Okay people, last chapter. WAIT! DON'T SCROLL DOWN! READ THIS!!!

Here's the deal. I actually wrote the last four chapters over the summer. I didn't write the end because it intimadated me. Soooo here it is much much later and I think it sounds very different from the style of the rest... which may be a bad thing. Sooo... if it is too corny or cheesy or whatever... tell me and I'll see what I can do.

Thank you for reading this story! I enjoyed all your kind reviews and was delighted to see the Angelina/George fans out there!

Chapter 5

The End of the World as we know it

Another month passed before he saw her; this time at Lee's birthday party. It was being held at his radio head, where he still produced his own form of entertainment for the masses. Merlin's Beard, a new band that had just released their first record, was playing loudly and obnoxiously. George found himself grinning as Lee sang along, dancing on the cardboard that had been set up in the middle of the dance floor.

That was when he saw her. Angelina… beautiful Angelina, her skin darkened by the summer sun, looking more beautiful then ever as she stood to the side, sipping her drink and looking amused at Lee's horrible antics. George felt his heart skip a beat.

He tried to be cool and stealthy like she was whenever she entered a room and failed, somehow tripping on the corner leg of the table and having to flail his arms out like an octopus to keep from falling- which of course he did anyway- right at her feet. Without even looking up to see her expression, he cleared his throat, feeling his face burn.

"Hello Angelina!" he said cheerfully and miserably. "As you can see… I have finally fallen for you."

Katie and Alicia laughed a bit, obviously thinking it to be some sort of joke. However Angelina looked at him very strangely. She set her drink on the counter and reached out a hand to help him up.

George really didn't need the help. But he took her hand anyway, holding on to it a bit more than necessary. He suddenly realized that he had no idea what to say at all… somehow he had never actually needed to say anything before, Angelina had always sort of beat him to the chase, knowing what he was thinking even when he didn't know what he was thinking (an extremely weird and at times annoying trait about her.) He stared at her wordlessly. Hearing the giggles of the others didn't help either, he could feel his face turning as red as his hair. He immediately began trying to communicate with her telepathically.

'Please ask me to go for a walk or something… please please please…'

Angelina sighed. She raised an eyebrow at him. "George… are you going to ask me to dance or what?"

George blinked.

It hadn't exactly been what he'd planned… but…

"Sure." He cleared his throat.

A smile quirked the corner of her lips, "…well?"

"Oh. OH!" George realized. He grabbed her hand and led her to the dance mat.

Lee, who had been doing some sort of strange ape like movement, grinned when he saw them. He moved over, jostling a few people and continued his aberrant dance.

George knew from past experience that his dancing wasn't so great either. Sure he had learned how to dance a little for the Yule ball, but that was a few years ago and besides that he and Fred could pull anything off and people would think it was funny.

… Come to think of it…what was it that Fred had said after he'd tripped over his own shoelace and managed to push not only Angelina, but also two innocent bystanders on the floor?

Oh… that's right. He had looked at them for a moment, sheepishly. Then he had adopted a brave face, placed his foot on Angelina's hip, raised his fist in the air and declared, "I claim this land… for Brittan!"

And George had quickly caught on and placed his foot on top of Fred's.

"No, Scotland!"

"England!"

Finally it was Katie who helped poor Angelina to her feet but apart from a slight annoyance she had seemed more amused than anything.

Those were the days.

"Uh… George I'm no expert in these things but I think generally dancing requires some sort of movement."

George realized that in his daze he had suddenly stopped moving and had stood immobile. He shook his head.

"Sorry," he muttered. He reached out to take her hand and then changed his mind. "Look, do you want to go for a walk? I'm not in the sorts for this today."

Angelina didn't answer but took his hand and led him off the dance floor. Once she was outside the crowd, and the knowing looks of their friends she let go and turned to face him. She must have been waiting for some sort of directions so he inclined his head towards the woods and they began there in a slow pace.

He'd expected to feel nervous again. He'd expected to be concerned about what he would say when the time came and how to say and it and praying that he didn't make a bloody fool of himself… again…

And yet he rather enjoyed the silent companionship. It was quite comfortable really.

But Angelina really wasn't the silent type of person.

"How's the shop coming?" she asked suddenly.

George looked at her. There was something about her eyes, something that looked almost wary. He immediately felt guilty. Here he was concerned about his own situation while Angelina must be feeling awkward as hell…

"Good," he bit his tongue, annoyed with his answer. "No… I mean… it's great you know? Ron's pretty good at business… so long as you don't tell him. Head swells right up…. Not as bad as Percy though-" Oh great he was rambling.

Angelina looked thoughtful. He twisted a finger around one of her curls. "Mmmhn. I saw the advertising for your new line of products."

George looked at her closely.

"I thought they were brilliant."

He flushed to the tips of his ears. Angelina laughed quietly. She turned away and looked over the fields and into the distance.

"Well I have to say… you did it," she said quietly and with obvious pride in her voice. "I was worried about you. 'Thought you might get worse… go back to your pumpkin-juice-dirty-socks-grouchy old ways… but you're different than before." She made a small circular gesture with her hands, trying to describe it. "You're more… complete."

George knew he should feel flattered but he felt inclined to be truthful. "I don't think that's really right," he told her as they continued walking. "I mean… I know that I'm not miserable any more. But I'm still not… I still don't feel…" he was getting frustrated. "…I just… I just don't think I'll ever be…"

Angelina stopped. George stumbled a bit, surprised.

