Second Time Around

- - - - - CHAPTER 3 - - - - -

Fred Weasley took another blind turn, barely registering that his feet were taking him to darker and darker alleys. His mind was reeling with all the things he should've said to Angelina.

Like 'I'm sorry'? One part of his brain suggested.

Fred frowned. Angrily, he kicked at the loose pebbles lining the street. What did he have to be sorry for? But he knew the answers already and before he could stop the better half of his brain, it had constructed a list.

Oh, I dunno, Fred, maybe for leaving her at Hogwarts. Fighting with her that last time you left. You know she didn't want you to set off that swamp. Then there's hooking up with Marcella at the party; Forgetting to mention her in the few guilty owls you had sent to Angelina; Not sending the rest of the owls you had written up and pushed into your vanishing jokes box...

"Ok, ok!" he yelled out to no one, still caught up in the battle with his conscience. He kicked a few more pebbles. "Maybe I messed up," he mumbled to himself.

It didn't help that Angelina had looked so shocked and hurt when she had seen him with Marcy. Her big brown eyes, which had captivated him so many times before, had grown wide with shock and emotion and her mouth had twisted down into a frown. It had done something squirmy to his insides. He liked it much better when she smiled, he thought with a sigh. He had forgotten how much he'd missed her.

He turned again, unseeing. After his first two owls had gone unanswered, coupled with the scolding and pressure from his mom, Fred had felt almost alone in his efforts to open his joke shop. George had been there too of course. But even George had showed displeasure at Fred moving on to Marcy so quickly.

He had needed that break though, he argued to himself. Marcy was different. She was older, new, ...different. She didn't care that he hadn't finish Hogwarts. She loved his joke shop. She was doting, and supportive, and, and...good in bed. He blushed hotly for a second, then immediately felt guilty. Even in this "better" relationship with Marcy, Fred still thought about Angelina. It would creep up on him in the oddest of times before he would push it back down again and ignore the guilt.

Scowling, he went to kick at more pebbles until he realized the pebble-lined street was no more. He stopped to look around and found himself in a completely unfamiliar part of town. He must have long left Diagon Alley, but where was he now? He was weary of apparating back to the shop without knowing where he was to begin with. He didn't feel like being splinched today.

He felt his apprehension grow when he couldn't see any witches or wizards walking around. How he managed to miss the bustle of shoppers from Diagon Alley he didn't know, but the shops on this street looked anything like the ones normal wizards shopped in.

The store directly in front of him had a huge black toad painted on its front with red eyes. "Toadstools" was all that was written above the croaking toad in blood red letters. The windows of the store were too dark to see inside and no sound reached the outside. Fred wondered briefly if it was closed when suddenly a goblin came out of its big brown doors, gave Fred a quick sneer, and ambled down the street to another equally dingy store.

After a few seconds of hesitation, Fred gripped his wand tightly and went to open the brown doors. He just needed to find out where he was and then he'd apparate back to the shop, and maybe back home. He wasn't in the mood for work, anyway, and he suddenly had the urge to find a certain box he had vanished many months ago.

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Angelina apparated right into her bedroom, not feeling like going all the way back to the Leaky Cauldron to floo in. She had guessed that Oliver wanted to spend more time catching up but she had not really been in the mood. They had split after exchanging addresses and a promise to owl each other about meeting up again. He had given her a tight hug, and she a kiss on his cheek before he apparated. Angelina had realized, then, how much she had missed him. Right now though, she was too busy feeling horrible about Fred to focus on the Quidditch player.

Without noticing, her feet had taken her through the house and to the kitchen. No one seemed to be home and Angelina was glad. She could wallow in her stupidity. To actually think that Fred would be sitting there waiting for her to come back to him, that was stupid. But that's exactly what she had thought. She hadn't expected for it to hurt so much.

"You're growing up now, 'Lina," she whispered, using the nickname her dad had given her when she was very young. "You don't have school to shelter you anymore. No one's going to remember you if you don't make them," she said with a frown as she headed over to the freezer.

She opened the icebox, took out the ice cream and set it on the counter with a bowl and a spoon. Charming the spoon to scoop out some double mint chocolate chip ice cream, she went over to the glass doors that led to the backyard. Outside, the trees swayed lazily and the lake all the way at the edge of the property looked inviting. She stood there for a while, deciding whether or not to bring her foul mood out into the cheery backyard, when she heard a tapping.

At first she couldn't find what had made the noise. The kitchen looked deserted and the windows were open, their draperies blowing in the wind.

