Chapter 14

FredsAngel

Disclaimer: Look, this is chapter four-bloody-teen. If you don't know that we don't own Harry Potter by now, then there's just no hope for you. Nor Craig Nicholls (though you've got admit he'd be awesome to hang out with).

A/N: I'm so terribly sorry everybody. I've been distracted a lot lately by everything. I'm also sorry that this is short. It's been sitting on my hard drive for months and I just never had the chance to make it longer.

Angelina's POV

I wake up to bright rays of sunlight streaking through the curtains. And judging by the brilliance, it must be somewhere between 11:00 AM and noon. But that doesn't make any sense; I'm an early bird, always have been. I mean, I wake up around six every morning…and I'm in Ottery St. Catchpole, not Manhattan. Which would mean that it is around 6:00 AM…in New York. Damn five-hour time difference.

You'd think I'd be used to this by now, all the travelling and such. But I'm not. Normally, I can deal with the time zone changes because I'm usually somewhere in Europe. I only spend about a week per month in New York City, so it's easy for me to accept the change. When I'm mentally prepared for it, that is.

I'm sore everywhere. I'm beyond sore. Fred and I went at it for quite some time last night and if I can even make it out of bed, I'll be surprised. Just then the door creaks open and in steps Fred with a silly grin on his face. "So Sleeping Beauty awakes, finally."

I open my mouth to fire a witty comeback, but my jaw hurts too much so I throw a pillow at him. It hits him square in the face. I'd laugh, but I'm in massive pain. Fred notices this, points his wand at me and mutters a charm for pain relief. My jaw still feels a bit stiff, but I'm otherwise fine. And I can talk now. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." His cheesy grin actually manages to get wider. "I guess you'll have to get back in practise, huh."

He's such a prat. I tell him so. "You are the biggest prat I have ever met."

He plops on the bed beside me. "And you wouldn't have it any other way," he whispers in my ear, sending shivers down my spine. The good kind. You know what I'm talking about: the kind you get when you're feeling really randy, but you've actually just left the bedroom. A large part of my marriage was based on those shivers—and of thinking of new ways to stop them. "Let me show you just how big a prat I am, Angel," he whispers again, breaking my stream of thought.

Somehow I manage to fight the temptation to go back to bed with the tanned, muscled redhead beside me. Hey, when did he get so tan anyway? Aside from the fact that England is one of the dreariest places on earth, sunlight is no friend to any of my former in-laws. Fred, for example, peels and blisters and burns. It is so disgusting. "When did you get so dark?"

Fred smiles that self-confident smirk that always made my heart skip a beat when we were still in our teens. "You don't like it?"

"I didn't say that. I asked about the tan."

"And I asked whether you liked it."

"Git."

"Witch," he shoots back immediately before we burst in gales of laughter. I've missed this, the oddball aspect of our relationship. Sometimes I just need someone to laugh with, and Alex doesn't understand that. As sweet a guy as he is, he can't get much more serious. He reminds of this guy I met on a shoot in Australia named Craig Nicholls. He's the lead singer of this little-known rock-awesome band called The Vines, and he's always obsessing about writing and being in the studio—when he's not attached to his bong. Work and weed, that's exactly what Alexis Daniels is like. And sex, can't forget about sex.

Apparently, we were laughing a bit too hard because the loudest pop I've ever heard in my life sounds and a giggling Ginny, Hermione, and Adrienne appear—alongside a distressed Molly Weasley. My former father-in-law is there, also, with an unreadable expression on his face. For once, I'm extremely grateful for my dark skin because even though I can feel my cheeks burning, Fred is turning as red as a tomato. I can't believe this.

Fred's POV

I can't believe this. Everyone just stormed into my room like some kind of American Special Ops agents. I feel violated! Invaded! Abused! I feel…

Angelina's right. I am a drama queen. I'm not going to tell her that, though.

But the point is that my privacy has been invaded. What if Angie and I had been in bed? The whole house would have seen us having sex!

Which would still have been better than getting another letter from the Ministry about it, I suppose. I shudder as I remember the last letter Angie and I got from Percy. Too many bad memories. Of all kinds.

As embarrassed as I am, I start laughing all over again once I see the look on Mum's face. She's standing in full hex mode: wand raised, one hand on her hip, red face. Gin, Mione, and Adrienne are giggling like bloody hyenas. At least someone here is happy for us. "Mum, what on earth is wrong with you?"

