Stirring Up A Storm
Most of the Weasleys looked like Angelina had just struck a particularly painful nerve as dark looks passed over their faces. She made to apologise, but someone interrupted her. "You think of him!" said Molly suddenly. "She thinks of him!" she repeated to the rest of the Weasley family, looking very triumphant in her I-told-you-so tone.
"But of course I think of him, Mrs. Weasley," said Angelina, momentarily confused. "That's a funny thing to say. How could I help remembering him?"
There was an awkward pause. "Oh, nothing," said Mrs. Weasley offhandedly, trying to brush the matter off. "Would you like to see your room?" she asked, changing the subject.
"Oh, sure," said Angelina. She had finished her food, and Mrs. Weasley led the way upstairs. George got up and took Angelina's trunk, which was lying on its side by the door. Angelina smiled at him as he followed her up the stairs, leaving the rest of the Weasleys at the table, who began to talk about Quidditch.
"Here," said Mrs. Weasley, opening the door. "I'm afraid there won't be much space in the wardrobe, so you'll have to make some space."
There was a choking noise from behind them; they turned to see George who was staring at them, aghast. "But that's Fred's room," he said quietly.
"Is it really?" said Angelina, looking at Mrs. Weasley strangely. "Are his things still in there?"
"Yes, they are," said Mrs. Weasley, unabashed. "Don't you recognize them?"
Angelina felt like a rabbit that had been caught in a net; her gaze took in the things in the room, went to Mrs. Weasley, and back to the room again. "Well, it never occurred to me that you would…" she began, gesturing helplessly. "I mean, it all still looks so… new."
"Tell me something, Angelina," said Mrs. Weasley, putting her arm around her in a motherly tone and guiding her into Fred's room. "Do you go out much?"
"Yes," said Angelina slowly, wondering what in Merlin's name this was all about.
"She means," said George, sounding almost bored as he leaned against the doorframe, "have you moved on?"
"That's not what I said," said his mother, blushing, looking almost angrily at George like he had said something terrible.
"But that's what you meant, isn't it?" George pressed on determinedly. "You're wondering if Angelina still thinks about Fred."
"Well, I can't help it sometimes," Angelina began carefully, looking at both of them. "But I can't hang on to a memory forever."
Mrs. Weasley looked crestfallen. George blinked and straightened himself. It was only now that Angelina could feel the tension building up in the room. Angelina wondered for a moment whether she had made a bad choice in coming here. It felt like they were trapped in a bottle with the lid screwed shut, and an invisible hand from the outside was squeezing, squeezing so the pressure escalated bit by bit…
"Well, I'll leave you to unpack your things," said Mrs. Weasley, getting up and dusting down her apron. "We'll make plans for tonight later." She left the room, pushing past George who pressed himself against the doorframe to let her through. It was like the bottle cap had been unscrewed. The pressure deflated like a balloon, leaving George and Angelina together in Fred's room.
There was a pause. George cleared his throat. "Um," he said. "I hope you don't mind if I help you."
"That would be good," said Angelina gratefully. "Here." They unlocked her trunk and began to unpack, while unbeknownst to them, Molly Weasley stood at the top of the stairs, wondering just what Angelina Johnson was doing in her house.
"Arthur," said Molly later on that night, when everyone had gone to sleep, "why do you think George asked her here?"
"Well, they're good friends, aren't they?" Arthur muttered, turning over in the bed to look at her. "Why shouldn't he? They've been writing to each other for years."
"But Arthur," said Molly, sounding distressed, "no one comes a million miles to the other side of the world 'just to see'. There's something going on between them, I just know it. When they saw each other George asked me if I thought she was the most beautiful girl I ever saw. He's sweet on her, Arthur."
"Well, there's nothing wrong with a little love," her husband said, chuckling.
"But that's just it!" Molly whispered. "Of all the people he could fancy, he fancies his brother's old girlfriend. That's just not right, Arthur. We can't let it happen."
"But why should we stop them?" said Arthur, turning to lie on his back. "He's gone and she looks like she's forgotten about him. I think George has fancied her a lot longer than he lets on."
Seeing that she clearly wasn't going to be on the winning side of this, Molly fell silent. Moments later, she heard the familiar sound of her husband snoring beside her. She rolled over into a very restless slumber.
George lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. It had been a long time since he had had a day that was so emotionally charged with tension. It was almost eleven thirty and he was sure most, if not all of the family, were sound asleep, excited as they were for Christmas morning. But not him, oh no. He was too busy thinking of the fact that all that separated him from Angelina was a thin cement wall. Fred's bedroom was right next to George's, and Angelina was there now. Did he dare go over to visit her?
"Psst."
George jumped. He couldn't see properly in the darkness, but he could just make out a shape in the doorway.
"Psst! George!"
It was Angelina. George sat up in bed and squinted. "Ange?"
"I couldn't sleep," said Angelina, entering the room and sitting on the bed. "After the interrogation with your mother I've been wanting to get out of here. I've clearly made a mistake in coming, George – "
"No, of course not," said George. "I wanted to see you." They sat in silence, looking at each other. Angelina was wearing a thin nightie that clung loosely onto her figure, but George could still see the shape of her body in the shadows. "I can't sleep either," he confessed. "Do you want to do something, perhaps? Go out for a bit, get out of the house?"
"That would be nice," said Angelina. "I'll just go and change."
Author's Note:
The next chapter will probably be the final one. Hope you've enjoyed this so far.
