Title: Fireworks
Author: Emmylou
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all its characters and concepts, are the creation of JK Rowling.
Rating: PG
Summary: Angelina and Fred's relationship is tested when they travel to Egypt on business for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.
A/N: I expect you want to know where I've been with the updates…well…long story short I was left alone this weekend and I took a chance to do some cleaning, go shopping, etc, etc. So while I've been out having a life, I've not typed up the chapter. Sorry. However, you will be pleased to know that I've finished my handwritten first draft, so now I've just got to type it up. Thanks to all my reviewers, as always.
ooo
To say Angelina had never been mad with Fred before was a cruel understatement. He had casually rifled through her handbags in search of hand-mirrors, money, keys, and all the other things men think is worth risking their life to look for in a female's bag. He'd stolen her perfume for experiments. He'd even forgotten her birthday. And their anniversary. He'd made raunchy jokes about twins when he first met her parents and still called her father by the irritating nickname of Pops.
But he'd never stolen from her. At least, not without intending to give whatever it was back. He'd, he'd- she struggled to think for a phrase suitable- he'd sold out.
She had given up on the meeting the second Donkor's hands had stroked her precious gold. She'd marched right out of the room and back to her bedroom.
How many hours had she spent in this room since this trip began? Hours, certainly. How could she not have seen that the relationship was sliding out from under her? Fred was married to his business now.
"Even if we had got that stupid holiday home – would we have used it?" she spat to herself. "Nooo…it would have been, I'm busy next week Angel…or…Saturday's the busiest day of the week for me – I can't afford to take a trip to Venice!"
She huffed and sunk moodily onto the bed. She felt suddenly reckless. Angelina remembered the days on the Tornado's pitch where she'd been wet and cold and shouted at…it had seemed so easy to stomp off the pitch and tell them where to stick their sixteen Galleons. Of course she hadn't, she knew the consequences. And what had sticking with them got her? A ban from flying.
What would sticking with Fred get her? A nice house or pad? A holiday home that they'd never use? Kids that never saw their father?
She heard animated voices above her; Fred would no doubt be discussing business for a while.
She stood up sharply and stalked out into the corridor, calling out for Pili. The girl skidded to a halt in front of her a minute later after racing up the stairs. Angelina bit back guilt for treating Pili like a maid by remembering that in a while Pili would be living like a queen because of the money Angelina had won.
"Can you run down to the British Consulate and find out when the next Portkey to England is?" she said. She rooted in her pockets for the last of her money. "Buy me a ticket when you find out."
Pili took the small bag of coins and nervously darted off.
Portkey's out here surely weren't that infrequent. She could be home in a few hours, leaving Fred and his business to be very happy together.
She stuffed her things into bags and trunks and then sat down to wait impatiently for Pili's return.
Unfortunately, though, Pili did not bring good news.
"No Portkey's for a week!" Angelina all but wailed in response.
"They said there was a problem with instabilities. One person ended up in the Channel Tunnel!" said Pili, who looked rather nervous at Angelina's dangerous expression.
"I don't care if I land up to my neck in mud! I just want to be as far away from here as possible."
Pili had eventually fled and Angelina was left to stomp, huff, and stalk moodily around her room. She ran over what she was going to say when Fred finally appeared. The versions in her head swerved from noble sad acceptance to banshee like wailing. Occasionally she had a pleasant image of one of her boots hitting Fred in the forehead.
Ooo
When Fred did appear, it was with an almost cringe worthy obliviousness. He sauntered into the room, hands thrust in his pockets, and invited her out for a night on the town "to celebrate".
Angelina chucked a hairbrush at him. Fred dived out of the line of fire, voice already set to male panic tone number one: I don't know what I've done but I'm sorry anyway!
"Angel! My love! What was that for- OW! That hit me! Look…it's about the money isn't it? The money's not important…in a few months we'll have it bac- OW!"
Angelina had never been one to hold back in a real temper. She snatched his robes and pulled him close to her, holding his face mere millimetres away from hers. When she spoke her voice was dangerously low.
