To Fly

The sign read, "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes," and Angelina wasn't surprised. She remembered the name. The twins had talked about it often back in their Hogwarts days, always plotting and planning to sell their little pranks without their mother noticing. She'd rolled her eyes and told them it would never happen. But Fred had always been persistent. "I'll show you, someday," he'd said. "It'll be in big, flashing red letters across the top of some big store...and we'll be rich, and famous...and then I'll marry you, and we'll live in a mansion, and all."

They'd only been in second year, but Fred and George had always had big dreams. Big dreams, big imaginations, and big mouths. Angelina chuckled, thinking about all the times they'd gotten each other in and out of trouble, away from Filch, stealing things from under the teacher's noses. Life had been so boring until they came along...so purposeless.

"Well, we're here." Fred stepped out of the car, and offered his hand, with a mock bow. Angelina shook her head, grinned, and accepted it, letting him lead her towards the shop. There were no flashing red letters, and it was a modest size, but Angelina felt that she already liked it. It was a realized dream, a fantasy that had come true, and she wanted to believe in that. Not that she'd ever really doubted Fred and George getting exactly what they wanted...that was just the way they'd always been.

Fred opened the door, and yelled in. "Oi, George! I've brought a bit of a surprise. Been holding down the fort, have you?" He pulled Angelina inside.

George was standing with his back to them, rummaging through a drawer of something. "What's kept you?" He called over his shoulder to Fred. "Crazy old witch wandered in here earlier, picked up a fake wand, and got so shocked that she fainted. We're probably going to get sued, you know?" He closed the drawer with a bang.

"Yeah, well, it won't be the first time. Anyway, I've got someone to see you, says you owe her money." Fred nudged Angelina forward. George whirled around.

"What? Why'd you let her in here if I owe...money." He stopped, and a slow grin spread across his face, stretching to the ears. "Angelina Johnson! Absolutely spiffing to see you! Come in, come in, don't let fat, old Fred bar the door with his bulk." He walked over, and gave Angelina a quick hug, before ushering them both in and closing the door behind them. "What brings you this way, after all this time? Fred didn't abduct you, I hope." George winked over Angelina's head at Fred.

Angelina smiled. "Actually, he rescued me." George raised his eyebrows. "I got stuck out in a snowstorm, and good old Fred showed up," Angelina explained. "I wandered into his backyard. If it wasn't for him, I'd be a large icicle right now."

George punched Fred playfully in the shoulder. "Well now, you're good for something, I see. We'll have to make a note of that." He chuckled, and moved off behind the counter. "You haven't seen some of our latest products, Angie, of course," he said, beckoning her forward. She and Fred joined him, as he lifted out a box from a cabinet beneath the counter, brushing some dust off of it. Fred sneezed. "Oops, sorry," George said, carefully prying open the lid, and peering inside. "Aha! Still in good condition, I see. I believe you'll remember these..."

Angelina looked in, and exclaimed "Canary creams! But those are dangerous! I thought the Ministry outlawed them, said you weren't allowed to sell them anymore! Remember poor Crumpet? She's probably still flying around out there, somewhere..." The three of them shared a smile, remembering Angelina's old neighbor's cat, and the canary cream they'd left lying around.

"Yes, poor Crumpet," George agreed, shaking his head in mock sadness. "But really, Angie, we don't sell them, anymore...right Fred?" The twins looked at each other knowingly. "We just...take them out, now and then, for a bit of fun." Angelina felt doubtful about George's definition of 'a bit of fun,' but grinned anyway.

"I thought you were going to show me your new items," she said, running her hands over a crumpled looking black hat in the corner of the shop. Fred ran over and pulled her away from it.

"Don't touch that," he admonished, picking up a fake wand off the shelf, which promptly turned into a rubber chicken. He prodded at the hat with the chicken, careful to keep a few feet away. As they watched, the hat sprang to life, jumping on to the chicken's head, and clamping down hard, shaping itself to the fit of the tiny fake bird. Fred dropped the chicken, and the hat fell with it. "You see?" He asked, watching the hand in mild amusement. "The customer touches it, and it latches on to his or her head. It doesn't come off until you pay for it, either. We bring it out on slow days."

Angelina shook her head. "That's downright malicious."

Fred and George looked very affronted.

