Chapter 21 – Apology

After talking to Angelina that day, something inside Ava had shifted, not completely, but just enough to breathe again. She was reminded that family wasn't always about blood. It was about who stayed. Who showed up. Who saw you even when you didn't know how to be seen.

Angelina would always be her family.

It had been nearly a month since her conversation with Professor Lupin, and Ava had kept her distance. He hadn't pushed, and she was grateful. Just because the truth was out didn't mean she was ready to let it in.

And as for her other father, Anthony, he still didn't know that she knew. His last letter had caught her off guard, though: a simple message, asking her to come home for Christmas. She hadn't spent the holidays away from Hogwarts since she was eleven. But maybe it was time.

Now, the sun bathed the courtyard in soft winter light, and Ava found herself nestled under a tree with Fred beside her, a book on Animagi in her lap and not a single page committed to memory. Across from her, George and Lee were mid-discussion with Fred about their newest prank invention.

"How much d'you reckon we could sell these for?" Lee asked, twirling one of the prototype joke wands in his fingers. "Flitwick nearly hexed himself when it turned his teacup into a dancing ferret."

Fred leaned back against the tree, folding his hands behind his head like the king of relaxation. "Five galleons. Six, easy. What do you think, George?"

No response.

Fred tilted his head. "Oi. Earth to George?"

Ava followed his gaze and smirked. George was staring dreamily across the courtyard, his expression equal parts wistful and stunned. On the far end, Angelina, Katie, and Alicia had just walked out, their laughter carried on the breeze. George's face had gone faintly pink.

Ava elbowed Fred. "I think he's got it bad."

Fred chuckled under his breath. "If he stares any harder, she's gonna spontaneously combust."

"I'm just… thinking," George said suddenly, snapping out of his daze.

Fred raised an eyebrow. "Thinking? You? You sure you're not our third cousin twice removed?"

George scowled and grabbed the nearest piece of parchment, wadding it into a ball and chucking it at Fred. It veered left and hit the tree with a defeated plop.

"Very intimidating," Ava deadpanned. "Truly fearsome."

"Oi, intimidation isn't about accuracy," George muttered.

Ava turned to the girls, her hand lifting in an easy wave. "Hey, Angie! Come join us!"

Angelina led the way, her stride confident, braids catching the light like polished rope swinging in rhythm with each step. She moved like someone who always knew exactly where she was going and dared the world to get in her way. "Afternoon, gents. Ava," she greeted, her smirk playful but razor-sharp.

Katie practically collapsed onto the grass beside Lee, her limbs a dramatic sprawl, like she'd been hurled from a broom midair. "Ugh, finally. If I had to sit through one more hour of Binns today, I was going to start haunting the castle myself."

Alicia, ever composed, lowered herself between George and Lee with the smooth poise of someone who had learned exactly how to take up space and make it look effortless. She adjusted her skirt just enough to make it seem intentional, then flashed a casual grin at George, who immediately lost the ability to speak like a normal human being.

Angelina dropped down beside Ava with a practiced ease, bumping her shoulder into hers with just enough force to say you've been missed. "You've been off snogging Weasley too much to write me," she said, tone teasing but threaded with something more real, warmth, maybe, or nostalgia for when the two of them were inseparable.

Ava smiled, her chest aching a little with guilt. They hadn't had much time together lately, too much had happened, too quickly. It felt good just to be near her again.

Katie leaned back onto her elbows, blinking against the sun like a sunbathing cat. "So. Who's staying for the holidays?"

Lee shook his head. "Home for me. Mum's planning goose and treacle tart and probably another slideshow of my childhood bath photos."

"I'm staying," Katie said, flicking a stray leaf off her sleeve. "Alicia's coming with. Her parents are off to renew their vows somewhere warm and smug." Her tone was dry, but not unkind, and she rolled her eyes like the idea of a second honeymoon was both charming and vaguely inconvenient.

Alicia gave a dramatic sigh, tossing her hair over one shoulder. "They needed a romantic escape from their teenage daughter. Honestly, who could blame them? I only slam about three doors a day and make sarcastic commentary at dinner. Clearly unbearable."

"And the Weasleys?" Katie asked, turning to Fred and George with a tilt of her head. "Ron's staying, yeah?"

Fred immediately pulled a face like he'd just swallowed something sour. "Poor bloke. Stuck here with the ghosts and Filch's cat. George and I are off home no question. Mum'd drag us back by the ears if we so much as thought about skipping Christmas."

As if to punctuate his point, Fred slung an arm around Ava's shoulders. It was effortless, thoughtless even, but there was something grounding in the way his arm settled there, solid and warm. Ava leaned into him without realizing it.

George nodded. "Yeah, can't wait. Hogwarts is great, but I'm starting to forget what it's like to go a whole day without homework-induced trauma."

His eyes slid, subtly but not subtly enough, to Angelina. "What about you, Angel?"

She was leaning back on her hands, sunlight catching in the glossy sweep of her braids, her face tilted up to the sky like she wasn't breaking at least three hearts just by existing. And George? George was well on his way to being one of them, whether he admitted it or not.

