Disclaimer: Hey, I've already said it—I don't own anything!
A/N: Thanks for the reviews :) I don't like the finished version of this chapter as much as I did while writing it but it's a good start for the next one. ;)
Over the next few months George and Angelina were careful to keep their relationship strictly platonic. It was so platonic, in fact, that it bordered on barely being one at all, even at the shop. It had become strictly hello, goodbye, a few smiles in between, and being painfully aware of the other's presence. George realized that he spent so much time avoiding any contact with Angelina that the shop seemed more like a fish tank--one a tiny fish, the other it's predator.
It wasn't until one evening of working in extremely close contact while doing inventory that George realized just how ludicrous it all was. Angelina as she always did offered to help with inventory, George began to wonder more and more why she did. Angelina had leaned over him to get a pen and her chest grazed his arm. It sent electric through George and Angelina must have felt it as well, for she paused before sitting back down.
"Sorry" She said.
"For what?" Asked George, wanting to talked to her again, "people rub up against me accidentally everyday, no need to even acknowledge it, really."
Angelina smiled and continued her work; George was frustrated, it was like his attempts at talking to her were invisible. Like she didn't even notice.
"Girls are weird" Said George aloud, realizing that he must sound like an immature eight year old.
Angelina sighed. She had on a deep v-necked t-shirt and George couldn't help but notice the curve in her best--how luscious they were. How they moved when she sighed or at her slightest movement at all. "Trouble at home?"
"No...not exactly" he said, "just in general...girls are weird."
Angelina shrugged, "that we are."
George didn't know what to say--Angelina was an expert in the art of clipped responses. There wasn't any emotion in her tone and he couldn't tell if she cared about his dilemma or not. They worked on silently for another 45 minutes before Angelina spoke again.
"So, what's weird about us? The fact that we have breast and you don't?"
George laughed, he was going to enjoy this rare conversation. "Well that too but--no, it's not what I mean. I don't really know how to explain it. You guys just have a weird way of handling things, I guess."
"What kind of "things" do you mean?" Asked Angelina, counting some money before mumbling and writing something down on a sheet of paper.
"You guys don't talk about things."
Angelina laughed harshly, "Oh, no. That is totally blokes way of handling things! I remember once, a guy told me I had nice legs and Fred fumed but didn't say anything for--" Angelina stopped, biting her bottom lip.
George gulped. It'd been so easy to talk with her about Fred that first day back but today was considerably different. They had kissed--a real kiss, although he wasn't sure if it meant anything although judging from the way Angelina was acting it might as well have. Talking about Fred had become just as hard to talk about with Angelina as with anyone else; wasn't that the basis of their friendship in the first place?
"And he didn't say anything for...what?" Asked George in a low voice, begging her to continue on.
"He didn't say anything for days but he could never seem to look at my legs or touch them. I finally asked him what was wrong and he said" Angelina giggled at the memory, "that bloke BLOODY SAID YOU HAD NICE LEGS! IN FRONT OF ME, THE NERVE OF HIM!" And I said to him, "aren't you happy other men find things about me attractive? shouldn't it be kind of flattering" and Fred laughed then. Everything was okay after that--after we just talked about it, but it was typical male behavior if you ask me. Not expressing feelings and that kind of rubbish."
George thought of his brother getting angry only to laugh in the end. He looked at Angelina, "why have you been avoiding me?"
Angelina got back to work and spoke in a strangled voice, "what are you on about, Weasley? I've seen and spoke to you everyday, do you want me to move in or something?" She ended the last few words with a sarcastic note.
"Oh come off it!" George didn't mean to yell and Angelina looked up at him shocked. "Sorry" he said lowering his tone, "but you know exactly what I'm "on about" I can tell by your voice! Ever since that night after we had dinner you've acted as if I have the plague. Why? Is it--it--the kiss? I'm sorry, ok?"
Angelina curled her hair around her finger. Her black hair was in a pony-tail, her bangs swept to the side although some strays hair had escaped the rhythmatic pattern. She licked her lips, and George wanted to kiss them again although he knew what good that had did them the first time.
"Don't apologize George, I really rather enjoyed that kiss. It's why I've been avoiding you, truthfully. It just all seemed to happen too fast--coming home, seeing you, kissing you. I wanted to discern if I was kissing you out of grief or comfort or..." Angelina's voice trailed off and she looked down at her hands, which she were ringing in one another now.
"Or what?" Asked George, not sure if he wanted to know the answer but positive he needed to know it if they were to move forward at all.
