Chapter Five
It's the Holiday Season! What lies in store for George and Angelina? Read to find out!
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The days melted into weeks, and things went on as normal as possible. The living arrangement Angelina and George had decided on had been working out quite well, excepting the one incident where George—unused to sharing the apartment with a girl—had walked in on Angelina as she stepped out of the shower. With a scream and a wave of her wand, however, disaster was avoided.
A few days after moving in, Angelina had helped George completely reopen Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, and the popular shop was once again bustling with customers. George manned the floors—though with considerably less cheerfulness and enthusiasm than pre-war times—and Angelina tended to the stocks and accountings, as well as just overseeing the general well being of the store—and of George.
True to his word, George hadn't touched another drop of alcohol since that one night. Not even when Bill and Fleur had dropped by to properly announce their news, George had instead toasted to them with a goblet of pumpkin juice in hand. He had been trying to keep in the light lately, too. Angelina could tell it was hard for him, as it was for her too, but every once in a while, she would catch him smiling a real smile, not the fake one that had been plastered on for the past few months.
Christmas was rapidly approaching, just a few days away, and Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes was packed on this particular Saturday. Children, teens and adults scurried around, looking for gifts for families and friends. Bedecked in the bright orange Quidditch robes of the Canons, Angelina searched through the crowd to find George.
She caught sight of bright magenta robes standing by the Skiving Snackboxes. George was talking with two young boys, a wicked grin on his face as he explained about the various types of Snackboxes.
"Well, you've got your Puking Pastilles," he stated, gesturing to the box on his right. "Eat one end, you puke up your guts. Gets you outta class in a jiffy. Once you're out of sight, eat the other end and you stop like that," he said with a snap of his fingers. Angelina giggled as she remembered Umbridge's class. Puking Pastilles had been her Snackbox of choice to escape from her reign.
George looked up at the sound, and smiled as he saw her. As she approached, the boys scurried off, a Snackbox each in hand. "Hey, Ange," he said.
"I'm off to Quidditch. Marietta is taking over the cash register, I've counted up all the stock in the back. Fake Wands are short, I'll order some tomorrow, and I put some lunch in the fridge--,"
George hushed her with a finger laid gently on her lips. "Angelina, I can take care of myself, you know."
She grinned sheepishly. "Of course I know that. I just…" She shrugged.
"Thanks," George said. "Now go! I don't want you to be late, Carrie will have my head." The two had met at Angelina's first practice game of the season a few weeks ago, and already become friends. Though she was glad of it, Angelina couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt every time she saw the beautiful, young Quidditch captain talking to George. That's ridiculous she would tell herself. So what if he likes her? I've no power over him. We're not together.
"I'll see you tonight!" she called as she walked out the door, thoughts of George filling her head.
"Johnson! Where's your head?" called Carrie, flying over to her, Quaffle in hand. Apparently, she had missed yet another pass, though couldn't quite remember how it had happened.
"Sorry, Carrie. I guess I'm just…preoccupied."
Normally possessing a very sweet demeanor, Carrie's voice was sharp and instructive as she replied, "Well, you should be occupied with Quidditch, as we are at practice! Whatever is going on in your personal life, leave it on the ground. When you're in the air, this," she said, holding out the Quaffle, "is all that matters."
Angelina nodded. Carrie was right, of course. She couldn't let thoughts of George—no. She couldn't let thoughts get in her way. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to clear her mind.
"Johnson!" someone screeched as the Quaffle flew past her arms.
"Oh, bloody hell," she muttered as she sped down to retrieve the rapidly dropping ball.
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Celestina Warbeck's voice floated through the radio Mrs. Weasley had set up on the mantle, the whole family gathered around to listen. George couldn't help thinking how different this Christmas was from just a year ago. One Weasley had died; another was soon to be born. One had returned after a long estrangement. A few things stayed the same as always, though.
The Burrow held more people than it was meant. Every Weasley was there, as well as their respective partners. Ron, Hermione, Harry and Ginny were off chatting in a corner. Fleur sat on the couch, Bill's hand resting on the small bump on her stomach. George noted that she still didn't seem particularly thrilled with the choice of music. Percy had dragged Charlie off a while ago to discuss some latest event at the newly reestablished Ministry of Magic, where he had been offered a promotion. Mr. Weasley sat napping in his favorite armchair by the fire as Mrs. Weasley bustled around the kitchen, preparing a warm dinner for the cold night.
A gentle knock on the door announced another arrival. George walked over and opened it, relieved to see Angelina's face behind it. She still was wearing her Quidditch robes, this time with the accessory of an orange scarf wrapped around her neck. With a jolt of surprise, George recognized Carrie Darcy standing with her.
"Hi," Angelina said. "Is it all right if Carrie joins us tonight?"