"What about you, Angel?" he asked, trying very hard to sound neutral and only somewhat failing.

Angelina cracked one eye open. "Home. Same as always. Mum insists. I'll probably spend it dodging Aunt Phyllis and her fermented fruitcake of doom."

George perked up with the enthusiasm of someone who'd just been handed a broomstick mid-fall. "Well, if you're trying to avoid baked goods with a criminal record, you could always come to the Burrow. It's safe. Mostly. We'll be testing some new fireworks, maybe blowing up a shed or two. Or we could play Quidditch. Or… y'know. Just hang out."

He trailed off, the words tripping over each other as if the sentence had sprinted ahead of him and left him floundering in its dust.

Angelina turned to him slowly, eyebrow arched with the precision of someone who had absolutely mastered the art of withering amusement. "Was that supposed to be subtle flirting," she asked dryly, "or did you pull a muscle trying?"

Fred wheezed out a laugh. Katie covered her mouth to stifle a snort. Alicia outright cackled.

George, to his credit, grinned through the mortification. "Bit of both," he said. "But I hear pulled muscles build character."

Fred snorted, tossing a smug grin across George's mortified face. "I think what my dear brother meant is that you could admire his broomstick collection."

George groaned and dropped his head into his hands. "You're the actual worst."

Angelina narrowed her eyes, lips twitching. "You're getting dangerously close to sounding like Oliver."

George's head snapped up, horrified. "Oi! That was below the belt."

"Facts don't lie," she said sweetly, examining her nails like she hadn't just verbally body-slammed him.

George scrambled to recover, flailing for neutral ground. "Everyone's welcome, alright?" he announced, voice half an octave higher than usual. "Even you, Lee."

Lee patted George's shoulder like he was offering condolences. "So generous. I feel truly chosen."

Fred smirked over Ava's head. "By a man who throws like a Hufflepuff."

George bristled. "Take that back."

"Only if you can hit me."

And that was all the motivation George needed.

He grabbed the balled-up parchment, cocked his arm back with the confidence of a professional Beater, and let it fly. Unfortunately, Angelina chose that exact moment to turn toward him.

Thwack.

The parchment hit her square in the forehead with a soft, traitorous plop. There was a beat of perfect, stunned silence. Angelina blinked once. Twice. Then slowly reached up and brushed the crumpled parchment off her lap like a queen discarding an inferior scroll.

"Did you just pelt me in the face," she said, voice calm and deeply unimpressed, "because you're allergic to flirting?"

George looked like he might faint.

"I was aiming for Fred!" he blurted, absolutely scandalized.

Fred raised his hands, grinning like a goblin who'd just won a bet. "I'm flattered. Really. Let it out, Georgie."

Ava had to bite her lip to keep from laughing outright as Angelina massaged her temple with the air of someone far too used to male nonsense.

"You're lucky you're cute," she said dryly.

George looked like he was about to spontaneously combust. Fred looked positively gleeful. And the rest of the group? Somewhere between amused and ready to take bets on whether George would ever recover.

Angelina turned to Ava, propping her chin on her hand. "So… did Uncle Anthony ever write back? Or is he still off pretending owl post doesn't exist?"

Ava nodded, the corner of her mouth twitching. "Actually, yeah. Said he wants me home for Christmas."

Angelina raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? That's new."

Ava stood, brushing imaginary dust from her skirt. "Yeah. First time not spending the holidays at Hogwarts." She paused, then added, "Back in a bit–loo run."

Fred immediately perked up. "Want company?"

Angelina smacked his arm without even looking. "Down, boy."

Fred clutched his arm like he'd been mortally wounded. "Abuse! I'm filing a report. Mum's going to hear about this."

"You're lucky I'm not twelve and still punching boys in the nose."

"You were ten," Fred muttered indignantly. "And I had the flu."

Angelina grinned wickedly. "Still counts."

Fred huffed and slouched dramatically, while George leaned over to whisper to Angelina, "He's never fully recovered, you know."

Ava shook her head, smiling as she walked away, the image of a much younger Fred howling dramatically in the Burrow's backyard playing in her mind. Merlin help her, she loved these idiots.

For a fleeting second, the weight in her chest, everything with Lupin, Anthony, the strange loneliness she couldn't always name, eased.

Then she rounded the corner.

And collided with someone solid.

"Oh! Sorry–ya alright?"

That voice. That accent.

Her smile vanished like mist burned off in the sunlight. "Oliver."

He stepped back, sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck with that familiar, casual boyishness that once made her weak in the knees. Now, it just made her guard go up.

"Didn't see ya," he said.

She immediately stepped sideways, already halfway past him, but his hand reached out and caught her wrist, not roughly, but enough to stop her.

"Wait," he said, eyes serious. "I wanted to talk to ya."

Ava froze. The sounds of the courtyard still carried faintly on the wind behind her–Lee laughing, Fred's voice somewhere in the mix, light and easy.

