Chapter 13

The end of this chapter gave me no end of difficulties. I wasn't quite sure how I wanted it to end, and I feel like I've spent hours staring at my wall going over the possibilities. This is the end result of my frustration! Hope you all enjoy it.

Side anecdote...So I have 3 stories going, this one, one for City of Bones and one for the Hunger Games. For the past few days the reviews have been 33, 44, and 55! Probably nobody cares, but I found that amusing and wanted to share it before I update this and it changes.

Thanks everyone for the support!

George stared blankly at the doctor, completely frozen in shock. "What?" he gasped. He had stood when the doctor entered, but now felt as though his legs wouldn't support him. He sank back onto the bed and let his head fall into his hands.

The doctor gave Angelina, who still looked as if the wind had been knocked out of her, a sympathetic look. "I take it then you were not expecting zis," she said kindly. Angelina barely shook her head. George was still too distressed to say anything.

"I will give you time alone." And she left.

Angelina's hands were on his shoulders, trying to pry his head up, but he didn't want to have to face her right now. "George, George," she pleaded, her voice sounding dangerously close to tears again. "Please, George. It's going to be okay."
He stood up abruptly, shaking her hands off him as he turned to face her. "How, Angelina? Please tell me how!"
Angelina curled her knees up to her chin and hid her face. She was muttering something, and it took George a moment to realize she was saying, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

George's harassed face softened as he walked over to her and gently patted her back. "No, Ange. Don't be sorry. This is…this is a…good thing." He bit his lip, trying to keep from screaming at what kind of twisted joke this was.

Angelina looked up at him, tears streaking down her face. "You don't look happy," she choked out.

"It's just…I can't be a father!" he cried. "How in the bloody hell am I supposed to take care of my own baby when I couldn't even be an uncle to Victoire?"

Angelina pulled him onto the bed next to him and slipped under his arm. For a few minutes they sat there in silence, both lost in their own thoughts.

"He's not ever going to have this." George whispered, almost to himself.

Angelina didn't need to ask to know who he was talking about. "I know," she murmured back.

"When does it stop hurting?" he asked, almost begging.

"I don't know, George," she replied sadly. "Maybe it never does. Maybe the best we can ever do is keep living life to the fullest, even if there's a little part of us that feels like it's bleeding out ever bit of happiness we have."

George pulled Angelina closer. This was one of the things he loved about her. She never tried to make him feel better with transparent lies. She told the truth, as blunt and painful as it might be at the moment, it always made him feel better in the long run. They sat there together for George didn't know how long, until he had gained his composure. Then, he turned her to face him.

He smiled at her—a genuine smile, not forced—and placed a hand on her stomach. "That's our kid in there, Ange."

She smiled back at him and placed her hand over his. "Yours and mine."

"I like the sound of that," George laughed, pulling her in and giving her a sweet kiss. "Well, Mum'll be thrilled to plan another wedding. I suppose it's best to just let her have free reign, she'll never forgive us if we don't."

"Wait, who said anything about a wedding?" Angelina asked.

George stared at her incredulously. "But of course we're getting married, Ange!"

"Says who?" she asked, a dangerous edge in her voice.

"Says…says me!" George stuttered.

"Well I think I have a pretty big say in that too, don't I?"

"Of course you do, Ange. But don't you want to marry me?" George tried to make his voice sound hurt. Angelina laughed.

"What kind of a proposal is that, George? You're going to have to work harder than that!"

George pulled away from her and sunk to his knee. "Angelina Marie Johnson. I love you more than anything else on this planet. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I'm so happy we're starting our family together. Will you please do me the immense honor of becoming my wife?"

Angelina giggled and kissed his nose. "It's a start, but I think you can do better."

"Is that a yes or a no, then?" George demanded.

"It's an 'ask again later.'"

George was about to protest further when the door swung open and Carrie barged in, accompanied by a Chaser George recognized as Jackson. He didn't like the look he saw in the man's eyes when he saw George with Angelina. George caught Angelina's hand in his once again as Carrie began to talk.

"Glad to see you're okay, Ange!" she exclaimed. "That was a nasty hit. Got us all a bit worried, but you recover fast. George! Good to see you too. Glad you two finally saw the errors of your ways. She was pretty miserable without you, George. Team couldn't stand to be around her, quite frankly." Angelina laughed.

"How'd we do?" Ange asked.

"Lost, of course. It was to be expected, though. The Parisians are one of the best teams in the league! Danny was rubbish compared to you, Angelina. Still, he didn't do too badly. Managed to get a couple goals, believe it or not. Too bad the Pixies got about two for every one of ours. And they caught the snitch. Ended up 320-110. Not too shabby, for our first real game."

"That's great. I wish I could've been there to see the rest."

"I think we would've had a shot if you'd finished the game, Ange," Jackson stated, giving her a sweet smile.

Angelina laughed. "Sure, we would have. When I got hit they were already up by 50!"

"Well, at least we wouldn't have been beaten so bad. I guess there's always next game."

George eyed Angelina. They both knew she wouldn't actually be playing any more games this season, but she gave him a look as if to say, Later.

"The whole teams waiting outside, they all want to see how you're doing. Some snooty man outside said only three visitors at once, and since George was already here only Jackson and I could come. We're having an after-game party, you coming?"

Angelina shook her head. "I'll come say hi to everyone, but then George and I are going out."

Jackson looked disgruntled, but Carrie laughed. "I got it. Can't separate the lovebirds. Alright, well let's go then."

The four of them walked outside the room together into the cramped hallway filled with Angelina's teammates. They were all thrilled to see she was okay and commenced in giving her a play-by-play recount of the game. George got a warm welcome, too. He had become a favorite at the team gatherings—when he was in a good mood—for his quick humor.

