As she strode down the pavement, Angelina was sure that her stomach was trying to gnaw itself out of her body. Another whiff of fumes rose from the bag in her hands, making her stomach roll again and make one of the most disturbing sounds Angelina had heard in her lifetime. This was the last time she decided to forgo regularly scheduled meals to splurge for dinner. Her body couldn't take it. Bugger Fred and bugger friendship, she was hungry!

On the other hand, after her very public snog with Cormac McLaggen, she could really use someone not of book form to talk to. Someone to convince her that she wasn't insane like her mum and not a complete and utter whore who only operated under the simple rules of want, take, have. Many people would find it surprising that the person most equipped to do this was Fred Weasley, manwhore extrodinaire. Angelina did not miss the irony. 

Finding a conveniently abandoned alley to duck into and Disapparate, Angelina disappeared from Muggle London and arrived in the flat above #93 Diagon Alley, also known as Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

Landing in the kitchen, Angelina turned about in search of the flat's resident. She hadn't seen Fred in over a month and their last meeting had been a quick chat in the twins'...Fred's shop. Alicia's inquiry at tea had reminded her of that fact and she had set out to rectify the situation. Now, here she was, balancing hot curry and looking for a bloody recluse.

 

"Oy, Fred! Curry!"

"Hmm?" Fred muttered, dragging himself out of his book.  He blinked at Angelina standing in his kitchen, then smiled and rose, setting the book aside.  "Oy yourself, Legs, I'm not a dog, y'know," he offered in return, taking the few steps across the room to where she was and removing the bag of food from her hands.  Setting the curry aside for the moment, though his stomach growled in reaction to the lovely smell wafting from the bag, he grabbed Angelina for a hug, purposely squishing her for a second before relaxing his grip.  "How the hell are you?"

Angelina's laugh at Fred's joke became an 'oof' as he proceeded to try to squeeze the life from her. Silly man didn't know his own strength sometimes. Once his grip loosened, Angelina gently pushed free.

"Oh, you know how it is: broke off my arse with a dance partner with a broken ankle, a nutter for a mum with me possibly following in her footsteps, and a semi-regular job. With the possibility of another on the way! All in all, things are looking up," Angelina gave a quick rundown of her life to-date with a careless grin. "Oh! And I may be evicted at any moment! How are you?"

Angelina turned to unpack the take-away, spreading a variety of foods out on the table. Then, she made her way to the cabinets and easily grabbed two plates from the top shelf. She continued to travel around the kitchen, collecting what she needed and showing an intimate knowledge of the flat. She'd been there so many times that it was like moving around her own home. Albeit, a less shabby version.

"If that's 'looking up', I'm not sure I want to hear about any rough patches along the way.  How's the singing gig going?  I keep meaning to get over to Avalon for a show, but..."  Fred shrugged, figuring she was used to his random moodiness by this point in their friendship.

Smiling as he watched Angelina set his table like she lived there, Fred mentioned, not for the first time, "You know I'll always pitch in if you need it, just say the word.  If I didn't think you'd kill me after a fairly short span I'd just tell you to move in," he teased, stepping over to the icebox.  Opening the door and peering in, he had to chuckle at the continued theme of mostly alcohol for the contents.  "So, there's lager, butterbeer, or actually a rather decent wine... What'll it be?"

"Save your fancy wine for romancing and pour me a pint," Angelina quipped as she took a seat and began scooping food onto her plate. "Singing is amazing, if not as lucrative as I'd like it to be so don't tempt me with cohabitation. I'm probably going to end up on your doorstep as it is."

Angelina took a bite of her curry, humming with happiness as the food hit her belly, "You haven't answered my question, Fred. Life update, Mister Weasley!"

With a mock groan as he set Angelina's lager in front of her, Fred slid into the other chair and started filling his plate.  "Don't do that, it reminds me of Professor McGonagall," he groused.  "You know you don't have to settle for the doorstep; you're always welcome in the bed," he quipped with a wink, taking a pull of his lager.  "You can guess what I've been up to, Angie; basically the same thing I always am.  I man the shop, work in the lab... spend my nights either chasing my problems or running from them."

Fred blew his fringe out of his eyes and glanced up at the woman next to him.  "Sorry, it's..."  he trailed off, shaking his head.

"Don't apologize for answering my question," Angelina answered around a bit of curry, "If I wanted to hear about how your days are filled with butterflies and rainbows, I'd have asked for that, wouldn't I?"

