Episode Four: The Second Chase
Once Fred and George had shooed everyone out with the excuse that they had family arrangements, the duo sat themselves in the flat above their shop, two mugs of hot chocolate placed in front of them both.
George took a sip out of his mug, all the while his eyes squinted dangerously at Fred, who had been avoiding eye contact with his twin for a long time now. George rested his mug on the potion stained table and gave his brother a once over. "Would you like to tell me why Parkinson is after Angie, Fred? You know she's my best friend too, I care about her as much as you do."
Fred watched his spoon self stir his hot chocolate for a while before speaking. "I don't know why Porky's after her." He answered true fully, but George wasn't having it.
"So why do I keep on getting the feeling you're hiding something from me?"
Fred sighed. Digging deep into his pockets he fished out the crumpled letter he had received from Angelina earlier on that morning, and threw it sulkily over to his brother. George was always the more sensible of the two.
Through a mouthful of biscuits, George skimmed briefly over the letter before flattening it out on the table and shaking his head. "At least we know she's safe." Fred nodded his agreement. "But she wanted you to hand this over to Matthew, or at least the message-"
"Yeah," Fred retorted "but where would be the fun in that?"
George swallowed before answering. "There wouldn't be," he decided "that's why I'm going to lock this it away and forget I ever saw it."
Fred practically beamed. "So we're going to have a little fun with him then?"
"Of course," George nodded, a sinister smile creeping its way onto his lips "he's gonna pay."
Fred cackled. "Regret the day he ever walked into this shop and called us poor."
Then--rather spookily--a sheet of lightening tore its way through the darkened sky, eerily illuminating the cunning red heads sat plotting revenge over their mugs of hot chocolate--one cup mysteriously stirring itself.
Their last words were spoken in unison: "He should have never thought he could mess with the Weasely's."
That whole week, Muggle Londoners just couldn't understand what was happening to their summer weather.
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Kyla paced up and down her living room while she waited the arrival of her seven brothers. Sure, they weren't the greatest seven to have to associate with, but in times like this, she was thankful for their witless state of mind.
Looking up, she saw that the last of her brothers were emptying themselves into the room. Kyla stood up straight and readied herself for the task ahead of her, hoping that her brothers were ready too. She needed as many as possible to accomplish what she wanted to do.
Taking a deep breath, she let her orders be heard. "I want you to get rid of Nathaniel Montague." She declared, and watched over her brothers perplexed expressions with bubbling loath. She hated having to live with this dotting lot.
"What?" Asked Kieran, digging deep into his ear and picking out the wax, then playfully rolling it between his fingers before flicking it across the room.
That's when Kirk spoke up. "Isn't that the one who brought the cottage?"
Kyla nodded. "Yes!" she exclaimed. "And he's made a fool out of me! I want you all to show him that no one messes with the McQuilkin's!"
"Why?" Kyle asked. "I wouldn't sleep with you if you asked me either."
The room swelled with laughter and Kyla turned the same complexion as her hair. "I want revenge!" She shouted. "Don't you want to help me get it?"
"Well, it depends what's in it for us." Said Rowland from his seat by the door, and everyone nodded in agreement.
Kyla had to think about this to herself for a second. She hadn't really thought her brothers would want something out of this. All the glory would go to her once Montague was run out of his cottage and away from the village, but she couldn't do it all herself.
She should have known. . .
Kyla sighed before realising she would have to share the riches with her brothers. "When we get him out of the house, we can take everything he has for our own!"
"Now that's more like it!" Someone yelled, and the room suddenly buzzed with excitement.
Kyla didn't know it, but right then, the smile that assembled itself onto her lips gave her a great resemblance to a certain Parkinson.
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Montague's eyes were wide with horror. "What do you mean I split it?" He croakily asked, hastily jumping into a pair of trousers that had been thrown carelessly onto the floor only the night before.
Angelina shook her head in defeat. "You split it Montague!" She exclaimed. "It doesn't take a rocket scientist to know when the man they were sleeping with split the flipping condom!" Her voice rose towards the end of the sentence.
Montague walked around the side of the bed and looked down at the new exhibition. Then he gulped, the Adam's Apple lolling up and down in his throat. This was not good. . .
"So I guess that means you're going home?" He subtly suggested, wearily scratching the back of his head.
Angelina looked up at him through eyes of daggers.
"WHAT?"
Montague shrugged. "What's the use of all this if you're pregnant?"
