For Fred.

"Angelina, you need to eat something." The deep and gentle voice of my father wafted from the doorway of my childhood bedroom. I had crashed here, refusing to go back to my apartment.

I was in my bed, under plenty of covers, holding Fred's jumper close to my chest. His scent of faint gunpowder for his fireworks, sweets and my own perfume clung to it, so I used it as a way to cling to him. It had been a week since the Battle of Hogwarts. Any attempt by Molly or Arthur Weasley to contact me had been ignored.

"Go away." I mumbled, holding Fred's sweater tighter.

I wanted to wallow in my grief.

"You can't stay under there forever, Angelina. Your mother's getting worried, and your uncles and aunties too," He pressed. I could hear the fear in his voice, the fear of what would happen to me if I let the misery consume me. "Think of your child."

My child.

Fred's child.

I shook silently as a new wave of tears dampened Fred's jumper, and I felt the covers I was hiding under being peeled away. A strong set of arms wrapped around me, and held me close. My father hugged me as I wailed like a small child being denied her favorite toy.

Only I was being denied my favorite person.

***

When I first met Fred Weasley, nine years ago, I thought he was an idiot.

I was eleven, freshly sorted into Gryffindor, and wide-eyed about Hogwarts. Fred Weasley had just come up to me with that mischievous grin of his, looking like he'd just thought of the most hilarious prank ever. "What's your name?" he'd asked, as if he didn't already know from the Sorting, his eyes sparkling with that classic troublemaker's gleam.

"Angelina Johnson," I said, trying to sound confident, though his playful tone made me feel a little flustered.

"Well, Angie, my name's Fred. Fred Weasley." He gestured to someone who looked identical to him, though he seemed slightly quieter. "And that, is my slightly less handsome twin, George." He winked at me, while George held his chest in mock-hurt. "Fred, you wound me!" The two burst into laughter, but I wasn't all that amused.

"Don't call me Angie." I replied simply, before turning to walk away. Fred popped up in front of me. I sighed in annoyance.

"Where're you off to in such a hurry, Angie?" He repeated, a wicked grin on his face.

"Away from you," I replied, trying to step away. But he blocked me.

"Oh yeah? Why on earth would you want to do that?" He questioned, waggling his eyebrows. "You're yet to see our first prank!" Said George, stepping beside him.

"I don't really want to, Fred and George." I huffed. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to-"

The sound of a small explosion went off behind us, and judging from the smirks on the two boys' faces, they were the cause.

"Fire in the hole, eh?" They said in unison as I looked towards Professor Snape, who looked like he was ready to kill. His long, greasy hair was sticking up, and the Potions book he seemed to be reading had pink glitter all over it. So did his face. I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth in an effort to stifle my laughter.

"Admit it," Fred muttered into my right ear. "You thought it was funny." George completed, whispering in my left. The twins beamed as the corridor burst into laughter, and Snape looked around furiously to see who had hexed his book.

"You two are absolutely horrid for that." I said, giggling.

"The only horrid thing here is your refusal to admit I'm handsome." Young Fred declared, getting an eye-roll from George.

I rolled my eyes. "Uh-huh. Sounds like a load of nonsense to me."

Fred's grin only grew wider, clearly amused by my skepticism. "Oh, you'll see. Just wait 'til I get started."

At the time, I didn't know that he was serious. I didn't know that Fred Weasley, with all his jokes and pranks, would end up being the one person who could turn my life upside down, in the best way possible. But back then, he was just another prankster who'd gotten under my skin.

But once, he really got under my skin. It started like this.

Professor Flitwick had called me to his office one afternoon in first year, talking about how good I was getting at Charms for a new student. He suggested if I put as much effort into Charms as I did Flying, I'd top the class. I nodded, taking his advice and silently wishing for him to get to the point.

"Now," he said chirpily, straightening his jacket a bit. "I have a student in your class that seems to struggle with Charms a bit, and I'd like you to tutor him, Angelina." I raised my eyebrows slightly. Was I really that good at Charms?

"I recommended some other students to him, but he brought you up, saying he'd learn best if you were teaching him." He continued, and I sat up in my chair.

"Erm, who is it, Sir?" I asked nervously.

"Why, Fred Weasley, of course! Seeing as you two are good friends, I thought he would have told you about this." I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Fred and I were not good friends. The twins had been annoying me and pranking me since we got here, but Fred in particular had really been going in on me.

"Sir, can't he be tutored by anyone else?" My voice sounded unusually whiny, and Professor Flitwick furrowed his brow slightly.

