Fred
Fred pulled the woman next to him closer, her chocolate colored skin making a stunning contrast with his own. He had to admit there was something truly amazing about a woman who at the age of twelve had been the only girl not to scream "eww" as a stream of slugs flowed through the common room. She'd only become more special with her love of quidditch and the fact that she was willing to talk him out of food for dinner every once in awhile.
"Thanks for letting me stay the night after the ungrateful lout kicked me out," Fred mumbled rather sleepily into Angelina's braids.
Fred could almost hear Angelna's mouth turn up in a smile. "He's being sweet."
"He's being bloody annoying and you're taking the enemy's side," he grumbled lightheartedly, squeezing her a bit as if to send a message of displeasure.
"He's not the enemy and we both know that," she responded, ignoring his signals, and instead relaxing into him as if she had nothing better to do for the next few days than to lounge around with him. He certainly hoped that was the case. "Besides I rather like my place, it lacks the danger of yours. Poor Grace."
Fred detangled himself a bit and leaned on an elbow to look down at her, a luxury he didn't often get. "What?" he asked with an innocent grin. "Danger is fun."
Angelina laid a hand flat against his chest, and there was a hint of something, fear, in her eyes and in her voice as she said, "Don't say that."
Fred could only speculate that she was thinking of his and George's agreement to join the order and use their ingenuity to come up with creative and unsuspecting weapons. She hadn't been pleased by the news. He lifted his hand to her head and ran it through the long braids to comfort. "Angie, you know I don't mean anything by it."
She wrapped her arms around him and forced him back to the bed, her head on his chest. "It doesn't matter," she mumbled, her head in his chest. "Just don't, alright."
Fred closed his eyes and held her back. "I gotcha."
"You always have."
"Well that's doubtful. If I lose the shirt off my back in my company will I still have you?" he asked, pulling her back a bit and quirking an eyebrow. He had to attempt humor, he didn't want to let that go yet.
"Yes. Besides, you two have been selling out of stuff since you opened the doors. You won't be losing any bits of clothing through the company."
"There's still time, people may get tired of us in favor of Zonko's."
"Zonko's has nothing on you and you know it. Now," Angelina said, running her fingers over his chest. "I'd rather be stroking your male ego in another way, if you catch my drift."
Fred grinned back at her for the innuendo. "I think I just might."
"Fred!" George's voice cut through both of their thoughts.
"Oi," Fred exclaimed, punctuating his roll out of bed. He made sure he was clothed in something before crouching down before the fireplace and sticking his head in. "For Merlin's sake, please don't tell me you've burned the flat and the shop to the ground."
"Fred, we need to go home."
"You are home," Fred reasoned, confused, too focused on George to notice Angelina slipping out of bed and putting on her dressing gown.
"NO Fred, Home," George explained slowly as if the words were painful. "There was a letter for us. Mum." he trailed off.
A pit of fear began to accumulate in Fred's belly, and there was a part of him that knew exactly what his twin was trying to tell him. But he couldn't really believe it until he heard it. "Mum? Mum what George? Come on George, make sense."
"The letter was from the ministry Fred. She's gone. They've killed her."
Angelina's arms were already around him as he sagged. For a moment a grateful thought flitted through his head before the truth hit him full force. Just yesterday she had sent he and George an owl about her being proud of the joke shop and all they'd done with it, a miracle they hadn't seen coming. And now it had been switched to tragedy.
"We--We'll be there George," Fred stammered, wondering if he'd ever manage to stand again. "Just wait. Alright?"
"Yeah. I. I'll be here."
The fire went back to normal flame and Angelina pressed her lips against his head. "Oh baby. I've got you alright. I've got you," she murmured rocking him softly.
"She was proud of us," George said after a few minutes of silence. It was the only coherent thing he could keep a hold of.
"I know."
"She sent a letter and everything. It's at the flat."
"It must have been wonderful to receive. Come on now, we'll get you dressed and back over to your place." He gave her a look that let her know that he just wanted to stay where he was. That was just fine in her book but she said what would get him moving and the reason she couldn't let him stay. "You promised George."
That got him moving, but not quickly. He picked up his trousers before he looked back at her. "You're coming with me right?"
"Of course. Where else would I go?"
He was still staring at her robe in hand all prepared to put it on. "I don't always tell you how much I need you, but I do."
"Fred--"
He plowed through whatever it was she was going to say. Some things needed to be said. "Always have. I love you Angelina."
"I love you too."