"Well…I – I heard some loud noises coming from up here. I thought…" She trailed off. Well, that's a surprise. I don't think I've ever heard my mother stutter before. And I've only heard her at a loss for words once: when Percy took Fudge's side at the very beginning of the war. Slimy bastard.

"Everything's fine, Mum. Just making Angel laugh with the old Weasley charm."

Angelina, Adrienne, and Hermione snorted in unison. "What charm?" they asked, trying to keep their laughter under control. The operative word here is trying. I don't blame them, though; I sort of want to laugh, too. Angelina and I had that conversation so many times at school, it wasn't even funny. Okay, it was.

Being the true Weasley Twin that I am, I prepare to fire a cheeky response back at the three of them. But Ginny beat me to it. "I should probably take offence to that. But," she smirked wickedly, "I won't. After all, you all fell for it."

I turn to my younger sister. "That was nicely done, Ginevra," I say in a pompous voice, a la my third eldest brother. Actually, I'm surprised he isn't here. He must have quit being the Minister of Magic and got a real job.

"Why, thank you, Frederick," she answers in the same arrogant tone.

Despite being put in their places by my younger sister, Adrienne, Angelina, and Hermione—along with my dad—have not lost their senses of humour. They burst into another round of giggles. Adrienne struggles to say something, but it doesn't come out. Not that it matters anyway; Angelina had managed to shoot a glare in her direction that shut her mouth immediately. And after shooting her cousin the look of death, Angel manages to respond with an equally cheeky statement. "Oh, no Freddikins, it wasn't charm. You just happened to be really lucky." Even Mum laughed at that one and nodded her head emphatically.

Eventually, my parents go back downstairs and I'm surrounded by four women. A guy's biggest fantasy (if his baby sister wasn't one of them) or his worst nightmare, depending on the situation. Adrienne stares at Angelina who is still struggling to gain her composure. Finally, she does and speaks in a serious, steady voice. "So about last night…"

I know exactly what she's getting at, but I pretend to be confused. "What about last night, Angel?" My ex-wife rolls her eyes, while her companions fold their arms across their chests.

I watch in horror as Angelina brandishes her wand, making sure that it's trained on me. "Fred, if you don't answer my question, I will send you to Queensbridge," she says menacingly.

"I'd listen to her, Fred," Adrienne chuckles. "I've been there trying to sign an artist and you definitely don't want to find yourself there."

"Alright, woman!" The Quaffle is in her hands here and she knows it. Sadistic bitch. Hey, that rhymes. Sort of. "What do you want?"

"Just what am I to you, huh? I'm not your wife anymore. We don't go out, so I'm not your girlfriend. So who am I?"

Many a time throughout our relationship have I wanted to hit her, and this is no exception. Except that I really, really want to beat some sense into her. Honestly, sometimes it amazes me that she managed to graduate Hogwarts; even more so that she was Head Girl, she says the dumbest things. "You are," I say, looking deep into her milk chocolate eyes, "the one and only love of my life. You are the very last thing I want to see when I fall asleep, and the first thing I want to see when I wake up. You are my everything." Wow, I don't think I've ever said anything that poetic in my life. If I know my ex-wife like I think I know her, she'll be eating out my hand.

"Fred?"

"Yes, my darling?"

"That is the biggest load of dragonshit I have ever heard in my life."

Oops. Guess I was wrong.

"You don't believe me?"

"No!" She pauses before speaking again. "Well, yes. I mean 'no.' I mean… Aw hell, I don't know what I mean."

She's mixed up. I can work this to my advantage. Or at least try. I send a glare in the general direction of Hermione, Ginny, and Adrienne with the telepathic message for them to get the bloody hell out of my room. Okay, I can't really send messages with my mind, but they seemed to get the idea as the three of them hightailed it out of there while making unintelligible excuses. I turn back to my ex-wife and turn on the trademark Weasley charm. "So you don't know what to believe, huh?" I say with a sly grin.

I can see the wheels turning in her head as she tries to figure out what I'm up to. Finally, she shakes her head slowly. "No," she answers so softly I barely hear the word.

"Well, let me show you," I say as I take her arm and lead her back to my bed.