FicWad

"He's been cheating again."

Angelina stood outside the small cottage, pain and madness etched deep into her beautiful face. Blood was steadily dripping down the sides of her cheeks...thin, warm trails of dark red fluid,
liquid that should have been tears. But she refused to cry. Not this time, she thought as she stared at the house. Not for him, not anymore.

"So, what are you going to do?"

She inched towards the house, taking a small step away from the woods. There was a slight limp in her walk and she tried not to cry out in agony from the sensation of it, because then he would hear her. And she had to be completely quiet.

"I-I don't know. I just want to hurt him so bad, so much..."

Biting her lip, Angelina slowly made her way toward the house, her eyes focused on its empty, black windows, her mind on him, with /her/. She was trying hard not to concentrate on the creeping ache that was steadily gaining control of her wounded leg.

"I want to make him hurt...and cause him as much pain as he caused me."

The already cloudy sky began to darken even more, and Angelina had to narrow her eyes to see the cottage that loomed up ahead. Dare she pull out her wand to light up her way? No...He'd see her and everything would be ruined...their long, awaited reunion, his sweet, sweet surprise. She thought of this and she smiled.

"I take it you're not talking about an Unforgivable Curse..."

She was almost there...almost in the house now. Oh, she thought, wouldn't he be just /stunned /to see me here? I can see it now...Him and the little bitch...Angelina held out her arm and reached out with a trembling hand as she neared the door.

/ "No, I want something that can be quick /or slow, something that'll work."

Angelina grasped the doorknob, she turned it. Dammit! she inwardly swore. It was locked. She tried again, but got the same response. Resisting the strong urge to bang the door down, she leaned up against it, resting her forehead on the painted wood. Tears began to fall.

"I think I have that something, Angelina."

"God no," she whispered. She had come this far...for what? The door was locked and she had been praying against that. Maybe God was against her; maybe she deserved all this. Angelina opened her eyes, the anger back. Deserved what? To be abandoned and thrown aside like a Portkey? She had a reason for her betrayal, it was justified. What was his fucking excuse?

"What is it?"

"It was my grandfather's. My dad uses it every now and then, but Mum doesn't touch it. She thinks it's evil."

"It's beautiful."

Again, Angelina grasped the doorknob and tried one more time. It opened.

"There's a couple left in it, so be careful, alright?"

Angelina's injured leg gave way as soon as she stepped into the cottage. She fell through the doorway with a thud.

"Shit!" she whispered. She waited, but no sound came from within the house.

"Don't worry about me. It's him that has to be careful."

She turned over on her back and sat up. She tried to stand but the pain in her leg was too great. So she reached out for something to hold onto, and her fingers touched something hard and cold. A lamp. She pulled up on it and was soon on her feet. Thank God for upper body strength.

"Can you aim?"

Angelina was careful not to put so much weight on her leg this time. She looked around her and saw that she was in the living room. In the dim lighting, she could barely make out a fireplace on the wall and a long sofa on the other. She eyed the sofa for a long time before turning away and going down the hallway.

"Of course I can aim. I used to be the Chaser for the House team. Remember?"

It was darker in the house than it was outside and Angelina had a difficult time seeing. The hallway was long and it contained four doors. She could just make out the brass doorknobs.

"Wish I could forget."

She tried the first door. Being on the west side of the house, it was a little brighter than the rest of the residence. It was a small room with a cradle and a rocker in it. Its one and only window was opened and the white, lacey curtains fluttered as a small breeze flew in. He wasn't in there, and so Angelina shut the door.

"Angelina, I want you to think about this: is he worth all this trouble?"

The second room was slightly bigger with a small bed in one corner. Up against one wall, stood a white dresser with stuffed animals crammed on top of it. There was at least two dozen photographs on the wall, seven certificates, and nine ribbons. A funny feeling surged through Angelina and the tears threatened to resurface. He wouldn't dare go in here, she thought bitterly. She gently shut the door.

"You ask that, knowing perfectly well my answer."

