Waldosia/// George Weasley

Chapter 8

Angelina Johnson was many things, Clover found out as days came and went. She was not George's girlfriend, but rather his late-night lover, as well as both his and Lee's best friend. It was no wonder, however, seeing how the girl was equally as witty and funny as she was beautiful. With her smooth features and tall stature, she was the epitome of a goddess; Clover was sure she never saw the dark-haired beauty without her chin held high. That was until an hour into work a few weeks after she had started at the shop.

Clover was ringing up a customer, seeing as she was the only employee in the main room at the time. Lee was only coming in later on and George was no where to be found. Just as the girl in front of her was handing over the money for a box of dungbombs, a slammed door caught her attention.

She looked over while finishing up with the customer and saw that a straight-faced George Weasley had rushed into the main shop area followed by a saddened looking Angelina.  No one else was in the shop and Clover found herself intriguingly curious, so she leaned on the counter and silently watched the scene play out.

"Georgie, it's only three weeks," the dark-haired girl caught up to George and placed a hesitant hand on his shoulder.

"Exactly," he snapped, his voice softening as he turned around and saw the girl's apologetic demeanor, "You're never gone this long, Ang."

She sighed and hung her head low; it was a motion that looked odd on a girl who was always so confident. Guilt swam in her eyes.

"This is my job, George," Angelina spoke harshly, her tone so opposite to the soft expression on her face, "You know that. I'm a professional quidditch player, if I don't go to training then I'm off the team."

George ran his hand through his hair in frustration, "Well does the training have to be in a bloody different country?!"

"That's not my choice and you know it," she narrowed her eyes at him and stared knowingly, glaring at him to indicate that there was no room for anymore arguing, "I don't see you picking up your things and coming with me. Don't play the victim here, George. It fucking goes both ways."

Angelina's glare was hard and stern and knowing, but most of all desperate. The words she had just shouted throughout the shop became so clear and defined as Clover figured out what was happening. Angelina was leaving for a few weeks, and George didn't want her to. Like a smoker addicted to cigarettes, he needed her. She was his drug to keep him from distracted from feeling, Clover knew that. But as she watched Angelina's face fill with both frustration and desperation, she knew George was her drug just as much as she was his. George needed Angelina, and Angelina needed George. It goes both ways...

Lost in thought and her eyes trained on the silent eye-lock the two in front of her were in, she didn't register the fact that someone had walked up to the counter.

"Looks like there's trouble in paradise," the familiar voice snapped her out of her own head.

"Oi, shut it you wanker," she nudged her best friend from across the counter, "I want to hear."

"Nosey git," Babs rolled his eyes while leaning on the countertop and focusing in on the scene Clover was watching.

The redhead and the dark-haired girl were standing there with their eyes trained solely on each other, not noticing the audience they now had. Angelina dropped her hard stare and reached up to place a kiss on George's cheek.

"I didn't want to leave like this, but now I have to go," she said, her hand reaching over to squeeze his, "Owl me if you need anything."

He grabbed her hand back and pulled her into his chest, his voice pleading, "I need you. Ang...I-I...please."