Never Going to Hold the Hand of Another Guy

RHrkiss625

Story Summary:
She cried, never going to hold the hand of another guy. Too young for him he told her waiting for the love of her traveling soilder.

Never Going to Hold the Hand of Another Guy

Chapter Summary:
When you cried, I'd wipe away all of your tears. When you'd scream, I'd fight away all of your fears.I held your hand through all of these years, but you still have all of me.
Posted:
08/23/2007
Hits:
385
Author's Note:
This fic was written for my best friend Marissa, who knows the true love of Fred and Angelina. Also thanks so much to Kitti, my beta reader. I hope you enjoy, my first fic to submit!


"Are you sure you aren't interested in our shield hats, sir?"

It seemed like Fred had been asking this question repetitively for weeks now. The products in their defense section weren't living up to anyone's standards nowadays. People wanted protection against the unforgivable curses and that was hard to come by.

"Not unless it will save me from the Unforgivables," the man wheezed. Fred made a mental note to put him on the hopeless customer list.

"Excuse me." Fred looked over at the purple curtain hanging over the section entrance to see his face looking back at him, wearing a set of identical magenta robes. "I hate to interrupt a sales pitch, but I've got a stubborn customer who's interested in our love potions, but claims she only wants your service." George nodded his head in the direction of their love stocks.
Fred gave him a confused look, but George merely shrugged his shoulders.

"Sir, maybe my brother could of assistance to you?" Fred offered to the man as he slipped past his twin and strode off casually to the love potions. There was a witch standing there with her back turned to him and a head of long dark hair.

"Can I help you, miss?" he asked her.

"Yes," the witch said softly. "You can explain to me why you went off with a pair of French girls!" And she had turned around revealing a red-faced Angelina Johnson.

"Ange! Wha-what're you doing here?" he asked her, his face full of surprise.

"Don't you change the subject Fred Weasley!" And she gave him a stern look.

"French girls...right well uh-" he gulped, looking rather nervous. "You see er- well you were, uh, away at Quidditch training and well, um, George and I er- we...kind of er- got lonely," he explained sheepishly. She whacked him hard on the arm and he let out a yelp of pain.

"Did that hurt?" she asked curtly. He nodded briskly, rubbing the new sore spot on his arm. "Good!" And before he could brace himself, she had flung her arms around his neck and began to kiss him deeply. Taken by complete surprise at her sudden change of tone, he stumbled back into a display of Bullyscopes; the telescopes that Hermione had unwillingly volunteered to test last year. He wrapped his arms around her toned waist and embraced her tightly as they continued to kiss.

They didn't surface until the last tinkling of the door, signifying that the shop had emptied for the day. Breathless, Fred lifted Angelina up off the ground and placed her on the shop counter. Nearby, George gave them a disgusted look.

"I've missed you, Fred." Angelina giggled as she intertwined his fingers with
hers.

"Mmm, I've missed you too," he told her, giving her a light peck on the lips. "How was Quidditch training?" he asked interested.

"Excellent, I've made the Holyhead Harpies. I'm their new Chaser!" she exclaimed, but just as Fred was leaning in to give her a congratulatory kiss, there was a flash of light and then a bright silver weasel shone before them. "Fred, George, we need you at the Hog's Head. Prepare to
fight." Mr. Weasley's voice sounded from the Patronus, before vanishing.

Fred and Angelina gave each other a nervous glance, neither of them uttering a word. He squeezed her hand to let her know that everything was going to be alright. George had just appeared by the newly kindled couple and the three of them set off towards their flat above the shop, which held a small fireplace. Next to it was a tiny sack of Floo Powder. George threw a handful of the powder into the fireplace, creating bright green flames.

The next few moments were a blur as Fred, Angelina, and George went tumbling out of the fireplace of the Hog's Head. They quickly brushed off the soot that had accumulated on their robes.

"Boys!" Molly squealed at them, giving her sons a tight squeeze when she had spotted the pair of them. "And I see you've brought Angelina. Good to see you dear." Mrs. Weasley had caught sight of Fred's girlfriend and also gave her a hug.

"We're fighting in Hosgmeade?" asked a confused George, looking around the almost vacant pub. The rest of the Weasley family, minus Ron and Percy, were ther' and so was a tentative Cho Chang. Alongside her was none other than Oliver Wood, who was wearing an expression mixed between pride and nausea. Angelina had just spotted him standing by a set of barstools.

"Oliver!" she called out, hurrying towards him. She gave him a warm hug and much to Fred's displeasure, planted a kiss on his cheek. He never had really forgiven Wood for breaking Angelina's heart back in their third year.

