Crazy Stupid Love
Chapter One - Prologue : Tyler O'Malley
"God, sometimes I just want to smack the living hell out of you, you're so god damned naïve." he spat angrily, running his hands through his signature red hair frustrated as he turned to face Tyler, tears running down her cheeks as he struggled to control his anger while she unexpectedly picked up her textbook and in a fit of uncontrollable Irish rage, whaled it across the Gryffindor Common Room. Barely missing Fred's head as it sailed by, he turned to her with eyes wide open, "Bloody hell woman! You're crazy!" he yelled as Tyler picked up something else to launch in his direction.
Before she could even think about winding up to launch her next projectile, Fred was in front of her, her tiny wrists stuck in his large hands as she struggled against his grip. "You're a god damned hypocritical prick Fred Weasley!" she yelled as she struggled even more, angry tears still betraying her as she shook them off her face furiously, falling down to stain her jumper.
It was at that point his hard, calloused hand tenderly cupped her chin, and before she could even register a coherent thought, his mouth was on hers, and every synapse in her brain shorted out. It was times like these that Fred seriously considered wringing her neck. She was stubborn, and aggravating, and crazy... but there was something about Tyler O'Malley that drove him downright insane. It made him jealous and angry, and every moment he spent with her he teetered between killing her and kissing her.
This time... he chose the latter.
And he was damn well glad he had.
Tyler, on the other hand was one step away from stunning Fred Weasley. But the second his lips hit hers, she squelched her immediate, overwhelming desire to hex him and run away screaming. Despite her better judgement, her eyes fluttered shut, and her entire body seemed to collapse into his in exhaustion. His hard, toned muscular body molded with her small one in perfect synchronization, and somehow they slid backwards into the blood-red wall, where Fred trapped her body in-between himself and hard barrier behind her. Despite her fear, and her anger, she clung to him fiercely, and he kissed her fiercely, and it was... it was just so... so intensely good. Once she got over her insane, gut-wrenching horror and panic, there was a long, sweet slide into mindlessness where all she felt was Fred, and all she heard was his breathing, and all she could think was "Oh, God... why can't all our arguments end this way?"
And no matter how many times he could deny it... Fred reciprocated every feeling going through Tyler's head, and every emotion drowning out his coherent thoughts.
Only when he could force himself to pull back in need for air did an actual realistic thought enter his head.
And regretfully, it was the most dangerous thing he could have done.
Not to mention stupid.
Because it was at that moment, when his eyes met hers, that he promptly stepped back, recoiling as if she'd burnt him, and took off towards the boy's dormitories without looking back. Successfully leaving a confused, surprised, breathless, and angry Tyler in his wake.
Which is never, a good idea.
To be honest, I really wish I had a name like James Bond. Something I could say to people when I introduced myself, like 'Names Bond… James, Bond…'. I happen to think that'd be fucking awesome. Not to mention the easiest and most efficient/badass way to present yourself to someone. I mean who doesn't love a person that can be as fuck-tastic and sophisticated as James Bond?
No one… that's who.
Regretfully, James Bond was taken, and Jaime Bond never really got much respect… Instead, I got Tyler O'Malley.
Not really much you can do with that.
'Names O'Malley… Tyler, O'Malley.' see… that just sounds retarded.
Not to mention every time I tell someone my name is Tyler, the first reaction is 'What? Tyler? You have a boy's name…'.
Like no shit Sherlock… really?
Not to mention, when using that introduction, I really never have the time to say my last name twice, include a dramatic/James Bond voice, and explain to everyone that Tyler is in fact a unisex name and yes, it is the one on my birth certificate… the whole ordeal of explanations just requires too much effort.
So usually that's how I judge whether your worthy of my time or not; how long it takes you to figure out that my name isn't really a matter I enjoy discussing over everything else on the planet earth we could possibly have a conversation about. It normally takes about two seconds to decide whether we're going to be friends or not, the moment 'you have a boy-' comes out, I'm already gone in the other direction.
