OH: T'is the end. I couldn't draw it out anymore and I want to get started on the next one. Literally, as soon as I finish writing this, I am going upstairs to start the next one. That's how ready I am for it. I adore you guys, please review. I hope you like the end--if you don't, it connects with the beginning of the next story. Thanks for everything.

The Hogwarts Express was boarded and we arrived at Platform 9 ¾ at the precise time we were expected. Today—Alicia and I were invited to the Burrow. t was some kind of dinner—even though Mrs. Weasley was pissed off at Fred and George.

I got off the train and saw Fred and George in—dragon skin jackets? Okay. I walked over to him and leaned in for a kiss before he turned me and started walking towards the exit.

"Not while my mum's around," he said charmingly.

"Right," I nodded.

We Apparated back to the Burrow—just so I could see the outlay of the house.

"Come on," he said and pulled me.

Well, let's just say it wasn't what I had expected. I mean, it was brilliant—but you should know I'm used to living in a Muggle neighborhood—I mean, not that we don't have magical—stuff around my house—but this was amazing. Mind you, the façade wasn't much to fret about—but inside it was—homey.

About five, we sat down at the table as dinner was ready.

"So, how was this year for everyone?"

There was a murmur of agreement—yes, duh.

"So, how long have you two been together?" Mrs. Weasley pointed at Fred and I.

I looked at him, "Uh, a year and a half, I think," I said.

"Wow, well, that's serious—isn't it?" Mr. Weasley said.

"Exactly how serious, though?" George said from across the table with a grin on his face.

"Well, certainly—we all know my boys are all—innocent," Mrs. Weasley said. Innocent? Nice word for it.

I burst out laughing, as did Alicia. I looked at Alicia, "She doesn't think their virgins, does she?" Alicia nodded. "Fred! A virgin?" I continued laughing louder. "Oh, sorry," I stopped seeing her stare down on me, "You were serious?"

"Fred—may I see you in the other room. And George as well?" Oh shit. I heard her murmur something about a "scarlet woman" before exiting the room with her twins behind her.

Though they were in the other room, everyone was quiet so we could hear what they were discussing.

"Do you want to tell me what's going on?" Mrs. Weasley said.

"I don't know what you're talking about," the twins said in unison.

"Well I certainly hope you're being safe."

"Safe about what?" Again, unison.

"You had me thinking you two were both--"

"Say it."

"We want you to say it."

"We want to know what you're talking about."

"You two are active."

"Hell yes, we are!"


"Quidditch, anyone? Quidditch?"

"You know well that's not what I'm talking about."

"Enlighten us, then."

"I can't believe it—before marriage."

The twins laughed—pretty damn loud. "Don't act as if you and dad waited—it was the 'dark times' or whatever and you were afraid you were going to die."

"You definitely didn't waste time."

"This is not about me and your father!"

"Hang on—you're saying we can't—with our girlfriends?"

"Do you plan to marry these two ladies?"

I sense a shrug.

"UH!" Mrs. Weasley burst out of the room. "And you Ronald?" She looked at poor Ron—fire in her eyes.

Ron just shook his head, looking as if he feared for his life.


We were on the outskirts of their large property—Fred and I. We were just sitting in the grass. Shit. I've ruined things with his mother. It was just after that terrible dinner of ours.

"I'm sorry," I whined. He was behind me and I was between his legs, his arms wrapped around me keeping me warm.

He shrugged, "She's always mad at me for one reason or another."

"What's going to happen the rest of the summer—the rest of forever?" I asked.

"Well, the summer—I've got the shop and George and I've the flat—to our lonesome."

"Not what I meant."

"I know, I'm only teasing. Well, you get a job—you get a flat—one day we decide to get married—and then we have like—a billion red-headed caramel-colored kids named Fred Jr. and Fredericka."

"Ew. That's disgusting."


"The names—I like Dominic and—Ella." I nodded. I think he was more surprised that I said the names were the disgusting parts of it.

"I suppose those are all right. Xander and Fabienne—that's French!" He said, extremely proud of himself.

"Julian Quentin! It's French as well, I adore that name!" I had turned myself completely around while he remained stationary and I was right in front of him—on him—while he was still crouched down on the grass.

"I like how you say that, Ang. Can you speak French?"

"Why, yes I can." I said, biting my lip and pulling my face in closer to his.

"Say something."

"Quel-que chose."

"What's that mean?" He said, a sparkle in his eye.

"Something," I was now completely on top of him and kissing him—on the grass—remember that part. Grass.

So, we were laying down—on the grass. One on top of the other—stacked like Pringles. Playing the fun game of tonsil hockey. Fred—being Fred reaches for the bottom of my shirt.

"NO!" I pulled away, now straddling him because I had sat up. "Your mother already hates me! There is no way! In fact--" I got completely off of him and scooted about two feet away from him—on the grass.

He clicked his tongue, sitting up—I imagine he is thinking of dead kittens or something at the moment.

"Better?" I asked from—two feet away.