"Alright, clear off everyone!" called Carrie after a few minutes. "Angelina and George are leaving now." The crowd parted and Angelina and George walked forward, Carrie accompanying them. "See you next game, then, right?" she asked.

Angelina looked distressed. "Carrie, I need to talk to you about that." Angelina explained why she would not be returning to the team. Carrie was disappointed, of course, but also ecstatic for the two of them. "Congratulations!" she crowed. "You'll keep visiting, right? We won't want to lose touch. I'll tell the rest of the team, don't worry. And your spot on the team will be waiting next season. That is, if you still want it."

Angelina smiled. "I think I will." George nodded in agreement. He knew how much she loved Quidditch, and was going to do whatever it took to make sure she was able to play next season. "But I'll try out, like everyone else. There might be someone a lot better than me out there!" Carrie laughed and rolled her eyes, gave both of them a quick hug, and then left them alone.

Angelina and George walked, intertwined hands swinging between them, down the bustling streets of Paris. "Hmm," George said. "Two young people, in love, in Paris, la ville de l'amour…what shall we do?"

Angelina giggled at his terrible French accent. She looked around for a moment, taking in the view of the beautiful city surrounding her. In every direction there was something to see, it was almost dizzying. She looked up and just caught the twinkling lights of the Eiffel Tower before the sweet scent of crepes from a nearby stand wafted their way, causing her stomach to grumble audible.

She grinned. "Let's eat."

They browsed a few restaurants along the street, each with their own charm, finally settling on a small, family owned restaurant. A sweet old woman escorted them inside and sat them down in a cramped corner. There is little rrom in the restaurant—the chairs and tables seem barely to fit in the allotted space, resulting in an almost dangerous journey to reach the table and sit down, but the atmosphere is pleasant. The woman hands them menus, and begins to speak to them in rapid French.

"Oh…er, pas de français, please." George said with an apologetic grin.

"Ah, English," she replies, but with a smile instead of scorn. "'Ow may I 'elp you? A glass of wine, per'aps?"

"None for her," George said, reaching to grip Angelina's hand over the table.

"Of course! You are with child, ma cherie?"

A blush crept into Angelina's face. "How'd you know?"

The woman wagged a finger amiably. "A mother always knows. I 'ave three daughters, each with children of 'er own. Besides, you are aglow!"

Angelina laughed. "Well, thanks. I can't read any of this, so just bring me whatever your favorite dish is."

"Make that two," George added.

The woman hurried away to place their order, stopping to say bonjour to a few customers on the way. "What if we get escargot?" George asked.

"Then we eat it!"

George shook his head, chuckling. "You're braver than me, Ange. I don't think I could eat snails."

Angelina laughed, but then bit her lip anxiously. "I think you're braver than me, George," she whispered. "You were brave enough to come here. I was too scared you were serious when you told me to go." There were tears in her eyes again, and George wanted nothing more than to go into the past and wallop his former self for creating this mess.

"I'll always want you, Angelina. That day, I pretty much hit rock bottom. I'd thought I was over all this grief, and then it just hit me after I saw Victoire. Chock it up to the famous Weasley temper," he said with a sad smile. "I never really meant for you to go. I…I thought you would come back. I just needed to cool off. But then you took your bags, and I thought you meant it when you said you couldn't take it anymore."

She smiled a watery smile. "I really thought I couldn't, right then. I don't see very clearly when I'm mad. I went over to Alicia's, and that whole night I just vented. She just listened, but didn't say one bad thing about you, which I desperately wanted her to. I didn't go to practice the next day, just stayed wallowing around her flat. When the anger wore off the tears came, and I realized how stupid I'd been. But by that time I'd already turned our fight into something huge in my mind. That you'd really wanted me to go."
George wiped a tear off her cheek. "I hate it when you cry," he whispered. "I hate it when I make you cry. And I seem to be doing that too much lately."

"My own fault," she muttered. She dabbed at her eyes with her napkin and took in a breath. "Well, at least we know this won't happen again." George nodded in agreement. "Just a big misunderstanding," he added.

"Partly. But there's also stuff there we need to work on. George, I know how hard this past year has been for you. And I've tried to be whatever you needed to get through it, but I really think you need to work through these things. Not to get past it, because I know it's always going to be a part of you, but to learn how to live with it." Suddenly she laughed. "Great, now I sound like a therapist."

He smiled at her. "A bloody good one at that." She pretended to be flattered. "But you're right. I'm working on it. I've talked with Bill and Fleur, I am past all that stuff with Victoire. I'm still working on the Fred part, but I'll get there. I've got a deadline now," he added with a grin. "Nine months," he added when Angelina looked at him questioningly. "I'm gonna be a good dad, Ange. I'm scared out of my wits, but by Merlin I'm going to do it."

Angelina laid her head on his shoulder, not remembering a time she had ever been happier. "I'm going to be a good mother, too" she murmured. He kissed the top of her head.

"There was never any doubt about that, Ange," he replied with a smile.

The waitress returned, carrying two plates on her arm. With a flourish and a rather amused grin she set them down in front of the two. "Voilà! My favorite…escargot!"

Angelina laughed, managing to choke on the sip of water she had just taken. George nodded in thanks at the women, a dismayed look on his face.

"Well," said Angelina, still chuckling slightly though her face had grown serious, "Are you brave enough, George?"
George took a deep breath and gathered all the confidence and courage he could muster, reached for one of the snails and tossed it into his mouth without a moments hesitation to think about it. He swallowed, trying not to register the texture and gave Angelina a sort of defiant glare.

"See? I guess I am brave enough."

Angelina popped one of the tiny creatures in her own mouth, wincing slightly at the taste, before laying her head back down on his shoulder. A small smile played on her lips. "There was never any doubt about that, either."