Fred pulled the woman next to him closer, her chocolate colored skin making a stunning contrast with his own. He had to admit there was something truly amazing about a woman who at the age of twelve had been the only girl not to scream "eww" as a stream of slugs flowed through the common room. She'd only become more special with her love of quidditch and the fact that she was willing to talk him out of food for dinner every once in awhile.
"Thanks for letting me stay the night after the ungrateful lout kicked me out," Fred mumbled rather sleepily into Angelina's braids.
Fred could almost hear Angelna's mouth turn up in a smile. "He's being sweet."
"He's being bloody annoying and you're taking the enemy's side," he grumbled lightheartedly, squeezing her a bit as if to send a message of displeasure.
"He's not the enemy and we both know that," she responded, ignoring his signals, and instead relaxing into him as if she had nothing better to do for the next few days than to lounge around with him. He certainly hoped that was the case. "Besides I rather like my place, it lacks the danger of yours. Poor Grace."
Fred detangled himself a bit and leaned on an elbow to look down at her, a luxury he didn't often get. "What?" he asked with an innocent grin. "Danger is fun."
Angelina laid a hand flat against his chest, and there was a hint of something, fear, in her eyes and in her voice as she said, "Don't say that."
Fred could only speculate that she was thinking of his and George's agreement to join the order and use their ingenuity to come up with creative and unsuspecting weapons. She hadn't been pleased by the news. He lifted his hand to her head and ran it through the long braids to comfort. "Angie, you know I don't mean anything by it."
She wrapped her arms around him and forced him back to the bed, her head on his chest. "It doesn't matter," she mumbled, her head in his chest. "Just don't, alright."
Fred closed his eyes and held her back. "I gotcha."
"You always have."
"Well that's doubtful. If I lose the shirt off my back in my company will I still have you?" he asked, pulling her back a bit and quirking an eyebrow. He had to attempt humor, he didn't want to let that go yet.
"Yes. Besides, you two have been selling out of stuff since you opened the doors. You won't be losing any bits of clothing through the company."
"There's still time, people may get tired of us in favor of Zonko's."
"Zonko's has nothing on you and you know it. Now," Angelina said, running her fingers over his chest. "I'd rather be stroking your male ego in another way, if you catch my drift."
Fred grinned back at her for the innuendo. "I think I just might."
"Fred!" George's voice cut through both of their thoughts.
"Oi," Fred exclaimed, punctuating his roll out of bed. He made sure he was clothed in something before crouching down before the fireplace and sticking his head in. "For Merlin's sake, please don't tell me you've burned the flat and the shop to the ground."
"Fred, we need to go home."
"You are home," Fred reasoned, confused, too focused on George to notice Angelina slipping out of bed and putting on her dressing gown.
"NO Fred, Home," George explained slowly as if the words were painful. "There was a letter for us. Mum." he trailed off.
A pit of fear began to accumulate in Fred's belly, and there was a part of him that knew exactly what his twin was trying to tell him. But he couldn't really believe it until he heard it. "Mum? Mum what George? Come on George, make sense."
"The letter was from the ministry Fred. She's gone. They've killed her."
Angelina's arms were already around him as he sagged. For a moment a grateful thought flitted through his head before the truth hit him full force. Just yesterday she had sent he and George an owl about her being proud of the joke shop and all they'd done with it, a miracle they hadn't seen coming. And now it had been switched to tragedy.
"We--We'll be there George," Fred stammered, wondering if he'd ever manage to stand again. "Just wait. Alright?"
"Yeah. I. I'll be here."
The fire went back to normal flame and Angelina pressed her lips against his head. "Oh baby. I've got you alright. I've got you," she murmured rocking him softly.
"She was proud of us," George said after a few minutes of silence. It was the only coherent thing he could keep a hold of.
"I know."
"She sent a letter and everything. It's at the flat."
"It must have been wonderful to receive. Come on now, we'll get you dressed and back over to your place." He gave her a look that let her know that he just wanted to stay where he was. That was just fine in her book but she said what would get him moving and the reason she couldn't let him stay. "You promised George."
That got him moving, but not quickly. He picked up his trousers before he looked back at her. "You're coming with me right?"
"Of course. Where else would I go?"
He was still staring at her robe in hand all prepared to put it on. "I don't always tell you how much I need you, but I do."
"Fred--"
He plowed through whatever it was she was going to say. Some things needed to be said. "Always have. I love you Angelina."
"I love you too."