Normally, my author notes are going to be at the end of my chapters, but chapter one is the exception! So, here goes (sorry, there's a lot to say here!). First off, if you have not read Learning to Live, GO READ IT! This story won't make sense without it, being a sequel and all. Second, I need to apologize to all my readers for taking so dang long to get this posted! I hurt my wrist playing flag football, and it hurt like a beast to type. Then, I went on a long vacation. It still may be a bit between postswhile I fully recover and catch up.

And, of course, the disclaimer. I do not own, claim to own, or have any affiliation with Harry Potter. I'm just a fan writing a story. Melbecka is my creation; I just inserted her in a world of JK Rowling's genius creation. I'm not making any money off of this, believe me. Okay, all that's done. Thanks so much for all your patience, and I hope you enjoy!

The day Angelina Johnson first set foot in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was typical day only in the lives of those close to the Weasley twins. When the front door opened, Fred and George expected nothing more than another customer, and Fred snapped his fingers at me and pointed towards the door as if I was going to leap into action. Like maybe the bubbling cauldron beside me could just be left unattended. So, I grabbed George's arm as he whizzed past the counter and attempted to redirect him towards the door, but he immediately started whimpering like a wet kitten and did not stop until I let him go. With a stern look from me, he decided it was best to deal with things himself.

"We're closed," George told whoever just came in. "Sorry. Come back tomorrow!" And he ducked behind a shelf to clean up the last spill of the day, a collapse of Extendable Ears.

"Fred, this is ridiculous!" I snapped as the closest Weasley twin counted the money in the till. "We need more help!"

"We're working on it," Fred rolled his eyes. "Georgie said he was going to interview people."

I rolled my eyes skyward. "George told you to interview people, Fred."

"Oh." Fred looked up briefly from the pile of sickles. "Right. 'Spose he did. Well!" And he said nothing more.

I growled in frustration and threw a fistful of porcupine quills into my cauldron. Don't get me wrong; I loved the twins fiercely, but they could get on my nerves like no one else. "We need another register open during the day."

"You do it," Fred snapped. "I'm already on one and George is on the floor!" With that, he swept all of the sickles to the side and started counting all over again from one. Oops.

"I would if I wasn't so busy trying to restock things. I can't just walk away from the cauldron; your brews are so complicated, Fred. One stir too few, and instead of turning your hair blue, the prank butterbeer will burn it off. And that's a bit less reversible, isn't it?"

Fred muttered something under his breath as he made a careful pile of seventeen sickles. "Well, fine! Be all important, if you must! Is that person still in the store?"

"Probably," I shrugged. That was really the least of my worries. "Did you lock the door when we closed?"

"I locked it," George supplied, sinking onto the stool next to me.

"Yeah, so did I," Fred nodded. "Because I know you two." He pointed between George and I, so my boyfriend and I exchanged a confused look over what exactly he thought he knew. "I know that Mel's the responsible one that locks the door, then George remembers all of a sudden to go and lock it, which actually unlocks the door, so I went over and relocked it." He smiled proudly and pushed another pile of sickles to the side.

George and I shared another look, this one much more knowledgeable. "Fred," I started patiently, "I sat right beside you all day, didn't I?" Fred nodded. "So, you know that I haven't left this stool since lunch, right?" He nodded again. "So, when exactly do you think I locked the door?"

Fred cocked his head to the side, considering this. "I s'pose you didn't."

I pressed my lips together firmly in an attempt to hold back my laughter. When I was sure I had control, I pressed on. "So, thinking the door was unlocked, you locked it. But, since the door was actually locked, by locking the door, you actually…"

"…unlocked it," George finished.

"Merlin," Fred groaned, dropping his head onto the desk. "I hate you both."

"We didn't do anything, Freddie!" George laughed. Fred and I joined in because, really, it was all quite ridiculous.

Our laughter mingled with a lighter trill that had yet to sound in 93 Diagon Alley, and all of our heads snapped towards the tone. Yes, the customer in the store. We had forgotten about her. Again. But, it was no customer standing in front of the counter laughing at our stupidity.

It was Angelina Johnson.

"OH ROWENA, IT'S ANGIE DAY!" I screeched, most unladylike. How could we forget? Angelina and I had been planning her visit for weeks, ever since my early departure from Hogwarts. She had to immediately return home after school to drop off her things and go on the annual Johnson family vacation, this year to Scotland. After that, though, she swore to spend a week with us. And, in true Weasley fashion, we completely forgot until the late-June day actually arrived.

Although, honestly, how could we remember? With the state of things, a visit from Angie was the last thing on our minds. After the Daily Prophet reported on Voldemort's appearance in the Ministry building (smoothing over much of the other details regarding the events of the Department of Mysteries), the wizarding world began preparing for war. We were still in the opening stages, though; minor skirmishes. I hesitated to say that we were at war. It was coming, certainly, but we were not there yet. The pieces were still falling into place, and the Order did not like how they were falling. The giants and the dementors had sided with Voldemort; the dementors were expected and not such a great loss with how hard they were to control, but the giants had been quite a blow. And muggles were being killed. Because why would he leave them out of it?