"No it's not," proclaimed George, sweeping the hat and the chicken into a drawer with a quick flick of his wand. "It's creative marketing. You need that sort of thing in this business. The other customers see it, and they all want one. It's good fun, really. Most of the people who get caught by it end up laughing about it in the end."

"Most of them," agreed Fred. He looked at the clock on the wall, which read, very plainly, 'Time to leave.'

"Well," said Fred, "I suppose we'd best go home now, I've got to drive Angie back to wherever it is she hails from." He didn't seem too happy about it, and Angelina, surprising herself, wasn't either.

"I'll join you," agreed George, waving his wand at the sign on the door, so that it read 'closed'. "I'm about done here, anyway." He locked up, and the three of them headed off towards the car.

"You know," Fred remarked, when they were all piled in, "We don't really need to drive this back home." He and George exchanged another look, but Angelina was perplexed.

"What?" She asked. "You can't leave it here, it'll be stolen, most likely."

Fred shook his head, and George grinned, pushing a button on the dashboard. A roaring sound erupted around them, and Fred suddenly reached around Angelina, and put his hands over her eyes. "You'll love this," he said, a laugh in his voice. "We've improved on dad's old design. Wouldn't mum be mad if she saw us now..."

The rushing sound subsided, and Angelina suddenly got the dizzying feeling that she was leaving the ground, ascending into the clouds. She giggled, trying to break free of Fred's grasp, and Fred shook his head. "No peeking," he ordered, nudging her gently in the side. Then, after a few moments, "All right, you can look now." He removed his hands from Angelina's eyes. Surprised, she gasped.

She hadn't been imagining things; they were a long way off the ground. Angelina could see, through the clouds, the tiny people and shops below, the bustle and business of the wizard world. "Fred, George," she exclaimed. "You've enchanted a muggle object! I mean, you've done illegal things, but this is...well, really illegal!" Despite her mock serious tone, it was obvious that she was delighted. Evil hats, flying cars...it was almost like being back at Hogwarts again.

George laughed. "Yeah, I know. We didn't want to damage our reputation, now did we? Hang on!" He hit a button on the dashboard, and the car sped forward, rocketing through the air. Angelina was thrown backward, grabbing on to Fred's hand for support, while laughing her head off, her hair flying in the wind. Fred grinned, squeezing her hand as they soared, away from the drone of everyday life, towards the sun.

* * * * *

Angelina woke up on Fred's shoulder, as the car touched down on the snowy ground outside his home. She sat up sharply, her face burning uncontrollably. She hid this by pretending to wipe her face with one sleeve, while Fred opened the door, and bowed comically, offering his hand to her. She declined the hand, still afraid that he'd see the blush, and stepped out on her own.

"That was lovely," she said, almost regretfully. "Really a pleasure. Can't say I've ever been in a flying car before. Where's George?" She looked around, suddenly realizing that the other Weasley was nowhere to be found. Fred chuckled.

"You fell asleep about halfway home. Exhausted from yesterday's travels, no doubt. He got off at his own house. He told me to tell you goodbye, and that it was spiffing to see you again."

There was something about Fred's face...he wasn't unhappy...Angelina didn't think so, anyway. He was...it was odd, really, she couldn't put her finger on it. 'I must be losing my touch,' she thought. I used to be able to tell exactly what they were thinking, all the time...we were such good friends. What's happened to me now? Why can't I laugh like I used to? Fred was looking at her now, as if he wanted to say something.

"So, I suppose I'll be going, then," she said. It came out rather lamely. Angelina didn't know quite how to end this meeting. A cheerful goodbye, an exchange of new addresses, perhaps. Yes, that would work fine. "I hope to see you again, sometime. Ah...you were going to drive me home, weren't you? I don't want to impose on you, of course, but..." she trailed off. This was unneeded talk. I don't have to drive, she thought, I can apparate. This is ridiculous.

"Oh, of course, yes," Fred said, coming out of his silence. "Here, go grab your things, and I'll get the car started up again...go on..."

Angelina walked into the house, almost passing the room where she knew her hat and gloves lay. 'I love this house,' she realized. I Angelina didn't know why, it was so unfamiliar to her. A portrait hung on the wall, an old picture from their school days of Fred and herself.

She watched Fred wrap one arm around the shoulders of her photographic self, and sighed. 'I don't want to go,' she thought. 'I don't want to go at all. But I can't stand here forever.'