Mrs. Weasley, hearing this request, hurried over to the door. "Of course, of course!" she cried, opening the door wider. "George—move. Get them out of the cold."
The two girls stepped into the kitchen, Caroline looking a little uneasy, in a strange place surrounded by tons of new people. Angelina, however, looked rather comfortable. "Right, well, if you don't mind, I'm going to take a shower. Didn't get a chance today, Carrie worked us so hard." Angelina grinned and after George's nod, climbed the staircase.
"C'mon, I'll introduce you to the gang. You already met Mum, she'll be more talkative once dinner's finished cooking. Right this way. Okay, everyone, this is Caroline Darcy, captain of the Chudley Canons and a friend of ours." Ron scrambled up, looking a bit star struck. Even throughout all the years—and many awful seasons—his love of the Chudley Canons had never diminished. "This git here is my brother, Ron." Ron scowled and shook Carrie's hand dazedly. "That's his girlfriend, Hermione Granger. Dad's sleeping over there. Bill, his wife Fleur. I dunno where Charlie and Percy are. And that's my sister Ginny, and her boyfriend Harry Potter." Carrie did a double take at the mention of Harry.
"The Harry Potter?" she questioned.
Ginny rolled her eyes. "No, this is his evil twin." The room laughed, Carrie joining in shamelessly.
"Pleased to meet you," Harry responded, standing to shake her hand briefly before returning to Ginny.
"Wait, so you all, I mean, were you…there?" she asked. The room fell completely silent as Carrie unknowingly brought up the one taboo subject of the Weasley household. She looked around a little helplessly, noticing every eye averted from hers, and George's hands balled into fists.
"Oh, I think ze baby just kicked!" Fleur cried, intentionally breaking the awkward silence. Everyone jumped up and rushed to Fleur, exclaiming in excitement. The silence was broken, but the tension remained.
Twenty minutes later saw the entire household seated at the two beat up wooden tables that had lived almost as long as Bill. It was extremely cramped and noisy, which was good, for it meant George—and Angelina—had no time to brew on their thoughts.
George participated in conversation here and there, glad to find it was becoming easier. He even made a few jokes now and then. After two long hours, though, he needed some air. Excusing himself from the table and somehow managing to maneuver himself to the door, he stepped outside into the freezing air, leaning against a pole in front of the house and watching the snowflakes swirl down.
Moments later, he was joined by Carrie, who looked a little overwhelmed. He laughed at her disheveled appearance. "Takes a lot to get used to, doesn't it?"
She nodded. "I couldn't keep everybody straight—you all look so similar! I ended up asking Charlie how long he and Fleur had been together, and telling Bill what a cute couple they were!"
George laughed at his friend's mistakes, knowing that these weren't the first or last that would ever be made about the Weasley family. "Don't worry about it. I'd honestly be surprised if you didn't mess up once after I threw you into the shark pit."
Carrie bit her lip, wanting to say something. "Can I ask you something?"
"Shoot."
"Why did everyone get all quiet when I asked about, you know, the Battle of Hogwarts." Once again, George's hands automatically gripped up, his stance stiffening and eyes narrowing.
"I don't want to talk about it."
George noticed her drawing dangerously closer. "You can talk to me about anything," she whispered, lifting a hand and pressing it against his chest. George backed away suddenly as her face moved toward his.
"Carrie—stop. I can't." She pulled back, looking hurt. "It's not you," he hurried, seeing the expression in her eyes. "There's just…things you don't know. Things I'm not ready to explain to you. And there's…I mean….someone…" he broke off.
Carrie squinted her eyes, studying closely for a moment. Then, she visibly brightened, clapping her small hands together. "It's Angelina, isn't it? Oh, this is perfect!"
"Wait, no. I mean, just, slow down!" George cried out, hushing Carrie's continued rambling. She smiled sympathetically.
"George, it's okay. I don't know what happened to you, but you seem really reluctant to let someone else in. But do me a favor and trust me on this one thing. Tell her. You'll always regret it if you don't." And with that, she walked off, melting away into the bright snow.
Angelina walked out as if on cue, glass of butterbeer in hand. "George, what're you doing out here?" she asked concernedly.
He stared at her for a moment. Her dark hair was pulled into a simple ponytail, still wet from her shower. She hadn't put any makeup on, she didn't need it. Her eyes were already rimmed by thick lashes, her dark cheeks still held a slight flush to them. Her full lips tinged ever so slightly pink…
Without warning, George reached forward and kissed her full on the mouth. Angelina's eyes were wide open in shock, though slowly closed as time progressed. When at last they broke apart, she gasped. "What was that about?"
"Mistletoe," George answered simply, gesturing to the bright sprig of leaves above them. Angelina stared at it for a moment, almost certain it hadn't been there before.
"George Weasley, are you drunk?"
His eyes shone as he looked at her, feeling better than he had in a long time. "I haven't had a drop to drink all night."