But those were matters for another day. The Order could wait just a few hours!

The smile immediately vanished from Fred's face, replaced by a scarlet blush and diverted eyes. I, however, leapt from my seat to throw my arms around my dear friend. Angie caught me around the waist and squeezed back as hard as she could; it had been far too long since the last time we saw each other. Growing up, Angelina Johnson and I were inseparable, the best of friends, practically sisters. The past month, therefore, had been absolute misery for us. When I left Hogwarts early, unable to cope with school after being involved with the battle in the Department of Mysteries, we had very limited contact. Yes, we wrote plenty of letters, but that was nothing considering that we had seen each other practically every day our entire lives. From being neighbors to being classmates, we were always together. A month apart was ridiculous for us to comprehend.

"Oh, I missed you!" she exclaimed into my hair. Then, she let me go and held my shoulders at arm's length to look me up and down. "Merlin, what the hell are you wearing?"

I grimaced. Of course she noticed the hideously unflattering magenta robes I had to wear. I shot George a look, but he seemed completely unfazed by my glower. "Shop uniform. I got outvoted when we picked them out."

Angie winced. "That's bad luck. How are you?"

This was more than just an inquiry into my physical state. Mentally, I had had been haunted after the Department of Mysteries. Walking through the halls of school just reminded me of all the things I failed at. I could not protect Ron. I could not heal Ginny's broken ankle. I could not save Sirius. With Fred and George gone, I felt completely alone, even with Angie and Lee and Alicia and Katie and Roger Davies and Cho and the rest of my Ravenclaw quidditch teammates. None of them seemed to really understand. Even Luna, Neville, Ginny, and Harry Potter's Trio of Perfection could not understand.

Not that I wanted them to, really.

So, when Angie asked how I was, she was asking about quite a lot, and she truly wanted to know. "Better. Not normal, but better."

"Good," she nodded. "That's good. We'll get you back to normal. Well," she wrinkled her nose as Fred and George began slapping each other for reasons unknown, "back to your normal." With that, she slapped me on the arm and grinned widely. "Now, show me where I'm sleeping, unless you want that trunk sitting in your shop all week!"

Once Angie settled in, I set about making dinner to quell all of our rumbling stomachs; cooking, it turned out, was not nearly as difficult or dangerous as my mother always made it seem. The boys, however, were far too distracted to find fish and chips worth dragging themselves away from the shop for, so Angie and I set up at the counter to watch the men work as we caught up. Which was, really, fine by us. They could use the work, and we could use time away from them. Not that we didn't secretly plan to spend the entire week avoiding them for "girl time", but still.

Angie smiled to herself as she popped a chip in her mouth, eyes travelling over the store during a lull in our conversation. I grinned mischievously, knowing that look too well. Time for a little sisterly teasing.

"So, Angie." She turned towards me. "What's got you grinning ear to ear?"

"What? Oh," she shook her head, "nothing. Just looking at all you've done with the place."

"Mmm-hmmm. Sure. Look at the belief on my face."

"Oh," she tore off a bit of fish and flicked it at my face. I dodged and let it hit the floor. "You're impossible."

"Yet charming," I reminded her. "Now, seriously. What's going on? You know I won't let up. Is it a certain charming yet irritating ginger friend of ours?"

Angie opened her mouth to protest, but her grin gave it away. "You're impossible," she giggled. "All right, maybe I'm a bit happy to see that impossible boy over there." She motioned to the twin closest to us, who was busy restocking the WonderWitch display.

"That one? You're happy to see that one?"

"Mel, really," Angie rolled her eyes, "don't make this more painful than it already is. You know I'm happy to see Fred. I'm always happy to see Fred. We're not going through this again."

"No," I shook my head, "we're not. It's just that, well, that's not Fred. That's George."

She frowned at me, then squinted at the back of George/Fred's head, then frowned at me again. "What potion did you snort? Of course that's Fred. He's got the…" She waved her hand over her head rapidly.

"No," I corrected sternly. "It's George. Don't you see the…" Also at a loss for words, I smacked my forearms and shoulders.

"It's Fred."

"It's George."

"Fred."

"George."

"Fred."

"George."

Angie rolled her eyes. "Right, there's only one way to settle this. OY, GINGER!" He turned around, eyes wide with confusion, and Angie swore. "Turn around, George, never mind." George looked at my smug face for an explanation, but I gestured for him to return to work. So, he did with no question.

"You can't have my boyfriend, Angie. I know he's quite a catch, but I'm not big on sharing. Lucky for you, he has this twin brother that I think you'll find just as charmingly exasperating."

Angie rolled her eyes but laughed at her mistake. "Oh, shove it up your arse, Mel," she giggled. "Like you can always tell them apart."

"I'm in love with one of them," I pointed out. "I can. You can, too. You're just out of practice."