"I heard you made the Harpies, congratulations!" And he lifted her feet off the ground momentarily.

Before Wood could sneak in some snogging action, Fred placed a firm hand on her shoulder. "Yes, we are very proud of her," he gritted like an overprotective father.

She turned to face him and kissed him for a brief moment before giving him a warning look, when they were interrupted by Mr. Weasley. "We're fighting at Hogwarts according to Remus," he informed the bunch. Gripping his hand tightly, Angelina turned to give Fred an apprehensive glance.

"It'll be fine," he reassured in her ear before they entered the portrait passage way.

*********
Angelina had later found herself dueling a Death Eater, five or six steps away from them on the marble staircase.

"Cruc-" The spell was almost spoken, but Angelina had fired a Jelly-Legs Jinx at her opponent first, and his legs began to jiggle uncontrollably. He fell to the ground, slithering around on the stairs, but before she could have a moment of triumph another Death Eater had just emerged out of a mix of smoke and jets of light. Both Angelina and the Death Eater sent red sparks flying
at each other, both dodging the other's stunning spells.

"Ange!" She heard someone yell out her name; it echoed through the entrance hall.

"Protego!" She protected herself momentarily with a shield charm and saw Lee Jordan flailing his arms at her on the bottom of the staircase.

"Angie, come quick!" he yelled up at her.

"I'm kind of busy!" she shouted back, just as her shield charm had shattered, and the Death Eater now attempted the Cruciatus curse, which she quickly ducked to avoid.

"No, you better come now." She could tell by his tone of voice that something was not right. Turning around again to face Lee, she pounded down the marble steps distancing the two of them. "You should go to the-" they both arched back, narrowly dodging a blast of green light as the Death Eater had just aimed a killing curse at the two of them, "-Great Hall," Lee finished.

Angelina gave him a bewildered look, but when he didn't give a further explanation, she didn't press him for information. The walk to the great Hall was heavy on her feet, but more so, on her heart. Her mind jumped around trying to find reasons explaining as to why Lee wanted her to go to the Great Hall. As she walked past the fighters, caught up in the battle, she was proud to see the courage etched on the faces of those she once called classmates and upon those she loved dearly.

Angelina reached the Great Hall and felt a rush of mourning and grief. It was as if a wave of anguish and agony had swept over her the instant she placed a foot in the crowded room. She saw families mourning over lost loved ones, and it pained her to see those she knew so troubled and those she who were now gone.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a cluster of flaming red hair and suddenly her heart dropped to her feet. As she moved steadily across the Hall towards the Weasleys she could hear a loud ringing in her ears. Her eyes quickly glanced over the family. There was a splotchy-faced Ginny, a tight-faced Bill being comforted by Fleur, a sullen Ron in an awkward hug with Percy, a regretful Charlie, a devastated Mr. Weasley who was gently stroking his wife's frazzled hair, and a remorseful George kneeling on the floor. Her heart seemed to stop; there was someone missing, a very important someone.

As she walked the last few paces towards the body they were crowding around, her entire body shook with fear. And then the inevitable happened; she saw him, Fred Weasley, her Fred Weasley, lying on the floor of the Great Hall. It had been the same place where she had once crept into his lap at breakfast and was told off by McGonagall. Her knees gave way at that moment and she fell at his side. With a trembling hand, she took his in hers. It was limp and hung lifelessly in her hand. Running her fingers across his wrist, she traced then up his forearm, remembering the look on his face when she used to do this. It had been where it tickled him most.

His eyes stared blankly up at her, and their vibrant blue shone brightly even with no life behind them. Angelina could feel a lump crawling up her throat and she tried to gulp it back down. To her slight surprise, no tears had fallen from her eyes. She was more than ready for them to fall, but
nothing came. The hot burning sensation that always came with tears was present; in fact, it had spread though out her whole body as she stared down at the man she had once shed so many tears over. Slowly releasing his arm, she moved her quivering fingers to his hair. The once exuberant flaming red seemed dull and weak as it clung to his black face. She ran her fingers
through his hair, pressing her lips tight together, bracing herself for the flood of tears that were certain to come. But still, nothing came. She felt so empty kneeling there beside him; it was like there was nothing left inside of her to cry, almost as if she didn't have a reason left to cry
anymore.

Somewhere off in the distance, and she was sure it was off in a separate world, someone was screaming that Harry was dead. But she could not take any of it in, she couldn't register. An arm wrapped around her shoulder, but she couldn't comprehend who it was. Blurs of bright color were swimming around her and the ringing in her ears was even louder than before. She could feel
her feet moving, but she stayed still. The world around her swayed, and she could hear shouts and screams, but they were soft and faint, like she was in a dream, and none of this was real.

