Title: Hopelessly Intertwined
Author: smolder
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Angel the Series belongs to Joss Whedon and David Greenwalt. Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling.
A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.
A/N 2: Reviews are Good. This has been a subtle hint from the author - Please return to your regularly scheduled reading.

Fred is surprised at how easily she adapts - at how quickly she falls into this life of no magic. At how she feels no sense of déjà vu over the college campus.

It is not until she is about to hand in a paper and she sees that she has written 'Winifred Burkle' at the top that the reason comes to her. She is not feeling like she is experiencing echoes of her past self, she feels like she is being her past self.

Utterly and completely.

After she quickly scratches out the name and scrawls 'Fred Lovegood' in loopy script with a shaking hand, she leaves. Running out into the quad to lean against a tree and just breathe. Because this – this all had been feeling so normal.

Hogwarts hadn't been hard for her; the theory behind the magic, once read, was stuck in her head forever. But, doing the magic. Waving a stick in a pattern, saying words and having something happen?

That had always felt weird. Something in her had always stuttered a bit. Asked why.

Here there is no why. Well - there is. Science is all about why, but that is the point. That hadn't been the point with magic. There was a bit of explanation but then you got to a line where it was simply just because it was magic.

And with magic there was so much new to learn. Here she has tested out of so many classes.

There were gaps in her knowledge of course - her memories weren't an information download into her brain. But to remedy that she simply read the textbooks through like novels. And they had felt like them. Old familiar stories that she understood and already knew the ending to, but loved regardless.

It had all felt so natural. And now that very thought makes the world spin a bit. Makes her lean more heavily against the tree just so she can feel the bark bite into her back to ground her in this reality. She tilts her head up and breathes deeply, just trying to steady herself, but her eyes trace the branches and her mind automatically goes to mathematical fractal pattern analysis.

Shaking her head frantically, Fred goes to a secluded place behind one of the buildings. Away from any prying eyes of people or security cameras. She takes out her wand with and unsteady hand and does magic.

Little floating lights, turning her pencil into a pin, spelling her name in the air (FRED SOLA LOVEGOOD - no Burkle in there, no matter how much it is in her brain). Utterly frivolous stuff.

But, none of it makes her feel like herself (and who is she?). Because she never really enjoyed doing this sort of thing – magic for the sake of magic. Magic always seemed like a last resort to her. Why use your wand for something when you can do it by hand?

Feeling even more unsettled and depressed, she walks home. When she opens the door she hears Lily and Albus yelling across the apartment to have a conversation in two different rooms.

Fred stands on their door mat, lets her messenger bag fall limply off her shoulder and onto the floor with a dull thump, and just starts crying.

How stupid has she been? Because it's this – this is what makes her different from the other Fred. It isn't the magic, there had been magic in her past life – it's the people. It's her family.

"Fred, there you are," Albus says as he walks in from his bedroom. "I thought I heard….," he trails off as he notices her state (standing just inside the doorway, balling her eyes out) and freezes staring at her wide eyed.

And that just makes her go off even harder because his reaction is so - so Albus.

"Lily," he calls and his tone is a whisper but the volume is much closer to yelling.

"Hmm...," his twin responds after a moment from her doorway, her head bent still looking at a psychology book.

"Lils," Albus hisses again this time somehow managing to sound both panicked and scolding.

She looks up blinking slightly. Then her gaze turns from Fred to her brother and back - she sighs, shakes her head, and walks calmly grabbing Albus' arm as she goes by towing him along. Lily drops her book off on the sofa as she passes and approaches Fred.

She stares at her sister for a long moment still saying nothing and Fred can do nothing but stare back at wise warm brown eyes and let tears stream down her face. Then Lily simply hugs her, tugging at her brothers' arm meaningfully, and after a pause Fred feels herself hugged from the back as well.

Winifred Burkle was an only child. She didn't have Lily, Albus, and James. She didn't have this.

Fred breathes hard and squeezes her sister (who reminds her so much of her mother despite the fact that the two share no blood) and feels both twins squeeze her harder in response.

Just because she has the memories, just because she has the same interests, just because she has the same skills of that woman – it doesn't mean that she is her. Because she has this. She has her family, Montgomery, and her friends (who are basically her family too).

Winifred Burkle had a life and she has one too. They are hopeless intertwined but they are not the same.

"Umm," Albus clears his throat awkwardly behind her. "Are we almost done yet? This is starting to get a bit…."

"Shush, Albus," Lily says cuddling even more.

"But, Lils," he whispers (something that is utterly ineffective when she is between them), "how long are we going to just stand here and hug? The door is still open and I haven't started dinner and…"

And Fred just burst out laughing (the tears still on her face) because, yes – this is definitely her life.