Rating:
PG
House:
The Dark Arts
Ships:
Angelina Johnson/Fred Weasley
Characters:
Angelina Johnson Fred Weasley
Genres:
Angst
Era:
Harry and Classmates Post-Hogwarts
Stats:
Published: 02/05/2007
Updated: 02/05/2007
Words: 1,033
Chapters: 1
Hits: 345

The Last Day

caitlin_finnegan

Story Summary:
Prequel to "The Service." For the rest of her life, on the anniversary of his death, Angelina dreamed of her last day with her first love.

Chapter 01

Posted:
02/05/2007
Hits:
345


June 17, 1999

"How bad is it? How many are there?"

"Don't know. Bill thinks several dozen Death Eaters, including some werewolves. At least it's not full moon."

Angelina Weasley fought against chills and a massive headache to sit up in bed. She watched her husband, Fred, struggle to put on his Order robes. They had expected an attack on Diagon Alley; the deep undercover Death Eater spy had said as much in the clues left for Harry and Remus Lupin over the past three weeks. Still, it was a bit of a shock to see Bill Weasley's head in the fireplace at half-past one in the afternoon (thankfully, the Gingotts Floo network was still secured). Angelina couldn't believe the most important battle of the war was only minutes away. Worse, after months of getting herself back in fighting shape, she'd miss it because she had caught the flu from her son.

William-Jude, B.J., her healthy, strapping, nine month old son. The best mistake she'd ever made. The reason she was married, at age twenty-one, to her best-mate-turned-lover. She had always imagined that she'd play professional Quidditch in her twenties, then settle down to marriage and children. Everything was going according to plan...until Voldemort's re-emergence. That changed everything.

"Why would You-Know-Who plan an attack for high day on a Thursday?" she mused. "The other attacks have been in dead of night."

"It's the first sunny day in weeks. I bet there are a fair bit of shoppers. An attack today would do maximum damage."

Fred picked up his wand from the dresser and placed it in his holster. Angelina could hear voices and footsteps outside their room on the second floor of 12 Grimmald Place, de-facto headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. After the Burrow had been destroyed in a Death Eater attack, Harry had invited the Weasley family to live there while he continued the Horcrux hunt, as the family were all involved, one way or the other, with the Order. George had insisted on staying in the flat above Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, though; the business--especially their new international owl service to the States-- was still doing relatively well.

"I have to go now, luv," Fred said, looking at her sadly. "Everyone's meeting downstairs for a briefing." She began to stand up, to which he snapped, "No!" She began to protest, until a wave of dizziness hit her. She fell back against the bed and Fred was immediately at her side to catch her.

"Steady, luv. You're still peaky. Get some rest."

"Fred, no antics today," Angelina urged as he helped her lay down. He gave her the infamous Weasley grin. At that look, she changed her tactics. "Don't be the hero. You're a dad now."

"Speaking of which, the little nipper found a toffee on the floor last night. I caught him just before he put it in his mouth."

Angelina groaned. "Fred! Did you take him to the shop last night? I leave my child with his father and uncle and he almost swallows a Skiving Snack? Is it any wonder that I'd rather have Fleur looking after him?"

"Sorry." Fred shrugged, somewhat distracted as he put on his socks and shoes. "I set him down for two seconds. He's crawling so fast now that he just got away from George and me. He's a sneaky one; must take after his father."

"Fred, sorry wouldn't be enough if he had been hurt," she retorted, ignoring Fred's attempt to defuse the situation. "We have this talk every fortnight. You have got to be more careful with B.J.!" Angelina was still dizzy, but it didn't stop her ire from bubbling to the surface. "What if he had eaten it? What if it was something worse?"

"Angel-" Fred started. Charlie's voice calling his name cut him off. It was time for him to go. The realization that her husband was leaving for battle, a serious battle at that, if they had Flooed Charlie in Romania, hit Angelina hard. Her eyes started to mist, but she fought back the tears. Turning to her side, she held out her hand towards Fred. He took her hand in his, sitting on the bed beside her.

"Stay safe, Fred. Please."

He turned serious. "If anything happens to me--"

"You'll be safe."

Even with war, Angelina had only seen Fred so sombre a few times before: when his sister was in the Chamber of Secrets, at his son's birth, after his mother's death at the Burrow. "The Gringotts key is in the lower drawer. There are papers in a small accordion folder in the vault. Everything's sorted. Dad had me and George write a will after the Burrow." He paused, tightening the grip on her hand. "I love you and B.J., Angelina. Always."

"Stop. You'll be safe. And we'll continue our discussion about that Ton-Tongue Toffee after the victory." She wondered how much she was saying it to calm his nerves or to convince herself of that possibility.

He kissed her then, softly. Angelina closed her eyes and momentarily lost herself in his lips, just as she had at the Yule Ball during their Sixth Year. They had been just kids then, but it had only taken a kiss to know their friendship was irrevocably changed. They had both grown up so much since then. Burying beloved relatives and childhood friends--all victims of the Wizarding World War--had aged both of them beyond their chronological age. Of course, they had both truly become adults on the same day: when Molly Weasley's spellwork had confirmed her pregnancy sixteen months before. She smiled briefly to herself at that memory: Fred had almost fainted at the news.

"I love you, Frederick Weasley," she whispered into his ear as she hugged him one last time. "You have better come back to B.J. and me."

She watched him leave their room and uneasily fell back into a dreamless sleep to escape her pounding head. Five hours later, her mum woke her to relay that her husband, and his twin, was dead. For the rest of her life, on the anniversary of his death, Angelina dreamed of her last day with her first love.