WHO: Angelina Johnson & Fred Weasley WHAT: Hanging out in a hospital. WHEN: Backdated to May 25 WHERE: St Mungo's
Since regaining consciousness, Fred had only been awake in small spurts, a combination of potions keeping his eyes heavy as his body used the rest to heal. It was a cycle of his eyes creaking open, feeling comforted by the presence of whoever’s turn it was next to his bed and drifting back to sleep before he could even say anything.
But this time when his eyes opened he noticed a difference. The bed next to him was empty.
“Where’s Montague?” his unused voice croaked, turning over to face his current visitor, a sappy smile spreading on his face when he saw who it was. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Angelina said back, her own sappy smile — which had slipped a little at Fred’s question, her eyes briefly darting over to what had been Graham’s bed — mirrored back at him. She leaned forward in her chair and carefully draped her fingers over his. “How much longer do you think you’re going to milk this whole invalid thing?”
“I think I can get at least three months out of it,” Fred joked in response, though he was itching to be able to get out of bed and back to work now that they could return to some sort of normalcy. “I bet I could convince Percy to bring me things and do stuff for me for six.”
Breathing out a laugh, she nodded. “I bet you could.” She didn’t look over at Graham’s bed, even though she wanted to again. “I kind of insist you get better as soon as possible, though.” She sounded a lot more serious than she meant to and she flashed him a weak smile.
The serious tone of her voice didn’t go unnoticed by Fred, who shifted over in his bed, groaning as his healing body moved more than it was meant to but created a space for her to climb in next to him. “How about until I tell mum about us so she can’t hug me in excitement?”
Watching him move, Angelina had thought about reaching out and stopping him, but when there was room for her, she carefully climbed in next to him, saying, “Sounds fair to me. Probably your healers, too.” Once she was settled, though, she let out a breath that felt like it’d been wedged in her lungs since early Sunday morning.
“I’m really glad you’re awake,” she said and not for the first time.
He was going to make light of the situation, say something about how he was impossible to get rid of, but he’d seen everyone’s relief at seeing him again, heard the healers muttering as he drifted in and out of sleep, noticed Montague’s empty bed that meant one of two things. “Me too,” he said instead, quieter than usual. “I don’t want you to lose any more people.”
She shrugged, her shoulder bumping into his. “I don’t know. I thought —” Her voice got too thick and she stopped, abruptly. It wasn’t like they didn’t both know what she’d thought. With a gesture at Graham’s empty bed and a concentrated effort to sound like she wasn’t terrified, she added, “Montague died. He woke up and he died.”
For all the times he’d wished Montague was dead, hearing it now only brought a heavy feeling of dread and a flash of terror that he did his best to hide from Angelina. “That won't happen to me,” his assurance was shaky, lacking his usual confident belief that he bordered on immortal. “I’ll tape my eyes open so I have to stay alive and awake.”
“I think you’re supposed to be resting, though,” she pointed out.
He made a face. Being stuck in bed already sucked, but now there was the added fear that he mightn't wake back up. “Stay with me?”
She dropped a light, careful kiss on his cheek. “Of course. And —” She faltered and cleared her throat, sounding too light when she continued, “I’ll poke you awake every few hours.”
He noticed her falter and mustered up a small but genuine smile. “What would I do without you?”
“I don’t know.” His smile made her smile back, just as small, but just as genuine. “Snore and embarrass yourself in front of all the nurses?”
“My snore is super sexy.” He exaggerated a loud snore, glad to have something to focus on other than his possible impending death. “Without you stopping the snoring they’d all be fighting over who gets to look after-slash-seduce me.”
“So what you’re saying is,” she said, propping herself up on her elbow so she could look down on him, “I’m basically saving your life? Because who’s gonna look after you if they’re fighting over you!”
Fred’s smile faltered at the reminder of his life potentially needing saving but agreed with an enthusiastic “Exactly!” nonetheless. “I would say they’re bad at their job but who can really blame them for being that distracted by me? Lucky you’re immune to my siren song snore.”
“Am I lucky?” she asked slowly in a half-hearted attempt at a joking tone, her face screwed up in mock skepticism. She’d seen his smile slip.
“The luckiest,” Fred said with a mock seriousness, fingers lightly tracing their way up her propped up arm. “You get to listen to my snoring for the rest of my life and know that you love it by choice, not by magic.”
She tilted forward with another light, careful kiss that she dropped on his lips. “I guess I’m okay with this.” She leaned away again, twisting her mouth in consideration. “You’re probably going to snore so much when you’re super old.”
And just like that, Fred’s smile was back easier and a little bigger than last time. “Yeah, but you’ll be too deaf to notice.”
“Sorry?” Angelina leaned in, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. “What was that?”
It took some effort, but with Angelina leaning in closer Fred was able to prop himself up just enough that his lips could graze her earlobe. ”Just that you love me,” he whispered, ruining the moment seconds later by annoyingly blowing into her ear.
“Hey!” With a laugh, she jerked away, ducking her ear to her shoulder. “I heard that!”
“You have the very common condition known as selective deafness,” tone serious as though he was a healer giving his patient bad news. “There’s no cure.”
Angelina nodded along, her expression just as serious. “Well, Healer Weasley,” she said, “what do you think I should do?”
“Hmmm,” Fred considered carefully, lying back down all the way. “Use your condition for good. Selectively listen to everything I say and ignore everything all Slytherins say.”
“I can do that,” she said, smiling down at him. “You said do whatever I want, right?”
“Right,” Fred laughed. “It’s worked well for both of us so far.”
She brushed her fingers through his hair, concern starting to creep into her expression. “You have to listen to your healer, though, you know. No seducing any nurses.” Her lips twitched into another smile, but it faded quickly. “Are you feeling okay?”
Fred sighed in fake mourning at her instruction to not seduce any nurses but he didn’t say anything, feeling the shift in mood. “Yeah, I think I’m okay,” he assured her, reaching up to trace her lips that he wished he could keep a smile on. “Just tired.”
“Good.” She pressed a kiss to his fingertips and tried not to frown. She mostly succeeded. “Am I keeping you up or anything?”
“Nah.” He snuck a look over his shoulder at Graham’s empty bed. “Don’t think I could sleep anyway,” he tried to sound casual.
“You sure?” She shifted, still careful of Fred, and laid down next to him, pillowing her head on her folded arm. “Because I’m not going anywhere. They don’t really need a guard at your door anymore.”
Fred was hesitant, but he could only fight the potions for so long. “Promise you’ll make sure I wake up?”
“I promise,” Angelina said softly. “Get some rest.”
“Okay,” he replied, hating how unsure he sounded. “Thanks Ang.”
“Anytime, Frederick,“ she said, giving him an encouraging smile.
Fred smiled back, reaching for her hand so he’d know she was still there when he closed his eyes. “Love you.”
“Love you back.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “See you in a few hours, babe.”