Accident

Morbid Fascination

Story Summary:
It was an accident. Hermione was not supposed to fall for Fred. Literally. F/Hr funny fluff.

Posted:
08/22/2005
Hits:
359


It was an accident.

Hermione was not supposed to fall for Fred.

Not literally anyway.

'Sorry Hermione, should really watch where you're walking,' he mocked.

She took his hand.

Did the annoying soul in eyes bit.

And fell back down.

Literally.

'Oops,' she giggled under her breath.

*

It was an accident.

Fred was not supposed to fall for Hermione.

Figuratively of course, he was too graceful to trip.

'Sorry Hermione (very original Fred), should really watch where you're walking.'

That was not tactful or charming, he scolded.

So he offered her a hand.

She took it, looked at his eyes.

It was unavoidable the way his brain formulated clichés looking into her eyes.

She fell back down.

Typical, now she'd probably fallen out of ...was this eye thing a prelude to love?

'Oops,' she giggled, probably didn't think he heard her.

*

Hermione did not do romance.

Actually, roses made her sneeze.

So vaguely, she wondered why she wanted them so badly.

Bad thought, she smacked images of Fred away.

Best friend's big brothers were off limits.

Exactly.

This translation was not holding her attention.

She blamed the author.

Yes Hermione, she snapped at herself, blame the old dead guy.

Time to take an early lunch.

*

Fred did not do romance.

In reality he couldn't think of it without disturbing images of cherub rapists.

So he was bemused at the dancing arrows tipped with hearts having a party in his mind.

Bad thought, he chastised himself as Hermione began dancing too.

Little brother's best friend(s) were off limits.

Sure, barked his impeccable sarcastic wit.

Cupid's lovechildren were not holding his interest.

It seemed a suitable time to blame George.

After all, it was his idea to do something special for Valentine's Day.

A strong drink was in order.

*

Tom did not do matchmaking.

He was a bartender.

Thus, his quest in life was to mix the perfect Long Island Tea.

He'd been working at it for half a century.

That's fifty years.

He hadn't a clue what to do with the awkward couple in the corner.

They weren't madly snogging.

So he couldn't offer them a room.

In fact, they were kind of laughing painfully.

All Tom could think to do was refill their drinks.

It's amazing the things drunk people will do.

*

This must be another accident.

Or sign of the apocalypse.

Both decided Hermione firmly.

Wondering why, number one her head was doing an impression of Metallica and Kiss fornicating.

And b.) Why she was naked with Fred.

Naked with Fred?

Oh shit.

*

Fred groaned, another accident.

Marvelous, how could he blame this on George?

Why did he felt like he had a hangover?

Oh, he resigned himself, he did have a hangover.

Well that made sense.

Now if only he could make sense of why he seemed to have brought Hermione home.

Oh shit.

*

'One,' whispered Hermione.

Fred: 'Two'.

'Three,' they screamed.

Hermione grabbed the sheet.

Fred managed to pull a pillow over his...yeah, his yeah.

Oh the sound of a screaming awkward silence.

Delightful.

*

A deity was trying to tell her something.

That was why she was standing outside the joke shop in the rain.

Having tripped over the shoes of a complete stranger.

Literally.

'Turn the doorknob Hermione,' coaxed the deity.

Hermione told the deity what to do with his halo.

Then she wondered why the deity looked so much like Lockhart.

Time to open the door.

It was just a doorknob.

Nothing violent about that.

Except this was a joke shop run by Fred and George.

Ominous.

*

His head was trying to tell him something.

Fred told his head to stuff it.

Every time he listened to his head he ended up waking up with one of his little brother's friends.

Not that he'd slept with Harry.

And only once with Hermione.

Oh, his thoughts broke through, there was someone at the door.

Shit, if they turned the knob---

Well, the sign did say CLOSED.

And under that, in tiny print, it read ENTER AT OWN RISK.

*

That was her heart doing that thundering thing as she stood covered in lime slime.

As she was looking at Fred.

She was covered in green slime.

Because she's opened a door knob.

Excuse me, but door knobs are not supposed to react that way.

He was just going to have to die.

That was all there was for it.

Death by machete.

Where to get a machete?

*

It wasn't his head that got him in these situations, Fred marveled, it was his heart.

Well that makes plenty of sense.

Especially since his heart was doing a jig looking at Hermione.

She, of course, looked murderous.

And quite good in lime slime.

Where had she gotten that machete?

Time to run.

Silver lining?

No, he didn't think he could bear the reality that he may be in love with Hermione.

*

The reality of being in love with Fred was quite nice.

Hermione accepted the daisy.

This would make up for the slime incident.

But not for the dry cleaning bill.

Or the breaking of her machete.

But that had been six months ago.

Before he'd gotten her cat out of the ventilation system.

Before they'd had a semi-rational discussion.

That was after they'd gotten drunk and slept together.

Hermione let Fred kiss her.

She was just getting her timelines confused anyway.

*

Fred knew his timelines.

Hermione fell.

Literally.

They shagged.

No memory of that one.

Not that he planned on mentioning that to her.

Then she'd tripped over a stranger.

And had a revelation when she'd felt nothing for the stranger.

How strange.

Vaguely he remembered a machete, but mostly he'd purged that from his memory.

Okay, then there were a few dinner date regulatory things.

A kiss he remembered.

And this daisy, with the ring on the stem.

Because he wasn't much for romance.


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