"Weasley!"

"Why, if it isn't the dear, dulcet tones of my favourite Quidditch Captain!" Fred said delightedly. "Was there ever a sound more-"

"Alright, alright, enough," replied Angelina. "I need you down on the pitch in ten minutes."

"I love a woman who knows what she wants!" said Fred. "And Angelina does like to take charge, if you know what I mean," he added with a wink at two fourth years who were sat by the fire playing Exploding Snap. The boys sniggered, and Angelina glared.

"Oh shut up," she snapped, and the two of them immediately stopped making any noise, looking quite terrified. "Er," she added, slightly chastened, "I meant Fred, not you. Sorry. Anyway - you on the pitch in ten minutes. And bring George, too."

"No can do, I'm afraid," replied Fred. "He's in detention." Angelina gaped. "What? What's so shocking about that?" he asked. "It's us. We practically live in detention. It's our second home. Actually, I think we spend more time there than in the dorm, so maybe detention's our first home and-"

"Yeah, together you do," she pointed out. "But since when have you two not been up to something together? Have you even had separate detentions before now?"

Fred's smile vanished. "It's that cow Umbridge," he said. "She's giving us separate detentions over the weekend - she thinks we spend too much time together plotting her demise or something. Anyway, George's is today, and mine's tomorrow."

"Bloody cow," agreed Angelina. "She's just awful. But anyway, I guess we'll have to make do with just you, then."

"You really do know just what to say to boost a guy's self-esteem, don't you Angie?" he said, and she rolled her eyes.

"Like your ego needs any more boosting," she said, making her way over to the portrait hole. He followed her.

"Not my ego, my self-esteem! I need a fully esteemed self before I can-ow!" She had let the Fat Lady's painting swing backwards into his face.

"Sorry not sorry," chanted Angelina, as he caught up with her further down the corridor. Fred continued his chattering all the way down to the Entrance Hall, and by the time they arrived there, Angelina was grinding her teeth and trying very hard not to strangle him. "Wait here," she said, once they'd reached the doorway to the Great Hall. She rather suspected that Fred wouldn't follow this order, but Mrs. Norris appeared (alone, for once, and not accompanied by Filch) and he spied a prime opportunity to shut her in a suit of armour, which allowed her to slip into the Great Hall unaccompanied.

Once inside, she quickly located the person she was looking for. "Ron," she called, striding over to him, where he sat demolishing a full English breakfast, "hurry up and finish that. I need you on the pitch in ten minutes. Not you, Harry!" she added, as the black haired boy sat next to him had risen slightly from his seat. "Just Ron. I want to put him through his paces a bit to find out what his strengths and weaknesses are as a Keeper, so I can draw up a personalised training programme for him. It should only take a few hours."

Harry tried not to laugh as this was met by a stunned silence from Ron. "Buh," he said, once he'd found his voice again, "I 'ot mm an'-"

"Oh for goodness' sake, Ron! Don't talk with your mouth full!" snapped Hermione Granger from somewhere behind a large pile of books. It was Angelina's turn to suppress a smile - those two were going to end up married or she'd eat her hat.

"But I've got plans for today," Ron protested feebly.

"No you don't - it's Saturday morning. What plans could you possibly have? And don't say homework - O.W.L year or no, you only do that when Hermione forces you to," she said.

"You can't argue with that," Harry said, grinning.

Ron shovelled the remains of his breakfast into his mouth at lightspeed, before standing up and asking around a mouthful of bacon, "So where do you want me?"

"Out on the pitch, come on," Angelina replied. Hermione and Harry waved them off, and they left the Great Hall together. "What I wanted to focus on was your dodging skills," she explained. "I know you can save stuff fine, which is great. But when the opposing Chaser is trying to score, their Beaters will often try to fire Bludgers at the Keeper to make their job easier. So we're going to practise that - I'm going to try and score, whilst your brother fires Bludgers at you, so you can practise ducking and saving at the same time. I figured we don't really need the whole team for this, so it's just me, you and-"

"One Weasley isn't enough for you, my darling? You wound me!" Fred clutched his chest dramatically as they rounded a corner and found him standing waiting for them.

