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.
ooo
The group had gathered in Mr. Donkor's room, where Fred stood dejectedly at the foot of the bed.
"They cannot have produced the firework already," said Donkor. "We have been working on it less than a week…we only finalised the design yesterday."
"They haven't made it yet," said Fred with a sort of groan in his voice. "They're putting dibs on it first. They'll use the pre-order money to make the actual things and if we make it first we'll still look like we're copying them. They've won."
Fred slumped onto the bed, his head in his hands.
"Our money is gone. We are paying staff for time we can't use. All the products we've bought cannot make any other type of firework."
Angelina didn't like kicking a man when he was down, but she was still boiling with anger. "We could have bought a home in St. Tropez and been better off," she muttered loudly.
Fred seemed to slump even further. Donkor ignored her. "The burglary must have been to steal the plans," he said. "Damn Pili and as for that Konzo boy…"
His father sighed. "Are there none of my plans we can use?"
"None. They all need different ingredients," sighed Fred.
"What do you intend to do?" asked Mr. Donkor.
Fred shrugged. "There's not enough money to start making something new. All your plans are at experimental stages anyway. My only option is to head back to England and start building the business with George. We're no competition at all here. George and I put 'em out of business before – we can do it again."
Donkor slumped down next to him. "We've wasted your time and your money!" he almost wailed.
The room was silent. As mad as Angelina had been – still was – she'd never really thought Fred would fail. They only thing Fred and George failed at were exams.
"We'll be on the next Portkey home," said Fred in a toneless sort of voice.
And then what? thought Angelina. Having to break up? Her spending the rest of her life spending size five pewters? She suddenly wanted to hug Fred, but she had to remember her principals. She kept her expression to one of stony calm.
The elder Donkor shifted in the bed. He was regarding Fred's form carefully, as though wondering whether to share a secret.
"I've heard a lot about you and your brother Weezley," he rasped. "Good men. Good products. Clever. You left school by pelting a teacher with Dungbombs."
"Actually we didn-" began Fred, but Donkor was climbing out of bed and shuffling to the dresser.
"I say that if the Weezley twins cannot help us, then we are beyond help."
He paused for breath by leaning on the top for support before fumbling to open the drawer.
"I shall make plans to sell the factory at once," said Donkor, his face bleak.
The elder Donkor reached into the drawer.
"In fact," he said, ignoring his son, "we are so helpless that even a ready made firework with perfected plans could not help us now."
He lifted a small package out of the drawer and held it up. He was smiling. The paper fell away to reveal a large firework with two long wire hooks attached to the top and bottom.
"You attach it to your broom with the hooks," croaked Donkor. "When you fly it leaves a trail of colours behind you."
His son pounced upon the object in a second. "You hid this?" demanded Donkor half furious, half ecstatic.
His father shrugged. "I had other plans for it, but I think men like Weezley could do far more with it."
Fred's whole face had changed. Slight mania swept away lingering disappointment and his expression now said quite plainly that there was a way and he was going to find it. Angry or not, Angelina was pleased for him. He didn't suit depression.
The Fred in front of her didn't look at a firework and think; Money!, he looked at it and thought; What sort of noise does it make and how can I make it louder?
"We'll still need money to make it," he said warningly.
Donkor slid back into bed. "I think a man like you is clever enough to work something out," he yawned.
ooo
Angelina had gone upstairs to scan her room for anything still unpacked. Fred had called George up on an emergency Floo.
Things had muddled through as they usually did for Fred and George. Angelina was both pleased that Fred was happy and angry that he had not got what he richly deserved.
When she eventually climbed into bed she lay in the very middle, meaning that Fred would be unable to squeeze in on either side. She had tossed a pillow and a sheet onto the ground for when he finally returned.
When the door did creak open and Fred shuffled in her eyes snapped open and she looked to the clock, surprised to find it only half nine. There were voices outside and she realised blearily that the crowds must be on their way to The Granddaughter.
Fred had frozen when she moved, but as she slumped back onto the pillow he set about rooting through the bags and trunks looking for merlin-knows-what. She shut her eyes firmly and took a moment to splay further out on the bed so that he would not dare try and get in.
"Angel?" he whispered. "Are you awake?"
She kept her mouth resolutely shut.
"I do love you," he said.
She buried her head further into the pillow and eventually heard him leave the room.
ooo
Once again, Angelina's pesky emotions were crying themselves out while she planned in her head. She mentally revised her plans for tomorrow, where she would be heading, what time the Portkey would leave, while she sobbed into the blankets.
Fred and George would be fine. They probably had some hidden well of money somewhere. Somewhere Fred must have conveniently forgotten about before. Fred would be fine without her.
Now she had to make even more plans. She had no home to return to – she didn't fancy spending any longer than necessary in Fred's "Pad". That would mean a few weeks in her parents spare room. She's also need to return home – to the Pad that is – to collect her things. She would have to do that first, because she had no desire to be there when Fred was. She'd pack up her stuff, clean out the larder, set a few cleaning spells going in the bathroom, and go.
Angelina had been lying like that for some time. The distant roar of the crowds soothed her and she had nearly cried herself out. She was just drifting towards sleep when there was a banging from the window.
On instinct she scrambled out of the twisted sheets and skidded over to the windows. Fred was banging on the glass to get her attention. He was floating high above the street on…she looked down…yes, on her broomstick.
She opened the window, reached out, and smacked him so hard the broom shuddered.
"Angel!"
"If you are planning on serenading me you better have some earplugs with you," she snarled, prodding him hard in the chest. However her finger met with rough paper instead of cloth. The number 481 was splayed proudly across his chest.
She was sure her look should freeze him to the broom, but Fred clearly had more guts that she'd realised, for he offered her a nervous but bordering on the bloody downright cheeky grin.
"Angel, if you were a crack flyer dressed up like a Belly Dancer, where would you be hiding right now?"
"You've gone and entered the bloody Granddaughter, haven't you?" she said.
ooo
So, I'd love to know what you thought. Reviews make me happy (not that I write for reviews alone).