And here she was again. In the shadow of a conversation she didn't want to have.

"I jus'…" Oliver exhaled. "I wanted to say I'm sorry."

She turned to face him, arms crossing tight over her chest. "You already did."

"I know," he said, quietly now. "But not properly. Not to your face."

There was something different in his tone, not the cocky confidence he used to wear like a second skin. This was quieter. Calmer. Humbled, maybe.

"I didn't mean to hurt ya," he continued. "I lost my head. I let things go too far, and then I didn't stop when I should've. I was an arse. And you didn't deserve it."

Ava studied him. The way he looked down at his shoes. The regret in his posture. It wasn't rehearsed. If anything, he looked like he was bracing for a slap.

She sighed. "Oliver…"

"I just… I see you now. With Fred." He looked up finally, and something almost fond flickered in his eyes. "You look happy. Really happy. And I'm glad. Truly." His accent softened with the words. "He's a lucky bastard."

She didn't speak. Couldn't. The words sat heavy on her tongue, unwilling to move.

Oliver hesitated. "I'm not expectin' anything," he said, rubbing his thumb along the seam of his pocket. "But maybe… maybe we could still be friends."

Ava studied him. Gone was the swagger, the smug smirk he wore like armor. What stood before her now was something stripped down. Raw, uncertain, and human.

And though part of her wanted to remind him exactly how he'd made her feel that night, used, cornered, and small, another part, the one she hated a little, still believed in second chances.

She nodded. Just once. "Okay," she said quietly. "We can be friends."

His face lit up with surprised relief. "Yeah? Brilliant." And before she could so much as brace for it, he stepped forward and pulled her into a hug.

Tight. Familiar. Uninvited.

Ava stiffened, caught off guard by the contact, her arms half-lifted in awkward protest. She didn't get the chance to respond.

Because then he kissed her cheek.

Soft. Quick. Gone in a breath.

"Thanks, love," he murmured, already backing away. "See ya around."

And like that, he was gone, vanishing into the castle corridor as quickly as he'd appeared.

Ava stood there for a moment, stunned. Her fingers drifted to her cheek, unsure whether to wipe it off or press it in. But then she turned and that's when she saw him.

Standing a few paces away, was Fred, frozen in place. His eyes, usually alight with mischief, were dark and unreadable. Jaw clenched. Hands balled at his sides. Hurt carved into every line of his face.

Ava's heart sank.

"Fred," she breathed, stepping forward.

He didn't move. His eyes were fixed on her, cool and unreadable, but burning underneath.

"What the bloody hell was that?" he snapped, the words cutting sharper than she expected.

Ava stiffened. "It was nothing," she said quickly. "He just–"

"Didn't look like nothing," Fred bit out. "Looked like a bloody moment, Ava."

"He apologized," she said, folding her arms, pulse racing. "That's all it was. He just wanted to talk."

"And he needed to hug you to do that?" Fred asked, voice climbing. "And the kiss? What was that… his way of sealing the bloody apology with a bow?"

"It wasn't like that!" Ava said, the heat rising in her cheeks. "He caught me off guard!"

Fred laughed bitterly. "Off guard. Of course. That's Oliver for you. Always knows when to swoop in."

"He was sincere," she insisted. "You weren't there…you didn't hear what he said. You're being unfair."

"I'm being unfair?" Fred blinked, taking a step toward her. "I've been there for you. Through everything. And the minute he shows up with his sad little eyes and that damn accent, you let him hug you like nothing ever happened? I get guilt-tripped and he gets cheek kisses?"

Ava's fists clenched at her sides. "Oh, you're really being an asshole right now."

Fred froze, eyes narrowing.

"I didn't ask for Oliver to show up," she hissed. "I didn't want the hug. And I definitely didn't want the kiss. But you know what? I didn't hex him either. Because I'm trying to be civil. Because I'm tired of feeling like every step I take is going to turn into some goddamn drama."

Fred's mouth opened but nothing came out.

"I'm with you, Fred," she said, pointing to her chest. "You. Not him. But if you can't trust me when I say that… if your first instinct is to accuse me and storm off… then maybe you're the one who needs to figure out what this relationship means."

For a second, neither of them spoke. Just their breathing, harsh and tangled in the space between them.

Fred stepped back, jaw clenched. "I need some air." He turned and stalked off, the set of his shoulders rigid, his pace sharp.

Ava let out a shuddering breath and then slowly turned back toward the courtyard. Angelina, Lee, Katie, and Alicia were all frozen on the grass. Angelina quickly looked up at the sky, very interested in a nonexistent cloud. Katie was absolutely fascinated by a nearby squirrel. Alicia had turned her entire body toward Lee and was pretending to laugh at nothing. And Lee? Lee held a butterbeer cap to his eye like a monocle and stared into the distance like he was observing a rare bird.

Only George looked guilty. He stood slowly, giving Ava a look, one that said we'll sort this out, and jogged after his brother.

Ava closed her eyes for a beat, pressing her fingers to her temples.

"Brilliant," she muttered. "Just bloody brilliant."