Happy Christmas, Hermione
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,010
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,010
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Happy Christmas, Hermione
******Disclaimer*********
All Harry Potter characters, places, items, etc belong to JK Rowling and not me. I don't make money off of these stories.
*****A/N*****
This story is in response to a challenge given to me by Spaz141 in an effort to get my creative juices flowing again. The rules:
-500 words
-Hermione and Fred
-No smut, just uber fluffies
****Happy Christmas, Hermione****
It seems strange to me that I should feel this happy.
It feels odd that the shock of bright red hair against my shoulder isn’t...
But I’m not going to think about Ron now. Thinking about Ron always depresses me, and thinking about Ron always manages to make this feel wrong somehow.
And wrong is the last thing this is.
I smile and stretch as Fred snuggles closer to me in his sleep. Fred... who would have ever expected me and Fred? All those times I fought with him and tried to get him to give up on his seemingly ridiculous dream of a joke shop.
I smile again. In all that time at Hogwarts, all the time I spent with him and his family at the Burrow, how could I never have seen what he felt for me? How could I never have noticed just how often I noticed him noticing me? I always thought he’d just been checking that I couldn’t see any illegal or immoral deed that he and George might have been trying to pull off. But Fred had been my rock during the war and rebuilding. He’d been my shoulder to cry on when Ron and Harry had been killed. And now he was my everything.
I move so that I can get a better look at him. He refuses to cut his hair even though it is long and shaggy. It’s not pretty and shiny like Bill’s. It’s like it reaches a certain point and doesn’t get longer, just scruffier. I tease him about it, but I kind of like the way it looks.
Plus, I can distinguish him from George.
He stirs against me again and it almost breaks my heart that I’ll have to wake him up soon. He hates waking up. Waking up generally requires getting dressed and working, two things he hates even though he’s passionate about his work and he’s pointed out more than once that you can’t have the fun of getting undressed without being dressed first. But today of all days, he’ll need to get up, get dressed, and get ready on time. We are expected at the Burrow, and I know that Molly will not tolerate us being late. Though she’ll forgive us, I know she’ll resent the fact that I wasn’t there early enough to help in the kitchen. When you’ve got so many to feed, every helping hand counts. And we all know Fleur won’t lift a finger.
Fred moans the little cry of protest that always precedes his waking. Good, now he can’t blame me. He opens his eyes warily and yawns.
“Happy Christmas, Hermione.”
He smiles sleepily and lays his head back against my chest. I smile back and run my hand through his scruffy hair.
“Happy Christmas, Fred. I love you.”
I sigh as he snores his response. Molly will just have to wait for us, I guess.
All Harry Potter characters, places, items, etc belong to JK Rowling and not me. I don't make money off of these stories.
*****A/N*****
This story is in response to a challenge given to me by Spaz141 in an effort to get my creative juices flowing again. The rules:
-500 words
-Hermione and Fred
-No smut, just uber fluffies
****Happy Christmas, Hermione****
It seems strange to me that I should feel this happy.
It feels odd that the shock of bright red hair against my shoulder isn’t...
But I’m not going to think about Ron now. Thinking about Ron always depresses me, and thinking about Ron always manages to make this feel wrong somehow.
And wrong is the last thing this is.
I smile and stretch as Fred snuggles closer to me in his sleep. Fred... who would have ever expected me and Fred? All those times I fought with him and tried to get him to give up on his seemingly ridiculous dream of a joke shop.
I smile again. In all that time at Hogwarts, all the time I spent with him and his family at the Burrow, how could I never have seen what he felt for me? How could I never have noticed just how often I noticed him noticing me? I always thought he’d just been checking that I couldn’t see any illegal or immoral deed that he and George might have been trying to pull off. But Fred had been my rock during the war and rebuilding. He’d been my shoulder to cry on when Ron and Harry had been killed. And now he was my everything.
I move so that I can get a better look at him. He refuses to cut his hair even though it is long and shaggy. It’s not pretty and shiny like Bill’s. It’s like it reaches a certain point and doesn’t get longer, just scruffier. I tease him about it, but I kind of like the way it looks.
Plus, I can distinguish him from George.
He stirs against me again and it almost breaks my heart that I’ll have to wake him up soon. He hates waking up. Waking up generally requires getting dressed and working, two things he hates even though he’s passionate about his work and he’s pointed out more than once that you can’t have the fun of getting undressed without being dressed first. But today of all days, he’ll need to get up, get dressed, and get ready on time. We are expected at the Burrow, and I know that Molly will not tolerate us being late. Though she’ll forgive us, I know she’ll resent the fact that I wasn’t there early enough to help in the kitchen. When you’ve got so many to feed, every helping hand counts. And we all know Fleur won’t lift a finger.
Fred moans the little cry of protest that always precedes his waking. Good, now he can’t blame me. He opens his eyes warily and yawns.
“Happy Christmas, Hermione.”
He smiles sleepily and lays his head back against my chest. I smile back and run my hand through his scruffy hair.
“Happy Christmas, Fred. I love you.”
I sigh as he snores his response. Molly will just have to wait for us, I guess.