Outside, she met Fred by the car. "Ah," he said, turning to see her, "Angelina, just the woman for the job. You see, I've misplaced my car keys, stupid git that I am. Have you seen them?"

"You don't use car keys," Angelina murmured. "You use alohamora. You know that, Fred."

Fred scratched his neck. "Ah, so I do, so I do. Foolish. Anyway, shall we go? Oh, but look at that, my wand's in the car. Nothing we can do about that, I'm afraid. I'll have to call George, he's good with lock picking and that sort of thing."

Angelina sighed. "Fred." He turned to look at her. "I'm going home now."

"Right, as soon as George-!"

"No, Fred." She said it as gently as she could, biting her lip at the end. "I'm going home...now." She couldn't explain what was happening. I can see him again, she thought. You're stupid, Angelina, so stupid...why are you acting like this? It's not the end...and yet somehow, she knew that if she came back, it would be wrong. That was so long ago...it was useless to try and bring back the past.

He sighed, nodded, put a smile on his face, and said, "Yeah, of course you are. Nice seeing you again, Angel." Angelina closed her eyes. 'Yes,' she thought, 'that's what he used to call me. Angel...angel...angel...'

"Goodbye," was all she managed. She lifted her wand from her pocket, waved it in the air, murmured the words and was gone. Angelina left Fred standing alone, leaning against the car, with an odd look on his face. That, if someone didn't know him well, might have been taken for regret.

* * * * *

"Well, I'm home." Angelina stood in her kitchen, listening to her voice echoing in the empty room, off the walls and ceiling, and down the hall into the void. A mild-mannered mew announced the arrival of her kitten, Dragon, a soft white ball crouching at her feet, tiny pink nose upturned towards her.

"Hi, honey..." Angelina knelt to stroke her fur. "Did you miss me?" The cat purred, rubbed against her hand, and then moved off, suddenly disinterested, to find her napping place again, the excitement of the arrival already a thing of the past.

"Well then," Angelina said, smiling slightly, and surveying her surroundings. "Nothing's changed I see...who's been feeding you, anyway? You must be starving..." Her glance fell on an open bag of cat food in the corner, a large tear in the side, though nothing had apparently stayed long enough on the floor for it to make a mess. "Or perhaps not," she amended, walking over and removing it from easy access. "At least you've taken care of yourself."

There were three letters on her windowsill, and a few rather messy owl droppings smeared across it as well. One letter was a bill; another was a postcard from great aunt Mildred, which she didn't bother to read, as great aunt Mildred hadn't been coherently sane in years. The final letter was sealed, with one of those charms that made you have to tickle it in just the right way to get it to open. It reminded Angelina of Fred, and that made her sigh. Guessing who it was from, she didn't open it yet, but left it lying on the table, wiping away the droppings, and washing her hands off in the kitchen sink.

Next, a call to Alicia was in order. After a few apologies from both sides, Angelina hung up the phone, which she had to use to call people who were stupidly living in muggle country. She wiped the contents of the kitchen table on to the floor, and made herself a sandwich, sitting at the head of the table, so that she could survey the kitchen. Not that there's anything to look at, she thought.

Dragon pounced on to her lap, rubbing at her hands until she was offered a piece of toast, which she took, daintily, and went off to her corner. Angelina just sighed again, and watched the cat tearing up the bread into tiny pieces. It gave her some odd satisfaction to watch this, and that feeling disturbed her. 'I'm happy here,' she thought. 'I've been happy here for three years...there's nothing wrong with my life. I know I'll get a job soon; it can't be too hard, and I have a lovely home, and Dragon, and friends when I need them. What's missing?'

* * * * *

The next morning, Angelina was eyeing the unopened letter, when, quite suddenly, the fireplace across from her roared to life. She gasped, and had to take a few breaths before walking over to it. 'Who would be calling me at this time of day?' she wondered. 'It's only six o'clock!' Moving over to the fireplace, she peered in, then started again, looking into the face of none other than George Weasley. "Hullo," she said. "You're up awfully early."

George's head chuckled. "Yeah, well, I've gotta get off to the store in a few. I wanted to say, it was really nice seeing you yesterday...we were wondering, if we close shop early today, would you want to come have a bit of dinner with us? They're doing fireworks tonight, some kind of big-headed wizard's birthday celebration, but we could watch it pretty easily from this nice little spot we have. We'd really love it if you came...ah, so would Fred. George's voice lowered slightly, and he winked at Angelina. For some reason, she blushed.