"You are a lying, nasty waste-of-space you can't see past your own nose. All you do is make me miserable, lonely, and fed up. You've stopped being a boyfriend and become a businessman. I can't go home for a week and you are buggered if you think you're sleeping on that bed. You can take a pillow and pick a comfy bit of floor."
She let go of Fred as though he were a small wriggling rodent. A sensible man would have stalked away until he could talk reasonably.
Fred had even less sense than George, and that was saying something.
"But you said we could put the money towards the business!" he blustered.
Angelina made to snatch his robes again, but he dived away. Instead she stood, crouched with anger, bellowing at the top of her lungs. "AND YOU CALLED ME BORING, YOU LITTLE TOAD!"
Fred fled but she kept on screaming.
"I'LL NEVER, EVER FORGIVE YOU FOR THIS FRED WEASLEY!"
ooo
If it wasn't for the fact that Weezley had just given them a thousand Galleons, the Donkors determination to be gracious guests would have faltered during the next week.
Fred rose early every morning and came downstairs looking rumpled and sore. He refused Mrs. Donkor's insistence on giving him a new room every time she made it and although he seemed to have promised himself not to discuss Angelina with anyone, any time she was mentioned he would pause listening intently. He worked tirelessly on their firework until even an enthusiastic Donkor dozed off next to him.
Angelina meanwhile remained mostly in her room, picking at the food that was sent up to her and from the sound of footsteps she was pacing the floor often.
Mrs. Donkor came up to try and talk with her twice a day but was met with stony silence and a cook glare. The meetings always ended with Angelina thanking the woman for her hospitality and pointing out that she would be on the next Portkey home.
Even when Donkor Flooed George for advice, the answer he got was less than useless: "Can't see why Angelina's overreacting. It's not like she'll never see the money again. I s'pose it's a girl thing."
Privately Angelina had resolved not to look at Fred, nor to mention his name. When he shuffled into the room and lay down on the floor to sleep she screwed her eyes shut and when he got up in the morning she buried her face in the pillow so he could not see her.
There was a brief interlude for a while when Konzo announced that he was to go back home for a while as his mother was sick and he joined the family for a farewell meal. Pili was forced to sit next to him, clearly mortified, as her family (who seemed to have forgotten Konzo's role in the break-in) made jokes of marriage.
Konzo was waved off (with a bottle of tonic for his ailing mother) that night and Donkor mourned the fact that they had lost another good worker to an unresponsive Fred.
When Angelina finally reached Saturday and she was within one night of going home, she still felt no more cheerful. However she could not ignore Mrs. Donkor's plea to join them for a final meal – even if Fred would be there. Graciousness dictated her attendance, but anger still coursed through her as she took a stiff seat at the table.
Fred kept his haggard face staring into his roast potatoes, while every other eye was carefully watching what she was doing. She snatched up the English newspaper that had been thoughtfully provided and hitched it up to hide her face.
She stared unseeingly at the pages and tried to drown out Donkor's timid questions about the Farting Firework. In no mood to listen to discussion of Fred's idiotic product, she roughly flicked the pages.
The page she was now peering at could not be ignored. It was flashing lime green and yellow and she had to pull her face away from the pages.
The picture she began to see amongst the flashing colours was that of a firework.
"I didn't know you'd started advertising already," she grunted.
"Ha! Excellent Weezley, building up the suspense so that people will be queuing in the streets when we start to sell!" Donkor clapped Fred on the back, but Fred looked merely bewildered.
"I haven't started advertising yet!" There was a note of almost panic in his voice. He snatched the newspaper from Angelina and spread it out in front of them.
"Oh no.." he groaned. "Oh no…"
The whole table peered down at the pages where a large advert for The Farting Firework was displayed;
SILENT BUT DEADLY?
NO MORE GASSY SECRETS!
THE FARTING FIREWORK.
SHAME THEM AT ZONKO'S!
ooo
Oooh…I'm evil aren't I?