Angelina's eyes were drawn to her hand. She watched as Adrian played with it, feeling her insides squirm with contentment. Why was she enjoying Pucey play with her fingers, of all people? She'd hardly held hands with George, and here she was, gleeful over the fact his hand was so close to hers. For now she decided because it was so different than what she expected from him. He was a self-proclaimed big shot, and certainly wouldn't be caught being sweet and gentle with a woman, of all things.
Adrian's words held Angelina's attention intently. Her body tensed and her jaw clamped at the mention of her parents. When Adrian dropped her hand, Angelina let it slide off his chest to the sand beside him. "If only. My mum wanted a daughter she could dress in pink and who would grow up into a beautiful trophy wife. She hated that I wanted to play quidditch with my dad and brother. When I made the team she didn't talk to me for a year. We had a strained relationship at best. I was more relieved than I was sad when she died. My brother resents me for that, and my dad wasn't long to go after. He was alright - did his best."
With a sigh, Angelina lifted her eyes and looked past Adrian's distracting profile. Curse him for getting that out of her. "That's one of the reasons I love...ed being a Weasley. Molly and Arthur are the most accepting people I know." Returning her gaze to Adrian's jaw, Angelina let her eyes sweep over the tiny bits of stubble growing in, and finding herself horribly attracted to it. "Cheat at what? Maybe that's why you're here. To change that. You can't beat yourself up over something you haven't done yet. And even if you had, it wouldn't do you any good. There's a thing called making mistakes and learning from them, you know. What is success then, in your mind?" Angelina didn't know why that question was nagging at her, wanting to know the answer. And what is was Adrian wanted that he didn't have. Especially since Ange thought she'd had success before coming here, but now she wasn't so sure.