My Secret Obsession

By Kukaburry

Chapter 1- Prologue

Acceptance is the first step to admitting you have a problem. Or whatever that bullshit is. It's written in so many books that it's hard to keep all of those cheesy sayings straight. Okay, fine, I'll admit my problem. I am obsessed with Fred Weasley. Go ahead: laugh, cry, throw up. I don't care. You're reading this story, so go ahead and bawl your head off and come back when you're done. Better now? Good. Twit. Sorry, it slipped. Alright, so there it is, I'm obsessed with Fred Weasley.

I guess now is the part where I tell you why I'm obsessed with him. There's no real jumping off point. No utter moment of just 'knowing' that he would become my sole interest, but I can damn well remember the first time I met him. When I came to appreciate just how perfect he could be for me. I admit that it took me a good half year to recognize him apart from his brother, but once I did, my stalking became much easier. Oops, I was saving that detail for later.

Anyways, back to the first time I met him. It was my first year at Hogwarts. My family didn't even know I had a magical bone in me until we got the letter. My mom is a witch from Egypt who moved to England to work at the ministry in the International Communications bureau. She met my dad at a muggle pub one night and it was all over for her. Don't get me wrong, I love my dad, but they're so disgustingly in love. You know, those parents who suck face right in front of you? I mean, major ooer, right? So suffice to say they got married a year later and had me, my brother and my sister all in a row. Can I just tell you that it sucks to be the oldest? The little brats always get what they want and I always get blamed for their shit.

Sorry, I got sidetracked again. My sister and brother both showed magical tendencies when they were five, but I basically thought I was going to end up being a Squib. I literally heard my parents sigh in relief when the Hogwarts letter arrived on my eleventh birthday. So I packed up my tiny trunk, caged my insane kitten that my parents bought me for my birthday and trucked off to middle-of-freaking-nowhere. Seriously now, Hogwarts is in the nether regions of the planet. We're witches and wizards, we're magical beings, couldn't we make Hogwarts just a tiny bit easier to get to? I digress.

Right away I didn't fit in at Hogwarts. I got sorted into Gryffindor even though I'm probably the meekest person ever born. The first time you were to set eyes on me, you would think 'Wow she's meek'. I promise, you would. For some reason the hat thought I would be a good addition to the Gryffindor crowd, and yet I have not come to the conclusions of why or how. I am totally incompatible with the Gryffindor hyperness. Everyone is always partying and laughing and enjoying life. I enjoy life as much as the next person, but I don't feel the need to scream it at the top of my lungs every single day.

I wouldn't categorize myself as a cynical person, because I look at many things positively. I know that one day I'll be out of the hell-hole that is Hogwarts and be part of real life. See? That's positive. It's funny when you come to the realization of how people look at you. One day in Muggle Studies class we went around the room and told every person what our first impression of them was. Guess what mine was: 'You're quiet.' 'You're pretty quiet.' 'You don't talk much.' 'You seem to keep to yourself.'

Gee, thanks guys. What a revelation. I like to keep to myself, what a surprise. Yes, I like to practice my spell by myself. Mostly because I'm friggin embarrassed to be called a witch. It takes me days to learn a new spell and everyone else learns it in less than an hour. How do they do it? No, I don't hate them, I'm just jealous. I don't really know why I became a quiet person. I used to yell and scream with everyone else when I was really young. I think it was when my dad got sick and I had to grow up really fast and help my mom take care of my siblings. He was really sick for years until one day he magically got up and started running around like his usual self. A complete miracle, yes, but I was never the same.

So there it is, my existence summed up in a couple of paragraphs. What was I talking about before? Oh right, Fred. How, you ask, did it start? Like I said before, I can't really explain what happened. It gradually progressed over a couple of weeks. I first met Fred first year, like I said, in the most typical way ever. I was the center of one of the twins' pranks. Apparently Fred and George had noticed how quiet I was and had also noticed how much I liked chocolate frogs. No, not like, love. I love chocolate frogs. If it came in liquid form I would sit there and drink it all day long. Needless to say, I'm kind of fat. So back to Fred. The twins, combining these two seemingly casual bits of information, plotted against me.

I was sitting in the common room with Simon (my kitten) on my lap, reading about levitation charms, when I felt someone looking at me. I lifted my head and noticed the twins staring at me. Very blatantly. I'm not a suspicious person, sorry I meant I 'wasn't', a suspicious person. I had never had a prank pulled on me and I was too quiet to have anyone notice me. Or so I thought. One of them, George I later found out, stood up and offered me a couple of his Chocolate Frogs. What a coincidence, I had thought, I love chocolate frogs and I had been thinking about going upstairs to grab some. "Thanks!" I squeaked and took it happily from him.