"Me, you, and this imbecile," finished Angelina. Ron sniggered. "Come on, let's get down to the pitch."

"Yeah, we'd better hurry before Filch turns up," Fred agreed, leading the way.

"What've you done now?" asked Ron.

"Shut Mrs. Norris inside a suit of armour," his brother explained.

"Nice one," said Ron.

They quickly made their way down to the Quidditch Pitch, collected the equipment they needed and began training. Ron was doing a fairly decent job, Angelina thought - despite Fred raining the Bludger down on him, he was still managing to save a reasonable amount of her shots at goal. Her main worry was his ability to do the same under pressure - while he was a good Keeper in practise, when put under pressure, or when he felt too many people were watching him, he had a tendency to go to pieces, something which was a little worrying with their match against Slytherin coming up so soon. She wondered if she should bring that up with him, or if that would make things worse...

"Nice one!" she called, as he saved another attempt. She waved her hand, indicating that he should come a bit closer before continuing. "You're doing pretty well today Ron, which is great! There is a slight issue that you need to watch out for - Fred's coming at you from your left, and in trying to avoid him, you're leaving your left hole uncovered. That's where I've got most of my shots in, so you need to watch that."

"Okay," nodded Ron. "I'll make sure I-"

"Yep, you definitely don't want to leave any of your holes uncovered with Angie around," Fred said, tipping him a huge wink. Angelina ground her teeth as Ron stifled a laugh.

"Do not," she growled, turning to face the older Weasley, who was giving her a butter-wouldn't-melt look, "call me Angie. Let's get back to it."

The three of them went back to the practise, and after another ten minutes or so, Angelina called Ron back again. "You're doing much better now at covering all the goals, so that's really good," she said, and he looked pleased. "Your main problem now is getting distracted - when I yell stuff at you, it flusters you. In a match, there's going to be a lot of yelling, so that's again something you need to get used to. So this time, Fred and I are going to yell things and try to distract you, and you're gonna have to do your best to tune us out. Okay?" Ron nodded. "You get that, Fred?" she called. He nodded as well.

"We're going to be screaming at the top of our voices," he said. "It'll just be practise for what I make you do later though, isn't it?" He gave another huge wink.

"Jesus Christ," muttered Angelina crossly.

"I was talking about when I put that huge fake spider in your bed to scare you!" he said, mock-offended. "What were you thinking, you dirty girl?" He looked scandalized, before glancing at Ron who had flinched slightly at the mention of the spider. "Oh dear, is ickle Ronniekins scared of the-" His brother glared and opened his mouth to retaliate.

"For Merlin's sake, can we all try to act our age and not our shoe size, please?" Angelina said despairingly.

"I don't know, I actually have quite a large shoe size and-"

"Fred Weasley, get back over where you should be before I shove that bloody broomstick where the sun doesn't shine!" she snarled.

Honestly, every time he saw her, he just seemed to get even more immature. Sometimes, even Lee and George (his twin, for Merlin's sake!) seemed embarrassed by his levels of immaturity. Alicia, of course, thought that Fred was silly and childish around her because he fancied her.

"Honestly, it's classic 'I like you but don't want to tell you that I do' behaviour. He annoys you because he knows that's how he gets your attention," she'd said the other day, as she lay on her bed painting her nails.

Angelina, who had been perusing Which Broomstick? had raised an eyebrow at this. "Oh please, no it isn't," she'd replied. Alicia read romance novels and the 'Real Life Love' column in Witch Weekly religiously, and seemed to think that life was as much a fairytale as this fiction claimed.

"It totally is though," she'd insisted. "It's like when you're six and boys pull your hair because they fancy you. Just be thankful he's grown mature enough to stop doing that..."

"He doesn't like me," Angelina had said. "No, really," she'd added, at her friend's disbelieving look. "He asked me to the Ball, we went and had a good time, it was all very nice, but then afterwards he said that he liked me as a friend but didn't want to take things any further than that. Which, don't get me wrong, was fair enough - sometimes you just don't click, and that's fine. But the fact that he's already come out and said 'I don't like you in that way'...well, isn't that proof enough that he doesn't fancy me?"

