Mr. Wrong – F/HR Muggle AU based on the song Mr. Wrong by Cracker. "C'mon Granger. I might even let you see my tattoo."

Well meet me by the river that goes nowhere

Let me lay my sorry trip on you

Won't you meet me by the river, little darling?

I might just let you see my bad tattoo

/Summer before freshman year/

"C'mon, Granger. It's just a little river water. Not like it'll bite you or anything," Fred Weasley mocked, that insufferable grin stuck to his face. Hermione wanted nothing more than to slap it off. Then again, that had been her number one wish from Santa since she'd moved in across from the Weasleys nine years ago. As he was ten feet away on the river bank, she scowled at him instead. She could hear his groupies off to the right giggling and he threw them a wink.

Honestly. She had thought she'd get away from all the giggling over boys once she'd entered ninth grade. Apparently it only got worse if they were giggling over Fred Weasley of all things. Then again, giggling seemed to appear when anything with long limbs, easy grins, and that irritating sense of Weasley 'charm' that hadn't worked on her since he'd she'd a frog down the back of her shirt when she was six. Apparently, other girls were not so immune.

The twins had dragged these three from somewhere up the river bank – Alina, Angelica, and Katie perhaps? – and she was now witness to their hopeless fawning over the twins. Ten minutes after meeting them, and nine minutes since the girls had begun ignoring her when she had no idea who Zeke and Liam were, she decided that so long as they kept the twins occupied, she mind the giggling. If they were willing to put up with the twins insanity and insatiable need for entertainment it meant that Hermione didn't have to.

"Hermione," George called to her from the river, "it's really not that bad. See, it's only up to my hips."

Ah, George. The only good twin in the Weasley family as far as she was concerned. Hermione gave him a soft smile, her mood lightening a bit at George's attempts to include her. Harry and Ron had wandered off and left her ten minutes after they'd arrived at the river, leaving her to deal with the twins alone. George had always been her favorite Weasley boy, after Ron of course, and Charlie, but Charlie worked with tigers, giving him an obvious bump way up the list. Then again, George often fought his way up to number one when he saved her from Fred's many schemes, but especially when he saved the last piece of Molly's chocolate cake for her.

"Gred! You know that doesn't mean anything," Fred told him, shooting a quick glance to where the girls were tanning. Once satisfied that he had a full audience, he continued, "She'd still be a foot underwater and we'd have to call out for a search and rescue."

On cue, the giggling began anew. Pleased with their response, he smirked at Hermione and ran towards the river to join his brother.

Her eyes narrowed. Damn him and damn his cruel tendencies. Did he really have to act as if they were still in elementary school? Sure, they'd never gotten along, but what did he get going out of his way to torment her? She hadn't even begun high school yet. If this is what high school boys were like maybe she should rethink her mother's suggestion to go to the prep school instead.

Hermione refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing he'd gotten to her though. She pulled out her book, summer's recommended reading, and opened it. She'd learned the hard way that the best way to deal with Fred Weasley was to ignore him and act as if his words meant nothing. It was like dealing with a cat, she imagined. Not that she'd had much experience with cats but surely they could take a hint that they weren't wanted.

No, the best thing to do now, she decided, was to settle back against this shade tree, read, and begin scheming the best way to go on the defensive against high school boys. And even if she wasn't able to come up with a good plan, at least she'd have the satisfaction of getting lost between the pages with Rhett as company. He was far better than present company by miles.

Hermione became completely engrossed in the story, irritated at Scarlett's schemes and sympathizing with Rhett. It wasn't until the sun was in her eyes that she realized several hours had passed. She was now sitting fully in the sun's rays and the twins and their trio had come from the river to escape the heat and were now sitting about twenty feet from her. She glanced over to where they were sitting and noted with some sadistic pleasure that Fred was looking redder than his hair was. As she was picking up her bag and towel, Hermione was pleased that her own skin had darkened, taking on olive undertones. She'd have to thank Ginny for the sunscreen recommendation.

Loud laughter from the group caught her attention, and Hermione realized that the twins were telling the girls about their prank on Percy this morning. Something to do with breaking his computer, if she recalled correctly. Ron was vague on the details, but he'd never been good at figuring out their pranks.

Hermione tried to keep a smile from her face when she realized that George was, rather pathetically, attempting to flirt with Alina (Or was it Angelica? She would have to get better at names or she'd never meet anyone new at school). Deciding that she was safer and more entertained by George, she made her way to the trunk of the true and began settling in. When she looked up, Fred was throwing his arms out to his side and began gripping his head. She rolled her eyes at his antics and he grinned at her. She made a face and opened her book again. With any luck, he'd leave her alone in favor of his newest audience.