Everything was spinning now, everything but her and Fred's body, which had also been moved with hers. There was a thunderous applause and someone thumped her hard on the back. She had collapsed on the floor again, but it felt like it took years for her to hit the ground. Her head landed on Fred's chest, and she felt that it no longer rose and fell to his breathing.
There was no heartbeat remaining to steady her own breaths out to, which
were sharp and painful now. The room, still revolving without her, was now shimmering with a bright light, and she was being pulled off of Fred. She didn't want to go, she wasn't ready.

"Angie, it's over, it's all over!" said a distant voice, and something in her memory told her that it belonged to Alicia Spinnet, but that didn't matter to her. Plunging herself into him, she kissed his icy dead lips, missing the warmth that had always been promised. She kissed him for one
last time before she let everything go.
*********

Two days after the funeral was cloudy and dreary; it had been for about a week now, but the rain had yet to fall. The weather seemed to match Angelina's mood perfectly. She barely said anything at all, and when she was spoken to she answered with either a nod or a head shake, maybe a shrug even. You were lucky if you were able to get a "yes," or a "no" out of her.
Everyone had made failed attempts to make her speak, the Weasleys, Katie, Alicia, Lee, Oliver, Hermione, even Harry. Everyone that is, except George.

If anyone was speaking less than Angelina, it was George. They were on the same level of understanding, and they left it that. Angelina was glad that they had silently agreed to distance themselves, for she was certain that she would find more Fred in him that she could handle at the time, and it was probably the same the other way around.

That afternoon, Angelina had found herself wandering into the back clearing of the Burrow. Fleur was gently stoking Bill's hair as they sat on a garden swing, his head resting on her lap. Katie and Lee were laughing, chasing each other on broomsticks. Harry and Ginny sat under the oak tree, relaxing together in the shade. Ron was gazing intently at Hermione as they leaned against a window sill, while he twirled a finer through her hair, absentmindedly. Percy was taking to Charlie, both of whom were using animated arm gestures.

Suddenly Angelina felt alone in the world just then. Life was moving all around her, but her mind was not ready yet. Leaning against the back fence, she took in the rushing creek just a ways away. Her memory jumped to the time where she and Fred had swam there just after a rainstorm. It had been the day of her parent's divorce; how long ago that day seemed, and yet as
she stared out at the water, the memory was clearest that it ever was.

Abruptly, Angelina could feel the body heat of someone standing by the fence just to her right, and when she glanced to see who had intruded upon her reflection, she was surprised to see that it was George. Her eyes quickly darted to the hole he now sported on the side of his head; it being one of the few features that differed him from Fred. But then, as her eyes dashed
over his face, she could tell that it too now showed different from Fred's. He had aged a great deal; the lines now more prominent on his face. His skin was no longer bright and fresh; it was now pale and gaunt. His straining eyes were red and puffy, and his chin was now strong and stern. He was a completely different man, this new Fred-less George. He was no longer whole,
Angelina concluded. He was now just 'and George," lacking the same meaning and purpose that existing when he had been a part of 'Fred and George.'

The moment between them was tense as they just stared at each other; neither sure as to what was supposed to happen. It seemed ever since they had endured the unexpected loss of Fred, nothing was sure or expected anymore. Fred had been spontaneous and hardly ever had a plan, but now looking back, maybe he should have had a plan. Angelina shook this thought from her mind; it had not been his fault. George had opened his mouth briefly, as if to
speak, but quickly closed it, clearly thinking otherwise.

The air around them seemed to be growing much warmer and Angelina could feel that same sickening twist in her stomach she had felt back in the Great Hall about a week ago. The ringing in her ears had returned, becoming louder once more. Her breaths drew in sharp at her chest, and the world started to swirl
slightly in front of her. The next thing she knew she had begun to slip towards the earth, and at an instant, George had caught her, embracing her tightly. She leaned into him, pressing her face against his chest. Feeling his head find rest on top of hers, Angelina felt that she could finally
relax. Both of them had longed for the moment in which they would be able to feel comfortable, but in order to reach that point, they had to grieve, and now they were willing to take the first step. She could feel his tears trickle down from his red eyes, but still none were falling from her own
tired ones. She closed them tightly, as if this might help, but still there was nothing.

The two of them stayed in that position for a long while, clinging onto the last bit of Fred that still lived through them. When they had finally broken apart, they gave each other a weak attempt at a smile. Angelina turned around, deciding that what she needed then was a hot shower.

