What was that? Angelina flopped dejectedly back onto her bed. Her head was swirling with the events of earlier that day. And why did it have to be so complicated? She had always been good with people. Of course, she'd had her rivalries and her exes, but she'd always been generally outgoing and friendly to everyone. Especially Fred Weasley. That was the problem, she decided. It always came back to Fred.

It had started the year of the Triwizard Tournament. She hadn't really expected anything to come of it. Fred had asked her to the Yule Ball that year. They'd had a nice time dancing; there had been some light flirting. But the evening had been strictly casual. That was characteristic of the Weasley twins, she supposed. Either of them getting into a serious relationship just would have been out of character. They liked their freedom, Angelina knew.

So both she and Fred had gone their separate ways, dating and not dating people at various intervals. Neither of them really gave the other a thought the rest of the year, except for their respective roles on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. But it had been different the next year. When Angelina passed Fred in the hallways, or sat next to him in classes, she'd felt her pulse begin to quicken. She knew what it was, of course. She'd been in relationships with a number of boys before. But Fred Weasley, well, he was different. It wasn't the what that bothered her this time, but the why. Why did she have to fall for one of the most famously unattainable boys in the school? Why did her attraction to him have to be so strong? It took her a full month into the year to find the nerve to talk to him. She stopped him after Charms class as headed out the door.

"Hey, Fred?"

"Angelina! To what do I owe the pleasure?" Fred looked pleasantly surprised at her greeting.

"Um, can I talk to you?"

"Sure. Something to do with Beater duties, I'm sure?" The red-haired young man motioned for his twin to come over.

"No, actually. I was wondering if I could talk to you...alone?" Angelina blushed. Fred looked uncertainly back at his brother, as if seeking his approval. Angelina knew it was always that way; the two never did anything without each other. But today, for some reason, it irked her. She quickly covered up the annoyance on her face, however. She didn't want to mess this up.

"You two go on," smirked George. "You can...catch up to me later, Fred." He raised his eyebrows suggestively. Fred rolled his eyes at his twin's immaturity, and turned back to Angelina. He took a few stepped down the corridor in the opposite direction from George, and she quickly followed.

"So, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?" Fred queried.

"I- Fred," Angelina felt suddenly vulnerable. She never stumbled over her words! She was always so precise... Fred looked slightly impatient at her hesitancy.

"Yes?..."

"Will-will you go out with me?" Her voice trailed away at the end, to the point where he might not have heard her. But he did. That was obvious. Angelina felt a little hurt at the shocked expression plastered on his face. But she knew he had a reason for it. No one ever asked out the Weasley twins. If they liked a girl, they told her. But no one ever said anything to them. Sure, most girls got asked out by boys, and not the other way around. But this was considered the most taboo. Asking out a Weasley twin! It was considered arrogant or pretentious to do so, like you thought you were better than all the other girls who matched their initials with their own in hearts on their schedules. So Fred Weasley had gone his entire Hogwarts career without being asked out by a girl.

"Um..." Fred hesitated.

"You can say no, it's all right, sorry I asked," said Angelina very quickly. She was blushing furiously.

"No, no! I-" Fred blushed too. Angelina was shocked. She didn't know he even was capable of modesty, let alone embarrassment. "I really do like you, Angelina." His voice was almost a whisper, bearing no trace of his characteristic cockiness. He leaned down towards her. Angelina's whole body quivered. It was sudden, then. Their lips met. Angelina savored his scent: sulfury like extinguished matches, plus a hint of cinnamon. But she pulled away after a few heartbeats, feeling suddenly embarrassed.

"I'm sorry-I shouldn't have, I mean-" she looked up at him helplessly.

"No, no, it wasn't your fault-it's not a bad thing, I mean, it was nice-" He shrugged, and for a moment neither of them was able to think of anything to say. It was nice, Angelina thought. Just being here, being quiet with Fred Weasley. She took in all of him- the little cowlick on the right side of his forehead, the smattering of pale freckles right on the bridge of his nose, the perfect way his robe was rumpled, his untied left shoelace. All of his imperfections seemed only to make the silence more perfect, even if a moment ago it had been painfully awkward.

