking orders at another table.

He bats his eyelashes at me. "Oh, but I prefer it over here in the company of you three beautiful women."

"Go, Tony."

"If I must," he says, winking before heading to the next table in his station.

For the second time today, Ginny and Hermione stare at me gaping like fish. "Oh for the love of Merlin. What is it now?

Ginny answers. "Does Alex know you flirt with all the cute waiters?"

"Yeah, he knows. But Anthony is the only one I really flirt with." I chuckle before adding, "It makes Alex insanely jealous. It's incredibly funny."

"Who exactly is Christina?"

"His girlfriend; the green-eyed brunette over there. He's saving up to buy her an engagement ring. She deserves it; she's a nice girl. And unlike Alex, she's okay with my good-natured banter with Anthony."

"So why do you flirt with him out of all the handsome waiters in this place?"

"Because his name is Tony, too. And because he reminds me of…" I stop when I realise what I was about to say.

"He reminds you of Fred, doesn't he?"

"Yeah, personality-wise. And before you say it, Alex does, too." Damn. I was worried they'd bring him up and I did it instead. Damn, damn, damn.

Sensing how uncomfortable I was, Hermione changed the subject. "So what's good here?" she enquires.

"Why are you asking me?" What a stupid question, Angelina. It's obvious you come here a lot.

"The way you flirted with the waiter and how you knew all about his relationship with his girlfriend. The fact that he knew you wanted extra cinnamon in your cappuccino and he only brought two menus. If you didn't spend a lot of time here, I'd be worried you had a stalker."

"True. To answer your question, everything. But since you both are vegetarians, I'd stick with the pasta."

"All right then. What are you having?"

The most delicious pasta in the world. Why do think it's the one of the few restaurants in New York I eat at? "You'll see," I say with a smirk.

"Fine. Be that way."

"I will."

At that instant, Anthony comes back with three cups, each one filled with a different coffee. Another espresso for Ginny, one more black coffee (no cream, no sugar) for Hermione, and a cappuccino with extra cinnamon for me. "Have you lovely ladies decided yet?" he asks, looking specifically at Ginny. This time, Christina really is looking at our table with a mildly angry expression on her face.

"The Pinci Della 'Zia Pina' sounds delicious," Ginny answers, slamming her menu shut with finality. My eyebrows disappear in my hair. What Ginny just ordered… It is tasty, but she hates garlic with a passion. Hermione doesn't seem to notice anything strange. A lot must have changed in the last two years.

Anthony turns to Hermione. "The Penne Integrali Con Pomodori Secchi, Rucola E Funghi," she says decidedly. At least that order makes sense; I swear the girl has a wheat fetish. It must come from having dentists for parents. (A/N: Hermione ordered whole-wheat macaroni, amongst other things.)

Then he looks at me. "The usual?" I nod. "And one Panzotti Dello Chef." I smile, glad he remembered my recent change in orders. What? Like Hermione and Ginny, I'm a vegetarian and I happen to like mushrooms. I used order the Raviolo Di Aragosta when I was a pescatarian, but when I made the change to straight vegetarianism, I had to give up the lobster.

Once Anthony leaves, we all reach for our coffee cups and take sips. I rather enjoy the silence. I got what I wanted; we haven't talked about Fred. But that's starting to bother me. After all, Hermione already told me he was the reason why they were in New York in the first place. Finally, I just get it out in the open. "So what about Fred dragged you to the States?" Both of them let out breaths. I guess neither one of them wanted to be the one to bring him up.

Ginny starts first. "I believe you promised us an explanation about why you were being fitted for a wedding dress earlier."

I sigh. It's going to be a long lunch. "It wasn't a wedding dress. It was that red gown hanging on the mannequin at the back of the boutique."

Hermione pipes up. "The one with the neckline that plunged all the way down to the waist?" I nod. "Whose wedding are you in that the bridesmaids' dresses look like that?"

"No one's. That's the dress I'm wearing to the premiere of the new Tom Cruise movie." Yet again, my companions' jaws drop to the floor.

"Are you crazy?" Ginny exclaims. "You already told us how jealous Alex is. That thing you call a dress is going to make him go crazy."

Hermione echoes her best friend's sentiments. "I agree. That gown makes Jennifer Lopez's dress at the Grammys look like McGonagall's dress robes." We all burst into gales of laughter remembering our strict Transfiguration teacher's tartan robes from the Yule Ball in my sixth year.

"You know what?" I manage to say between giggles. "That was exactly the look I was going for." And this makes us burst into another fit of laughter. We stop laughing only when Anthony comes back with our food and gives us a weird look before hurrying off. Damn. Now he'll think we're crazy. Come to think of it, that's not really all that far from the truth.

