A/U: Hi, this is the first time I've ever posted a Harry Potter Fic, I'm so nervous so please be kind! This is my take on what I think happened between George and Angelina, let me know what you think! Please!
Disclaimer: I think I speak for everybody on this site when I say I wish I owned these characters and these fantasy world, But I don't! The fabulous JK Rowling does!
P.S. Rated 'm' for a reason!
The first time it happened had been at his funeral. It wasn't something either of them were proud of. Whenever George felt the guilt set in, the image of Fred leaning against the door to the pantry appeared, quirking his eyebrow before winking at him at the sight of his twin brother with Angelina Johnson pushed up against the wall of the pantry. And then he was gone.
The next time it happens, it's a month after the battle. Everyone involved in the battle had gathered at Hogwarts. George's eyes met hers awkwardly across the Gryffindor table and then she was dragging him into a broom cupboard.
Words were never spoken, looks were never exchanged. It was always rushed and clumsy, which suited George; he didn't fancy much on holding back. They'd get dressed in silence; Angelina's soft sobs the only thing to be heard and then they'd go their separate ways. And the only thing left after the sweat and the tears was the undeniable, gut wrenching guilt and grief.
It gradually became a monthly occurrence, and then a fortnightly and then a weekly until eventually George was waking up at four o'clock every morning to Angelina Johnson banging on his flat door.
But still no words were spoken, no looks were exchanged and no lingering caresses were shared.
'You know this is just sex, right, George?' were the first and only words ever uttered, as he helped Angelina out of her jacket and grunted in response.
At first, Angie didn't stay. She'd roll off George as the tears gathered up in the corners of her eyes, dress in a hurry and apparate out of there as fast as she came. Sometimes she just grabbed her clothes to get out of there faster.
George would lay there. Still. Silent. Alone.
He hated himself for the way he was treating Angelina, he hated himself for the way he was treating his brothers memory and he hated himself for the way he was letting Angelina treat him.
It was April first. Their birthday. Fred's Birthday. As Angelina got up to leave, her back turned to him, she heard the heart wrenching sob erupted from behind her. She glanced over her shoulder to see George's face buried in his pillow and his body shaking fervently. And she hates herself even more for doing this to him.
"Move over," she whispers the first words spoken since they entered the bedroom.
He looks up at her with glossy eyes and a confused expression etched across his face.
"Wa..." he begins before Angelina shakes her head.
"Move over before I change my mind," she ground out through clenched teeth.
"Big or small spoon?" he joked as she snuggled up beside him.
She let out a soft laugh before giving his arm a reassuring squeeze.
"I miss him too George," she whispered before drifting off to have the first nightmare free sleep since the end of the war.
3 3 3
"Mornin'" comes a deep voice from behind Angelina, causing her to jump and spill some of the water out of the kettle on her wrist.
"Shit," she murmured to herself before running her hand under the cold tap. "Merlin George, a little warning next time."
"Sorry," he chuckles, leaning against the table and crossing his arms over his bare chest. "Maroon suits you," he mutters. A soft blush spreads over her cheeks as she glances down at the t-shirt she stole from one of the drawers in George's room.
"I hope you don't mind I..." she began in embarrassment.
"It's Fred's," George blurted out and it's the first time either of them have so much as muttered his name.
"Oh... I'll just go…" she stammers over her words, turning off the tap and heading for the bedroom.
"No!" George calls out, "It suits you," he repeats, his eyes lingering on where the hem of the t-shirt meets Angelina's thigh a little too long. "A hell lot better than it looked on Fred anyway."
It's the first time George has talked about his brother so freely from his death, and he looks happy, and that makes Angelina happy, and then the guilt sets in all over again.
"You can talk about him to me you know, Angie," he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck, "I mean, I want you to talk to me about him, I know I'm not the only one that misses Fred."
Once again, silence fills the air and a soft smile appears on Angelina's lips and she nods softly. Then there's a bang on the door and Ron's voice floats through the wood.
Both sets of eyes widen and then Angelina's spinning on the spot thinking of her own flat and she's disappeared in front of George's eyes.
"What do you want?" he snaps as he opens the door to Ron.
"Well, good morning to you, too, you tosspot," snorts Ron, rolling his eyes as he walks past George, "Well I had come to get you up for work but it looks like you did that all by yourself," he teases, earning himself an eye roll in return, "Oh, tell Angie she doesn't need to leave on my account next time you see her."