Cracking a wry grin, Fred nodded.  "You would have.  I'm trying to be less of a cranky bugger, but it's not working so well."  He sighed and stirred his food around for a moment, the few bites he'd taken having killed his appetite enough that he was ambivalent about eating again.

"Gin visited the other day...  That helped, though evidently Mum's on her to get me to visit more often."  Setting his fork at the edge of his plate, he shrugged.  "I dunno, Ange; I'm here.  That's about what I've got going for me at the moment."

Eyeing Fred's plate, Angelina was unimpressed with his progress through his dinner. To show her displeasure at his work, she jabbed him with her fork, "I didn't not fast all day to pay for feeding you to watch you pick at your dinner. Eat."

"Ouch!  You daft ... nevermind."

Angelina dropped her now Weasley-tainted fork and rested her chin on her hands with a sigh, "Really, Fred, Gin and your mum are right. Get out, visit. Reconnect with the living. I'd say get laid but you do that regularly enough. You are here. It may be time to start acting like it again."

"I'm <i>trying</i>," Fred growled, pushing himself out of his seat and striding away into the sitting room, more irritated with himself than anything Angelina had said.  He forced a breath out through his nose, pacing along the side wall for a few turns.  Pausing in his circuit to look back over at the table, at Angelina watching him, he raked a hand through his hair and walked back into the kitchen, throwing himself into his chair.  "That's what I meant about it not working so well," he joked weakly, picking up his fork and eating another few bites of his curry.
 
"I see," Angelina's lips twisted into a wry grin as she lifted her lager in mock salute. "To us. For reaching such happy and healthy points in our lives. At least you're not snogging inappropriate men or considering a job with Snape."

Angelina brought up her interview with Snape in hopes of turning the evening back towards a light, only slightly self-pitying mood. She understood that Fred was still in pain over George but she also knew that she could never understand how much pain that was. So, she avoided it; if she couldn't fix it she would avoid it. And if there was anything that could derail one of Fred's moods, it was the possibility of her working for Snape. Voluntarily. Merlin, it still gave <i>her</i> the shivers.

Fred had started to raise his mug to Angelina's, then set it back on the table with a 'thunk' at her mention of Snape.  "You're <i>what</i>?  Angie, you're not really, are you?" he said in disbelief, scrutinizing her carefully to see if she was having one over on him.  "If you need work, there's <i>always</i> the shop," he reminded her, appalled at the idea of her being stuck with the former Potions professor in order to make rent.  The thought left a bad taste in his mouth, like the dusty air of the Hogwarts dungeons, and he downed the rest of his lager in an effort to get rid of it.

"Oh, it isn't official, yet. I only interviewed on Friday. And I know you would hire me in a heartbeat to keep me afloat," Angelina fortified herself for what would come after what she said next, "But I'd much rather get a job on my own merits than because I'm your mate. Even if it's with the Bat."

"Besides, Fred, how much work do you think we'd get done around each other? We have problems getting through a meal," Angelina suggested with a brief wiggle of eyebrow, "Seeing you in a position of authority may undo me. I'm trying desperately not to jump your brooding, tortured arse, as it is!"

Angelina had moved onto the next diversion tactic: sex. It was about as healthy as running with scissors and she was just helping him maintain bad habits...but it was effective. And Fred's sex-life seemed to be one of the few things that hadn't been affected by his twin's death. Besides, she needed it just as much as he did. There was something about being with Fred that centered her and after her momentary lapse in judgement yesterday, she really need it.

Sighing around a smirk that was trying to form, Fred retorted, "Bite me, Johnson," rolling his eyes in her direction.  "And I wouldn't hire you just because you're my mate; you're organized and you're used to my pranks... it'd be a useful combination to have around.  I get that, though.  I just wish your best option wasn't that greasy git." 

"Position of authority, my freckled arse," he muttered, rocking his chair back onto two legs.  "It's only me now anyway, not like I'm commanding a squad of hit wizards."  He snorted at the very idea.  "Might be fun, though.  More interesting than stocking shelves, at any rate."

"You're forgetting that I could stock all those upper shelves that your inferior stature can't reach without a step-ladder," Angelina retorted, bringing up the long running joke in their difference in height. The whole two inches. "And I shudder to think what use you would put a squad of hit wizards to."