She hadn't gotten more than four pages when Fred threw himself down next to her, apparently bored with a conversation about skin care. Hermione began to make a list of anything she'd done that was horrible enough to inflict Fred Weasley upon her, and she came up short. (Cutting Millicent Bulstrode's pigtails in the third grade didn't count. She deserved it after kicking Ginny and punching Harry in the face.) Or maybe, if Hermione was really honest to herself, luck had never liked her and was the bitch at the front of the class making Hermione's life miserable.

Uncomfortable with Fred's closeness, Hermione shifted to put more space between them. Fred threw his arm around her and grinned down at her. Fine, if he wanted to act buddy buddy, she'd just remind him of the blackmail material she'd yet to tell his mother about. Molly would certainly want to know that it was Fred (and George, but Hermione would never rat him out) who had glued Ms. McGonagall to her chair on his last day of school.

Encouraged by this plan of action, Hermione picked Fred's arm off her with two fingers and dropped it. He smirked at her and leaned closer, lightly tugging on her braid. Did he really not understand she wanted nothing to do with him? Just because they were neighbors didn't mean they were friends. Or did working on those machines with his father cause him to lose too many brain cells? She wouldn't be surprised if it had.

She jumped when she realized just how close he'd gotten to her. If she turned her head any, their cheeks would touch.

"Me and George are thinking we should head over to Fortescue's for ice cream until the heat dies down. I know you've been dying for their strawberry chocolate. What do you think?"

Hermione slapped his hand away from her hair and leaned away – far away – from him. "Fred Weasley, asking for my opinion in a civil manner? What has the world come to?" Fred only grinned at her and she rolled her eyes. "Quite frankly, I don't know what to think other than wonder if you just want a bigger audience."

"Oh, c'mon Hermione, it will be fun. I promise."

Hermione raised her eyebrow at him. The last time he promised that something would be fun she'd ended up missing a shoe, covered in paint, and running from a cow, hoping that her mother never figured out that she'd snuck out.

"Besides, you wouldn't want to leave Ron and Harry alone chasing after them would you? They're about to explode with teenage lust and awkwardness."

Hermione looked over to where Fred was indicating. Somehow, Ron and Harry were surrounded by a group of college aged women trying to get directions to a nearby tube rental place. Ron was blushing hard enough to show through his sunburn while Harry was trying, and failing, to keep his eyes on their faces.

She snorted at the sight. Leave it to those two to find some way to embarrass themselves in front of anyone of the female persuasion who wasn't a Weasley or a Granger. Fred stared at her, shocked at the unlady like sound, and let out a loud chuckle. Hermione made a face at him.

And then Fred was pressing into her side, close enough that if she breathed in their sides would touch. She felt his hand smooth down her braid, coming to rest at the small of her back. Hermione's eyes flew open at the sudden contact, startled at his unfamiliar touch, hoping she didn't look like a deer caught in the headlights. Fred took the opportunity to softly move her hair away from the neck and whisper in her ear. She could feel his breath against her ear before they ever registered in her mind, an unwanted shiver running down her back.

"C'mon dove. If you come, I'll show you my bad tattoo. George hasn't even seen it yet. But I know you'd appreciate it's … placement."

Oh, goodness. Why had he said that? To her? She could feel her face heat up and her stomach began to fill with butterflies. What on earth could this bad tattoo be – was it bad in that it was poorly done, or was it content his mother would kill him for? And why would he mention placement? It wasn't as if he was wearing much now, wouldn't she be able to see it? Unless it was in another place.

Her jaw dropped as she turned to face him, fighting to keep from eyeing his body. Fred leaned back and smirked at her, and she knew that he knew exactly what she was thinking. He winked at her before jumping to his feet and yelling at Harry and Ron to stop flirting and ask the ladies out so they could get out of the heat. Hermione was far too wound up to pay attention to Ron's embarrassed retort. She found she could only stare at Fred, her mind still reeling through what his comment could have meant.

Fred turned back to her and Hermione snapped her jaw together. That insufferable smirk was back. And all Hermione Jane Granger could think of were all the horrible ways she could get back at Fred Weasley and wipe that cruel, teasing smile from his face.

"Might want to collect yourself soon, Granger, or you'll miss all the fun at Fortescue's." Fred turned around and walked back over to the group, probably to cause more trouble.

In just three short weeks she'd be sharing a school with the most insane, most annoying, most insufferable person imaginable, and, if Ms. McGonagall was correct, she'd likely be sharing a class or two with him. For the second time in her life since Pansy Parkinson had forced a mud and gravel pie into her face during first grade, Hermione Jane Granger began plotting a slow and steady plan for revenge.