The tapping came again, harder. Angelina finally looked down to see a gray owl standing just outside the glass doors, obviously impatient to deliver its message. Angelina opened the doors and the owl hopped inside, holding out its foot and looking crossly at her.

"I'm coming dammit," she said just as crossly as she bent to untie the message. As soon as the note was off, the owl flew out the open window. Angelina unfolded the letter, feeling her heart racing as she began to read.

Barely ten seconds later a loud crack was heard and the parchment floated peacefully down to rest innocently on the linoleum floor. On the counter, the spoon continued to scoop ice cream until the bowl overflowed and melted double mint chocolate chip ice cream spilled over the sides and pooled onto the floor to rest beside the letter in the now deserted kitchen.

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It was just his luck, Oliver lay thinking as he toyed lazily with a palm sized broom. The one time the Woods could see their son for more than an hour before he raced off to a game or practice, and they were on vacation. Of course they had just missed him and now he was stuck at home while they were lost somewhere in the Bermuda triangle. He hadn't gone missing in the Bermuda triangle since he was 12. They always went on the fun vacations when he wasn't available. And now who knows when they'll be back. One time they were lost for weeks, finally turning up in some cave in a big canyon somewhere in America.

After apparating to the house and finding it empty, he had visited his aunt nearby. She had bombarded him with questions about his career (and his love life) and he had spent at least 20 minutes playing with his cousins before she told him the news about his parents. She invited him to stay with her for the holidays but, for then, he had only stayed for lunch. After that he went to check in on some old friends, went to buy food (to stock up because the house was nearly empty) and now here he was laying on his bed, bored out of his mind, missing Quidditch, and thinking about nothing. Well, he wasn't exactly thinking about nothing. But thinking about Angelina wasn't so great an idea either.

It didn't matter that she had grown into a captivating young woman, hardly the 16-year-old girl he remembered in school. Or that he had forgotten what every other female on the planet had looked like when she had smiled up at him, glad to meet him again. No, it didn't matter. She was still with Fred. He'd seen the look in her eyes when she had first gone into the store looking for the twin. He had seen her eyes after Fred hurt her. Hell, he had seen Fred's eyes too. It was like 7^th year all over again and he wasn't sure if he was mad or sad about it. He supposed he shouldn't care. He'd given up on what had been love for her a long time ago.

But what about the second time around? Could he fall for her again? He tried to analyze his feelings but it was all a big blur and he figured it was too soon to go looking into that stuff. But it was getting boring thinking about Quidditch all the time. Though of course he'd never admit that to anyone but himself. And only in the darkest of hours.

Such as this one, he thought as he flipped over onto his side. He decided to keep his mind peacefully blank and he eventually drifted off to sleep.

Not much later it seemed, he heard a crack and felt a body land hard on his ribs.

"Ow!" he cried out, scrambling to get off the bed and seize the intruder.

The body sniffed loudly and mumbled an apology. Fighting with the covers that had become tangled around his face, Oliver stopped in mid struggle and focused on the voice that he had been hearing over and over in his head since he'd become reacquainted with it that morning. The fuzzy shape, all he could see through his sheet, sat up in the middle of the bed and looked towards him, not saying a word. When Oliver lifted off the covers he was met with a very sad and teary looking Angelina.

She rocked back and forth in the middle of the bed and kept nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I'm sorry," she apologized again, not looking at him. " I didn't want to go back by myself," she said almost to herself.

Oliver had no idea what she was talking about but she worried him. Angelina wasn't one to break down so easily. Oliver vowed to hex Fred into the next realm if he ever saw him again.

"It's ok, Angie, you don't have to go back," he said, offering the comforting words without fully understanding them.

She looked up at him then as if just seeing him. "No, no. I can't go back. It's too weird. You don't understand," she whispered. A tear slipped down her cheek and she began tucking the strand of hair behind her ear again.

She was right, Oliver didn't understand. And his apprehension was growing with every second. Something told him it had nothing to do with Fred, and Oliver felt useless. He walked over to her and sat beside her on the bed. Wiping away the tear, he took her face in his hands.

"Tell me what happened."

She looked like she was about to cry again, but then she took a deep breath. "My parents were attacked. Death Eaters attacked the little town by my house."

He let his hands slide down to hers and squeezed. He had heard about the Death Eater attacks randomly throughout the summer. He never thought they would affect him. But here he was, wishing he could use unforgivables on each and every one of them.

He reached one hand around to stroke her back. He, himself, was too angry to speak, but she continued.