I'm not trying to be a bitch… I'm just trying to save your time as well.
Besides, most of the people that even manage make it past that first test, rarely pass the second, which in reality is much the same as the first anyways. But instead of 'Tyler' being the point of observation… it's 'O'Malley'. The instant someone manages to recognize my last name… you're already too smart, or too informed on my family affairs, and your best bet is to just stop talking. Might as well save your breath.
That tactic overall has successfully managed to make me three, excellent best friends.
Well they're not excellent… but they passed the first two tests, so that made them friend-worthy at least.
Justine Walker was a fifth year Gryffindor, like myself… and drop dead gorgeous. Which was irrevocably irritating at times, because she was like a god damned vixen. I swear her parents traded a couple of galleons to the devil to manage to pick her up as a baby. She definitely couldn't belong to Mr. and Mrs. Walker… there was absolutely, no-freaking-way she was even of the same species of those nice people… Seriously though… if the devil had braided black hair, stockings, pantyhose, and brown eyes… it would be Justine. No doubt...
Cameron Maberry, on the other hand was quite the contrary. She didn't say anything… couldn't really see anything without her glasses either. Which automatically made us friends, because most of the time it meant she didn't have the voice to disagree with me, and hey, if she couldn't find her glasses… it meant she couldn't really protest anything I did anyways.
That made her my favourite... obviously.
Mallory June, was a whole other story.
Mallory June was only really called a friend because she barely passed the first two tests, Cameron followed her everywhere, and she was possibly the only person on planet earth, muggle and wizarding, that could keep Justine under control. Therefore… she was a worthy person to keep around. No matter how much I'd rather strangler her than sit with her for dinner.
Together, we made up Rm.7 in the girl's wing of the Gryffindor Tower. And were one of the oddest group of friends you could point out at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. We had successfully completed our team. We had undoubtedly recruited a social/popular sex icon (Justine), a quiet nerd with glasses (Cameron), a totally hilarious, quidditch-master badass (me), and a momma bear bitch (Mallory)... no offense to bears. We had every base covered, and I hadn't even gotten to the boyfriends yet.
The greatest thing about us though, without a doubt. Was the magic. It made us unique… special. And not the kind of 'special' that Mallory states I am… but the kind of special that distinguishes us from the rest of the human race. The kind of special that makes us extraordinary.
Feel free to bask in my Godlike glory.
Go ahead… bask.
I won't judge you.
Seriously... I welcome it.
Either way, despite being Godlike, my story began in fifth year.
At sixteen, I'm pretty sure I can say I've experienced enough of the world to know my way around at least a little bit. Even more so than the average teenage girl. So obviously, there should be no surprise if I told you that at sixteen, I fell in love. And not the love that you see between normal sixteen year olds on the muggle teli sitcoms.
No.
This was undoubtedly, irrevocable love. The kind of love you have for a person when you want to bash their bloody brains in, and kiss the living shit out of them all at once.
The kind of love that makes you want to murder them, and make out at the same time... it's confusing as hell. But it makes for an interesting concept.
It was the kind of love that makes you blind, and deaf, and jealous, and stupid, and angry, and happy, and sad, and joyous and all that other lovey dovey shit that gets mixed up in it too.
This was a ginger domination love fest.
I know... a red head?
You better believe it.
His name was Fred Weasley.
I know… the Wicked Weasley's… the terrible two... the heartbreakers of Hogwarts.
I'd be lying if I said that I didn't want to kill him more often than kiss him.
Justine claims it's the passion talking.
I think it's hormones.
Don't judge.
I did say love made you stupid.
And I never said that I was the exception to that rule.
so I'm planning for a Fred/OC. but not your average teenage love story, but when is it ever? it's rated M for language! this was just the prologue, a little introduction to meet the infamous Tyler O'Malley, and that little snippet in the beginning was a little Tyler/Fred lovefest moment, just because. *sigh*
Promises of Fred Weasley in the next chapter
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