Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has left such positive reviews! I hope you will keep telling me what you like about the story and keep on reading :)

Chapter 13

Friday afternoon Angelina left her flat on a mission. She had busied herself during the week with cleaning her flat, running errands, and working on a few sports editorials predicting the outcome of the upcoming Quidditch finals. Puddlemere had made it to the quarter-finals, as had Chudley, Holyhead and Montrose. Puddlemere would face the Magpies first, and then the winner of the Cannons-Harpies match if they won. The quarter-finals were going to be a tough one to predict, but she'd tried her best. Both the United and the Harpies were formidable teams. She knew Chudley would put up a good fight, but the Magpies were a wildcard. Nobody had expected them to make it this far, but she was firmly in the camp that believed they would run out of steam before the end. Just before leaving her flat, she had sent an owl to her editor carrying in-depth analyses of every team's strengths and weaknesses with her forecast of how the finals would play out.

She arrived in Diagon Alley just as many shopkeepers were locking up. It was near six, and many of them were getting home to their families now. It made her wonder about the shops that remained open later. Did they not have families to go home to? Or were they staying late so they could afford to care for their families? She knew that the joke shop would be closing soon—George had no family to provide for, and on Fridays he usually ended up at Angelina's flat for dinner or out with her and Katie, Alicia, Lee, and Oliver. It was the right time for what she hoped wasn't the wrong move.

A few shops ahead of her, she saw a tall frame topped with bright red hair exiting into the lane. She slowed her steps slightly at the sight of him. When they had begun spending time together, comforting each other, she hadn't really noticed his body aside from how comfortable he was to sleep on. Now she was keenly aware of his arms that seemed lean but held hidden strength, his firm chest and how it moved when he breathed, and his fiery hair that framed his face so well, kept just long enough to disguise the scar that was once his ear. She hadn't really known what she was going to do when she got here—they had no plans tonight, and she didn't know what she was going to say, or even what she wanted to say. But she knew that the past week had been weird without him, and she was tired of avoiding the tension they'd felt the other night. She breathed deeply, trying to remain calm about the fact that she was probably going to upend her life tonight, but her stomach still fluttered.

George turned and caught the sight of Angelina coming towards him. She was wearing a flowy purple skirt with a white camisole; her hair fell in waves over her dark shoulders. She smiled as she neared, a warm smile brightening his mood like the sun breaking through after a long cloudy day.

"Care to get some dinner?" she asked so casually that he was sure she had put his awkward behavior from Monday behind her. There was something different about the way she waited for his answer, as if the fate of the world rested upon whether or not he was in the mood to eat, but he brushed it off. He was letting himself get to his head. He agreed to dinner and instinctively held his arm with a cheeky grin. She linked her arm through his without question, so he knew that he hadn't completely ruined their friendship by gawking at her Monday.

They chatted about their week as they walked to dinner, the conversation easily flowing like nothing strange had passed between them. George was comforted by this; the last thing he had wanted was for things to be weird in any way between them. Now and then he'd catch something in her eye when she would smile at him, or notice that her laugh had a different sound to it. They ate at a small fish and chips shop just outside the Leaky Cauldron where the staff knew them by name. She told him all about the article she'd submitted that morning; she already hoped her predictions were wrong.

"I'm sorry to say it, because I do want Oliver to win, but I just don't think Puddlemere's got it. I think they'll take down Montrose with a bit of a struggle, but they're going to lose sight of the Snitch, so to speak, when they come up against Holyhead. I don't know anyone besides Ron who thinks that Chudley's going to get past the Harpies, after all. They're just too powerful of a force, those witches. I really want it to be Puddlemere, but I just don't think it will. I'd be pleasantly surprised if they took Gwenog and the girls down, though."

"So in one article it seems like you're going to make both your friend and my brother very disappointed while making my sister quite happy. You can't please everyone! I'm sure Gin will be happy to read it. She hasn't gotten any real playing time yet, but she said that after this season a couple players might be retiring. She's pretty eager to prove herself, you know?"

They finished up their meal and stepped out onto the London streets, letting their conversation fade as they stepped out into the night. George didn't live far from Diagon Alley, so they took advantage of the warm night by walking home after dinner. It was half nine when they left the restaurant; Angelina yawned as they walked.

"Why so tired, Ange? All that Quidditch guessing…er, reporting got you sleepy?" he teased.

"Oh shut it you, I've been cleaning my flat all day. I rearranged my bedroom and actually sorted out all the clothes in my closet for what I should keep and what I should bin. So I'm a bit tired, yea," she replied. She looped her arm into his and rested her head on him as they walked. She was tall, but he was still taller, and so her head landed comfortably on his shoulder. "Why are we walking? Let's just Apparate," she sighed.

"I've got a better idea," he said loudly as he suddenly scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder. "I'll just carry you! Isn't that what ancient Muggles would do with women? Just carry them everywhere?" He couldn't hear if she actually answered him over her hysterical laughter, but he was pretty sure that she yelled something obscene.