George stares at his baby brother, open mouthed.
"I'll meet you downstairs when you're dressed, yeah?" asks Ron before stuffing his hands in his pockets and whistling as he walks past his big brother and down to open the shop.
3 3 3
The situation has become so familiar that Angelina just apparates straight into George's room, not bothering with the formalities of waiting at the door to be asked in.
It starts out as it usually does; rushed kisses and pulling at clothing. But as Angelina moves back to pull Fred's t-shirt over her head, George grabs her hands and shakes his head.
"What?..." she asks confused , furrowing her eyebrows.
"I was thinking..." he starts, rubbing his neck shyly, "Maybe...we don't need to do this tonight... maybe we could talk?"
Angelina leans back where she is perched in George's lap, pondering his suggestion.
"Sure," she whispers softly, receiving a gentle smile in return and a sweet kiss on the tip of her nose.
He softly starts to chuckled as she snuggles deep down under the covers, causing her to smile up at him.
"What are you laughing at?" she demands, giving his ribs a slight poke.
"Just thinking about the time Fred..." he begins explaining, in great details, the comical memory he is thinking of about his brother, Angelina laughing in all the right places.
And that's how it continues for the rest of the night; both taking turns in sharing stories, both good and bad, sharing both laughter and tears. Their legs intertwined together create a shocking contrast of Ivory and ebony.
Angelina is the first to fall asleep, a small smile playing on her lips. George doesn't get any sleep that night. Instead, he stays up listening to the gentle rhythm of her breathing and watching the gentle flutter of her eyelids.
"I miss him so much Angelina," he whispers, pulling her close.
3 3 3
And then they're back to where they started; Angelina pushed up against the wall of the pantry, both of them butt naked and the memories of Fred's death fresh in their mind. It's a year to the day from the war. It's a year to the day from his death.
It's the first time George has initiated anything. He had noticed the knowing looks Molly has sent their way, he noticed Arthur whisper something in Angelina's ear and pat her on the back. He also noticed the glares Ginny was sending her way.
Angelina also noticed the glares and the knowing looks, she also noticed the guilt that ate up her insides. The guilt that George's features were displaying.
It's rushed and clumsy. It tastes of salt; from sweat or tears neither knows, it all just seems to roll into one. George loves the moans he elects from her. George loves the way her tanned cheeks flush pink slightly as they get into their own unco-ordinated rhythm. George loves the way her hair frames her face as she bends her head down to suck his neck. George loves Angelina Johnson full stop.
And he hates himself for it.
He can hear her breathing shallow and their movements becoming more frantic. There's a flash of light and someone standing at the door.
"No mum, I still can't find George or Angelina!" Ron shouts nervously, but there's still a glint of anger in his piercing blue eyes. "Have neither of you heard of a silencing or locking charm?" he snaps in a harsh whisper.
Angelina lets out an embarrassed whimper as she hides her red face in George's chest as he presses his body closer to hers in an attempt to hide her body from sight.
"Ron, you kinda caught us in at an awkward time... think you could come back later?" he retorts back, earning a glare from Ron in response.
"Put some bloody clothes on, think of a good excuse as to why you've been missing for the past half an hour and meet the rest of us down at Saint Mungo's. Fleur's waters just broke," he informs, "I'm giving you fifteen minutes cover. That's it."
"I'm sorry, little Ronniekins can be a little slow sometimes," murmurs George, pushing a strand of hair behind Angelina's ear and taking in her embarrassed blush, trying not to feel hurt when she flinches at his touch.
"It's a trait in all Weasley men, then?" she questions jokingly as other voices can be heard speaking in hushed tones outside the pantry. They both share alarmed looks before detangling themselves from each other, throwing on their cloths in a hurry and stumbling out of the pantry to meet the amused look on Hermione's face and glare from Ron. How could George do this to Fred?
"Em... Angelina... you've flour on my cheek," Hermione giggles.
"Oh... that's George's fault... thought he'd be funny and start a food fight, he forgot who he was dealing with," she replies airily, sending a meaningful look at George causing him to swallow hard.
He hadn't forgotten who he was dealing with. He didn't think he'd ever forget who he was dealing with.
3 3 3
It's all a blur. One minute Angelina is on top of him naked and the next she is gone. One minute he's grunting in pleasure as she grinds her hips against his and then next he's blurting out his love for her.