"Eh, maybe," Alicia had replied, turning back to her nails. "But it doesn't mean you don't like him!"

Which was totally ridiculous. Maybe some girls would be flattered by the attention, but she was just annoyed - particularly when he wasn't taking Quidditch seriously. When she left school, which was terrifyingly soon, Angelina wanted to be able to break into the Professional Quidditch Leagues. She did okay in classes - she wasn't failing her subjects, but there was a reason she was in Gryffindor and not Ravenclaw - but not well enough to break into a top job in the Ministry, so the only thing that stood between her and years of dull paper pushing was Quidditch. If she played well and they won the Cup, she was likely to impress the Scouts and make it onto a team. If her team slacked off at practise because she couldn't control them, they wouldn't win, and she'd be much less likely to make it as a Chaser. Fred's attitude did more than get on her nerves - it threatened her future.

Plus, she thought to herself as she lined up another shot, who tells someone they don't want to be more than friends, then changes their mind? It didn't really say much about their commitment levels... "Focus, woman," she muttered under her breath, before throwing the Quaffle at the goal hoops. Her distraction techniques worked: she got the ball around Ron's fumbling grasp and scored, a somewhat pyrrhic victory.

Forty minutes later, she had had enough. Ron's playing was okay - he was better than he normally was in practise, without the pressure of so many people watching him, though there was still room for improvement, but the youngest Weasley wasn't the problem. Every time she paused the practise to advise or instruct him, Fred chimed in with some immature and innuendo-laden comment which left her irritated and her concentration broken. Eventually, she gave up, indicating that both Weasley brothers should head towards the ground.

"Good work today Ron," Angelina said as they landed. "You've still got plenty of room for improvement, but you tried hard and that showed. If you want to get back to the castle now, feel free - Fred and I will tidy up." The fifth year said a quick goodbye to both of them, and Angelina watched him head back to the castle, broomstick slung over one shoulder.

"Well, I think that went reasonably well," began Fred cheerfully. "He certainly wasn't scared witless by your charms, and I must say, I've seen far greater men than my ickle brother cower in the face of your-"

"Fred Weasley," she said, whirling round to face him. She'd managed to keep the tone of her voice reasonably calm, but did nothing to hide the look of thunder on her face. "You and I need to have words, I think, don't you?" Even Fred was unsure as to whether he could risk a response to that clearly rhetorical question. "You see, the thing is, you and George are probably the best Beaters a House team here at Hogwarts has, because you understand each other so well. Even Jake and Chris Simmonds in Hufflepuff don't do as well as you and George, but that's probably because they're just brothers, not twins. The two of you have that weird twin connection which means you work together well enough to help us win matches, and that's great. I love that. But I am more than willing to drop you from the team entirely unless you sort out your attitude."

"Oh, c'mon Ange..." he protested nervously.

"No, don't you 'Ange' me," she said, hitting her stride now. "If I have to stick Hermione Granger on a broom to play your position with George - hell, if I have to play the littlest first year who doesn't know one end of a broom from the other - I will do that, because right now your attitude is driving me crazy. I like a joke as much as the next person, don't get me wrong, but I'm not going to sit here and have you acting like you were today. I was trying to do some proper training with Ron, to make him a better player and give us a better shot at the Cup, and you couldn't take it seriously for a moment, could you?"

Fred opened, and then closed his mouth as she broke off, breathing heavily. "The thing is, Fred, Quidditch is my life. I love it. I want to play professionally, then maybe coach when I get too old to play myself. And you know what? I am capable of doing that. I'm not good at most things, but I'm good at Quidditch because I work damn hard at it. And I'm not having your devil-may-care attitude spoiling my chance at being Scouted. I thought we were friends. I believe you and your family and Harry and everyone when they say that Voldemort is back, and I'd be proud to stand shoulder to shoulder with you all and fight him if it came down to it, becuase that's what friends do. They stand by each other. And that's why I'm so disappointed that you can't take this seriously, that you can't help me like a friend would. I'm not asking you to do what Alicia and Katie do, come out every night for more training. I'm just asking you to not be a dick at practise, if that's not too much to ask."