"You're telling me," Angelina shoved him in the chest "that now that I could be pregnant, you're letting me go home?"
"Well yeah I suppose." He said casually.
Angelina fumed, steam practically hissing out of her ears . . . "You little bastard!" She screamed "Where am I supposed to go? What am I supposed to tell Matthew when I give birth to a baby that clearly isn't his?"
Montague rested his hands on her shoulders in gesture to calm her down. "Hey, don't worry about it." He said in his most favoured reassuring tone--it did nothing for her temper. "I promise I'll pay Wizards Child Support-"
-SMACK-
Angelina's hand connected with his face.
"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR?" Montague yelled, his jaws clenched. He could feel the sting of her hand print embedded in his cheek.
"Wizards Child Support my ass!" Angelina shrieked. "You'll be paying double, 'cause I'm not going anywhere!" With that, she marched over to the bed and sat herself on it, stubbornly crossing her arms over her chest and adjusting the sheet she had before wrapped around her body.
Montague's fists formed balls by his sides. "Get out." He growled.
"No." Angelina said stubbornly, her head held high.
"Angelina I mean it." Montague stepped in closer. "Get out or I'll throw you out."
That picked at her attention. Her head snapped in his direction and she glared at him with a look that told him she wasn't afraid of him. "I'll chain myself to the walls." She declared.
Montague snarled. "Chain yourself to the walls and I'll bulldoze the house."
"Bulldoze the house," her eyes narrowed "and I'll haunt you for the rest of your miserable life."
That was it.
Montague strode over to the bed and stood over her seated form, attempting with all his will to dominate her, but Angelina wasn't having it. Bravely she got to her feet and looked up at him, her expression reading that she was at no time ready to crack under his threat.
She could feel the anger sweltering out of his body. "You cannot drop me like anyone of your other whores Montague."
"Oh yeah?" Montague raised an eyebrow and gave her a lopsided grin. It was probably only coming from him, but right then he could feel a sudden friction between them that was rubbing off and slowly turning into a sexual chemistry. But then again. . .he had to remind himself that with Angelina, almost everything turned into sexual chemistry.
"Try it," Angelina lowered her voice to a deep and throaty purr. Probably to sound threatening, but on Montague the effects were somewhat different "and I assure you you'll loose."
The hair rose on the back of Montague's neck, and he allowed himself to take a step closer. "I thought you knew me by now Johnson." Leaning in, he rested his forehead against hers, making sure to look her directly in the eye. He knew it got to her when he did that. "I don't loose in anything, bitch." He warned callously. "Anything."
Then he pushed her. His hands coming up from his sides to shove her forcefully onto the king sized bed. Angelina let out a little squeak when she found herself bounce up and down on the bed. She attempted to recompose herself when Montague grabbed a hold of her ankles and roughly spread her legs apart.
Angelina almost blushed. "Montague!" She squealed, and tried to cover herself. "Talk about brutal!"
Montague leaned in between her and pressed himself onto her lips, his hands keeping a strong hold on her ankles and pushing them up by her head. She giggled when he caressed the inside of her thighs.
"If you don't want me to be brutal," He muttered between kisses "you shouldn't get me so horny."
Angelina sniggered evilly at that. "I thought you said I should get out? Maybe I should do that now."
Montague shook his head and belligerently turned her over on the bed, she giggled as his hands wandered over her body in a haste to find the knot she had tied in the sheets to cover herself with. When he found it he had to stop himself from feeling all too happy.
"That's when I thought you might be pregnant." He declared, wiping the hair out of her face before undoing the knot in her sheets and letting it slide off of her body. The site of her made him growl. "Fuck I hate you . . ."
She shrugged and rolled back over onto her back, about to grab the sheets to hide under again but Montague was too quick. Speedily he knocked them out of her hands. "I hate you more Montague, trust me when I say that."
Her words only seemed to make him happier. Roughly, Montague cupped his hands under Angelina's chin and pulled her into him, pressing his lips harshly against hers. It became a battle of dominance until the wanting became too strong willed and desirable that Angelina pulled away. Her breathing harsh in an attempt to calm herself, the back of her hands wiping vigorously over her flush lips.
Montague leaned in for more, but she stopped him, a hand held firmly onto his naked chest.
"What is it now?" The look in his eyes told her he wanted answers.
Angelina shook her head and this time did manage to cover herself with the sheets. She wrapped them about herself and sighed. "What if I am pregnant?"
