A/N: Whoa! Thanks sooo much for the reviews last chapter. I really am turning into a review junkie. Also, in response to a few of your questions:
Evilevergreen: thanks so much for your consistent reviews! Who sent the letter? You'll see in a later chapter, but don't worry, things will start to unfold.
Angelface04: lol. Thanks for the review. Funny you should suspect Fred. I was wondering if anyone would see that. Well, you'll see who sent it in a later chapter. And yeah, I've never written fan fiction before. But I do like creative writing. So I have some random stories of my own.
And thanks to missmcweir, Megan, Ashliegh, and Quiddie15, for reviewing as well. You guys are awesome.
And thanks to my beta Charlie, for continuous help. :-)
OK, enough taking up space. Here's chapter 4.
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- - - -CHAPTER 4- - - -
Angelina woke the next morning groggy and very hungry. It took her a minute to remember why she hadn't eaten, and when she did, she groaned inwardly. She opened her eyes and took in the unfamiliarity of the room. She saw various furniture, photographs, and workout equipment. Most of all, though, she saw posters. Various players and teams smiled and waved at her from every corner of the room. A large poster of Oliver on the right side of the door winked at her and blew kisses. Angelina didn't know whether to laugh or be annoyed at the ego of her host. Puddlemere United posters dominated the walls, but she caught sight of others too, such as her dream team, the Chudley Cannons.
She thought back to her summer plans of training and moving away from her parents. She felt tears welling up and cursed at herself, wondering when she'd become such a crybaby.
Of course it had felt so natural to cry all over Oliver last night. He had held her and murmured comforting words. She looked down at the large t-shirt that was not her own. And he had clothed her, she thought with a small smile.
"My savior," she said rolling her eyes.
Well, she wasn't going to be a walking water fountain today. Yesterday had been a tiring day, and her parents had needed all the support she could give. She'd promised to give as much as possible.
She got up, deciding to thank Oliver for letting her stay overnight and then head over to St. Mungo's. Suddenly her nose twitched and her stomach grumbled as the wonderful smell of breakfast wafted up to her nose. Maybe she'd stay a little while longer.
She found him busy in the kitchen. Angelina was quite surprised to find out he could cook. She could barely boil eggs without burning the pot.
She had washed her face and changed back into her robes from the night before, trying to look as close to normal as she could. She had been shocked to see how haggard she had looked. Her eyes had been puffy and glossy. Her hair swirled around her head like an owl's nest, and she had been dying to take a shower. But she felt wearing one's clothes and sleeping in one's bed was enough, without getting completely naked in their house too. She wondered briefly if he would've minded.
"Mornin' sunshine," he said over his shoulder, somehow knowing she had entered the kitchen.
She smiled at his back as he oversaw the stirring of batter for what she guessed were pancakes.
"Hello to you too, chef," she replied cheerily.
He turned around finally, lifting his wand and stopping the stirring. "You're feeling better then?" he asked, his eyes searching her face.
She basked in his gaze and nodded. She truly did feel better.
And she truly did feel hungry. Sitting at the kitchen table, she took a strip of bacon to snack on while he cooked.
"I think I just needed rest. A time to clear my head, you know?" The bacon was a little burnt, but she liked it like that. She supposed she should offer help, but she didn't think he would want his pancakes burnt as well. So she sat still. There was something to be said about a guy working in the kitchen, she thought coyly. He was dressed in muggle clothes. His shorts covered powerful legs and the cut off t-shirt showed even stronger arms and his muscled chest. Not that she was staring or anything, but he had a wonderful body.
She was busy convincing herself that it was the fire that was making her feel so warm when a sausage soared into the air and landed with a plop into her cup of pumpkin juice. She looked up to see a bewildered Oliver looking at his wand and then back at the sausage bobbing in the cup, and then into her eyes.
They stared at each other for a second.
"And I would've just burnt the pot," Angelina said almost to herself.
Oliver's face broke into a grin. And then he was laughing. And then he was howling as Angelina poked at the sausage in her cup and laughed along.
"Ok, that's it. We don't need sausages," he said, red in his face. "I never really liked pork anyway," he said again. He came closer to examine the floating sausage.
"Yeah, it's bad for you," Angelina breathed as his head came delightfully close to hers. He peered down into her cup of pumpkin juice.
"Is it supposed to turn that color?" he asked, pointing at the now murky, greenish, sausage-laced cup of pumpkin juice.