She turned away, marching off towards the castle at top speed. She wasn't normally an angry person, but there was something about Fred that set off all her emotions lately.

She'd barely gone three feet before he reached out, grabbing her shoulder and pulling her back. He looked at her with an odd expression on in his face, and she stared back definitely. "Angie, I'm sorry for messing you about at practise," he said, his voice sincere. "I really am. And I won't do it again. I didn't realise how much Quidditch and all this meant to you. For what it's worth, I think you're a better player than Oliver, and he went pro no trouble, so you should be fine." He broke off scratching his ear awkwardly. "But the thing is," he added, voice growing softer. "You have to know why I did it."

"Because you're naturally a jerk?" she guessed, quirking an eyebrow.

"No!" he protested vehemently. "Because...because when you're mad at me, I have your attention. And I want your attention because I like you. I like you, Angelina Johnson. I want to be with you."

Alicia appeared in Angelina's head upon hearing that, once again painting her nails and declaring 'I told you so!' with a broad grin on her face. She frowned and sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Well, I guess that settles how you feel about me," she heard Fred say dryly.

"Wait," she said, taking a deep, calming breath before looking up at him. "I haven't said anything about how I...how you..." she trailed off, and Fred looked at her questioningly. "Look," she said briskly. "You asked me to the Ball last Christmas. It was good, we had a really nice time together, and I thought it could go somewhere. Then you turn around and say you don't want to be with me, that you want to stay just friends. And it's not like I'm still cut up about that, or anything, but I don't want to be messed around. Don't tell me you like me, then you don't, then you do... I can't be messed around like that this year. I have to concentrate on N.E. and Quidditch and...yeah," she finished lamely.

Fred winced slightly. "I know, and I'm sorry," he said, sincerely for once. "I did mess you about before. But I do like you, it's just...I thought I could pretend to myself that I didn't, after the Ball. And then by the time I realised that I do like you and want to be with you, there was all the stuff with Cedric, and now Voldemort, and George and I are trying to start a business...it just never seemed like the right time to say something, you know?"

Angelina nodded. Yes, poor timing she did know.

"Anyway," he continued, "I watched Ken Towler being all nice and lovey-dovey with you since we've been back, and I was jealous. And also a little bit ashamed for the male species - all that buying you flowers and carrying your books to Charms? Who does that? Only nancy boys... And then he finally got up the courage to ask you out and you said no, and I overheard you and Lish talking in Defence the other week about how you'd never go out with him because he was too smarmy and stuff, so I decided to be the opposite of that. I thought it would get your attention and make you want to be with me - and let's face it, I'm much more likely to give you a trick flower that shoots water at you than a bunch of red roses."

"Well, you certainly got my attention," she said. "I just wanted to kill you, rather than kiss you." Fred gave a wry chuckle. "Anyway," Angelina continued. "I hate to say this after everything you told me, because I know it takes a lot to come out and tell someone you like them. But I stand by what I said before - it's our seventh year, we both have loads of work, I need to be top of my game and you just said about your business...it wouldn't work. Nothing personal, it's just...I don't have time for a relationship. And I'm sorry, Fred, I really am, because you're my friend and I don't want to hurt you. But...it is as it is."

With that, she slung her broomstick over her right shoulder, and grabbed the Quaffle in her other hand, heading over to the changing rooms. She felt oddly deflated, anticlimactic. She needed to concentrate on Quidditch. Boyfriends, relationships - they'd distract her. Fred was a good enough guy that he'd understand that, and, given a couple of days and some bro-time with George and Lee, he'd bounce back. Everything could continue as normal, which was what she wanted.

Wasn't it?

Before she could begin to answer her inner voice, Fred called her name again, and she turned around. He hadn't moved from his spot, and they were now about twenty feet apart, but she could still see the calculating look on his face. It surprised her.

"You're hiding," he called, as though he'd just worked something out. She took a step closer, certain that she'd misheard him. "You're hiding behind Quidditch and work and Merlin only knows what else. You're not worried a relationship would distract you from performing well in front of the Scouts, or whatever - you're worried you might end up with a broken heart at the end of it."

