DOROTHEA {fred weasley}

seventy three

January arrived, biting and sharp, much like the ache that had pretty much permanently settled in Fred Weasley's chest. 

Work at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was a welcome distraction, filling his days with the vibrant chaos of exploding snap and Extendable Ears. He enjoyed seeing the younger Hogwarts students, ridiculously full of joy and hope. He remembered being like that and tried his hardest not to envy their lightness.

The nights were the worst, they were quiet and long, a different matter completely. He and George always returned to their flat exhausted, and George had started seeing a witch who worked in Gringotts, a pathetic attempt to remove his affections from Hermione Granger.

 Fred's mind, unbidden, often drifted to a familiar face, a flash of blonde hair, a sharp wit he'd once found infuriatingly charming.

The first swell of hope he felt came at the end of December.

He was wrestling with a particularly stubborn batch of U-No-Poo one blustery afternoon when the bell above the shop door jingled. He looked up, expecting George or perhaps a customer, and instead found himself face-to-face with Angelina Johnson. His ex-girlfriend from Hogwarts, a formidable Chaser with a laugh that could carry across the Quidditch pitch.

"Fred Weasley, is that you or a particularly vibrant gundelnut?" she teased, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she approached him with a small smirk.

A genuine smile, one that hadn't quite reached his eyes in weeks, spread across his face. "Only if gundelnuts have impeccable taste in magical jokes, Angelina."

They fell into easy conversation, surprisingly so. He'd forgotten how effortless it was to talk to her, how comfortable her presence felt. He had grown up with her, he supposed, that was easy to forget.

There were no hidden currents, no unspoken tensions, just the familiar rhythm of two people who had once shared a significant chunk of their lives. She spoke of her work as a Curse-Breaker, the thrill of dangerous expeditions, the mundane reality of paperwork. He regaled her with tales of new inventions and the ongoing battle against the Ministry's attempts to regulate 'dangerous' magical products.

"You know," Angelina said, leaning against a display of Puking Pastilles, "I've missed this. Just... talking. We really lost our rhythm in final year, didn't we?"

He nodded, a sudden warmth spreading through him. Before Dorothea, Angelina had been everything he'd wanted. Confident, funny, fiercely loyal. She was a known quantity, a safe harbor after the tumultuous waters of... well, everything else. He'd not been good to her in their last year, he knew that. He remembered how she would cling to him at every party but he'd find himself not being able to help but scan the rooms for any sight of a flash of blonde hair.

Talking to her now, though, Fred found himself wanting to see her again, to feel that sense of normalcy.

"We should catch up," he said, a genuine smile still on his face. "When are you free?"

"There's this Muggle art gallery I've been wanting to check out," Angelina mused, pulling a flyer from her bag. "They've got a new exhibit starting January 1st."

Fred hesitated for a moment. January 1st. New Year's Day. He had no plans, other than avoiding his mother's well-meaning attempts to 'cheer him up.'

"Sounds... different," he said, a half-smile playing on his lips. "Why not? Consider it a New Year's adventure."

Angelina grinned. "It's a date, then. I'll meet you here, say 9"

"A date," he confirmed, feeling a lightness he hadn't in ages. It was easy, comfortable, and exactly what Fred told himself he needed. A way to anchor himself, to remind himself of who he was before his world had been tilted on its axis.