"What?" she whispered backing away.
"I... I love you," George admitted sheepishly; the first time he'd ever done anything sheepishly in his life.
"George..." she stated sternly as she leaned back on her heals.
"Angelina!" he stated in the same tone, "I love you...I've always loved you,"
"Sshut up" she seethed, clenching her teeth.
"No," he shook his head, "Angelina, I've been shutting up since third year!"
"Shut up!" she cried out, running her hands through her braided hair, scrunching her eyes shut tight and breathing heavily. "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"
"Angie," he stated softly, "You can't honestly say..."
"Don't!" she warned, "Don't you dare!" she finished, climbing off of him and scrambling to pick up her scattered clothing. "This... thing..." she started, waving her hand between them both "is over,"
And then she was gone, and George was back to where he started. Still. Silent. Alone.
3 3 3
Fred scrambled after his fast moving twin brother, chuckling at his obvious frustration.
"Seriously, I don't see what the big deal is!" he exclaimed as they stormed into the empty common room, George's back still to him. "So what I'm taking Angelina? Whoopdi-fucking-doo! I don't think Millicent Bulstrode has a date yet," he said earnestly, trying to hide his obvious amusement.
"This isn't funny, Fred!" growled George, rounding on his brother and throwing his bag onto the armchair by the fire.
"What? The idea of you waltzing with Millicent" Fred questioned with an arch of his eyebrow, "Even you have to admit that image is pretty hilarious,"
"I'm not taking sodding Millicent Bulstrode to the Yule ball!" George stated as calmly as possible through clenched teeth.
"Okay, well what about Katie!" Fred offered after pondering on the thought for a moment, "I don't think anyone's asked her yet!"
"Bloody hell Fred! This has nothing to do with the Yule ball!" George finally snapped.
"I beg to differ brother..." he began smugly rising his finger, a smart ass comment clearly on the tip of his tongue.
"This has nothing to do with the fucking Yule ball!" George fumed once again, "This has to do with the fact that you asked Angelina to the Yule ball!"
"But I thought it had nothing to do with the Yule ball," Fred argued back.
"Fred!" George seethed out through clenched teeth, taking a deep breath trying to calm himself down, as Fred flung himself down on the armchair while George paced in front o him. "You know how I feel about Angelina!"
"Yeeaaaah" answered Fred, nodding his head, stretching out on the chair in an attempt to make himself more comfortable. "You, me, Lee and the rest of the boys on the Quidditch team feel the same way, so?"
George turned to face his brother, shaking his head. It wasn't the first time Fred had done something like this to him, intentional or not, he wasn't letting it go this time.
"No, Fred." George continued, "You also knew I was going to ask her to the Yule ball,"
"Yeah," replied Fred once again, nodding his head, "I also knew Lee and every other boy on the Quidditch team were going to ask her to the Yule ball."
"Do you know what? Just forget it!" exclaimed George, turning and storming into Angelina on the way out.
Angelina stumbled backwards, holding her hands out towards George in an attempt to grab onto something to stop herself from falling. George reached out quickly, wrapping his arms around her back and pulling her close against his chest.
Everything stopped. Fred was no longer in the room and their breathing became laboured. Angelina's dark cheeks flushed red and George cleared his throat awkwardly.
"You okay?" he whispered, helping her to her feet.
"Yeah," she nodded softly, glancing behind his shoulder, "I was just...I was just looking for Fred,"
And George's face turned back into a scowl, glancing over at Fred and then back at Angelina.
"He's over there," he grumbled, "Have you seen Katie?" inquired George, and he watched in satisfaction as her eyes darkened, jealousy apparent across her features.
"She's still at dinner, why?" she inquired.
"Don't happen to know if she has a date to the Yule ball, do you?" George asked, a playful smirk appearing on his lips.
"Not that I'm aware of," she replied, shaking her head slightly.
"Thanks. See ya, Angie," he grinned, turning to walk out the portrait.
"Yeah, see ya!" she mumbled.
"Go get her!" called Fred, wolf whistling from behind them both. George glanced over his shoulder and smiled. He could never stay mad at his brother for too long.
George clutches his eyes shut at the memory as he stands at Fred's grave site. It's his first time there in a while. It's the first time he's visited there at all if he's being honest.