Montague let out an irritated groan. "Are we on that again? Listen, Angelina, you're not pregnant."
Angelina raised a curious eyebrow. "How do you know that?" She questioned.
Montague racked his brains for a quick and suitable answer, the bulge in his pants urging him to hurry. "Because last night I said the Contraception Charm before we did anything."
"What?" She glanced him over once or twice, though he could tell there was a hint of happiness edged into her voice. "But you said you didn't remember it."
"After, Angelina After!" He was getting a little frustrated. "I remembered it afterwards, but you were so out of it you probably couldn't hear me."
Angelina practically beamed. "I'm not pregnant!" She cried, scrambling to her knees in order to plant kisses all over his face. "But are you sure you did it right?"
Montague sighed. "I'm positive."
"Absolutely positive? Cross your heart and hope to die?"
"What?"
"Just say yes, Montague!"
"Yes woman, yes! Now could we please get going already? You're killing me here." He gestured to the bulge in his trousers and Angelina grinned mischievously.
"Whatever you say, big boy."
>>>>>>>5. M O N T H S L A T E R
Angelina licked her spoon of its remaining ice-cream and let in clatter to the kitchen counter the moment she was finished with it. "I can't believe you got me pregnant." She growled, something she had got to saying after she was riddled with the morning sickness, back pains and horrible cravings.
Her stomach was huge, not something she'd ever seen on a woman who was five months pregnant before. She figured she was either going to give to a very large baby, or even worse, more than one.
"You lied to me you little shit."
Montague sat across from her at the counter, picking up her spoon and finishing what was left of the vanilla and raspberry ice-cream. There wasn't much left in the tub. "Whatever Angelina. You were up for another round as much as I had been. And the moment you give birth to that thing you're paying me back for all the shit you've made me buy."
Angelina grinned at that. The moment they had found out that she was definitely pregnant--which was decided one afternoon she was sick all over his new carpet, Angelina had demanded a new wardrobe, and her cravings had proved more than expensive. Her new clothes filled over two spare rooms in the cottage, and Montague was usually forced to go on shopping trips with her down to the local supermarket, where she would complain she couldn't lift anything heavy in case she pulled something and hurt the baby. Each time he cursed her under his breath, his wand never too far from hands reach.
Montague had never been so tired in his life. The morning he woke and found he was forming bags under his eyes, was the morning he realised he was doomed. He had never been so white, had never went a day without combing his hair or without scoring by the end of the evening. He remembered being a rather good looking young man, who woman had tended to pawn over. . .
Montague felt like killing himself the moment he realised the good old days were gone. What was he thinking? Messing with a crazy ass woman like Johnson? He didn't know, but for the last five months all he had wanted to do was send her on the earliest train back to her good old fiancé.
How he missed Matthew Lewis-Thomson.
He didn't think he could take anymore of this.
"Don't call my baby 'thing', Montague." Angelina reached for a fresh tub of ice-cream and peeled off the lid. "I told you, she's called Tiana."
Montague sniggered. "Yeah right. How do you expect to call a boy Tiana?" He picked up an extra spoon and helped himself to some of her ice-cream. "I'm calling him Montague the third."
Angelina rolled her eyes. "Don't tell me you believed that old hag when she said I was carrying a boy?" She licked her spoon clean before digging for another scoop.
On one of their weekend trips down to the supermarket, an old lady had stopped the couple and told them they were to be expecting a baby boy. Angelina had discarded her predictions without any thought, as the woman had claimed she was a witch, but couldn't tell them anything about the arts when they had asked.
"She's a fraud." Angelina had said, but Montague wasn't having it.
"I told you you were having a boy, Montague first borns are always male." He proclaimed.
Angelina shook her head. "Well Johnson first borns, are always female."
The first witches knowledge was tested that same evening, when yet another strolled up to the duo on their walk home, announcing that their first born child will definitely be a baby girl. Montague had felt a little conned, as she had no sooner demanded payment for her prediction.
"I don't believe anything any of those Muggles say," answered Montague "but I can bet you now, you're not having a girl."
"Oh bugger off Montague, just remember whose the one carrying the load." Angelina sighed and hopped off of her stool. Supporting her back with one hand she strolled over to the window and looked out at the view. Her mind often wondered to Matthew when it had nothing else to do. She had sent about a thousand letters already to Fred and George, and hoped every night that they were at least passing on some kind of message to him.