"Wait, and what's this about snogging inappropriate men?" Fred prodded, his mind picking up that bit of conversation as he cycled back through what she'd said.  "Is there such a thing?  I mean, so long as you're not also having it off with Snape - and if you are, get out, because that's scary beyond all reason - snogging is snogging, yeah?

"No," Angelina firmly replied, "it is not. Not when it's with a man you haven't spoken with in years and do not particularly like but were overwhelmed by the mad urge to snog him in front of the entire Avalon crowd in the middle of a performance. I snogged Cormac McLaggen in front of a hundred or so people and now feel like I need to scrub every inch of my body. Am I going mad, Fred? I shouldn't feel this wretched over a bloody kiss."

"You're not mad, Ange, though you are being a complete girl over it.  For one, nobody except you and possibly that ponce will remember it as anything more than a beautiful woman making the show a bit more interesting for some lucky sod.  Secondly... so, you kissed him.  He's a stuffed shirt, yeah, but he's pretty; his elephantine ego will chalk up a point and you can go on blissfully ignoring his existence.  Don't stress, pet," Fred soothed, resisting the scowl that McLaggen's name wanted to cause.

 

Angelina picked up her fork once again and poked her now lukewarm curry. Giving it up as a bad job, she rose to scrape off her plate and place it in the sink,"It wasn't the kissing that upset me, Fred. It was the fact that after the kissing was over, I couldn't think of a single bloody reason <i>why</i> I wanted to kiss him."

Sagging back in to her seat, she sighed, "But you're right. There's no point if fussing over it. It's done and I never have to speak to the man again. And no more throwing myself at random blokes, well, within boundaries, of course."

Deciding that it would be best to just move on, Angelina once again turned a critical eye on Fred's plate.

"You realize I'm taking my curry with me when I go, yeah?" she mock-threatened, "Unless you can convince me otherwise."

Fred took his own plate to the sink, moving to stand behind Angelina instead of returning to his chair.  He settled his hands at her shoulders, kneading the muscles there gently.  "Who said you were going anywhere?" he countered, smiling to himself as her head drooped forward a bit.

"How's that for convincing?" he prodded after a moment, thumbs sliding up to rub the back of her neck in firm little circles.

Angelina sighed in contentment as Fred's hands worked out the knots in her neck and shoulders, "You are the most horrible man-whore, Fred Weasley, and utterly convincing."

Reaching over her shoulders, she stopped Fred's hands and stood up, turning to face him in the process.

"You have convinced me not only to share my curry but I also believe I will shag you," Angelina informed him, as if this were any big secret. "I may possibly even let you be on top this time. BUT I expect omelets in the morning and you will eat all of it, even if I have to tie you down and do it myself."

"Really, Angie, you might turn a fellow's head with flattery like that," Fred admonished wryly, arching an eyebrow at her threats.  "I suppose the tying would provide a use for the neckties I don't wear," he considered aloud, "though I imagine it would make eating more difficult."

Smiling as he reached out to curl his hand over Angelina's shoulder, fingertips playing with the tendrils of hair at the back of her neck, he shrugged slightly and soothed, "I'm not going to starve, I just don't always feel like eating when there's food in front of me."  He tugged a lock of her hair, a proper grin materializing on his face, and added, "And anyway, I like you on top... leaves my hands free."

"Good, because I was lying about that part," Angelina smirked and tugged Fred along by the belt loops of his trousers as she navigated her way to the bedroom.

Once they reached their desired destination, Angelina pushed Fred onto the bed and proceeded to straddle him, her Muggle jeans allowing her to maneuver without much difficulty. This was another familiar facet of their relationship. Ever since the Yule Ball in their sixth year, they'd come to each other whenever they needed physical contact without the complications of romantic feelings. It worked for them and didn't affect their friendship negatively so it had carried on throughout the years.

"Now, it's been awhile since I've driven a ginger man. Anything I should be mindful of?" Angelina teased and ducked her head to attach her mouth to Fred's left ear.

A hiss of breath escaped Fred as Angelina's mouth sealed over his earlobe, sucking at his skin.  "Only the usual," he supplied, one hand freeing her hair from the clip she'd used to put it up, fingers combing through the strands so they fanned out over her shoulders.  He ran his hands down over her back, tugging her shirt up until he could slip his hands beneath it, smoothing over her warm skin.