Angelina opened the door to the third room and a soft, tempting fragrance entered her nose. Oh yes, the dark skinned woman thought hungrily, the bitch was in here all right. Angelina knew that taunting scent anywhere, for it had been all over her husband clothes before she stuffed them in the drawer, all over him...Her right hand tightened as she stepped into the room.

"My husband is worth the world to me, regardless of anything he does..."

But then came a soft, whispery noise that didn't come from inside the room she was currently in. Angelina limped backwards out of it, puzzled as to wear the whispering came from. Then she heard it again, and she knew.

"And my husband deserves the best..."

Angelina turned her head to the end of the hallway where the fourth and final room was located. There was a blue light shining from around the door's cracks, and a small, tight smile appeared on her sweet face. She turned her body and began to limp towards it.

"Whether it be in life..."

Anxiety and excitement began to overwhelm her as she approached the door. At last...oh god, at last...She was to see him and he was to see her. And they would be face to face for the last time. Her fingers touched the doorknob and the whispering stopped. No, too late, I got you now...She opened the door.

"Or in death..."

It was the largest room of them all, a room that had once been theirs. But the grief and despair of loss was just too much to bear, and so they had to move away, to the city. But they came back, they were drawn to it. They had built it, the two of them, out of starch, and it was theirs. So naturally, they came back...but not with each other.
Angelina slowly walked into the room, her gait sure and steady. She looked to the bed and when she saw movement beneath the sheets, she raised both arms and aimed.

"You're sure about this?"

She closed her left eye, to get a better shot.

"Yeah, I'm sure. He deserves this."

The movement under the cover ceased and Angelina opened her eye, lowering her arms a bit.

"What the hell..."

"Don't you think so?"

"Deserve is a funny word, beautiful."

Angelina frowned and inched closer to the bed.

"What do you mean?"

The covers were falling away.

"What I mean is..."

She saw the red hair first. Raising her arms, she aimed again. /"I fucking loved you, Fred!" /she cried before pulling the trigger.

/ "...does /anyone deserve to die?"

The rain hit the window just as she fired two loud shots.

"He does."

The impact of the shots caused her hurt leg to wobble tremendously. She dropped the gun to try to steady herself, but it was no help. She fell to the floor and before doing so, she looked to the bed, and saw that he had been the only one in there...

"Does he really, Angelina?"

"Angelina," she heard him moan just before he fell off the bed and onto the floor, somewhere near her.

"I think so."

Their eyes met.

"Just promise me something, love."

And she screamed.

"That you'd think again before doing this."

"Oh god," she whispered as she crawled to him. "Oh please, no."

/ "I /could promise you that, but you know me..."

She was kneeling over him, her leg was hurting and bleeding, but she didn't care.

"I can't keep promises."

Angelina took his paling face in her shaking hands and turned it to her. His eyes were wet and he was smiling.

"I know, but still..."

"No." She was crying too. "No, no, no. I wasn't supposed to hurt you!"

"Promise me."

"George..."

"Angelina."

"Why?" She whispered, her face so close to his that their noses were touched. She closed her eyes. "/Why/?"

Okay, okay. I promise.

"Because I love you, Angel, but I love him too."

"I'll think about it."

"And I know it hurts, Ange, but-"

"Good, think about it."

"He doesn't deserve to die."

Angelina brought her face away from him. "And you do?" she screamed. "George, you do?"

"Better me, Angel." His smile grew wider. "Better me, than him. Better me, than Alicia."

Shaking beyond control, Angelina released him. /What had she done? /The shock was settling quick into her body. /George.../She stared down at her lover and noted the deep red blood blossoming all over his heavily breathing chest. She released a sob. She had shot the wrong one.

"I don't want you getting hurt."

She then gazed at her uncomfortably positioned leg, realizing for the first time what mortal condition it was in. She looked back at George. He had been watching her intently.

"Me..hurt? And you say you know me."

"We're bleeding, George," she whispered to him as she lowered her head to his wounded chest. "We're going to die soon."

"Yeah, well I'm not so sure anymore."

George reached up with a struggling hand and put it deep into Angelina's hair.

"Good," he said.