"I would be if you would take off your clothes," he pouted. Haha. Funny stuff.

"Fred—not on the grass. Not in the house—not here period, because until about two hours ago—your mother thought you were a virgin!"

"Well, now she knows. It'll make it that much easier on her on our honeymoon night," he smiled.

"Time to grow up, Fred."

He laid spread eagle on the ground, looking up at the darkening sky.

"Fred--" I said.

He turned his head towards me.

"Does your family often enter the tool shed?"

"FRED!" That was not me screaming—it was Fred's mother. Mmkay?

"Oh, shit."

"I TOLD YOU! I told you! Get off! Get off."

"Damn, give me like--.2 seconds, shit!"

"Get the Quaffle, Fred."


"So she can think we're in here—getting the equipment for Quidditch."


"Got 'em!" I said, coming out of the shed with the Quaffle in my hand.

"Wonderful, Dear," Mrs. Weasley looked at me like I was an idiot.

"This button is going to be the death of me--" Fred came out of the shed, attempting to button his pants.

I could tell my face showed it—like a kid that hides his trash in the closet—then the closet bursts forth, revealing his dirty little secret.

Mrs. Weasley looks Stunned. She just stood there, blinked several times and then turned and walked back to the house.

"Nice job."

"Shit," he barely said. He ran his fingers furiously through his hair and started pacing.

"Oi! Fred!" George called, walking from the house with Alicia in his wake, attached by the hands.

"What?" he groaned.

"Up for a small game of two-on-two?"

"Not really," he kicked the shed and regretted it, jumping up and down seconds later out of pain.

"What's wrong with you?" asked Alicia.

I just looked at her with a blank expression on my face. Shit.

"Not in the shed—no?" George said, shaking his head.

I nodded, "And your dear brother here—fucked it up when your mother came rushing along."

"It's not my fault!" He pointed at me.

"You better get your damn finger out of my face, Fred Weasley."

"And what if I don't?"

I blew him a kiss and Apparated to my house—well, my parents.

"ANGELINA!" My mother screamed, coming to me as if she had never seen me in her life.

"We've a surprise for you darling," my father said, bringing me to the table.

I looked at the table where there was an envelope with my name on it. In wonderfully decorated and official-looking lettering and styling.

"The Ministry?" I looked to my father, he worked at the Ministry—some small department. Actually, I've been suspected the he was Unspeakable, but I wouldn't know, would I? That would explain this house—anyways.

He nodded, smiling.

I opened it and began reading—somewhere along the lines I had been accepted to the training for the Ministry's Department of Magical Games and Sports!

"I've been accepted to the--"

"OKAY! I let you get away with five minutes or so—but you bet—hi," said Fred. He had just Apparated and noticed my parents.

"Who are you?" My mother asked.

"Mum, this is Fred."

"Who the hell is Fred?" said my father.

I cringed, "He's my boyfriend."

"Boyfriend? Since when have you had a boyfriend?" said Father Dearest.

I smiled nervously and walked over to Fred who remained stationary and unblinking, "A year and a half—just about."

"Really? Well, you certainly kept this a secret," said my father.

My mother looked as if she was about to cry and her eyes were really big, "Angelina—please-tell-me-my-baby-is-still-a-virgin!" She said is really fast and didn't breathe until the end.

"Oh my GODRIC, Mum!" I whined—and kind of screamed. Fred was still silent.

"You!" She pointed at Fred and he looked at her, scared—it seemed. "Have-you-taken-my-daughter's-innocence?" Haha. Nice. Shit. She was scary.

"OUT! Out now." My father said.

"Oh, shit. Bye, Ang!" He kissed me and Apparated without moving away.

I looked—terrified, I know. I put on a smile, with the scared expression still, "Oh, shit," I said quietly.

"ANGELINA JOHNSON! Watch your mouth—you've some explaining to do, miss!" screamed my mother.

"What would you like to know?" I asked nervously.

"Why didn't you tell us?" asked my mother.

"I did. This summer—my friend who was a boy."

"How serious is this relationship?" she asked.

"Uh—pretty serious." Life is going to be hell from now on.

Bright side: Potential job making lots of money.

Note to self: Find a flat away from home.

Okay, so—I guess we can recap, right? I have a boyfriend who is rich and owns a shop (5 awesome points) named Fred. I finished school (2 awesome points) and I am going to work at the Ministry (2 awesome points) and make lots of money (10 awesome points). My parents hate my boyfriend (-10 awesome points) and his parents hate me (-15 awesome points). Uh—we are still—together—wink wink—a lot. Like, everyday possible. (+ A BILLION AWESOME POINTS. Because he is great.)

Seriously, I couldn't have asked for a better year. I couldn't ask for a better life. I swear, the next time you see me—I will be awesome—amazing—happy—and probably with Fred—in the naughty sense. Haha. Well, life is great. I can't believe I've lasted this long, honestly. I can't.

Fred Weasley is my boyfriend—still. Wow.

Thank Godric for that famous Weasley charm--again. I don't know what I'd do without it.