Fic!
Title Stolen Frivolity
Pairing/Characters Fred/Hermione
Rating PG-13
Word Count 1,149
Summary
She had to play this carefully, she reminded herself. Be calm and calculated. She had a reputation to live up too. Yes. For godsake she was Hermione Granger!
Hermione will not allow herself to be bested.
A/N: The idea of writing anything has been monumentally daunting lately, and at reading some of millieweasley's fics I was inspired to persevere.
Hermione couldn’t believe she had been so stupid. Really, what right did he have in tricking her this way! The retorichal question echoed a painful defeat in her head. She didn’t like being bettered. Not one bit. And Fred Weasley of all people had done it with seeming ease.
Hermione lifted up her mattress off the floor of Ginny’s bedroom in the Burrow and with a great force, and much heavy breathing, managed to flip it to one side. A sigh of relief and an aching shoulder later she stared blankly at the patch of floor. It was still a patch of floor. It was still, more importantly, a blank patch of floor. The same as it was the last time she looked at it, almost three minutes ago. Hermione growled irritably and spun around; scanning her eyes over a previously neat room she had so forcefully dismantled in her haste to prove her worst nightmare wrong. Clothes lay haphazardly over Ginny’s bed, her wardrobe was wide open and the draws of a vanity table lay pulled out on the pale pink carpet.
Hermione stopped a minute a breathed loudly through her nostrils. She sucked in a tight breathe through her teeth, before letting it come shuddering out a second later. Hermione considered her options, attempting to push out words such as ‘git’ ‘revenge’ and ‘dirty evil rotten BOY!’ She had to play this carefully, she reminded herself. Be calm and calculated. She had a reputation to live up too. Yes. For godsake she was Hermione Granger! Without realising she stamped her foot forcefully on the floor. Weighing her options, Hermione pushed a stray lock of uncontrollable hair from her face and stormed out of the room.
Storming down the passageway Hermione paused halfway down. Calm strides, she reminded herself. She sighed then went on, her eyes scanning around her carefully, thankful of the Weasley’s thick cushioning carpet, as her stride was become more forceful again. She paused outside the last door of the passageway and stared in through the door, which was open a few inches.
There was total silence, only two unmade beds and the flutter of a curtain, which a gust of wind from an open window had disturbed. Hermione bit her lip, looked around her anxiously, then pushed open the door slowly.
Slowly. No one. A little more… no one. More… no one. She let out a slight breath and opened the door all the way. Someone.
Hermione shrieked as her eyes met the amused brown ones of a red haired twin, who was sitting at a desk with an open book in front of him. It seemed the only reason why Hermione had not seen him was the position of the desk. The twin looked amused and let out a broad grin, turning his chair to face Hermione, swinging backwards on it. The book lay quite untouched, mockingly so. Hermione’s eyes strayed longingly towards it.
“Morning, Hermione,” he greeted her jovially, seemingly preventing an even wider grin from breaking forth.
Hermione did not return the greeting, but clasped her hands in front of her and bit her lip.
“My diary,” was all she managed to get out, and a somewhat meek request it was. There was something rather intimidating about that twin. That twin. She knew it had sounded pathetic, but nothing could be done about it know. She blushed slightly. She hoped he had not read that part.
“Yes, it’s interesting,” he said conversationally, twirling back to pick the book up. “Personally,” the twin continued,”I like this part: ‘Mrs Weasley’s apple pie is lovely, I only wish she wouldn’t give me a third helping. I’ll get fat! Not that I worry about that but really it’s not healthy, eating this much will put me into bad habits for later life…’ It goes along the same vain of trying to convince yourself it’s not your figure interested in but your health,” he spoke amusedly.
Hermione let out a deep breath, only vaguely embarrassing, he much not have come to-
“But,” the twin grinned, cutting most unpleasantly through Hermione’s relief. She swallowed. Oh no.
“There is another most…” he grinned, “intriguing part which I am most interested in.”
Hermione looked down at her feet, she was stuck having her own frivolous thoughts read back at her from the mocking outside world. Or rather a Weasley twin.