Angie was the only person he let push him around the way she did; no other girl he'd met had the stones to shove him onto his own bed and take charge, to know what to do with the power once she had it.  They'd always been that way, comfortable with each other, which was probably why she still had the ability to show up and order him to eat, to smile, and not be thrown out on her arse.

Probably a good thing, all around, since the arse in question was lovely and currently within reach.  He demonstrated his appreciation by continuing the downward path of his hands, stroking over the firm flesh and squeezing lightly.

Releasing Fred's ear, Angelina's lips slowly trailed down his neck, leaving what promised to be a uniquely shaped hickey in the morning.  She stopped when she reached the collar of his button-down, raising herself up to pop open the first button.

"What were you thinking with this shirt, you berk?" Angelina teased and popped open the second. "If I had been in more of a hurry you'd be out of a lovely bit of clothing."

Angelina lowered down once again, this time she put her lips to his chest to follow her hands' progress at unbuttoning the shirt. She was, surprisingly, in no particular hurry tonight and made progress rather slowly, making sure to pay particular attention to Fred's bellybutton, where she knew he was ticklish. Angelina had no qualms about using such information to her advantage.

Squirming under Angelina's mouth as she paid too much attention to his navel, Fred half-laughed, half-gasped, "Crazy woman!"  His fingers plucked at her shoulders, finally pulling her away and hauling her back up his body so he could actually reach her. 

"I was <i>thinking</i>," he explained as he gripped the hem of her tee, tugging it up and off over her head, "that it was clean and fine to wear to the shop."  The bright blue of her bra made him smile for some reason as he noticed it, and he traced the top edges with a fingertip, amused by the wave of gooseflesh that followed the motion.  "Besides, we aren't in any hurry," he reminded, curling one hand around the back of her neck to pull her mouth down to his.

Moaning into the kiss, Angelina unfastened the last button on the shirt and pushed it over Fred's shoulders and down his arms. Once it was off, Angelina just enjoyed the sensations of the kiss. Kissing Fred was always lovely, he could do such interesting things with his lips. Angelina would be hard-pressed to think of a better kisser than Fred, and she'd kissed her fair share of men so she would know. Fred was tops. Well, at kissing, anyway. There were a plethora of things he was not tops at, he just never realized it. Standardized tests, for one, but that was neither here nor there. It really wasn't the matter at hand.

Breaking the kiss, Angelina moved down Fred's body once again to undo his trousers and pulled them off, climbing off the bed as she did so. Quickly, she discarded her sneakers and socks to some dark corner and with a coy smile and a wink, began to sway her hips to music only she could hear. Slowly unbuttoning her jeans, Angelina turned her back to her audience, sliding her jeans down over her hips and thighs, revealing knickers that matched her bra. Deciding to show off a bit, she executed a pirouette and leaped back onto the bed, landing rather ungracefully half on-top of Fred. There may have been a knee to the side somewhere in the landing.

"Oh, bloody hell, I'm sorry!" she apologized, although her laughter made it lack sincerity.

Having leaned up on his elbows to appreciate Angelina's little show, Fred was unprepared for her dive back onto the bed.  He winced as she hit his ribs, grabbing her arms as she sprawled over him to prevent any further mishaps.  "It's a good thing you're gorgeous," he muttered, rolling them to pin her beneath him, not that he expected to stay that way for long, "or I don't think I'd put up with you, y'know."  He dipped his head to take her earlobe between his teeth, nipping lightly before flicking his tongue against her ear.

"I see I merit a lovely matched set of underclothes, though," he observed, raising himself on his arms for a moment to look down the line of Angelina's body, admiring the contrast of the bright fabric against the cocoa of her skin.  Leaning to the side, he freed one hand and trailed a fingertip from her cheek to her neck, on down the center of her body, pausing to trace her navel as he moved to follow the path with his mouth, licking a warm trail over her skin.

Arching to press herself closer to Fred's mouth, Angelina's hum of pleasure became a small laugh, "Well, I thought about going without but then I figured that'd be too easy on you."

Angelina forced Fred away by sitting up and deftly rolled them back over, reclaiming her perch. Reaching behind her, she unclasped her bra and let it fly in the, hopefully, same direction as her shoes and socks. Then she recaptured Fred's lips, pressing her body tight against his, becoming more fervent in her attentions.

