A Delicate Situation

"Well?" Fred demanded sourly. He was wearing his Quidditch robes, still grimy with mud and sweat.

"Well, what?" Angelina threw back at him, as she stormed into the team's changing room. The rest of the team had either been ordered off the pitch by Madame Hooch or else had quickly retreated to the castle. She pulled off her gloves and let them fall to the floor. Then turned her back to Fred to struggle roughly out of her crimson robes and sat to work on her boots.

"George! Harry! What happened to them?" he asked impatiently.

"You want to know what happened to them?" Angelina was livid. She shot Fred a nasty glare, throwing one boot angrily to the floor. "They've been banned from playing Quidditch by Umbridge--the both of them!" She paused and then in a slightly quieter tone added: "And you have, too."

Fred's jaw dropped. "Banned? You're joking. Umbridge can't do that."

Angelina's second boot was hurled to the floor. "Do I look like I'm joking?" She got to her feet with a bitter smile. "Apparently Umbridge can do that. And she did."

"But..." Fred was still staring at her in disbelief, "But I didn't--"

"You just had to lose your temper, didn't you?" she shouted, turning on him. "You just had to rise to that foul little prat's baiting! You didn't think about anything else--just your own damn pride!"

"Hey!" Fred protested. "You're blaming me? Malfoy--"

"Malfoy got just what he wanted, didn't he? I've lost both my beaters and my seeker because you had to be such boys."

Fred got to his feet too, angry red patches forming on his cheeks. "Oh, that's fair Angelina! I didn't so much as touch Malfoy."

"You would have!"

Fred glared at her darkly. "I'd have flattened him into the ground with my bare hands."

Angelina snorted and turned her back to him again.

"Don't you see, though! It's that Umbridge woman! She's had it in for Harry since day one--everyone knows that!--and Gryffindor as well." There was a hint of pleading in Fred's voice. He tentatively approached Angelina, but jumped a step back when she rounded on him again.

"And you knew McGonagall had to go over her head to get the team approved!" She jabbed her finger into Fred's chest. "You knew it! And you just had to test her anyway!"

"Look, I'm sorry, all right!" he yelled. "What do you want me to do? Go try to level with Umbridge? See if she'll let me back on the team?"

Angelina gave a little huff, crossing her arms over her chest. "Right. You'd do that?"

Fred realized what an absurd offer he'd just made. Fred Weasley grovel and pled with Dolores Umbridge? But he was beginning to feel guilty. He knew how hard Angelina had been working--how much it meant to her to have a winning season. And that look she kept giving him, as if he had driven a knife into her back, was almost making him feel worse than the idea that he'd never play Quidditch again. "I'd do it," he offered quietly. "I'd do it for you."

She gave him a quick look, clearly caught off guard.

To his surprise, Fred saw that despite her blazing anger, there were tears in her eyes.

She wiped her hand across them quickly and then went on with renewed vigor. "Do you have any idea how hard it is with Oliver gone?" she demanded. "And then no Keeper and the tryouts. And not enough practices and the rain. We've won the last two Cups, Fred! And if we don't this year guess who's to blame?"

"No one else sees it like that." He puts his hand on her shoulder but she jerked away.

"Well I do!" she countered angrily. She raised her hand again to her eyes again, furiously dashing her tears away.

"Come off it, Angelina. You're too hard on yourself," Fred sighed, pulling her close to him even though she held herself stiff in protest.

"No--" she argued, struggling slightly.

"Yes, you are," he said, sliding his hand to the back of her tense neck.

Angelina pressed her forehead into his chest, and took in a thick gulp of air. Fred held her and she wrapped her arms tightly around him, crying into the front of his robes. He kissed the top of her shaking head.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled after a moment, gently pushing away from him. She rubbed her face gingerly and took a deep breath.

"Don't be," Fred shrugged, a little awkwardly. He usually kept far away from delicate situations like this--with a girl crying. In fact avoiding such scenes was a long held principle of his. He had no practice at what his mother would call "sensitivity" and was simply going on a gut feeling that hated to see Angelina so upset. He was even more thrown because Angelina's usually tough façade was always so seamless.

"No," she shook her head and glanced up at him wryly. "I shouldn't have yelled at you like that... I mean... of course it's not your fault..."

"Forget it," he said hurriedly. He was still feeling rather guilty.

They stood in silence a moment and then Angelina gave him a sly little smile. "You'd really go to Umbridge for me?" she asked.

"Did I say that?" Fred tried to put on a smooth innocent look, but couldn't help blushing just a tinge.

"Yes, I think you did."

He waved his hand dismissively. "I think you're hearing must be off. Or else you're imagining--"

"Well," she interrupted him quietly. "Thank you for the offer, just the same." She put her hand on his arm and kissed him softly on the cheek. Then she turned as Fred continued rambling, and walked away into the changing room.