"I didn't know what to do. I got an anonymous letter saying that there had been an attack and that my parents were involved. I apparated right over to St. Mungo's but they claimed that they weren't there. According to them, there had been no Death Eater attacks reported," she turn troubled eyes to him. She seemed so lost again. "But I had read the letter. And my parents weren't home. The house was so...empty."

She was quiet for a while. Then she started to laugh. Well, chuckle actually. And Oliver thought she had lost her mind.

"I didn't know where to go so I went back to the shop. You know, to see Fred. But of course, he wasn't there and Lee didn't know where he was. That was when we got the news. There was an attack going on in a small town in Abbotswood." Her eyes grew wide and she whispered, "The attack was happening then. The note wasn't telling me about the attack, it was telling me that it was going to happen!"

She got off the bed so fast he didn't even have time to say something before she started pacing. Her voice was angry. "And I didn't do anything. Oh, I was going to. But Lee stopped me. It was over quick anyway. Three people died. Lots of injuries. Mum's got a broken leg and some cuts. But Dad's...dad's" she choked on the words and Oliver got off the bed to hold her close for the second time that day. He didn't push her to say it. Whatever it was, she'd say it.

"He's not waking up. He got hit with a powerful curse. Mum's worried sick and I don't know, I couldn't stay there. And I couldn't go home." She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked around the room. "And before I knew it I was here. I was just thinking about you... about you reading about it in the Daily Prophet. 'The Johnsons, just one of the many families attacked, ...'" she paused for a second. "Would they have even mentioned us?" Her eyes grew large and frightened. "You would've never known! You would've gone back to Quidditch and Fred would have carried on with his store and no one would have ever known and no one would come and help us. No one would care--"

He shoved her head against his shoulder to stop her words. Just hearing her talk about the events was enough to make his heart pound without hearing the fear in her voice as well.

"I'd never leave you, Angel. I would've searched the entire world for you before I went back," he whispered brokenly. He felt her crying against his chest, her tears soaking through his thin shirt.

"It's just so much, Oliver," her muffled voiced said from his chest. "And now Fred's mad at me. And no one from the family came. My brother's not even in the country. He doesn't know."

"Shh, shh, we'll tell him and the healers will fix everyone up." And I will hold you forever if you want me to.

He let her cry for a while, but all too soon her tears were gone. She started to wiggle around uncomfortably in his arm and he eventually loosened his hold and stepped back, keeping his arms around her lower back.

She sniffed again and looked up sheepishly up at him. There weren't many times Oliver saw his Angie teary eyed and shy. She reminded him of a little girl and he smiled down fondly at her, hoping to assuage her fears.

She looked back at his shirt. "I've made a mess of you, Oli," she said matter-of-factly. She started reaching for her wand to dry up the tearstains but he stopped her. She was becoming rather fussy, but he supposed it was just a reaction to all the crying and confessing she's done.

"It's ok, I was going to change for--well, I was going to change anyway." He had almost started saying 'change for bed'. He hadn't notice how late it was, but guessing by the stars peaking out from the night sky outside the window, it was pretty late. She must have been at the hospital all day. He looked down at her to see her stifling a yawn.

"Well you're not going back to your house tonight," he said forcefully, watching her nod a sleepy agreement. "I don't know what the deal was with that letter, but I don't like the sound of it."

"Yeah, I don't know what it means..." she added sleepily.

Oliver realized she was in danger of falling asleep right on the spot. He led her to the bed and sat her down. "Just sit a second. I'll find you some clothes to change into."

He saw her raise an eyebrow briefly before falling back into a sleepy stupor. He ran over to his chest of drawers and extracted a large clean t-shirt and his smallest pair of Quidditch workout shorts.

He returned to the bed and almost panicked when he saw her lying down. He would not be changing her clothes for her. And before his mind could form wonderful images, she was sitting up and muttering her thanks, taking the clothes.

"Um, yeah, I'll be a couple rooms down on the right. The bathroom is right next door so, uh, call me if you need anything." And with that he left the room and closed the door behind him.

He walked down the hall towards his little brother's room willing himself to think of anything but Angelina Johnson getting undressed in his room and sleeping on his bed. And yet, as he crawled into the Puddlemere United themed covers he had bought for his brother many years ago, he couldn't help but hope that his angel would come seek him in the middle of the night. If for nothing more than to seek comfort, and perhaps bless him with some comfort of her own. With that thought, Oliver drifted away on wings no less heavenly than his angel's, only rooms away.