"It can be a secret," Fred decided suddenly. Angelina felt her stomach drop.

"That's a no, then."

"Not exactly," said Fred, seeming to pick carefully through his own words, as though they were a briar patch. "That's a maybe. My brother would never let me live it down if he found out I said yes." And with that joking yet enigmatic remark, he disappeared down the corridor, leaving behind him only the slight scent of a snuffed out candle.

So life had gone on as it had before, with only minor changes. Angelina was still the sporty, outgoing girl she had always been-7th year Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, with a bright looking future as far as academics went. Fred was still the 7th year cocky practical joker, with his unfailing contempt for the world of academics. His twin, George, was almost constantly by his side, helping him with ideas for pranks and trooping around the school with him by way of secret passages. But one of those minor changes was that whenever he wasn't, Angelina was there to greet him with a hello, and sometimes a soft kiss.

Neither of them had been quite sure how to define their relationship. It wasn't exactly a secret, but nor was it a completely public thing. It was, Angelina decided one day, a sort of friends-with-benefits relationship, except not as sexual as the phrase implied. They really were mainly friends, with a little romance on the side.

After Fred and George had pulled their little stunt with their fireworks on the last exam day before the holidays, and officially renounced their academic career, Angelina wasn't quite sure where to go, what to do. She wasn't sure she even wanted to know. It was always that way with Fred and her-impromptu. So she let herself do whatever felt right.

What felt right was to be with him more fully than she had in school. She was free from the fears of gossip, jealousy and disapproval. However, when she had showed up at his apartment on Diagon Alley, he seemed unwilling. He appreciated their relationship, he said, but didn't want to take it any further now that they were out of school and balancing jobs.

Then he made some stupid joke, trying to lighten the tension, thought Angelina bitterly. And that was the end of it, once George came to call him back to work. But she still had feelings for him. She had known it was stupid; he would never get attached to anyone. She had figured that out, even, if she was honest with herself, before he had ended it. But love wasn't logical. The night of the Battle of Hogwarts, she had searched the castle desperately for him, begging him in her mind to be ok. But when she finally found him, it was in the Great Hall, surrounded by family members and lying cold and silent on the floor. She couldn't bear to gaze at the small smile etched permanently on his face, couldn't bear seeing his twin bent in anguish over his body, couldn't bear facing the rest his family when they never knew how much he had meant to her.

She had left. She had told herself that, just as it was the end of Fred Weasley, it was the end of her desire to love anyone. Her relationship with him had certainly not been balanced. She was never sure if he loved her the way she loved him. He might not have even been sure himself. But whether or not the feelings had been mutual, Fred had been Angelina's first one, however casual their relationship may have seemed.

Evidently, she had lied to herself about never wanting to love anyone else. Or had she? It was so complicated, and now Angelina was disgusted with herself. Look at me, she thought ashamedly, curling herself into a little ball on her pale purple comforter. What the hell am I doing to myself? What kind of sick person just turns around and does this? It was George who had broken down inside the ruined shop on Diagon Alley. Angelina had been the one offering reassurance, she had been reasonable and kind. But she hated herself for it. She hated herself for every second she had kissed George Weasley, and hated herself for those same seconds that she had actually enjoyed it. It wasn't healthy. It hadn't felt any different than kissing Fred, and that was the problem. I'm just substituting one twin for another. That's horrible, she shouted at herself, silently yet furiously. Was she not able to distinguish between one man and his brother? She had never been too intimate with Fred, but that didn't mean she didn't know the contours of his lips, every detail of his eyes-

And with George, it had all been the same. She was using him in some twisted way that she could barely define, using him for his body, but with his consent. He had wanted her to kiss him, back there in the shop. The way she had wanted him, though, she wasn't able to define. He needed her, but how did she need him? And did she want to be dependent on anyone?

These questions burned in Angelina's mind for hours as she lay in her tiny, messy room in her cramped apartment. The setting sun cast a bloody shadow on her pale brown skin, and then later, the moon lit it up with an eerie paleness. And still she lay wide awake, with no answers to the questions she could barely bring herself to formulate, an impasse etched hopelessly into her every thought.