When I can finally control my breathing, I look up at Ginny and Hermione. "Now that I've answered your question, it's time for you to answer mine. Why did you come see me in New York?"

"To get my favourite sister-in-law back," Ginny answers. "But then, you were my only sister-in-law so…"

Here Hermione interrupts. "What am I? Chopped liver?"

"Oh, don't be silly, Mione. Last I checked, you and Ron weren't married."

"Minor detail."

"Whatever." Ginny turns back to me. "He never stopped loving you, you know."

"Yes. He said that, too. Doesn't mean I believe him."

My lunchtime partners share a look before Hermione speaks. "Well, you can believe me. I've never lied to you before and I won't start now. He thinks about you all the time; even dreams about you at night. Gin can attest to that."

"I sure can," Ginny interjects. "He thought I was you and almost kissed me a week ago." I'm not even going to ask. "Ugh. I thought he was going to molest me." She shudders involuntarily. Clearly that was not a pleasant memory for her.

"Fine. Let's say I believe you. If he loved me so much, then why did he serve me with papers?" Hermione and Ginny exchange another look."

"Well, that's a nice surprise. He didn't tell you anything," Hermione says with a slight sarcastic edge in her voice. "Gin, remind me to kill your brother when we get back to England."

Ginny looks back at her. "You can have him when I'm done with him. How can we convince her if she doesn't know?"

"WILL ONE OF YOU TELL ME WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON?!" I bellow. People in the restaurant turn to stare at me and I blush. Lucky for me, they can't tell. Unluckily for me, I notice at least half a dozen well-known tabloid reporters. Damn. This will be all over the rags tomorrow and on Entertainment Tonight by six. "Tell me," I repeat, with a considerably lower voice.

Hermione begins with a question. "Did you know that there's a prophecy in the English Ministry of Magic that pertains to you?" I shake my head. "Well there is. Fred saw it there one day and read it."

I interrupt. "Two questions. One: what does that have to do with anything? And two: I thought that only the person whose name is on the prophecy could pick it up. How did Fred get hold of it?" I regretted asking the second question immediately. Obviously, as my then-husband, it had something to do with him as well.

"Well, the prophecy went: On the…"

Ginny cuts her off. "We don't have time for all that, Hermione." She looks at me. "Long story short, it said that Fred is going to murder you. He thought that if the two of you split up, he could protect you."

What the hell? "And you want to get us back together, why?" Okay, that's it; they are officially crazy. Either that or they've secretly hated me for years and want me dead.

"Because you're both miserable. Fred spends most of his time in bed or hanging out in the Muggle world trying to keep an eye on you."

"What makes you think I'm miserable?"

"You've only managed to stay in one other relationship for longer than two weeks. And all you've dated has been tall redheads with brown eyes. Just like my dear older brother." That's exactly what Fred said a week ago. I wonder if he and Ginny share a brain now that George is gone.

"One more question: if the prophecy said that Fred will kill me and he divorced me so that it wouldn't happen, why did he show up at my castle last week?"

This time Hermione speaks. "Well, prophecies are usually written vaguely, but this one was pretty much to the point. He told me a few days ago that he still picked up on another meaning for it. But he didn't figure that out until you broke up with him again. The real reason was that he missed you terribly and was going mad. No exaggeration. Arthur and Molly even joked about sending him to St. Mungo's."

"Well, well, well. Looks like my ex-husband has some explaining to do." For about the millionth time since we've been at the restaurant, Hermione and Ginny share a meaningful glance. "What is it now?

Ginny rubs her hands together. "When's the movie premiere?"

"In two days," I answer.

"A normal person would have just said Saturday."

"I married a Weasley; it's common knowledge that I'm not normal."

"If I wasn't so excited, I'd take offense to that remark."

Hermione butts in. "I rather agree with Angie, Gin. You'd have to be nutters to marry into your family. I'm just lucky I didn't."

"Shut up, Hermione," Ginny and I say in unison. Surprisingly, it works. Ginny turns back to me. "Oi, Angelina?"

"What?" I answer.

"You fancy going on a little trip Sunday?"

"Do I get to beat the crap out of your brother for being a bloody moron?"

"Of course. So long as Mione and I get him after you're done."

"Then I wouldn't it miss for the world."

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A/N: Chapter 8 is in the can. I'm sorry if the second half sucked; I'm going home this weekend and probably won't be able to get any writing done, so I wanted to leave you all with a long chappy (for me and Alex anyway: 8 ½ pages, 4,754 words). Well, actually, my laptop is home… and chapter 9 is a solo chapter by yours truly… You might see chapter 9 up before next Monday, but I'm not making any promises. I'm kinda tired; even as I type this author's note, my clock says that it's 5:21 AM. (Guess it's a good thing that my first class isn't until 11:00.) Anywho, read and review; I need something to justify me staying up all damn night.