Angelina had considered what she would do without magic, but she'd never seriously though about it. Her and Oliver had joked about playing muggle sports, but life without quidditch? Ang doubted she'd be able to bear it. Her life was quidditch, and that was that. She knew she could go into something behind the scenes, but Angelina knew that wasn't her. She was meant to be on the pitch, in the spotlight, leading her team to victory. It had been what she lived for at Hogwarts, and it was still what she lived for after Hogwarts.
When George came into her room, Angelina turned. She lifted a hand and placed it on his cheek, and searched his face. "Hey," she whispered. Something was wrong, but when wasn't it? Ang knew George had to be upset he couldn't get back to his store, and she always knew not to press him. Reaching behind her, Angelina grabbed the glass she'd poured for George and offered it to him. "I'm not sure what you like, but hopefully you'll like this."
Taking hold of her own glass, Angelina held it in the air. With a nod at George, she decided to toast. "To life turning around," she said, a somber tone in her voice. It seemed since Fred's death, things slowly kept getting worse and worse. That would have to change soon, right? Reaching for George's hand, Angelina walked towards the small couch in her room, which started the even smaller 'living room' in her Hogwarts apartment.