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Stumpy, Stumpy Stinson
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Fred Weasley heard the distinct sound of a body dropping onto the hard stone floor behind him. Throwing his head back in defeat, he turned around slowly. Was it too much to hope that somebody, anybody, would be helping the pitiful girl?
Apparently it was. The corridor was deserted except for himself and the inert form of Patricia Stimpson. She was splayed out amidst some scattered books in the middle of the floor, lying face down and looking like a snow angel come to life with her robes splayed out around her. Sighing dramatically, Fred approached the unconscious girl's side and sat down, cross-legged, next to her. Recently Stimpson had taken to fainting as the stress of their upcoming O.W.L.S. overcame her.
Patricia, as she had demanded everyone call her, was small for a fifth year. A full sixteen inches shorter than the still growing Weasley twins, she was often teased by her red-headed classmates. Unfortunate enough to have both a diminutive stature and a last name that rhymed well with, 'stumpy', Patricia had endured their taunts for well over three years. Fred lifted a few of her blonde curls, peering down at her face as he tucked them behind her ear. She had fared well, he mused, many girls had taken it upon themselves to go to extremes to avoid the twins. But not Patricia. She had resolutely held her ground as they continued to pick on her.
Fred noticed that her glasses, thick and seemingly too big for her face, were twisting in an unnatural way under her nose; he could also see the start of a bruise working it's way around her eyes. Mutely he wondered if her nose was broken. That would be a shame because he'd always thought it was sort of cute.
Then again, if it was he could call her 'Rudolf'. Hermione had told him something about the muggle story pertaining to an ugly nosed reindeer. He didn't quite understand the implications but Patty (he resolutely refused to call her Patricia) might.
Even if she didn't he knew she'd be mortified. She tended to blush a brilliant shade of red anytime the twins made fun of her. Personally, Fred found it quite adorable, but as a professional joker he had to call it a success. He began to grin as he bent over his classmate, torturing Patty had recently taken on a different sort of tone.
His breath caused some loose strands of hair to dance around her face as he laid his head next to hers, laying out on the cool floor in a position parallel to hers.
"Patty... Patty, wake up!"
The Hufflepuff murmured softly, but her eyes remained closed.
Fred tried again, this time shaking her shoulder softly as he raised his voice, "Oi, Patty!"
She stirred, her robes brushing against Fred's chest as she brought her hand up to her head. He watched, a Cheshire cat grin on his face, as she slowly opened her dark brown eyes. Moments ticked by as Patricia blinked; her fingers curled around the broken frames of her glasses and a moan escaped her pink lips before she fully regained consciousness. Fred waited, a little less than patiently, as she finally focused on him. Her dark eyes widened abruptly and her moan turned into a resigned cry.
"Good morning sleepy head," Fred cooed, "Didn't you know that the Slytherin corridor is a bad place for a nap?"
Patricia groaned, jerking her head back away from his before pushing herself into a sitting position. Fred mimicked her movements until they were sitting across from one another. She frowned at her tormenter and tried to place her broken glasses on her face. With the Weasley's it was often best to ignore them.
"Ignoring me Patty? That's no way to treat a friend," Fred furrowed his brow, the mischievous twinkle never leaving his eye.
She glared at him, ignoring her crooked glasses as she made to stand up, "We are not friends, Fred Weasley."
"Of course we are, love, you're going to the Halloween ball with me."
Astonishment caused her to fall back to the ground, her robes billowing out around her body as she stared, open mouthed, at the Gryffindor. Fred simply grinned as though he'd won the best prize in the world and waited for her to stutter out a response.
"Wha...what?" She queried.
"Uh oh. I think you hit your head a bit hard when you fainted. Don't you remember asking me to attend the dance with you?"
Patricia shook her head, mortified at herself for even thinking of doing such a thing. A flush crept up her neck and she narrowed her eyes, quickly realizing that she wouldn't do such a thing.
"You're lying, Fred. It's not funny."
Fred sighed, climbing to his feet, proffering his hand to the still shaky Hufflepuff, "Why would I do that? You asked me and I said yes. We even agreed to coordinate our outfits."
She ignored his hand and shakily stood up on her own, her face growing quite red as she glared at the Weasley boy. "I did no such thing Fred! And even if I did, why would you want to go to the dance with me? I'm just 'Stumpy, Stumpy Stimpson' to you."
"You're not stumpy," Fred blurted, grasping Patricia's thin shoulders in his hands as he continued, "You're perfect! You're petite, yes, but that just makes you all the more adorable."
He watched as she reddened, the blush rising up from her collar to overtake her face in a beautifully pink way. He brushed another strand of hair out of her face and bent down to meet her eyes.
"I especially love it when you blush."
She was skeptical but enchanted; her eyes glued to his as she gulped, "Then...why?"
Fred laughed and stepped back, levitating her books into his arms as he headed down the hallway, "How else would I get your attention, Patty?"