Though he'd known he wouldn't have the upper hand for long, it was with the beginning of a pout that Fred found himself flat on the bed once again, only to be quickly placated by an increase in skin to skin contact and Angelina's mouth on his.  He'd contemplated pointing out that it was hardly any more difficult for him if she was going to get rid of all her own clothing, but the thought was lost in a growl of pleasure as she shifted against him.

Sweeping his hands up her sides, lightly enough to tickle just a bit, Fred cupped her breasts, skin gloriously bare against his palms, thumbs brushing over her nipples in slow flicks. 

Fred’s fingers elicited a gasp and groan from Angelina, who pulled away once again, running her hands down over his abdomen to pull off his boxers, leaving him completely naked beneath her. She felt a momentary flash of giddiness and power to be the one that Fred Weasley allowed to push him around. She’d heard from other girls how he usually operated but he’d never been like that with her. Or maybe he had tried and she had just never noticed.

"Hmmm, now I forget," Angelina murmured with a thoughtful expression, "What comes next?"

"If you've managed to forget, you obviously need to come over more often," Fred decreed in mock concern.  He hooked his fingers in the band of Angelina's knickers, looking up at her pointedly.  "I'll give you a hint, though.  You're still overdressed." 

Carefully releasing the stretchy fabric, he suggested, "Or you could hold still a while so I can actually touch you...  I happen to enjoy doing that."  As if to prove his point, he ran his hands from her hips slowly down to her knees, then back up, inching higher over her stomach in light, teasing touches. 

"Sorry," Angelina apologized abashedly, pausing as Fred requested. "I just can't seem to stay still tonight."

So, they paused and touched each other. Fred's hands wandered over her while she drew patterns on his abdomen, again filled with the feeling that they were in no rush. Eventually, Angelina got her knickers off and when they finally joined, Angelina slid onto him with a simple sigh of pleasure.

"I think I <i>do</i> need to come over more often," Angelina groaned as she slowly rocked her hips.

"Anytime, Angie," Fred managed, reiterating the agreement they'd made years ago as he carefully matched her rhythm, hands roaming her skin as they rocked together.  He'd long since lost track of the number of times they'd been together like this; quietly in his four-poster at Hogwarts, her flat, his flat, that one wild time on the head table in the Great Hall.  There was something right, crazy and calming at once, about the dark of her skin against his freckled pale, their breathing gaining speed in unison.

Curling his fingers over Angelina's hips as her movements began to make it increasingly difficult to concentrate, Fred shifted her very slightly, adjusting their angle until he felt her nails bite into his skin as he rubbed over just the right spot. 

Angelina’s breath hitched as Fred’s adjustment set her body on fire. Their pace began to pick up and she knew that they’d both be done soon. It really had been awhile.

 

A pressure began to build, and with a moan from deep inside of her, she clutched the bedsheets and orgasmed.

 

Fred's grip tightened at Angelina's hips, just short of leaving bruises, as she clenched around him, bodies losing the rhythm they'd set as they both came undone, crying his release on a gasp.  His hands found a familiar path as their breathing slowed, stroking over her skin from shoulder to hip, settling for a while at her waist as they lay recovering.

Leaning forward and resting her forehead on his chest, Angelina breathed heavily, "We must be getting old, Fred. Only one position? We might as well just get canes and hideous cardigans now. You can grow that beard back that you had in sixth year."

Rolling to the side onto the bed took her last reserves of energy but Angelina managed to it. Shivering a bit, she flung an arm out over the side of the bed to grab the edge of the comforter and threw it over her middle, leaving her legs and breasts plainly visible. Then she turned on her side and wrapped herself around Fred once again.

Snuggling into his side, Angelina's post-coital groan became a stifled yawn, "I think I may fall asleep on you now."

"If you're going to insinuate that it means I can't keep up, you can forget me letting you sleep through more than half the night," Fred teased, pinching Angelina's arse as she rolled away to get the blanket.  He smiled as she wound herself around him, reaching over to pull the covers over both of them.  "Sounds like a plan, Legs," he chuckled against her neck, thinking he might have a bit of a nap himself.

All that Fred received in reply was a soft snore and another shift in an attempt to have as much skin-to-skin contact as possible. It had been a rather long week, and Fred's was the best place to get sleep. Something about the mattress or sheets, Angelina could never really decide.

{summary: Angelina goes to Fred's for dinner and they chat. And do other things.}