"I'd..." she faltered, "Well, I'd love to, really...but I'm busy...I've a job interview tomorrow, and then I'd set out to finish my novel...I'm awfully sorry, George..." George's face fell, and Angelina's heart broke, just the way it always had at school, when either of the twins had been let down. She could never bear that look being her fault. "But...perhaps I can push some things out of the way." George grinned again.

"Oh good," he said. "I was afraid you really weren't going to come. You've changed, Angie, quite a bit." Then he was solemn for a minute or two, followed by a pause in which Angelina was sure he would be shrugging, if she could see his shoulders. "Fred will be ecstatic. Wonderful, absolutely spiffing. All right, then, see you at seven, will I?"

"I...suppose so, then," Angelina replied weakly. George winked, and popped out of sight, leaving Angelina alone to contemplate. 'I have changed,' she thought. 'But I'd like to think I've changed for the better. Still...what harm could it do? I've got plenty of time. And I ought to get out more.'

The unopened letter lying on the table caught her eye again, but she did not go to pick it up. Instead, she stared at it for a long time, as if willing it, with her glance, to de-exist on the spot. Yet, it remained, taunting her, teasing her, begging her to tear it open. But Angelina had not lived alone so long with that little willpower. She let it go, for now.

* * * * *

Welcome or not, the next day dawned. Angelina awoke, as she did every morning, at exactly six o'clock. She washed, brushed her teeth, and dressed, then remembered that she was going out later, and dressed again. She brushed her hair, applied a bit, and only a bit, of lipstick, and rushed downstairs. Dragon was fed, petted, and deposited on the couch, where she would likely sleep the entire day. Digging parchment and quills out of the backs of dusty cabinets, she sat down to write a few letters, and then a chapter of her novel, which she ended up tearing into pieces and depositing in the trash after all. When the clock suddenly stared her in the face, there was nothing for it but to get up, brush her hair yet one more time, and vacate the premises. My, she thought, how time flies.

Before departing, though, Angelina took a short walk down the street and around the corner, to pay a visit to a neglected party. "Hi, dad," she whispered, kneeling next to an unmarked patch of earth, littered with a few flower petals. "Sorry I've been gone so long." She chuckled quietly. "You always did like Fred and George, didn't you? Well, you were right, just to let you know. They didn't abandon me, after all. I'll tell you all about it, later. But I have to go now, I've got a date, or something. Daddy's little girl, all grown up, eh?" Her throat constricted suddenly, and she bit her lip. "I...I'll come back later with fresh flowers, Daddy...I love you. Mom...she misses you too, you know..."

A hand suddenly clamping down on her shoulder sent Angelina spinning around, shaking the pent up tears from eyes in a quick spurt, which she quickly dashed away with an angry fist. It was Fred, early, as usual, looking very concerned. "Angel...what's wrong?" He squeezed her arm, and she swallowed hard, forcing a smile on to her face.

"Nothing...just saying goodbye to Daddy before I go. Shall we?" Turning before he could say anything else, Angelina walked back up the way she'd come, listening to Fred's hurried footsteps as he ran to catch up. "Wait!" She stopped, letting him draw to a halt beside her.

"Angelina...when...when did your father die? I...I remember him...he was a great guy, really funny...he always used to make George and me milkshakes when we came over. But, you never said anything, or at least, I don't remember..." He trailed off. Angelina took a deep breath.

"No, you wouldn't...he died last year...an...an accident." 'Yes, it had been an accident,' she supposed, 'although not to hear her mother tell it.' Fred didn't say anything for a while, then sighed. Angelina started forward again, up towards the car where George was waiting, but Fred stopped her.

"Wait, Angel...can I...can I say goodbye, too?" He looked torn, and she suddenly reached out and hugged him around the waist. Without saying anything more, the two of them went back to the gravesite, where Fred knelt where Angelina had been, bowing his head for a few moments in silent thoughts of his own. Then he pulled out his wand, waved it, and a large bunch of ridiculously bright yellow roses plopped onto the ground. Fred sighed. "Sorry...I'll try again, didn't mean to offend, or anything."

Angelina shook her head. "No, leave the yellow ones...Dad would have liked those..."