-Disclaimer: I own nothing.

-A/N: Hey everyone! It's nice to come back from a bad weekend, or rather bad day, and read all your encouraging reviews. They always bring a smile to my face. Here's the next chapter, I do hope you enjoy it.

Happy reading and please review!

November 2

Great Hall

Sorry about that. I fell asleep! Anyway, let me continue on with the tale. I gaped at Fred like a fish out of water and he just stared back at me, with that emotionless, blank expression he'd been wearing since the little disaster in the common room.

Everyone had gotten deathly silent, except George, who was stifling a laugh. I gulped and Fred tensely muttered, "Well, let's get to it then, eh?"

My eyes widened and I could only watch as he stood up to come over to me. I was in a state of absolute panic. Should I let him kiss me and give away my cover? The room was violently spinning and Fred was looking at me oddly, as though I were babbling nonsense.

He stood in front of me, then crouched down, our eyes meeting. It seemed like the entire world had stopped rotating.

And that's when it happened. Bumbling Idiot Angelina replaced Sensible, Witty Angelina in a rare case of body snatching. Muttering some lame excuse even I didn't comprehend, I quickly sprung to my feet and ran out of the room and down the stairs into the common room.

I knew I looked like a total idiot but I could care less. I knew that if Fred kissed me, everything would go tumbling into a glorious, giant ball of flames.

I could hear Katie and Alicia shout after me but I blocked their cries out. They just didn't understand what it was like to want someone you couldn't have. Katie was practically joined to the hip with Lee and Alicia had George wrapped around her pinky finger, as much as he wanted to deny it. And what did I have?

Nothing.

I had been the one to so eagerly think up this frivolous pact and it had backfired on me. I had so badly wanted Fred Weasley to fall for me, for once to have HIM be the one doing the chasing. I was merely a puppet on a string, protesting the dictatorship of the puppet master, a useless demand lacking power.

I threw my body on an empty couch, my back wearily sagging into the cushions. I wanted to run as far as my legs would take me, but it was well past twelve and I didn't fancy being interrogated by Filch. I stared into the roaring fireplace, wondering how in the world I would face tomorrow. My ears pricked up at the sound of feet softly descending the stairs.

I knew it was him before he even walked over. My brain had memorized his pattern of footsteps. They started out as loud and valiant clomps, then slowly its texture dribbled into light stomps.

He sat next to me and I didn't bother to face him. I didn't want to. How could I ever look him in the eye again? He was silent and I could tell he was at a loss of what to say. I didn't know how to begin either.

For so long, I had kept secrets and confessions tightly trapped away, like a message in a Coke bottle thrown out to sea. I had hidden these revelations for so long, that pretty soon, I had nothing left to say. I had so much brewing inside of me but didn't have the words to express it.

His hand was only a few inches away from mine and as much as I wanted to hold it, I gritted my teeth and continued to gaze into the fire. Maybe I was just playing the fool.

Maybe if I just simply walked right out that common room door at that instant, I would forever be free of my stupid addiction to loving Fred Weasley. Maybe that's all this took. Just getting up and walking away, leaving everything behind.

"Angie, what's the matter?" Fred demanded. I heard the cushions squeak and rub up against each other, as he turned to face me. God, did he even know what he does to me?

Or does he know and just doesn't care?

I stubbornly resisted his concerns and glared into the fire, my arm resting on the armrest of the couch, my fingers lazily drumming against the soft, worn-in, velvet fabric. I was too embarrassed and fed up to even notify him of the dilemma.

He let out a frustrated groan.

"Angel, talk to me," Fred insisted.

I shrugged, my eyes turning icy and apathetic.

"Angel, you're being stupid. Just talk to me, all right?" he hissed.

I flinched at the "stupid" comment but didn't bat an eyelash. Fred reached over and placed his hands on my cheeks, turning my head so I was forced to meet his gaze. I was silent, the fire clashing with his hair, his hands lingering on my cheeks, which were igniting to the temperature of a low boil.

"What's going on between us?" he gingerly questioned, finally letting his hands fall back to his sides.

I knew exactly what was going on between us. I had fallen for him and he was too wrapped up in his "date em and leave em" lifestyle that he hadn't bothered to notice.

Everything had changed, yet most everything had stayed the same. Fred was still Fred, the Hogwarts Official "Player" and I was still Angelina Johnson, Gryffindor Chaser, Best Friend of Alicia and Katie, Her Eyes Filled With Too Many Stars, Her Mind Concentrated On Success.

I still choked sometimes, forgot what to say around him. I still laughed at all his jokes, even the lame ones. I still was a horrible Potions student. But when I looked at him….I didn't see him as the goofy prankster I used to dislike. I noticed the little things.

The dimples.

The infamous grin that always stretched from ear to ear.

His laugh.

And everything had changed. And I couldn't go back and fix it.

"I grew up," I solemnly whispered.

It was true. Except now I didn't quite know who I was. I had been "one of the guys," always brushing away the grass stains, laughing with my mouth full. And now I wanted to be the girl that he noticed. Sure, I still wasn't afraid to get a little dirty.

But I wanted him to see me as pretty. I wanted to be pretty. And in his eyes, I was only the "friend" and nothing more.

He bit his lip, suddenly somber. It was so rare to see him serious that it kind of scared me.

"That doesn't mean we grew apart, right?" he demanded.

I shook my head.

"No. I just think…" I stopped.

He rose an eyebrow.

"Think that what?"

I looked away and at the tabletop.

"Well, I-I don't know. God, Fred. Don't you ever get tired of it all?" I sharply questioned.

The subject was old but felt new.

His brow furrowed in confusion.

"What are you talking about?"

I waved my hand about, as though the answer would appear in bright lights and thick smoke.