"Well it's not supposed to have sausage in it," she said seriously. Although she pretended to ponder the situation, Angelina fought to hold back giggles.
Oliver turned frightened eyes to hers.
"I was talking about the sausage…"
Angelina laughed at him and smacked his arm. "You're too much!"
She peered into his hazel eyes, thinking.
"You've changed," she said finally.
He smiled. "Me? Not at all."
"Yes you have," she replied, remembering. "What happened to the super-strict, 'it's Quidditch time, not fun time,'- slowly-working-himself-into-an-early-grave Oliver?"
"Why? Do you find him sexier?" he asked suddenly.
She laughed again, her eyes lighting up. "See! You're doing it again!"
"Doing what?"
"Joking!" she said with emphasis. "Being relaxed, fun. What we've tried to get you to do all seventh year."
"Yes, well, if you remember correctly, seventh year wasn't exactly my best Hogwarts year."
There was just a hint of sadness in his statement and Angelina felt her stomach twist slightly with guilt. Within a second, though, he was continuing.
"And over the years, I've come to realize that you don't have to be a tight-ass to play Quidditch."
Angelina hid a smile behind the new cup of pumpkin juice she had just conjured.
"I could've told you that," she mumbled.
Oliver ignored her. "Plus, I still love Quidditch. I'm just as passionate as before—minus the stress."
Angelina nodded, "That's the best way to be."
Oliver smiled at that and went back to cooking breakfast.
"By the way," she said, taking another strip of bacon. "Where're your parents?"
Angelina had been a little surprised, and thrilled, to find that they were the only two people in the house. She watched as he turned around and leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms.
"My parents and little brother went on vacation. Bermuda triangle." He raised one eyebrow and winked, "Could be gone for weeks."
Angelina ignored the last part and laughing said, "Awesome. I haven't been there in a while. Why didn't you go too?"
"'Cause I just knew you'd be coming one evening to spend the night with me, sleeping in my bed and wearing my clothes."
She threw a strip of bacon at him and then regretted it as she saw that the supply was dwindling.
"You cad," she said smiling.
He smiled back and turned to the unfinished breakfast.
Angelina liked the company so much, she was willing, for a while, to push back thoughts of the attack. She sat at the table, head rested on her folded hands, and watched Oliver work magic in the kitchen—literally.
That was how the owl found her. An owl sweeped through an open window and landed clumsily in front of Angelina. She stared at it for a second, and then felt her heart speed up as déjà vu hit her. She fed the owl a little piece of bacon and untied the letter. Looking at the front of the scroll, she saw that it only contained her name.
It was another anonymous letter, she thought in a panic.
But wait a second. She knew that handwriting. She looked at the owl again, innocently eating the bacon. She even knew the owl.
Oliver came over to the table, bringing two plates heaped with pancakes. "News from St. Mungo's?" he asked.
"No" she said with a sigh of relief. "It's from Fred."
Oliver said nothing as she unsealed the letter and began to read to herself.
Angie! Are you all right? I saw the Daily Prophet. I went to the hospital but you weren't there. Oh Angie, I'm sorry about the attack but I want to tell you that face to face. You're not at home so I'm thinking you're at a relative's house or something. Owl me back when you get this. I sent this with Errol. He's waiting for a reply. I have to speak to you.
FredAngie felt her face heat up again. She wasn't at a relative's house. She wondered what Fred would say if she told him she'd spent the night at Oliver's. She was just imagining the reaction when something else from the letter caught her attention.
It was in the Daily Prophet.
She tried to sound cheery, but her voice shook a little as she addressed her host. "He says the Daily Prophet wrote a story on the attack. You didn't get the paper did you, Oliver?"
He had turned away to get the eggs and she had the feeling he was trying to avoid her. When he turned back, he had a funny look on his face.
"Well, yeah I did," he said slowly. "But Angie, the story is really weird. I don't really know what's happening," he said, stalling. He conjured up a cup of pumpkin juice for himself.
Angelina raised one delicate eyebrow. "Can I see it?" she asked, noticing how now, he wouldn't look directly at her.
"Ok," he said at last, shrugging. He left the room and came back with that morning's newspaper.
Angelina gasped when she saw the large picture dominating the front page. It showed her little town in complete ruin. Houses and shops were smoking, their signs hanging loosely or on the ground with debris. Aurors could be seen keeping people at bay and one little girl was crying at the very corner of the picture.