He opens one of the two butterbeers he has in his hands and sits it on his twin's head stone, before sitting cross legged on the gravel opposite Fred's resting place. He takes a deep breath and takes a swig of his butterbeer.
"I'm sorry I haven't visited you more often," he mutters, picking at the sticker of the beer bottle. "I mean... I feel like a right idiot talking to a lump of stone, you know that, right?" he snaps, taking another sip of his butterbeer, "I know I should be down here more often mate, it's just... it hurts, you know?" he questions, stopping to scratch his chin in thought, his fingers meeting the stubble that has grown over the past couple of weeks.
It's a year to the day since he's been laid to rest here. It's a year to the day since George had said goodbye to his brother. His twin. His best friend. It's been a year since he'd started up the sick twisted relationship with her. And no matter how sick and twisted he knows it was, he can't help the gut wrenching feeling every morning he wakes up alone. He can't help the hallow emptiness he feels in his heart when four o'clock rolled around and there was no sign of Angelina in sight.
She was the only thing that made him forget. He was the only thing that helped her forget. She was the only one he didn't have to pretend around, if he was having a bad day and missing Fred a little more than he had the day before, she didn't panic and think he was taking a step back like the others did.
She didn't hold the same look of pity in her eyes that Percy's did. She didn't have the same look of resentment when she realised it was just George and not Fred back from the dead like his mothers did; He knew she didn't wish it was George dead over Fred, but he did know that it must hurt the rest of his family to see his face everyday knowing he'd never come back, he knew it hurt every time he looked in the mirror. He avoided them as much as possible.
He wipes vigorously at his cheeks with the heel of his hand when the tears begin to spill down them.
"I'm sorry," he mutters through ragged breath, "I'm sorry for never coming to visit you, I'm sorry for never visiting mum and dad as often as I know I should, I'm sorry for being a mopey bastard and I'm sorry..." he stops to take a breath, "I'm sorry for falling in love with her Fred, I didn't mean to, I tried not to, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,"
And the tears that he's been holding back from the day and hour that Angelina walked out of this bedroom and out of his life washes over him like a tsunami. His whole body wrecks with sobs. It has only been a week and this is the state he's gotten himself in; how will he be in two weeks time, three weeks, a month?
Then slender arms are wrapping around him, holding him close and rocking him gently as he sobs. And soon they're sobbing along with him.
"It's okay George," whispers an uncharacteristically soft feminine voice, "We all miss him, it's okay to hurt,"
"I know, Gin," he replies, biting his lip, "For what it's worth Ginny, I love you too...you know that right? I know I don't..." he stutters out.
Ginny shakes her head quickly, her auburn locks framing her face.
"I know George, I love you too," she whispers, "I miss you too," she adds gently, causing another sob to erupt from George's mouth, and he's clinging to her tighter.
"I'm here, Ginny, I'm still here!" he whispers as he calms down his distraught sister.
And that's the first time he realises that it isn't just him who felt like they were empty. It isn't just him who lost a brother. It isn't just him battling through this; his family were there to help him too.
3 3 3
"Angelina!" calls out a voice as Quiddich practice is called a day, "Angelina!" they call again, clearly not taking the hint that Angelina does not want to talk to them, "Oi! Johnson!"
Angelina gives a resounding sigh, before rubbing her forehead and turning to face her fellow team mate.
"Ginny, is what you have to say really more important than me getting a warm shower and this mud off me?" she questions, irritation itched over her face.
Ginny's jaw sets and her eyes narrow. Angelina tries not to take a step back in pure terror, but everyone knows how scary a mad Ginny Weasley can be.
"As a matter of fact, Angelina, it is," snips Ginny, taking a deep breath, "Look, Angie, what goes on between you George has absolutely nothing to do with me but..." she begins, calming slightly before being interrupted by Angelina.
"You're right, Gin, it has absolutely nothing to do with you!" snaps Angelina, "So if you could stop sending me glares across the Quiddich pitch and kept your nose out, it'd be very much appreciated,"
"Okay, fair enough," Ginny replies nodding her head slowly, "And I'd appreciate it you'd stop fucking with my brother's brain. In fact, Angelina, I'd very much appreciate it if you didn't fuck with any part of my brother's anatomy!"
Angelina blinks rapidly, stunned into silence. Ginny nods once again, blowing a stray lock of her out of her eyes.