"Is that what you're so upset about?" she looked at him in amazement. "George… is that what you think everyone wants? You to be the same as before? How could we possibly want that when none of us will ever be the same either?" she stepped up to him, looking at him in obvious fondness. "That's what it is to loose someone you truly love. Even with time, you will never ever get over it. You just get… used to it."

George swallowed. He had never really thought of it that way. For some reason he always assumed that after a certain point, you were not permitted to miss someone anymore. At some point, you're not supposed to experience any pain anymore… and if you do, something must be wrong.

But… if what she said was true… was it okay to be upset? He could get used to fact Fred was dead- he was used to the fact that his brother was dead. For a long time, he hadn't been. In fact, months after the event he would sit in his apartment alone and still expected that Fred would come in the door, raving about some new product or telling him about a joke he'd just heard from Tom the barman. Even at Fred's funeral he'd looked at the casket and was positive that Fred was going to sit up and shock them all. It would be a great prank… people would talk about it for months…

It didn't happen.

George could never get over what could have been. He would never get over thinking… wondering what his life would have been like if Fred hadn't died.

And that was… okay?

Feeling suddenly overwhelmed he reached out one arm and pulled her into a slightly awkward hug. She was a bit startled, but she regained her balance and carefully placed her slim arms around his back. For a moment he trembled and heaved, trying to gain control. When he was sure he wouldn't cry, he leaned down, his lips touching her ear.

"Thanks," he whispered.

"Anytime," she answered.

They stayed like that, holding each other.

George cleared his throat. "Angelina?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"You just did," she said, a definite hint of amusement in her voice. "But go on."

His palms immediately began to sweat. He cleared his throat again.

She laughed. George flushed.

"You already know what I'm going to ask, don't you?"

She leaned back and looked up in his face. Her dark eyes twinkled.

"Ask me anyway," she commanded.

He bit his lip, turning his face to try to hide his embarrassment and also to keep from smiling.

"It's been… you know, a month."

He could sense her impatience. He had to restrain himself from going even slower just to annoy her.

"Are you still in love with me?"

Silence. He dared to look at her and saw her mouth hanging open. Before he could even inquire she beat her head against his chest, as if he were a wall in which to take out frustration.

"Uh… Angelina…"

"George!" she yelled, looked peeved as she pushed away from him. "Are you some sort of idiot?"

He was completely bewildered. "I-"

"Do you honestly think I'm the type of girl who would just forget about the person she is in love with?"

George began to feel ill-tempered. "Well how was I supposed to know?" he snapped. "I mean, after all it only took you a month to fall in love, seems logical it would take a month to fall out-"

"Git!" she exclaimed, balling her hands into fists. "You act as if I just met you or something! I've known you for seven years and I've always liked you!" She snorted. Loving you wasn't really that difficult!"

George felt his anger at her irrational behavior fade away.

He gazed at her fists and then at the fire in her eyes. She was. She honestly believed that. She, Angelina Johnson, who had entered his life so unexpectedly found it easy to fall in love with him! Easy?!

"I…" George swallowed. "Look don't hit me again alright? It's not that I'm saying you're disloyal. I know you're loyal. It's just…" he fumbled around, trying to find the real explanation. "I really… I just really wasn't that loveable when you came, you know?"

The furious look faded away. Her hands fell to her side. She smiled. Laughed.

"You can say that again! And half the time you weren't even trying to be," she tipped her head. "But maybe that's the reason I was so determined to help you. You know, we're both to stubborn for our own good.... and," she looked pensive. "You really didn't want to be that way. You just didn't know how else to act. If you couldn't fool people by being happy… what could you do?"

This conversation was going in circles, it was heading back to the way things had been. He refused to go there again. He searched for the words…

"I love you too," George exclaimed finally in a completely sporadic and random blurt.

…Okay, whatever he had planned to say…that had not exactly been it…

She looked amazed though. Whether it was the sudden outburst or the proclamation itself he didn't know. He plowed on, "I mean, I know we're both horribly stubborn and I can't be funny all the time… I do leave my socks everywhere and I don't like your shepherd pie as much as my mums. I know we'll fight, and you'll probably win and I'll sulk and I'm sorry but I really-"

Out of the goodness of her heart, Angelina cut him off by stepping forward and kissing him. Whatever other babbles he had wanted to tell her were quickly forgotten. Even after the kiss had ended they stood quietly, staring at each other. George was struck at how strange it was that her head fit so perfectly in the crook of his shoulder…

"I-" he fumbled. "Ange… I…" he swallowed. "This won't be easy."

There was a short snort which she tried to muffle into his shirt.

"That's probably true," she agreed wryly, but with humor. "But that your decision. It's not my fault I don't plan on picking up your socks my entire life."

George laughed and relief bubbled up through his chest. How was it that she always knew the right thing to say?

What would happen in the future… it really didn't matter. It was the here and now George was concerned about.

She would become part of his life again. She would cook and he would clean up. She would complain about his socks and he would grumble back. Still, he hoped (and believed) that at some point, they would reach an agreement.

For now, George was content. He'd discovered he wasn't really a shoe at all… actually he was more like a glove.

He'd certainly found his match.

THE END