“‘But the worst thing is Fred,’” the twin carried on, holding the book up, with a look of intense concentration. ‘He keeps looking at me. My hair is not that bad, and I’m not beautiful, so why? But the more I think about it the more my certainty or is it hope slips away…”
He abruptly snapped the diary closed, and Hermione was let out from under her chain of embarrassment.
“I’m disappointed Hermione,” he said calmly. “It reads like a cheap Romance Novel.” She looked up to his face.
“Can I just have my diary back Fred?” she muttered to his jaw line. She was thoroughly ashamed. Ashamed of her frivolous thoughts. Ashamed at being so ashamed by them. No inkling of anger at Fred had yet even entered her head. She just wanted to go.
“How did you know it was me who took it?” he asked curiously. Hermione sighed; she was sure he was keeping her here to make her even more uncomfortable.
“Who else? Bill and Charlie barely know me, Percy’s at the ministry, George is always at the joke shop and Ron doesn’t have the subtlety.”
Fred looked at her with something close to amazement.
“So you found me out?” he said blankly. Hermione frowned.
“Well it wasn’t hard, you didn’t stop me or make an exc-“
“I didn’t mean that” Fred replied. At Hermione’s confused look he tapped the diary. She stared, and then blushed as realisation dawned.
“But,” she began, a little more confidently, “I don’t know what that is.”
“You fight dirty.”
“Sensibly, I prefer.”
“Yes,” Fred rose and took a step towards her, diary in hand. He handed it too her, still a few paces away. “You always were the sensible one,” his face was unreadable. Hermione took the diary without a word, staring at his unusually complex facial expression.
“And you were always the rule breaker,” she quipped.
He cracked a grin at her.
She smiled gently, blushing.
He frowned, and closed the distance between her, wrapping an arm around her waist he pulled her towards him. Hermione sucked in a breath of surprise and let her eyes flutter shut as Fred’s lips touched hers. His touch was gentle, his confidence gradually mounting as Hermione tentatively responded in a movement of her own lips.
He pulled away a minute later from a slightly flushed Hermione, and held his head an inch from hers, staring into her eyes.
“Have you figured out what that is yet?”
Hermione could only nod.
Pairing/Characters Fred/Hermione
Rating PG-13
Word Count 1,149
Summary
She had to play this carefully, she reminded herself. Be calm and calculated. She had a reputation to live up too. Yes. For godsake she was Hermione Granger!
Hermione will not allow herself to be bested.
A/N: The idea of writing anything has been monumentally daunting lately, and at reading some of millieweasley's fics I was inspired to persevere.
Hermione couldn’t believe she had been so stupid. Really, what right did he have in tricking her this way! The retorichal question echoed a painful defeat in her head. She didn’t like being bettered. Not one bit. And Fred Weasley of all people had done it with seeming ease.
Hermione lifted up her mattress off the floor of Ginny’s bedroom in the Burrow and with a great force, and much heavy breathing, managed to flip it to one side. A sigh of relief and an aching shoulder later she stared blankly at the patch of floor. It was still a patch of floor. It was still, more importantly, a blank patch of floor. The same as it was the last time she looked at it, almost three minutes ago. Hermione growled irritably and spun around; scanning her eyes over a previously neat room she had so forcefully dismantled in her haste to prove her worst nightmare wrong. Clothes lay haphazardly over Ginny’s bed, her wardrobe was wide open and the draws of a vanity table lay pulled out on the pale pink carpet.
Hermione stopped a minute a breathed loudly through her nostrils. She sucked in a tight breathe through her teeth, before letting it come shuddering out a second later. Hermione considered her options, attempting to push out words such as ‘git’ ‘revenge’ and ‘dirty evil rotten BOY!’ She had to play this carefully, she reminded herself. Be calm and calculated. She had a reputation to live up too. Yes. For godsake she was Hermione Granger! Without realising she stamped her foot forcefully on the floor. Weighing her options, Hermione pushed a stray lock of uncontrollable hair from her face and stormed out of the room.
Storming down the passageway Hermione paused halfway down. Calm strides, she reminded herself. She sighed then went on, her eyes scanning around her carefully, thankful of the Weasley’s thick cushioning carpet, as her stride was become more forceful again. She paused outside the last door of the passageway and stared in through the door, which was open a few inches.