"You gonna let me talk or are you gonna to be stubborn about this?" Ginny questions, receiving a gentle nod from Angelina in response. "Angelina, I'm not stupid, I know that there was something going on between you and George, I don't need details," Ginny stops, arching her eyebrow as Angelina opens her mouth about to explain what exactly her and her brother had got up to, "All I need to know is that one of my brothers is dead, and the other one might as well be!"
Angelina takes in a sharp intake of breath as Ginny's eyes well up with tears.
"I also know that when he's with you, Angie," she whispered, "He's himself again. He's not fully cured, I know that, I know that he doesn't automatically stop missing Fred, but I also know that he has someone else to help him through this," she stops to brush a stray tear away, "Yes, he's got me, and Ron and the rest of the family, but it's not the same. I have Harry and Ron has Hermione, and George... George had you Angie," she speaks softly before adding, "You had him!"
And before Ginny can say any more, Angelina has dissolved into tears, her body heaving with sobs and her words coming out jumbled. Ginny looks around quickly, making sure the rest of the team had left the Quiddich pitch.
"Angie," Ginny whispers, reaching out to give her arm a reassuring squeeze. "I didn't mean to make you cry,"
Angelina nods her head quickly, swiping at her cheeks and taking deep calming breaths.
"I know you didn't," she stutters over her words, still finding it hard to breathe. "It's just... everything you said was true Ginny." She stops, thinking over what to say next, "I didn't mean to hurt him Ginny, I really didn't!" her lips begin to tremble once again, her eyes filling with tears.
"I know you didn't," Ginny mutters gently, "He misses you," she mumbles, stopping for a moment before continuing, "I miss the George he is when he's with you... having sex with you... I don't know, it's all pretty twisted if you ask me, but it seems to work for you guys..." she laughs slightly, causing Angie to giggle along too.
Angelina stops glancing at Ginny though squinted eyes, opening and closing her mouth for a while before finally saying what she knows has to be said.
"It's always been, George, Ginny," she whispers, taking Ginny's facial expression.
"I know," she nods gently, "It's always been you for George, you know?" she questions.
"I know," she repeats what Ginny had previously said, "It doesn't mean I loved Fred any less, Ginny, I don't ever want you to think that..."
"I never thought that, Angelina," Ginny smiles reassuringly, "But I do think that this thing you and George have going on stopped being about Fred and became about you both somewhere along the way,"
"I still miss him every day," she states, staring down at the ground, shuffling her feet slightly.
"I miss them both," Ginny answers, her eyes watering again, "I want my brothers back," Ginny whispers, a slight sob escaping along with her tears, "I want all of my brother back, I want them all to take care of me again, the war stole them all from me, Angie, and I don't know what to do anymore,"
Before she knows what she's doing, Angelina reaches out to Ginny and pulls her shaking body close, trying to comfort her the best way she can.
3 3 3
"Get up!" growls Ron in aggravation as he storms into George's room. He takes in the state of the room around him, reminding him vaguely of how his teenage room had looked. "George!" he roars, yanking the duvet of his older brother's body.
"Bloody hell, Ron, I could have been starkers!" groans George, turning on his side, attempting to get warm again.
"I swear to Merlin, George, get up now or so help me," Ron glares at his brother, the tip of his ears clearly burning in anger.
"Ron? Would you ever bugger off?" George mutters, raising from the bed and stumbling his way to the kitchen, covering his eyes with his hands when the stream of light comes beaming in through the window. "What did you do, wake me up at the crack of dawn?" he exclaims, referring to the beaming sun.
"No," snaps Ron, "The sun is setting, it's seven o'clock," Ron informs him, "But I'm guessing you slept through the whole day after a heavy night of Fire whiskey and butterbeer if the stench coming from your room is anything to go by!"
"It's called having fun, you should try it sometime," George rolls his eyes, plopping himself at the kitchen table, "Or has Hermione got you on too tight of a leash?" he snorts.
"Shut up George," Ron grumbles, giving him a hard thump on the back of his head, "Get into the shower, brush you're teeth, and get dress, you're coming with me to Mum and dad's for dinner, their going spare about you, you haven't been around since Victorie was born,"
"Victorie, appropriate name," George rolls his eyes, unmoving from the table.
"George!" snarls Ron, slamming his hands against the coffee table, "I'm sorry that we're all not as miserable as you are, I've tried taking the nice approach, but I can't pussy foot around you any longer, it's been far too long," Ron finally snaps, "You're going to come have to dinner tonight, you're going to hold you're niece for the first time and you're actually going to act like you're happy she was born."
