Flight to the Weasleys

Finally June. Finally, finally, finally June. Graduation had come and gone, just flown by, the only memorable part being Lee's incredible speech. It should have been Fred and George or both up there, but Lee did a wonderful job anyway. No one had thought it was possible to take that many cracks at the administration and still graduate, but with Umbridge confined to the hospital wing Lee managed to prove them all wrong. After much hard work, Angelina had managed to get her hands on a copy. Multiple copies.

She didn't have any with her, though, no need for them on the Search. The Search for Fred Weasley. With capital letters, or course--anything as important as the Search was automatically in uppercase. Angelina strode swiftly through Diagon Alley, a definite purpose in her walk. Next to Madame Malkin's, he had told her. In the really nice part of the Alley, he should have said. Somehow she had always thought that Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes would end up closer to Knockturn Alley. Definitely not near gourmet tea shops. The opening of their no-longer-so-little store must have been a real shock to the wealthy magical community.

The area was so tightly packed with high society that Angelina found it difficult to breathe. She scowled as the umpteenth person jostled past her without a sound of an apology--rich witches and wizards were their own breed of obnoxious. They gave and took offense at the drop of a hat, something she had noticed and preyed on through years of living among them. If she ever turned out even slightly like that, she hoped that someone would have a good sense to beat her to death with a broomstick. Walking around with her nose in the air, treating everyone she saw as an inferior. Merlin help her if she ever ended up like her pureblood relatives. The only likeable one among them was her father's youngest sister, and Aunt Gabrielle had been disowned long ago for daring to marry a Muggle-born. Angelina hadn't seen her in ages, since before she left for Hogwarts.

Her feet carried her forward, through Diagon Alley. She knew most of the place very well, but the nine-zero block was one she avoided unless there was something there that she absolutely had to have. On her way through she passed several stores that she recognized but rarely, if ever, visited--places like Olivanders, Quirke Quality Spells, and Rosemary's Gifts, Jewels, and Enchantments. Silly, stupid shops for the most part, and Olivanders was just plain creepy. Something about that old man had terrified her when she was a little girl and whatever it was hadn't changed singe. Ah, there was Madame Malkin's and right beside it . . .

Angelina squinted and shaded her eyes with her hand. Next door to the robe shop was the brightest and gaudiest display of lights she had ever seen. They bypassed glaring and went straight for blinding. Obnoxious too, blinking on and off at seemingly random intervals and it took a few moments for her to figure out that the impression they left seared on the backs of her retinas spelled out 'Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes'. Sighing, but smiling nonetheless, she ducked inside where the glaring lights would bother her no longer.

And was promptly soaked in a heavy stream of water.

Her mouth dropped open in shock as water dripped off her body, from her sleeves, from her robes, from her hair, her ears, her nose. For a couple of seconds she couldn't move and before she was able to react, she was hit with a jet of hot air that left her as dry as she had been before she set foot in the shop. This was the greeting customers got? It was a wonder they had any business left.

"Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in."

Angelina looked up, startled, and found herself face-to-face with . . . herself.

"Pity you can't do anything about that vacant look behind the eyes, dear. People might actually mistake you for intelligent."

Her gaze caught the sign reading, 'Insulting Mirrors--Seven Sickles' and she understood. Then her gaze caught the next thing on the shelf, and then the next, and the next, and the next until she was completely absorbed in what was for sale. Trick wands, Ton Tongue Toffees, Canary Creams--the stuff they had been famous for at Hogwarts. And new things. Knives that went intangible and came out the other side. Music boxes that made rude noises emanate from across the room. Beanies that really flew. Toy animals that came alive with parents left. The stuff of children's dreams and parents' nightmares. The stuff only Fred and George could have ever come up with, much less brought to life.

"Hullo, Angelina. Looking for someone?"

If one more person decided it would be funny to startle her . . . Angelina turned to see a cheeky redhead smirking at her. "Bugger off, George."

He looked taken aback. "George? 'Lina, I'm Fred."

"No," she said firmly, praying she was right. "You're George."

A mischievous look crossed his face. "What makes you so sure?"

Her response was to point over his shoulder. "Because Fred's standing right there."

He jerked around. "What? Fred? Where? He said he wasn't c . . . fuck." George turned back to her, grinning sheepishly. "Good one, Angelina." A pause followed, then another devious smirk. "So, what'd you think of your impromptu shower?"

She scowled. "I hope that's not the greeting you give all your customers."

"Nah, only the ones we know," he laughed. "It's run by the same sensor we hid over the portrait hole in the tower back in fifth year. Anyone it recognizes, it squirts. Which means we get a lot of wet Gryffindors. Ron sent it to us about a month ago, but we had to tell him what it did."

"So only Gryffindors get soaked?" she asked, following him around the shop.