"Put me down, you git!" she eked out, beating on his back. "You're going to show my knickers to all of London!"

"Oy! That might not be such a bad sight for them!" he joked as he set her back on the ground. He pretended to flinch as she punched him in the arm. "At least it woke you up! I must commend you on your choice of words! How ladylike of you," he laughed, holding hands up to defend himself from her next punch.

She laughingly relented and dropped her fist. They both chuckled as they continued walking. Angelina wasn't sure if it was the silliness or the warm summer air, but as she noticed the swing of his arm beside hers, she suddenly caught his hand and slid her fingers between his. She felt him start slightly, but he relaxed and closed his fingers around hers without a word. They walked a couple blocks like this. She could feel his questions brewing inside of him, but she didn't disturb him. She was content to enjoy her hand in his for the moment. As they neared his building, she began to linger, walking a little slower.

"Angelina," he began, but she cut him off by stopping in her tracks.

"I don't know," she said, still holding on to his hand as though he might run if she let go. "I don't know when this happened, George. But you feel it, right? I'm not the only one." Suddenly she felt like she should apologize for developing feelings for him. She wasn't really sorry—he was her best friend, and she wasn't going to make excuses. Still, if he didn't feel the same, then she was really botching things up. She was just opening her mouth to defend herself when his lips connected with hers.

The argument she'd been having with herself faded away as she felt her entire body relax into the kiss. She wasn't sure how long it lasted, but he pulled away before she was ready for it to end.

"I don't know either," he said, smiling down at her. She opened her mouth to say something, to tell him that she knew things would be different and that she knew it was new and strange and terrifying, but instead he kissed her again. "We can talk about it later." She smiled into his kiss, resting her hand on his waist as he leaned into her. It surprised her how easily she became lost in the moment, forgetting how worried and scared she had been. She pulled him with her as she stepped backwards, leaning herself against the nearest building. Later she remembered thinking that she had expected him to kiss like Fred and being surprised at how different it felt. Fred had always been a bit of an eager kisser, always ready to move on to the next part of the show.

But George, he was kissing her like he would be happy to stand there and kiss her all night. His body was pressed against her, squeezing her tightly between the wall and his body; the pressure made her heart beat as fast as a hummingbird's wings. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on to him as he leaned down into her. She had stopped thinking about anything, focusing her brain on the feeling of his lips against hers. She was sure that she had never kissed like this before.

Eventually, Angelina began to feel his hands move. His right hand slid behind her back to hold her even closer; his left landed on her waist. The left caressed her side rhythmically for a while before moving upward. He barely grazed her breast, but she felt the touch enough to shudder against him. She felt his lips turn upwards into a slight grin as his hand moved further upward to stroke her neck and ear. Her hands were mostly preoccupied with holding on to his neck and stroking his hair. She was wholly dependent on him for support at this point.

It was when he lightly bit down on her lower lip while stroking the nape of her neck that she finally let forth a throaty moan. She felt a slight rush of wind and opened her eyes to see that they were back in his flat in the middle of his living room. Before she could even process that he'd Apparated them there, they were landing on his couch and kissing again.

She began to think this would continue all night; part of her was happy to think it. She caught a glimpse of his clock—it was a quarter past eleven. Reluctantly, she pulled away and looked up into his eyes.

"Not that I couldn't do this all night, but we've been at it a good while," she said. She couldn't help but laugh at the goofy grin on his face. She pushed his chest to motion that she wanted to get up, and he obliged, sitting at the other end of the couch.

"I see no reason to stop in the middle of the fun," he joked. She laughed and got up to go to the loo. As she walked in, she caught a glimpse into his bedroom, where the green shirt she'd slept in sat on his pillow. As she exited the loo, she quietly went into his room. The shirt still had that just-worn wrinkled look, so it probably hadn't been washed since she'd slept in it.

"It smelled like you," he said from behind her. "It helped me fall asleep. I find it harder to sleep when you're not here these days." Angelina turned. As he stood in the doorway to his bedroom, he clearly wore his heart on his sleeve. In this admission he exposed his vulnerable state; he was so wonderfully encouraged by her kisses and yet still so afraid that she was going to desert him, leave him with nothing but the faint smell of her on an old shirt. She closed the space between them with a few easy steps and gave him another kiss, this one gentle and reassuring.

She put the shirt on again and removed her camisole from underneath it; it was a long enough shirt that when she removed her skirt, he was still left guessing. All he could see were toned mile-high legs. He took her cue and removed his shirt and pants. They climbed into the bed, he in his boxers and she in his shirt. This time they didn't pretend like there needed to be space between them. She cuddled into him; his arm held her against him while she extended hers over his stomach. Without anything else save for a little kiss goodnight, they lie with the warmth of each other's bodies and soft, contented breathing to lull them into sleep.