Angelina shook her head, a tear escaping her eyes. George couldn't stand to see girls cry--any girl, and especially not her. She held up so well at Fred's funeral it didn't seem fair that a simple question from George should reduce her to tears. "I...I was afraid that I'd kissed you because you look like him. And I couldn't talk to you, couldn't risk it again until I was sure that it wasn't. I feel like a terrible person everyday, like I wronged you. You don't deserve someone who's only kissing you because you hold remnants to someone they've lost. Because...you look like your brother." And Angelina placed her head in her hands and began to sob then, unrestricted sobs from months grief pent up.
George got up and sat beside her, he cradled her in his arms and Angelina didn't object. His shirt quickly became tear stained but it didn't matter, this felt like exactly the place he should be, with exactly the right person.
"Angie don't cry, please. Please?" He lifted her chin and Angelina cast her eyes down, refusing to look at him.
She gave a tiny tear soaked smile then, "I want you to know that I've figured it out. I didn't kiss you because you look like him--I kissed you because you're you. Because you've been the only person who I could talk to, because you understand, and yes because you comforted me. I'm sorry for being so cold toward you these past few months I just couldn't stand any more complications, losing anyone else."
George shook his head and wiped another tear away before it could reach the end of her face. "Oh, Angelina you don't ever have to worry about losing me at least--not in any way I can manage. I'm going to be here for you as long as you let me, and nothing like a kiss is going to push me away. In fact, if it's what you want I'll kiss you some more."
Angelina grinned at him now, "I'd like that but I'm not keen on being a homewrecker. It's not really my thing."
Lana.
George had forgotten all about her in tonight's jubilation. He hadn't been this happy in literally months. He and Angelina were on the threshold of admitting their very real feelings for one another. And there was Lana to be attended to, to be taken into consideration.
"So, if my girlfriend wasn't in the picture would you want me to kiss you?" He asked.
Angelina looked at him and rolled her eyes, "I'm not going to give you amunition to break up with your girlfriend, if that's what you want."
"I don't need it, really. We haven't been happy...ever. Really, I hate to say this but she was never supposed to be my girlfriend it just kind of happened. I've been meaning to get around to breaking up with since the morning after...after--"
"You had sex." Said Angelina.
"Yeah, and it just never quite happened."
Angelina nodded. "If you do it and I'm not telling you to, tell her all of that, but gently. Don't use me as a scapegoat, it's not fair to her. It sounds to me that you really do care about her feelings and that she has been a kind of comforting presence for you. Let her know that, it'll make her feel a little bit better about it all."
George's eyes shone with affection for the girl he was cradling in his arms, he could get use to her kind advice for the rest of his life. "I loved you the moment I laid eyes on you" he spoke in a soft voice. "We were first years and you and Alicia sat opposite Lee, Fred, and me in the boat. Alicia looked at me giggled and at the time I didn't realize that's what girls do when they like you--you lot really are more mature, and you looked at us like you hated us."
"Oh!" Said Angelina, "let me interrupt before you continue, I wasn't such a mature girl. That's what I did when I saw boys I thought were cute. I looked at them with daggers as not give away the fact that I liked them. 11 year old fear of rejection, you know. And the three of you were definitely quite cute."
George felt his ears go hot but continued on, "Well when you looked my way I thought you looked warm under the glance of yours. Kind. And I didn't realize what I was feeling then although now I know that it was the eleven year old version of me wanting to kiss you. But Fred said that you were cute and it was the end of that thought for me, because he'd said it first which meant I couldn't like you."
Angelina was silent and then laughed, her whole body shaking. She smelled very good although it was a light, faint sweet smell. "I'm sorry" she said, "I didn't mean to laugh it's just--so much like you two to have that kind of rule!"
Angelina looked at him with warm eyes and her expression became serious again, "so you're really going to break up with her?"
George nodded, "yeah."
"Then...one little kiss can't hurt." And she leaned down and before her lips touched his George ran his hand up and down her cheek. He pulled her head to his and they kissed like that. Her on his lap, him holding her to him. Angelina sighed into his mouth and just as George was about to deepen he kiss, she abruptly pulled back.
"Little kiss" she winked. "Goodnight, Weasley."
"What about--what about the inventory?" He asked in a hoarse voice.
"I'll get here early to help finish up."
And just when he thought he'd go mad from her teasing like that she winked at him and kiss him for a millisecond. "Bye."
Bloody hell, whether at the age of two or twenty-two, girls were weird.