"Only people who have passed under the sensor," he corrected. "You would be surprised how many times our password gets given away for trysts in the dormitories. For instance, Malfoy came by this morning and got soaked to the bone. Fred and I are going to have fun working that one out." The one of his voice told her that someone had a lot of explaining to do and Angelina quickly deduced that this particular someone's name started with a 'G' and ended with an '-inny'. "But speaking of Fred," George continued. "He's not at the shop today. Dunno why. We've set up a telepod system to get us here quickly so if you'll just stand right here . . . "

In retrospect, Angelina realized that she should have started asking questions the moment George said 'telepod' and not have done exactly what he said right off the bat because the next thing she knew she was flying feet first out of a wall. She landed in an ungangly heap and was just picking herself off the ground when someone rushed into the room, wand at the ready. Upon spotting her, both his wand and his jaw hit the floor. "Christ," he muttered upon somewhat composing himself. "George should really warn me before he tries to pull this kind of stunt. Next time--"

"Frederick Jonothan Weasley," Angelina hissed through clenched teeth. "You have some face-to-face explaining to do."

Unfortunately, said explanation would have to wait for a later time because that was as far as she got into her carefully-planned tirade. Without any sort of warning, Angelina found herself backed up against the wall as Fred pinned her there and used his lips to do all sorts of sinfully wonderful things to her throat. "Gods, I've missed you, Angel," he muttered against her skin, nipping and biting and licking in a way he knew turned her to so much putty in his arms. His kisses trailed up her long, dark throat to finally find her lips where he easily pried them apart to run a teasing tongue across the roof of her mouth. Angelina moaned low and reciprocated in kind. Blessed, blessed wall--it was all that was keeping her upright. Coherent thought had fled, but somehow, somewhere, Fred had discovered the ability to speak.

"I've missed you so much," he repeated in a husky whisper, flicking his tongue across the outside shell of her ear before taking her earlobe between his teeth. Angelina couldn't reply, she merely closed her eyes and let her head drop back as his kisses found their was back to her throat. "You're finally here," he said over and over again, each time finishing with another kiss--first to her throat, then to her collarbone, and then his fingers were at the buttons of her blouse. Even if she had been able to, she wouldn't have done anything to stop him. As it was her own hands were busy pushing his robes from his shoulders and running up his back and into his hair. Oh, she had most definitely missed him, too.

Her breath suddenly caught in her throat, and then proceeded to speed up until she was left gasping for air. She would have moved to peel his shirt from his body but that would have involved him having to take his hands away--and even the fraction of a moment it would have taken was far too long. Fred Weasley was highly talented with those hands. Her own shirt had been completely unbuttoned down the front and somehow she had been divested of it, leaving her chest almost totally open to him. His fingers swept circles around her breasts, softly, and his thumbs brushed across her sensitive nipples and all the while his kisses trailed lower, lower. Angelina was squirming under him, shifting so that she could easily straddle the thigh he had nudged between hers. It was really hard to stay mad at him when he was like this.

Wait, wait, what was he doing. His lips were moving back up. He wasn't going to kiss her breasts, the naught boy. But . . . oh, throat was good. Throat was very good. Right there, yes, oh! Lips, lips, moremoremore--damn, the man was talented. Angelina slipped her hands down to his waist and then under her shirt where her fingers traced the muscles of his sides and stomach while her mouth took its turn at his throat. There was an exceptionally sensitive spot right under his ear and that was where she applied her lips and tongue, alternately biting and licking the soft patch of flesh while he shivered under her touch. But wait, he was talking again. Dammit--he wasn't supposed to be coherent. "Gods, Angel," he murmured, gasping for breath between words. "Angel, Angel, Angel--you're finally here and I love you so much. Angel, I love you."

Angelina stopped dead in her tracks and suddenly the only sound was their panting for air. She had wanted to hear those words for so long. Slowly, she took his chin between her long-fingered hands and looked him straight in the face, her steady brown eyes meeting his now-worried blue. Then she smiled and all traces of fear or apprehension in him disappeared as she kissed him again. It was a deep kiss, a soulful kiss that told him everything she wanted to say and answered all his questions. This was not a passionate kiss, there was no tearing at robes to be had, and as they finally separated there were traces of tears in her eyes. When Fred took her into his arms once more, it was to enfold her in a hug that crushed her to his chest and took her breath away. She closed her eyes and leaned against him, encircling him in her arms. "I'm so sorry," he whispered into her hair. "I've felt horrible for ages and I shouldn't have done it and I'm so sorry for everything, for lying and leaving. I'll never do it again, Angel, I swear I won't, just please forgive me."

She smiled softly, a gesture he felt more than saw. "Of course I forgive you, Fred. I love you too much to do otherwise."

"Although you'd probably love me more if I let you up for air, huh?" When she looked up at him she found herself staring straight into a world-class smirk. Her response was to stick her tongue out at him. "Now, now, young lady," he admonished her, still grinning to beat all. "I can thing of much better uses for that."

"Oh?" she asked, fixing him in place with a decidedly smoldering gaze. "Care to demonstrate?"