She hadn't known how much damage had been done to the town. After talking with Lee, she had apparated straight to St. Mungo's in time to see them bringing in her parents. She had stayed with them all day.
But that wasn't the most shocking thing on the page. A big, bold headline stood out above the picture, affecting Angelina much more than the picture had.
GIRL PREDICTS ONE OF LARGEST DEATH EATER RAIDS TO HIT ALL SUMMER!
Angelina knew they were talking about her before she even scanned the article and found the evidence. Somehow they had gotten a hold of the mediwitch she had spoken with.
"… 'She had come in not 20 minutes before the attack started, demanding that I tell her where her parents were.' A mediwitch on duty exclaimed. 'I thought she might have been sick herself, but I would've never guessed she would be predicting the attack! Imagine my surprise to see all these aurors show up later with casualties…'" Angelina read aloud.
She skimmed down the article and her eyes filled up. Many more than three people had died in the attack. She must have been so caught up in worrying about her parents she didn't notice how many people had been coming in to the hospital.
And she had known. She had been forewarned.
She tried to remember the contents of the letter, but it was all a blur. She had barely finished reading it before she had disapparated. Could she have warned someone? Told the aurors, maybe?
She looked up slowly at Oliver, afraid of what he must think of her.
"It wasn't your fault," he said, looking into her eyes. "You couldn't have known."
She looked over at the letter Fred had sent her. The owl was now hooting softly and looking at the plate of bacon. Would Fred believe her too?
- - - - - - - -
Fred glanced at the window for the fiftieth time and continued pacing. It was the worst kind of irony to have the attack be the very same day that Angie had come back into his life. Of course, he had sent her away because of his stupidity, he thought angrily to himself. Bloody ironic.
His heart had nearly stopped when he'd read the Daily Prophet. He'd recognized the town's name first, and then when they mentioned Angelina herself, he had started to panic. It didn't help that he couldn't find her at the hospital, and when he went to the house it was eerily empty. He'd told himself to calm down. He would write her a letter. She was probably at an aunt's house.
But if that letter didn't come back in exactly three minutes, he thought glancing up at a clock, he'd go find her himself.
He was just going over all the people he could contact if, indeed, he didn't get her response—and there weren't many—when Errol flew through the window and landed sloppily on a table. He hurriedly unattached the scroll and opened it.
I'm coming.
Was all it said. Fred stared at it for a second and then jumped when he heard a loud crack. Turning around he saw that Angelina had apparated right into his bedroom.
"We have to talk."
Before Fred could react, another crack was heard.
Oliver Wood stood behind Angelina with his hand on her shoulder.
Relief at seeing that Angelina was all right was instantly replaced with anger.
"What're you doing here?"
Oliver didn't move a muscle. "I'm with Angie."
Fred glared and was about to say a nasty retort when Angelina stepped forward. Her eyes looked very sad and he felt himself becoming worried again.
"Look Fred, I didn't know about the attack before hand. I got an anonymous letter saying that there was an attack," she said pleading. He was curious at her behavior. Surely she wasn't blaming herself for the attack.
She paused, her brows furrowed in confusion. "But at the time there was no attack. I don't know what to think. Why was I warned?" She dropped her eyes, and her shoulders slumped. "And yet I still couldn't help my parents. And now, my—my dad isn't…isn't well."
Fred rushed forward and enveloped her. He had been so worried for her. When he had gone to the hospital looking for her, he was told about her parents' condition. He ached for the girl who had meant so much to him all those years. She still did.
He leaned back to gently take her face in his hands. He expected to see tears, but her eyes were dry, albeit sad.
"I'm heading over to St. Mungo's now. Oliver's coming with me. We thought we'd go back to the house afterwards and find the note. We could turn it in. See if it has any clues about the Death Eaters."
Fred looked over at Oliver where he stood leaning against the wall. His eyes roved over Fred as he held on to Angelina. Fred ignored the piercing stare. He removed his hands from Angelina's face and held her hands.
"I'm coming too," he said, looking into her eyes. "We'll figure out what's going on, Ange, don't worry."
She smiled briefly at him. "Thanks," she whispered.
She looked over to Oliver and with a nod they all disapperated, her hand still grasped firmly in Fred's.
A/N: The last scene was hard to write but I hope its ok. :-). Please review. By the way, I have to go away on a band trip to Canada in a few days (yay!) so I wont be updating for a while. I know what's going to happen though, so I'll keep writing and maybe post the next chapter when I come back. Hope you all like the story so far, lots more to come.