"This! Going from girl to girl! Don't you ever want a real relationship and not a one-night stand? Don't you want to fall in love?" I half-shouted.

My eyes began to glaze over from unshed tears, though I didn't know why I felt the need to cry. I had wasted too many tears over Fred. He wasn't worth it.

He was beginning to get annoyed.

"What the bleeding hell does that have to do with YOU running away from Spin the Bottle? Did I miss something here?" he roughly shot back.

Everything. Nothing at all. As long as I failed to speak the words on the tip of my tongue and Fred continued to be blinded to everything around him, our relationship was as good as deceased. Those unspoken words would always be between us, hovering in the air above us and spilled on the floor below us.

"Yes, Fred. You missed everything! You're so bloody clueless, you know that!"

I was yelling now, my hands balled in tight fists at my sides, standing up and glaring at him.

"All right, so I'm clueless. At least I make sense! You're talking nonsense! I came down to see if you were ok and now you're biting my head off!" he roared.

He swiftly got up and stood to his full height, towering above me.

"You didn't answer my question," I growled.

He let out an abrasive laugh, throwing up his hands in surrender.

"You want the truth? No, I don't get tired of it. I'm perfectly happy not being tied down, all right? What are we, thirty-five? I'm only sixteen, Angie. Do you expect me to have a wife and kids and a house with a white picket fence? Why do you always have to chastise me about it? It's not your bloody business, anyway!" he sneered.

A tear slipped out of my eye and raced down my cheek. But it was so tiny that he didn't notice.

"Well, if you forgot, I'm one of your best friends! Of course it's my business! I have to listen to you brag about all of your conquests every bloody week!" I screeched.

He shook his head, glowering at me.

"I never FORCED you to listen, did I? What the hell is your problem tonight? Oy, if I didn't know better, I'd say you were jealous!"

I was silent, as though slapped across the face. He had caught me. My voice was shaky when I spoke again, lacking the strength and harsh tone it had bathed in before.

"Jealous? Are you mad? Why would I be jealous of you?"

He shrugged, smirking at me though there was no friendly banter about it this time.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe the fact you're still bitter over Davies dumping you last year. You never got over that too well, did you? You're just sour because the rest of us have actual love lives and you're spending your Saturday nights weeping in your dorm room. Maybe if you had a real relationship instead of an imaginary one, you'd understand!"

At this, I started bawling. I just couldn't help it. I barely cried in front of Fred. The only time I could ever remember crying in front of him was actually when Roger had dumped me when we'd got back from Christmas break. That was in fifth year. Afterwards, I wasn't too upset about Davies dumping me. But at the time, I felt like my whole world was crashing down. I don't even know why I cried, though.

I certainly didn't love Davies. Maybe it was just that feeling you got when you were dumped. You know; the feeling that no one will ever ask you out again and you're destined to become one of those little old ladies who lives with ten thousand stray cats. Silly, I know. But when you're fifteen, everything is so much more dramatic.

I hoped he wasn't thinking that I was crying about Davies, because I was WAY over him. But the way Fred had snapped at me, the choice of his words, it just had been too much. This was killing me, arguing with him and being so close to him, yet holding back what I'd been feeling for him for so long. I just wanted all of this to pass. I just wanted…I didn't know what I wanted.

His face softened with sympathy as I cried, delicate weeps that left me hiccuping for oxygen. He took me in his arms, smoothed my hair and lightly kissed me on the cheek.

"Angel, please don't cry."

It was no use.

"Angel, please? If you don't stop, I'll make you witness Snape parade around in an extremely tight dress," he teased in my ear.

I couldn't help but giggle at this and rested my head on his shoulder, arms wrapped securely around his waist. We were a perfect fit. Except we just couldn't get it together.

"Ah, I gotcha smiling," he observed, grinning.

He looked down at me and I looked up at him.

Before I could fully register what was going on, we both (or was it me?) had pressed our lips together in a teasing kiss. It was the kind of kiss that you were unsure about, testing the water so to speak. I pulled back a bit and we gazed blankly at each other, waiting for the other to respond.

I was utterly speechless.

He pulled me to him again and I closed my eyes. The kiss started out slow then was fierce and passionate, searching for an answer, searching for a reason, hands on hips, fingers tugging on the hem of shirts, and lip to lip. Breathing was short and quick, both of us afraid to lose the moment.

I swore I saw stars as his hand reached up and toyed with my hair. My lips parted and in a flash, I inwardly yelped out "YOU'RE FRENCH KISSING FRED WEASLEY. YOU'RE FRENCH KISSING YOUR BEST FRIEND, YOU GIT!"

Of course, I had lost all control of my emotions and promptly ignored this alarming and exciting fact brought to my courtesy of my subconscious. It was one of those kisses you'd only imagined or see in some cookie-cutter romantic comedy, that despite the bad acting, you loved anyway.

I felt like I literally was flying. I was weak in the knees, my fingers tightly gripping his waist, because if I let go, I would have floated away. He really is a good kisser. But unfortunately, that's probably because he's had so much practice.

Ew.

He broke away and bestowed a gentle trail of kisses down my collarbone.

"God, Angie, I've wanted this for so long..." he mumbled.

His lips abruptly met mine again and I couldn't tell if it was all just a utopian dream. I shivered, his body pressed up tighter against me. I surprisingly let out a slight moan and it was clear proof I was completely awake.

When we pulled back for a bit of air, his eyes intently studied my face then augmented with shock, as though he suddenly realized what he had just done. He backed away, eyes still wide with surprise, ears reddening.

"I-…fuck. I-I can't do this."

"Fred, what?" I gasped, still a little dizzy from the power of his kisses.

"Angelina, listen, I-I'm sorry."

And with that, he sprinted away and up the stairs to the boy's dormitories.