"Wait." George had touched her arm, stopping her movement. It had been the first thing he had spoken to her since Fred's death. In that one word said everything that had gone through her mind this past week.

Wait for what? Was there anything worth waiting for? Why hadn't the death eaters waited? How long would she have to wait until she would be able to see him again? Why doesn't death wait until you're ready for it? Would you ever be able to wait long enough to be ready? Swallowing the lump that had just formed in her throat, she turned to face George once more.

"He...was going-" he paused for a moment, taking in a breath, "-to give...this to you-" He spoke slowly with every word, "-before he..." he trailed off, turning his gaze to the ground. Her eyes narrowed at him, worried at that unforgettable word. It was the one word that could make
everything definite. Made everything absolute...final...over. "...died," he uttered, and there it was.

The lump in her throat crawled back, larger than before. She rubbed her chest, wishing it would go back down. "What?" She had managed to ask, her voice soft and weak. Moving slowly and steadily George reached into the pocket of his pants and withdrew the answer to her question. He reached over and opened her hands, placing something inside of them. As her grip
tightened over it, she felt that it was soft against her skin. She closed her eyes, and could almost feel Fred's heartbeat pulsing there in her hands.

When Angelina had opened her eyes again, she looked down at the object she had been holding. It was a black box covered in delicate velvet. It was just small enough to fit perfectly in her palm. Her heart leaped up into her throat as she looked up at George, wanting some form of reassurance. He gave the smallest of nods and she looked back down at the box. With a trembling hand, she lifted the lid, just enough to barely peek inside. Something glittered from inside and her heart began to beat faster. She lifted the lid to open it all the way this time, and with a small gasp she bit her lip.

Inside was a small diamond ring. It was beautiful and when she looked down at it, she could see their relationship shinning before her. It started when he had knocked her to the ground at King's Cross and ended with a reversal of roles; when she had seen him dead on the ground in the Great Hall. In the time between finding each other on the ground, Angelina had fallen madly in
love with Fred, so why was it that George was the one giving her this ring, and not Fred?

Because, she reminded herself, he's gone. Prolonging a deep breath to gain her composure, she lifted the ring out of the tiny box. Now she was certain this would be her moment to cry, but her eyes remained dry. There just was not a rhyme or reason for her to do so. She carefully rotated the ring admiring the clarity and cut of the diamond; it was exactly the one she had always wanted; just like Fred had always been the one she always wanted. Looking down at it was like looking at her fairytale slip away from her; everything had been so perfect, so magical but now it seemed like there was nothing left.

Something had caught her eyes as he continued to look down at her ring. Engraved were the words, My Angel. At the sight of these, his special name for her, she finally knew what was supposed to happen, it had clicked. She didn't need to take a hot shower, she didn't need to sit down and talk about it, she just needed to get away and she knew exactly where. Now saying a
word to George, he would understand, she braced herself for the tight pressing feeling and the darkness that was about to occur. And she had Apparated.

Just before the Hogwarts gates to be exact; her fingers crossed, that the protective charms would have been lifted with the defeat of You-Know-Who. Luck, for once, was on her side. A flick of her wand and the gates had opened, permitting her inside the grounds. Overhead, the dark clouds rolled across the sky, darker then they had all week.

Taking off at a run, she darted across the grounds to the one place she could trust at that moment. Pounding through the tunnel, she could hear a clap of thunder burst from the sky. When the place had finally come into view, her last hope of a stronghold, an overwhelming feeling of emotion came over Angelina right then. She was hurt, confused, angry, sorrowful, just about every pessimistic emotion you could possibly feel, all tied up into one action, grieving.

She had slowed down to a walk and as she crossed her beloved Quidditch pitch the rain poured from above. Streaming down more and more with each step, she knew this was Fred's promise to her. Finally reaching the very center she collapsed on the turf, body shaking without control. And as she hit the ground hard, she felt her face becoming wet, and not just from the rain. Bittersweet tears soared down her cheeks, mixing with the raindrops. She shuddered against the cold ground, every part of her aching with grief.

"FRED!" she yelled out his name, wanting his firm arms to wrap around her in comfort like they always had.

At the sound of her own voice, she thought of her life, and his, and the own they had shared together. The memory flooded back to her at that moment. It had been her first day as a Hogwarts graduate, and his first as a joke shop owner, and their first day to make love to each other. Angelina had always known that Fred would be the one she would love forever, but that moment proved everything. They had been together like never before and everything about that moment had been perfect. And now as she continued to cry for her Fred, in the middle of her pitch, she knew she still had a reason for her fairytale; she still had forever.