She opened her mouth to protest this fact as pure nonsense, but closed it again. Fred was, though she hated to admit it, correct. Without even realising she was doing it, she'd put up all these barriers since the Ball - since he'd rejected her. For all she pretended to Alicia and Katie that she was fine with it, that it was for the best, she'd liked Fred, and him turning her down after their date - which she'd thought had gone really well - hurt.

And she didn't want to be hurt like that again.

So she'd put up her barriers - gone was cool, carefree Angelina, who considered whether or not to accept a boy's proposal of a date in full view of the whole common room; who danced so exuberantly with said boy that all other couples gave them a wide berth for fear of injury. Instead, a new Angelina arrived, one who was hard and focussed and concentrated on her career, not boys. Boys were a distraction, and they could hurt her chances of getting where she wanted to go, so it was best to ignore them.

She hadn't even realised she'd done this until Fred had called her out on it. Was she really that easy to read?

"I just...I don't want to get hurt again," she said softly, walking towards him as he moved towards her.

Fred nodded. "I understand that," he said. "And I guess I should accept the blame. I did mess you around before, and I am sorry, so sorry."

"Apology accepted," she said easily. "I can forgive you. But I don't know if I can trust you, you know? You're right - I don't want to get my heart broken. It's why I stick with Quidditch, you know - sure, a Bludger can break your arm, but that's easily fixed, right? Not so much a heart." She gave a rather awkward laugh.

"Well, I'll try to keep you from getting your arm broken next week," he said. "But I can promise I won't break your heart. Honestly. And...I know that you can only take my word for that, but I do mean it. We can take things slow. We don't have to do anything if you don't want to - Merlin knows, I deserve that - but if you do want to, you know, give it a shot...we can go slowly."

They were standing in front of each other now, almost exactly the same height. Angelina looked into his eyes as she swallowed nervously and asked, "How slow is slow?"

"As slow as you'd like," Fred murmured in response.

Slowly, carefully, they both leaned in towards each other. Their lips met awkwardly at first, and she wasn't totally sure if she should be doing this. But after a moment, she leaned into him a little more, increasing the pressure of his lips on hers and allowed herself to fully sink into his embrace.

After a time - neither could tell you how long - they broke apart, grinning awkwardly at each other. Fred tried to smooth down his hair, where she'd run her fingers through it, and Angelina adjusted her rather rumpled blouse. "That was...nice, for now," she said, her happy, sparkling eyes belying the casual tone of her voice.

"Good," said Fred. "I mean, I thought so too..."

"I...maybe...we could do it again some time?" Angelina said, twisting her fingers nervously.

Suddenly, Fred lurched across and grabbed her arm. "Quick, in the changing rooms!"

She jerked her hand out of his grip. "What the hell do you think you're playing at, Fred Weasley?" she asked angrily. "You say you want to take things slow, then the minute I say I might want to do something you just...Merlin, give you and inch and you'll take a mile, and I don't want-"

"No no," he said, cutting across her. "I don't want to do that! Or I do, but what I mean is, I'm not dragging you in there to have my wicked way with you. It's Mrs. Norris."

"What?!"

He pointed. "Look, Mrs. Norris!" he said, and Angelina turned. Sure enough, there was that damned cat, stalking across the pitch towards them. "She's after me - I did shut her in the suit of armour earlier..."

"And you can bet Filch won't be far behind," Angelina added.

"So come on," grinned Fred, extending his hand and wiggling his fingers enticingly. "Let's go and hide in the changing rooms. You in?"

She hesitated for barely a second before looping her fingers around his. "I'm in," she said, and together, they ran.

A/N: This was written for round 1.3 of the women's football in the 2012 Hogwarts Games hosted by Fire the Canon. I've never written Fred or Angelina before, but this was a hell of a lot of fun to write! Please let me know what you think of it! Obviously, this is set in their seventh year/Ron's fifth, but before the twins and Harry are banned from Quidditch by Umbridge, so it does fit into the canon timeline, if you choose to read it that way :-)

Disclaimer: Harry Potter & associated characters are sole property of JK Rowling; this was written for entertainment purposes only. No Mrs. Norrises were harmed during the making of this fic.