There was total silence, only two unmade beds and the flutter of a curtain, which a gust of wind from an open window had disturbed. Hermione bit her lip, looked around her anxiously, then pushed open the door slowly.
Slowly. No one. A little more… no one. More… no one. She let out a slight breath and opened the door all the way. Someone.
Hermione shrieked as her eyes met the amused brown ones of a red haired twin, who was sitting at a desk with an open book in front of him. It seemed the only reason why Hermione had not seen him was the position of the desk. The twin looked amused and let out a broad grin, turning his chair to face Hermione, swinging backwards on it. The book lay quite untouched, mockingly so. Hermione’s eyes strayed longingly towards it.
“Morning, Hermione,” he greeted her jovially, seemingly preventing an even wider grin from breaking forth.
Hermione did not return the greeting, but clasped her hands in front of her and bit her lip.
“My diary,” was all she managed to get out, and a somewhat meek request it was. There was something rather intimidating about that twin. That twin. She knew it had sounded pathetic, but nothing could be done about it know. She blushed slightly. She hoped he had not read that part.
“Yes, it’s interesting,” he said conversationally, twirling back to pick the book up. “Personally,” the twin continued,”I like this part: ‘Mrs Weasley’s apple pie is lovely, I only wish she wouldn’t give me a third helping. I’ll get fat! Not that I worry about that but really it’s not healthy, eating this much will put me into bad habits for later life…’ It goes along the same vain of trying to convince yourself it’s not your figure interested in but your health,” he spoke amusedly.
Hermione let out a deep breath, only vaguely embarrassing, he much not have come to-
“But,” the twin grinned, cutting most unpleasantly through Hermione’s relief. She swallowed. Oh no.
“There is another most…” he grinned, “intriguing part which I am most interested in.”
Hermione looked down at her feet, she was stuck having her own frivolous thoughts read back at her from the mocking outside world. Or rather a Weasley twin.
“‘But the worst thing is Fred,’” the twin carried on, holding the book up, with a look of intense concentration. ‘He keeps looking at me. My hair is not that bad, and I’m not beautiful, so why? But the more I think about it the more my certainty or is it hope slips away…”
He abruptly snapped the diary closed, and Hermione was let out from under her chain of embarrassment.
“I’m disappointed Hermione,” he said calmly. “It reads like a cheap Romance Novel.” She looked up to his face.
“Can I just have my diary back Fred?” she muttered to his jaw line. She was thoroughly ashamed. Ashamed of her frivolous thoughts. Ashamed at being so ashamed by them. No inkling of anger at Fred had yet even entered her head. She just wanted to go.
“How did you know it was me who took it?” he asked curiously. Hermione sighed; she was sure he was keeping her here to make her even more uncomfortable.
“Who else? Bill and Charlie barely know me, Percy’s at the ministry, George is always at the joke shop and Ron doesn’t have the subtlety.”
Fred looked at her with something close to amazement.
“So you found me out?” he said blankly. Hermione frowned.
“Well it wasn’t hard, you didn’t stop me or make an exc-“
“I didn’t mean that” Fred replied. At Hermione’s confused look he tapped the diary. She stared, and then blushed as realisation dawned.
“But,” she began, a little more confidently, “I don’t know what that is.”
“You fight dirty.”
“Sensibly, I prefer.”
“Yes,” Fred rose and took a step towards her, diary in hand. He handed it too her, still a few paces away. “You always were the sensible one,” his face was unreadable. Hermione took the diary without a word, staring at his unusually complex facial expression.
“And you were always the rule breaker,” she quipped.
He cracked a grin at her.
She smiled gently, blushing.
He frowned, and closed the distance between her, wrapping an arm around her waist he pulled her towards him. Hermione sucked in a breath of surprise and let her eyes flutter shut as Fred’s lips touched hers. His touch was gentle, his confidence gradually mounting as Hermione tentatively responded in a movement of her own lips.
He pulled away a minute later from a slightly flushed Hermione, and held his head an inch from hers, staring into her eyes.
“Have you figured out what that is yet?”
Hermione could only nod.