What Angelina couldn't see, was the stack of letters piled one on top of the other in the house above the Weasely's little joke shop. . .
"Ooh Montague!" Angelina clapped at the fiery display she could see from outside the window. About eight or nine red headed Scotsman were marching their way towards the cottage, long sticks of fire wielded skilfully in each hand. "You didn't tell me today was some kind of Scottish celebration day!"
From his corner in the kitchen, Montague ate the last bit of his ice-cream and tossed the tub into the bin. "What are you on about, woman?" He jumped down from his stool and ambled over to the window, standing by his pregnant favourite affair. "Today's not any-- ooooh shit!"
Angelina gave him a weary glance. "Then who are those people down . . .Montague?" She leaned over the window ledge a little more to get a better view. "Montague, why are those people trying to break into the cottage? Did you invite them or something because they don't look very clean--"
"They've come to kill me!" Montague yelled, almost ripping out his hair in a frantic haste.
Angelina's eyes grew wide. "You little idiot!" She shouted "You couldn't tell me you had hit men after you before you brought me here and got me pregnant!"
Montague rushed around about the room in a hurry to find his wand. He upturned sofa's and pulled out draws. . . "I didn't have the Mcquilkin's after me before you came on the block! If I had just slept with that scab the moment she had begged, I wouldn't be in this mess!"
Angelina folded her arms and began angrily tapping her foot against the ground. She ignored the pounding of wood against the downstairs door and looked over at Montague with daggers for eyes. "What do you mean by 'in this mess' Montague?" Her mouth set into a dangerous frown. "Because if you mean me and the baby, no one told you not to sleep with her. You have your own will!"
"MY OWN WILL WAS WANTING YOU!" He screamed. "I didn't want to sleep with her! Now will you stop whinging and help me find my fucking wand?"
Angelina chewed angrily on the inside of her lip. "Check your back pocket you idiot."
Montague lifted up and felt around in his pockets for the familiar instrument.
-BINGO-
Good. He had his wand, this was good progress.
-BOOM-
The cottage shuddered under the force the Mquilkin's were using to break down the door, and Angelina almost lost her balance.
"We're coming after you! Run while you can Montague!" They heard Kyla shouting from outside the window, though Angelina didn't pick up the general meaning behind the sentence because she was still yet to get a grasp on the common dialect.
She gripped onto the window ledge to keep her balance. "Please don't tell me you're going to kill them all, Montague? They're just Muggles who are a little confused at the moment, I'm sure if we negotiate they'll under-"
"We're going to kill you Montague!" Came a voice. "And take all your money too!"
Montague waltzed over to Angelina and put out his hand. "I'm not going to kill anyone, because I don't fancy a cell in Azkaban thanks. But hold onto me tight, I'm going to Apparate us out of here--"
"What about my clothes? And all your money." Asked Angelina once she was held onto Montague as tight as she possibly could.
"You can get new clothes, just hold onto me. My money is safe."
Angelina nodded. "Good, cause once this kid is born you'll be the one paying for everything." She ignored Montague's scowl and shrugged. "Don't look at me like that, you plant the seed and you pay for the seed. Simple as."
And with a -POP- they were both gone, once again on the run from yet another one of Montague's crazy fans.
I wish I could tell you they both knew where they were going, but in his haste to escape, Montague didn't have a clue. . .
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Pansy jumped out of her sleep and quickly wrote down what she was certain was a memory. A memory only her dreams could let her get to, as at times her awake state of mind was too fussed to ever let her think straight.
She remembered his exact words: "Yeah, I have an old cottage house in Aberdeen. I sometimes go there when I don't want anyone to know where I am." Then he had smiled at her "Maybe we could go down there some time, just you and me . . ."
Pansy picked up her wand, and quickly Apparated out of the house.
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Angelina landed softly on wild green turf, the smell of untamed grass itching at her nose and making her sneeze.
Aachoo! The birds nested in nearby trees flew quickly away, and the tiny flies buzzed frantically around her face.
That's when she opened her eyes properly. . .her jaw almost dropping to the ground. "Montague?" She tugged hard on her companions arm to get him to pay her some attention. Attention she felt she really really needed right then. Montague looked down at her with an expression that mirrored her own. An expression of sheer confusion. She didn't think he needed it, but right then she felt she had to say it. It would go perfectly with their current situation.
Angelina took a deep breath and screamed: "WHERE THE HELL ARE WE!"