George is stunned into silence. He's never seen his baby brother like this. He swallows thickly.
"Ron, you have no clue what you're talking about," George says in a warning tone, "This has absolutely nothing to do with Victorie"
"Will that's not the way Bill sees it!" Ron states calmly, "She's his first baby, George. Fred was his brother, how do you think it felt for Bill when his daughter was born the day is brother died? Huh?"
Silence fills the kitchen once more, but Ron isn't finished, he's just beginning.
"How do you think it makes Bill feel that his own brother can't even be bothered to pretend to be happy for him?" he questions, "How do you think it makes mum feel when her son never comes home anymore. How do you think it makes Ginny feel when her older brother isn't there for her anymore?"
"I told her I loved her," George whispers, causing Ron to lean closer to make sure he'd heard correctly.
"Who, Ginny?" he asks confused.
"No!" exclaims George before he remembers the grave yard, "Well yes, but that's not who I'm talking about,"
"Who are you... oh" Ron mutters as realisation kicks in.
"Yes oh!" George rolls his eyes.
"So uh...what did she say?" he asks, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.
"Oh, she was delighted, I think the wedding's going to be next spring," snaps George sarcastically, "What do you think she said? She told me whatever we had was over and I haven't seen her since,"
Ron doesn't say anything for a few moments before inhaling a deep breath.
"You know, we all knew you had a thing for Angelina," Ron begins, "Way before Fred even asked her to the Yule ball,"
"Yeah, and we all knew you had a thing for Hermione way before you knew yourself!" George retorts back.
"No, I'm not trying to rub it in your face, George..." Ron sighs in frustration, "Look, you know I'm rubbish with words, but what I'm trying to say is... Fred wouldn't be mad at you, George, he always knew it was gonna be you and Angelina eventually,"
"Well he'd be wrong, wouldn't he?" George sighs, "'Cause she couldn't get away from me fast enough,"
"Have you tried talking to her?" questions Ron, causing George to roll his eyes.
"Being rejected butt naked doesn't exactly to wonders for the old confidence," he replies shortly, Ron snorts nodding in agreement.
"Okay just..." Ron begins, but stops when he gets the feeling that his little pep talk isn't going to be very beneficial, "Just go take a shower, brush your teeth and shave while you're at it!"
George glances over his shoulder, stopping mid way to the bathroom, touching his chin affectionately.
"You don't think I can pull of the scruffy look?" he questions.
"The scruffy look? Yes. The Homeless look? Not so much," he replies, causing George to laugh.
It's the first time he's heard George laugh since the battle, really laugh. He doesn't realise until now how much he missed the sound.
3 3 3
When Ron and George arrive at the burrow that evening, Molly doesn't make a fuss or act like anything out of the normal is happening, but George doesn't miss the loving glint in her hazel eyes.
A lot had happened in the past couple of months, Percy had got a new girlfriend, Audrey, Ron and Harry had started Auror training and the first ever golden haired addition to the Weasley clan had arrived.
George holds his niece for the first time, and it's debatable over whether Victorie or Molly cried more.
"She's perfect," mutters George, causing Bill to puff his chest in pride and Fleur to beam happily.
George looks down adoringly at the little bundle in his arms, pulling faces causing the babie's mouth to form into an 'o' shape and her dark eyes to widen. George feels his heart swell slightly as she reaches out her tiny hand to grip onto George's large index finger.
Not that George would ever admit it, but he has often thought of himself holding his own perfect pink bundle. And every time, she has Angelina's mocha colouring and George's hair.
"That'd be an interesting combination," chuckles George to himself.
"You're a natural," comes a voice from behind him. He turns to find a figure leaning against the door frame to the living room in a figure hugging purple dress that compliments their skin town and their hair tied back in the braids he loves so much.
"Angelina," George whispers in shock, not sure what to say next really.
"I hope you don't mind," she begins, her face flushing in embarrassment. A flush that takes George back to memories of pantries, broom cupboards and flung clothing. "Ginny invited me,"
"No...I...You're...Angelina?" he stutters over his words, still in shock.
"Hi," she smiles softly, causing him to chuckle lightly. Silence fills the room, as the other occupants left it.
"I...sorry...you go first...okay!" they both burst into laughter as they speak the same words at the same time.
