It appeared that Hermione was right about him and the "Weasley Track Record." George had fallen asleep on Valentine's Day fully intending to talk to Angelina the following morning. It hadn't quite worked out that way.
This was due in part to the fact that Angelina was all smiles about her date the night before.
"We went to dinner at this corny little restaurant. You know, the type with all of the red and pink balloons and glitter and the band that tries to serenade you as you eat. It was a laugh." She gushed brightly. "But afterward he took me to a Muggle dance club. It was the most fun I've had in a long time…"
At this point George's mood took a turn for the worst once again. Had he been listening, he might have realized that Angelina was suggesting that they go to the dance club together. However, jealousy raised its ugly head and he brushed her off with some less than polite comment. Her face had fallen visibly, but again he failed to notice. The result of this was a tense working environment for the remainder of the week. Angelina didn't seem eager to engage in conversation and had taken to keeping her head down whenever he entered the room.
George, on the other hand, paraded around in self-righteous anger. He had convinced himself that Hermione was mistaken; Angelina clearly fancied this dancing idiot, whoever he may be (and when he found out he would be sure to send him a curse). It was all a wasted effort. Their connection stemmed from the loss of a mutual loved one and from years of friendship, nothing more. Or so George thought.
Angelina was first to break the silence. She waited about a day and a half before marching up to him.
"You need to stop being mad at me because I have a favor to ask you and I need you to say yes." It was closing time, and he was upstairs under the guise of being buried in paperwork. In reality, he was avoiding her. Angelina knew this.
"I'm not mad at you," George denied cursing himself for not remembering that she could always, always read him like a book. "I'm just really busy."
"You are too ignoring me. I don't know why, but I don't appreciate it. You're my best mate and if you've got a problem I'd like you to be man enough to tell me to my face." George wasn't surprised by her bluntness. This was, and had always been, Angelina's way. Normally he found it hilarious. Today it wasn't so funny. Her hands had gone to her hips, her weight all on one leg. It was female defensive posture at its worst, and George was on the receiving end.
Instead of rising to her bait, he sighed. "What favor did you need?" Her eyes narrowed at him.
"I need two weeks for a vacation. I have to do something important." She still managed to make it sound like a challenge, like she was daring him to deny her. But her request shocked him a bit.
"What is it?" George asked.
"I can't tell you. It's a surprise. Hopefully when you get it, you'll stop treating me like I've got incurable flatulence or something." she smiled a little bit, but kept her face mostly straight.
"This doesn't have anything to do with my birthday, does it?" this was also a contributing factor to his mood. April first would mark his first unshared birthday, a fact he wasn't sure he could deal with.
"It does. And it is my duty to inform you that I have been given the task of making you go out that day. Once the night before with friends, and the next, your mum wants you 'round for dinner." George sighed. Angelina's tone softened a bit. "It'd be a lot easier for me to do this, if you started talking to me again. I know you're sad, George, but you're starting to worry me." George found the strength to look up at her.
"Could you do it, Ange? Go out when everything inside of you misses him? How am I going to act happy?" She dropped down to her knees in front of his chair.
"I know you're sad. I can't even imagine what you are going through." her hand brushed his thigh. "I've convinced them to just do a few drinks and presents instead of a big blowout. They understand. We just don't want you to be alone. Don't shut us out George. Don't shut me out." she touched his face almost hesitantly.
George felt tears prick the back of his eyes. He hadn't cried about this in a long time, but damn him, it looked like it was all about to come out. He forced them down.
"It's just all really hard right now. I'm so confused and…" he trailed off, unable to tell her that it was his feelings for her that were the main problem right and his guilt at thinking about her more now than he thought about Fred.
Angelina stood up and hugged him tight. "I know you are. But if anyone can make it through this, it's you George. And Fred, you know, he's not really gone. He'll help you. And I will too. And your family and friends." He nodded.
"I don't want to sit down at that table and look at the space next to me and know Fred will never be there again. And I don't want to hear the awkward pause when they all start to sing 'FredandGeorge' and then realize it's only George. I don't know how to not share. We shared everything."
She hugged him tighter still. "It'll be ok. How about we make a deal?"
George looked at her curiously. "A deal?" He knew that she was trying to distract him from his grief. He let her.
"Yes. You let me have my vacation days-" he gave a loud bark of laughter and she held up a finger, "and I'll go to your birthday dinner with you." She looked suddenly unsure of herself. "If you want me to, that is. I just thought you'd like, well, some support," she finished somewhat timidly.
"All right. But I'm going to miss you. What am I going to do with myself for two weeks without you?" The sincerity in his words found its way out in his tone. She smiled at him.
"Well, it's not like I'm not going to write. And you've got Ron," George scoffed. She laughed. "And I promise, when I get back, you're going to like what I've brought. It'll cheer you right up."
"Promise?" he assumed his standard teasing tone.
"Promise." She nudged him with her shoulder. "Oh, and George?"
He nodded, "Yeah?"
"I'm going to miss you too." She averted her eyes and he could have sworn he saw her cheeks flush. "Though I don't know why, you friend-ignoring git." she added.
This time the back of his neck flushed. "Sorry 'bout that. I just was sort of sour that you had someone on Valentine's Day and I…well, I didn't."
She looked taken aback. "Oh, well. I really didn't enjoy it too much," she said.
"Sounds like you did," George pointed out, trying not to sound accusatory.
"Oh, I only told you all that so we could both get a laugh at how awful it was. I told you what the restaurant was like, and the whole time at the disco he kept trying to rub up against me and it was revolting. I've even stopped going to dance class because I know he'll be there waiting to ask me out again."
Now George felt very stupid.
"Well, that's better then." He tried to sound light and teasing.
"I was actually hoping that you might stop by one day at class just to stop him from trying so bloody hard," she admitted.
He laughed. "Full of favors to ask today, are we?"
"Well, you know. It's payback for all the things you did to me in school. Besides, you scratch my back, and I'll scratch yours, eh?" she gave his back a scratch to illustrate her point.
"Well, that'll depend on how good of a present you get me," George joked.
"Oh, it'll be great. I promise. So polish those dancing shoes." She stood up and stretched. He walked her to the door. "Thanks, George," she said before she left.
"No problem. I'll write." He held the door open for her.
"And I'll write back," she promised. There was a potent pause. Angelina leaned in, as though contemplating kissing him. George half-considered meeting her halfway, but she pulled back. He tried not to look disappointed.
"Have a safe trip then, Ange," he said at long last.
"Thanks," and then with almost snakelike speed she leaned forward and planted a short, chaste kiss on his lips. "See you for your birthday." With a pop, she was gone.
George found himself looking forward to his birthday, just a little bit.
A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Please drop one if you haven't!