"It'll only be today, for now, and I feel that you will gain many benefits from tutoring him, Angelina. Now, you are to go to the library." With a flick of his wand, the door to his office burst open.

"Go along now, Angelina. He's not far. I think you'll find this quite entertaining." He smiled, a bit of a twinkle in his eye.

I didn't share his optimism, but I nodded and left the office, heading toward the library. When I turned the corner, Fred was already waiting for me, leaning against the wall with that trademark grin plastered across his face.

"Hello, Angie," he said, bouncing on his heels.

I groaned. "Don't call me that."

"Right, right," he said, clearly ignoring me. "So, where do we start? Or do you just want to skip to the part where you admit I'm a Charms prodigy?"

"Fred," I said, exasperated, "you can't even levitate a feather without setting something on fire."

He grinned wider. "That was one time. And George dared me to see if I could do it with my eyes closed!"

I rolled my eyes. "You're hopeless."

We settled into a table in the library, though Fred didn't really settle. He spent more time tilting back his chair, making faces at Madam Pince when she wasn't looking, and poking my parchment than he did actually paying attention.

"Fred," I said sharply, swatting his hand away for the fifth time, "are you even listening?"

"Of course I am," he said, leaning forward with mock seriousness. "You're explaining...uh...something about wand movements, right?"

"Fred!" I hissed.

"All right, all right," he said, sitting up straighter. "Let's try again. But if I get this right, you owe me a Chocolate Frog."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "If you get this right, I'll buy you two Chocolate Frogs."

He grinned like he'd already won. Of course, five minutes later, he managed to knock over an entire stack of books while trying to practice the wand movement I'd just shown him.

I gasped as the bottle of ink spilled across the table, pooling over the edge and splattering onto the floor just as Madam Pince's sharp footsteps approached.

I turned toward where Fred had been sitting moments ago, but of course, he was gone. Typical.

"Angelina Johnson!" Madam Pince snapped, her eyes narrowing as she surveyed the mess. "What on earth is the meaning of this?"

"M-Madam Pince, it wasn't me, I swear!" I stammered, feeling my face heat up.

"Oh, really?" she said, folding her arms. "And just who do you expect me to believe is responsible for this, then? I see no one else here."

I opened my mouth to protest, but the words caught in my throat. Fred wasn't coming back, and if I blamed him, I knew I'd sound like I was just making excuses.

Madam Pince let out an impatient sigh. "Five points from Gryffindor for irresponsible handling of school property. And you'll be cleaning this up immediately."

"Yes, miss," I muttered, grabbing a rag to mop up the ink.

As I scrubbed furiously, I thought about all the things I was going to say to Fred Weasley the next time I saw him. None of them were polite.

***

The next morning, as I walked into the Great Hall for breakfast, I found a small crowd gathered around the Gryffindor table. Ignoring it at first, I strode to one of my new friends, Alicia Spinnet.

"Alicia. Alicia!"

"Yeah?"

"Have you seen Fred? I need to talk to him." Alicia smirked, and pointed to where the crowd was.

"Oi, Angelina!" George called, grinning mischievously. "Looks like someone's got a fan."

Confused, I pushed through the group of giggling first-years and stopped short.

There, sitting in the middle of my usual spot at the table, was an enormous bouquet of mismatched flowers. Well, I thought they were flowers, but on closer inspection, they were clearly fake, made from scraps of parchment, quills, and what looked suspiciously like bits of Filch's cleaning rags.

Tied to the bouquet was a card that read: "To the best Charms tutor in the world, who totally doesn't deserve to lose points because of my genius. Sorry, Angie."

I narrowed my eyes at the name "Angie" but couldn't help the small smile tugging at my lips. I felt two taps on my shoulder and whirled around. It was Fred, and he was grinning as stupidly as ever.

"Fred, what is this?" I demanded, pointing at the makeshift bouquet.

He stood up with an exaggerated bow, as though he were accepting an award. "A humble offering for my favorite tutor," he said loudly. "Consider it my apology for fleeing the scene of the crime."

"You made these?" I asked, holding up the large bouquet.

"Well, George helped," Fred admitted, elbowing his twin.

"I made the bow," George said proudly.

I shook my head, biting back a laugh. "You're ridiculous."

"And yet, you haven't thrown them in the bin," Fred pointed out, smirking.

I rolled my eyes but tucked the bouquet under my arm as I sat down. "Fine. Apology accepted. But if you ever run off and leave me with Madam Pince again, you'll regret it."

Fred grinned. "Noted, Angie."

"It's Angelina," I said, though this time, I couldn't help but laugh along with everyone else.