"How have you been?" Angelina asks cautiously, knowing that she's bound to receive a sarcastic comment.
"I'm...I'm getting there," George decides to give an honest answer. No games, no lies. Just honesty. "What about you? How have you been?"
"I'm getting there," she smiles back in response, glad that they are at least on talking terms. "Do you ever wonder what it'll be like...to have one of those," she speaks softly, gently nodding towards
"Once or twice," he replies, not taking his eyes of Victorie as he rubs his index finger against her cheek gently. "Have you?"
She tilts her head to the right slightly, pursing her lips as if in thought, considering whether or not to tell George something. She begins nodding gently again.
"Once or twice," she repeats his words, earning an eye roll from George in response.
"Are you just gonna repeat everything I say?" he sighs, causing Angelina to laugh gently.
"I think you'd be good at it you know?" she questions, "When the times right, you'll make an amazing father,"
"Angelina..." George's voice begins to deepen, "Is there something you have to tell me?"
"What? No, Merlin no!" gasps Angelina, shaking her head vigorously, "No, just, no,"
"Okay, okay, the thought of recreating with me repulses you, got it, Angie," George mutters, causing Angelina to groan inwardly. She knew this wasn't going to be easy.
"No, I just," she stammers, before letting out frustrated whimper, "This just isn't coming out right, none of this is coming out right," she sighs, dropping her head into her hands.
George takes in Angelina's desperate stance, and his heart aches a little bit more. It's hard enough seeing her there, right there, and not being able to reach out and touch her, but not being able to comfort her when she was so clearly upset. Unbearable.
"I'll be right back," he murmurs before leaving only to return a few seconds later with out Victorie, settling down on the old dusty couch and staring straight ahead. "Why are you here Angelina?"
"I...I don't know," she replies honestly, turning her head to look anywhere but at George. "I mean...I...this whole thing is so bloody complicated!"
"You're telling me," he mutters, smiling softly.
"I didn't mean any of this to happen, you know that, right?" she questions, pleading with him through desperate eyes, "I never meant to make you feel this way, I never meant to feel this way,"
"And how do you feel Angelina," whispers George, trying to ignore the way his belly give a slight jolt of hope.
"It's complicated?" she offers, causing George to shake his head in... Disappointment?
"It's only complicated if you make it Angelina," he replies, still trying to avoid her eyes.
"You don't understand George I..." she begins, stopping mid-sentence when George's eyes became ablaze with an angry fire.
"Don't dare say I don't understand," George growls, standing up and beginning to pace, "This is so fucked up!" he cries out, running his hands through his hair, and tugging at the ends of it slightly.
"Life's fucked up," she replies with a shrug. "I still miss him, George," he stops pacing and glances over at her, his eyebrows furrowing. "But when we weren't talking, when we ended things..."
"You, Angelina. You ended things!" George rasps, "I told you I was in love with you and you ran away!"
"You took me by surprise," she defends herself, causing George's blood to boil even more.
"I took you by sur...are you fucking joking, Angie?" he bellows, "It's not like I sat down and planned this all out. Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to see you with Fred?" he questions, taking a step closer to her as her eyes began to well up once again, "Do you have any idea how hard it is to get what you've wanted for so long but knowing that it's really because you're identical to your twin, do you have any idea how hard it is to tell the girl you've been in love with for...forever that you love them and have them walk out of you're life?"
By this stage he's in touching distance of her. He watches as she slowly shakes her head, trying to hold back the tears, causing his stomach to lurch.
"I'm sorry Angie I..." he begins before he was drowned out by Angelina's lips. Her hands cup his face and his arms encircle her waist. It tastes salty and desperate. Their tongues battle for dominance, something they both were used to conquering. They don't pull away until the need for oxygen is absolutely necessary.
Angelina's chest heaves up and down in time with George's. He presses his forehead against hers as they both attempt to catch their breath.
"I couldn't think of another way to shut you up," she murmurs in response.
"Hey," he smirks down at her, "I'm not declining,"
"George I..." she stutters over her words.
"It's okay, I get it. I can wait," he whispers.
"You won't have to wait long, I promise," she whispers, pecking him softly on the lips.
"I'd wait forever," he whispers back, causing her to beam up at him, and her eyes to water once again.
She mightn't be able to say it yet, but George knows she feels it. He's always been more of an 'action speak louder than words' kinda guy, anyway.