Public Display of Affection by Luvscharlie
"You are a royal moron!" Hermione rushed forward with a blanket to cover the Pygmy Puff cage in the front portion of the shop.
"Well, Hermione, I hate to burst your bubble, but I'm not sure morons come in the royal variety."
"Hmph. Shows what you know," she whispered, more to the cage of frightened, squeaking animals than to him. "Honestly, Fred, what have you done this time?"
"Well, darling," he said, his tone one of amusement as he looked at the ceiling, "I believe I made it snow."
"In the shop?"
"You are the observant one," he said, covering the fireworks with another blanket to keep them from becoming saturated by the rapidly melting snow.
Hermione clicked her tongue in an attempt to soothe the now shrieking Pygmy Puffs, but her attempts were in vain. They only grew louder as they began to tremble from the cold. "Fred, make it stop. The poor dears are shivering."
"I would make it stop," he said reaching for one side of the cage and indicating she should lift the other, "but I haven't the faintest notion how I made it start. We'll take them upstairs in front of the fireplace until we can sort it out."
She was as anxious as the puffs to get out of the freezing shop. Her teeth had begun to chatter and she was shivering. Perhaps she was pushing him to move a bit too quickly. He was, after all, walking backwards up the stairs and the cage was heavy.
"Honestly, Fred. Last month it was a thunderstorm in the middle of the supply room. That was a joy to clean up." She hoped her voice relayed the degree of sarcasm to which she intended. "Now, snow. I never thought I'd say this, but I actually miss the explosions."
Fred raised an eyebrow at her in obvious disbelief. "I wish I had a recorder at the moment."
"Why's that?"
"Well," he said, struggling with the weight of the cage as all the puffs shifted to one side, "because I firmly believe that when the next explosion happens, you'll be wishing for the rain and snow again. I'd rather like to remind you then that it was your idea for the explosions to resume."
She cleared her throat in an attempt to stifle the laughter that she felt tickling the back of her throat. The puffs shifted again in the cage and Hermione lost her grip. It was simply too heavy for Fred to hold by himself and she jumped out of harm's way just in time. The cage went sailing down the staircase and crashed spectacularly, sending the puffs to scamper freely about the shop.
"Bloody hell," he swore. "Now we have to catch the little buggers."
Hermione righted the cage and set off in pursuit of a bright blue ball of fuzz that was much better at avoiding her than one might have believed possible. "I thought you were cold, you little fluff-ball," she railed. "You're not going to get to the fire any quicker that way." She looked up a few minutes later to discover that Fred had captured most of the others, and she was still in pursuit of the same feisty little creature. "You're making me look bad," she said to it through gritted teeth. "You might give me a break, you know?"
"Here Hermione, I'll give you a hand," Fred said. "That one's gotten out before; damned quick little fellow too."
"No, no. I've got him," she protested. The puff seemed to understand and dove from the shelf upon which it was perched and between her arms. Hermione lunged for it, slipped on the snowy floor and knocked both she and Fred to the ground. Her face flamed when she realised that she had landed facedown in Fred Weasley's lap, his crotch mere inches from her nose. Could things get any worse?
"You might have at least gotten a room," George said from somewhere behind her.
Yes, apparently it could get worse. Much, much worse.
Fin.
A/N: Written for Round 2, Challenge 1 of the Fwhg_ldws (Fred Weasley/Hermione Granger Last Drabble Writer Standing) Competition on Live Journal for the prompt of snowstorm. This one made the cut to survive to the next round.