This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
He softly wiped away a tear with the pad of his thumb. I could tell my eyes were overly wide and staring but I couldn't tear them away from his.
"You can do so much better, Hermione." He murmured. I looked him over – his flaming red hair, freckled face with deep brown eyes.
"Who else would want me?" I muttered, looking down as the feeling of rejection washed over me again.
"Me," I looked back up, my eyes even wider than before. My breath caught as he looked from my eyes to lips and back again. Slowly he leaned forward, one of his hands resting against my neck. His breath ghosted against my lips. Gently he pressed them against mine before deepening the kiss…
The alarm in Ginny's room went off, waking me up. My sheet and blankets were tangled around me. I lay there for a moment staring at the ceiling as the details of the dream came to me.
I had been crying, upset over something to do with Ron… and then Fred was there. I groaned, rolling over so I was able to slam my face in the pillow.
Fred Weasley. The Weasley boy who was driving me insane despite the fact he and his family thought I was in love with Ron. It was becoming ridiculous – dreaming about him, thinking about him, feeling nervous whenever he entered a room. This school girl crush was getting me in deeper than I had ever planned.
I pushed the snooze button on the alarm, noting absently that Ginny was already up – probably playing Quidditch with the boys outside.
I had just drifted off to sleep when the door slammed open and I jumped up dazedly. There stood Fred Weasley, clanging one of his mother's wooden spoons on a pot.
"I'm awake! I'm awake! Just, stop, please," I said meekly, running a hand through my messy hair.
He stopped the racket and looked over at me. His eyes widened as he took in the singlet I always wore to bed. "Morning gorgeous," he said, winking before quietly walking out of the room.
I slumped back, clanging my head on the wall my bed was pushed up against. There was no point denying it, at least not to myself.
I had it bad for Fred Weasley.