A Tree called Life
Characters: George & Angelina.
Word Count: 989
Summary: George misses Angelina's birthday party.
Author's Note: Isn't it ironic that after I decided not to write about Fred and George and etc, I was ridiculously inspired to write them again? Oh well. That's the way the cookie crumbles, I guess. I'm not sure about this one; I hate the ending but the beginning is okay I suppose. All that matters though, is whether you like it or not. I hope you do- feedback is always appreciated!
Number 18:
"The night he died... my heart went with him."
It has been three days since George has seen Angelina, and he feels awful. He missed her birthday because he was two busy moping about the party Fred threw for Angelina in the common room a few years ago and feeling sorry for himself. He wished he'd just gone, now. Spending three days without her was much worse than spending three hours at a party that he didn't want to attend.
Lee had yelled at him the next day, calling him an idiot and all sorts of swear words for not going. He said that Angelina had cried, actually cried, when he hadn't turned up. Alicia and Katie had stopped by with similar reprimands, and he expected Oliver any time soon. Maybe even his siblings and parents would come round to yell at him, too. It didn't matter, anyway. He deserved it.
When the bell of the shop goes he expects it to be another eager customer so does nothing immediately, letting them browse the shop while he turns over the magical card he had bought for Angelina in his hands. He bought it ages ago, a shiny red card with a broomstick that whizzed around on the front and a miniature golden snitch that zoomed in and out of the folded card.
"Was that for me?" He looks up instantly to see Angelina in front of him, her hands on her hips in her favourite I-am-quite-angry-but-will-forgive-you-eventually pose.
"Er- yeah." He hands it to her, a blush creeping up his neck and onto his face. He watches as she studies the card, and then opens his mouth to speak. "Look, Ange- I'm really, really sorry-"
"It doesn't matter," she says quickly. "No need to apologise." She catches the struggling snitch in one hand and holds it tightly between her thumb and forefinger.
"No, there is. What I did- it was terrible, unforgiveable. If there's any way I can repay you, then-"
"The night Fred died... my heart went with him."
George stares at her, not quite understanding where she's coming from. The familiar pain is rising in his chest again, one that he's been coping with for almost four years now. There are tears in Angelina's eyes- he hasn't seen her cry for at least three years so the alarm bells start to ring. In all those years that she helped him, she was never the weak one. She was the strong one that pulled him through it.
"Or at least, I thought it did," she continues."And then I found it again." She still doesn't look at him but fiddles with the snitch between her fingers, letting it fly a small distance away before snatching it again.
George has no idea what she's talking about. Is she trying to tell him she's fallen in love with someone? Well, that's lovely, that is, he's here apologising and all she wants to do is tell him about her latest crush? His hands, for some reason, tighten into fists against the counter.
"I'd never realised exactly which twin had stolen it all those years ago." And with this statement, she slowly meets his eyes, waiting for him to understand it. When he does, a whole range of emotions cross his face but she's so nervous that she doesn't catch any of them.
George lets out a long breath. "I always was better at stealth than Fred."
A smile lights her face and for a long moment they just look at each other, silently judging each other's reaction. Eventually, she comes to her senses. "So?"
"No one will like it," George says.
"I wouldn't want them to."
"They'll say it's weird, disgusting, even."
"Do you care?"
"Fred wouldn't approve."
"You know he would. He'd also know that you're running out of excuses."
"So what if I am?"
"Well, I'm kind of waiting for a kiss, George. I have just confessed my love to you after all, so I do think I deserve one. But I mean, if you don't want to..." she turns away, hoping and praying that her plan will work.
"Wait, wait!" George says, grabbing her arm to spin her round. She tries to keep the smile from her face.
"What is it, George?" She looks at him, and as usual, she sees absolutely no trace of Fred, like she's always done. She's always been the only one who could tell them apart one hundred percent of the time.
George looks at her, really looks at her, and sees something he didn't know that he'd been looking for these past four years- maybe even longer. He'd never seen Angelina as anything but a friend, a confidante, a much-loved angel in his days and weeks and months and years of need, but now- he can see what he's been missing. Angelina, the girlfriend. Angelina, the lover. So he kisses her, and it might be hesitant, and a little shaky, but despite his misconceptions it feels right.
They pull away from each other simultaneously, and there are tears in Angelina's eyes and a smile on George's face and on both sides the final pieces of a long struggled over jigsaw are sliding effortlessly into place as priorites shift.
And when they hug each other, Angelina pressing her face into George's chest, they both realise just how well the new jigsaw pieces fit, and wonder just why on earth it's taken them so long to find them. It's a puzzle they'll have to work out together.