I took a bite and a strange nutty flavor filled my mouth. "Is there Hazelnut in this?" I asked, mouth full of chocolatey bits (yum, sexy).

"Yeah, it's this cool new flavor we found," the other twin, Fred, said with a perfect smile.

"Wow, thanks. This is really good," I stammered in appreciation. I threw the rest of the frog in my mouth and chewed. "Chocolate Frogs are my favORITE..," I stopped mid-sentence, wondering what was wrong with my throat. "WHAT IS WRONG...," I stopped again. Half of the common room was now looking in my direction, wondering why I was bellowing. Simon dug his claws into my leg and jumped off in a hurry, obviously terrified of how much noise I was making.

Both Fred and George sniggered remorselessly at the look on my face. "DID YOU DO THIS?" I shouted. At least now I felt angry enough to bellow. "THIS IS NOT FUNNY!"

Tears of laughter ran down their cheeks. "Yes," George guffawed. "You were the perfect person to try this on."

"WHY? I HAVEN'T DONE ANYTHING TO YOU." I felt tears welling up, much to my horror. I generally make it a habit to keep all emotions to myself until I'm alone.

Fred grinned impishly at me. "Because you're so flipping quiet all the time."

He thought it was funny, did he? Okay, I'll grudgingly admit that it was kind of funny. I sounded like an opera singer who chain smoked. Alright, I light up a fag every once in a while, but who doesn't when life is stressful? "YOU GUYS SUCK!" I roared, dashing up to my room and jumping into my bed. I stayed there for at least three hours until I heard everyone in my year come in and go to sleep.

Once I was sure that everyone was fast asleep, I padded out the door and back to the common room to pick up my book. "Has the potion worn off yet?" A voice asked from behind me. I whipped around protectively and raised my hands. One of the evil twins was staring at me, bemused. "Calm down, I'm not going to hurt you."

"I can't bee too careful with people like you," I replied hoarsely.

"Wow, that potion did a number on your throat." Yeah, moron, I know. You did it to me! "Does it hurt?"

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "I'm fine." My voice cracked roughly and he shrugged.

"Alright, well I brought you some butterbeer as an apology. My brother and I like to play jokes on people."

"Yeah, it was just so funny you arse," I bit back harshly. Where had that come from? I usually didn't snap at people out loud.

He held his hands up defensively. "No permanent damage, I promise. You have a very loud voice when you yell." He added with a slight grin.

"Well I'm glad you got to experience it, but I'm only sorry it didn't burst your eardrums," I growled and snatched at the bottle of butterbeer he was holding. Holy shit, I was really being mean. It felt kind of empowering. "Well, whoever you are, I hope you enjoyed the show. I can only hope to never see you again."

"Wait, what's your name?" He asked curiously.

Thinking back, I shouldn't have told him my name. That is exactly where I can pinpoint when people started calling me by my nickname. "My name is Mia Longbourne."

He seemed to ponder my name for several minutes and finally looked up and nodded at me. "Mia, that's the perfect name for a little mouse like you." My horror must have been evident on my face because he grinned fully at me. "You're small, you're quiet and you squeak when you talk."

He sauntered past me up the staircase, completely immune to my fiery thoughts of murder and death. Before her rounded the corner of the stairs, I heard him say something. "My name is Fred Weasley."

The combination of his easy gait, his tall stature and his suave voice had me intrigued. What really nipped at my thoughts was the fact that I had been so talkative because of him. For three weeks after that incident I peeked at him out of the corner of my eye, trying to figure out what it was about him that caused me to speak my mind. I watched him talk with his friends. I watched him plot with his brother. I watched him always take the tomato off of his sandwich. I watched him flirt with girls that were too old for him. It was those three weeks that made me realize something impossible about myself. I had become obsessed with Fred Weasley.

Hello lovely, smexy, totally deranged readers. New story time! This is my first first-person story I've written for fanfiction. I've written two personal stories in first person, so hopefully this will turn out the way I want it to. Let me know how you like it so far and if there's any details I might have left out about the character so I can address them in the following chapters. You know how it is writing stories, you have the character drawn out in your mind and on paper, but you might not make it clear to the reader. Revision is a writer's best friend! So please review.

~Kukaburry