Disclaimer: If I owned it, it'd be slash.
A Crazy Little Thing Called Love
Confessions of a Summer Romance
The...Journal (?) Of George Weasley
June 30th
The Gardens (-of the Burrow)
6:49 PM
Ahem.
...Ahem.
I said, "AHEM!"
Oh, yes, hello journal. Sorry about all the throat-clearing. I was thinking about what all I needed to tell you. You see, today was very... long -sorry, taxing- and yesterday was the very same only...better -sorry, more pleasant. Had someone told me that dating Hermione Granger was going to be this difficult -NO MORE ADJECTIVES!- I probably wouldn't 'ave asked-
...Wait. That part wasn't supposed to come until later. Sorry -fine, fine; I apologize- for ruining this entry in the first paragraph.
I'll just go try again, now.
No. Nevermind. That would be a waste of paper. I can very well just start from the beginning and cross all of that out later.
Just as I had suspected, my letter from Fred had been anything but kind. In fact, I don't quite understand why there was a need for such a dirty response. I mean, I was only being honest! Her boobs are going to sag! It's gravity's fault for Merlin's sake, not mine! If anything, I expected just a tiny explosion in return. Perhaps a howler, if he was having one of his "Mum" days. You know, those days when he gets all crabby and mutters to himself about this and that to the point where we all just ignore him because we know that they really isn't much of a point in trying to understand all of his jibberish. He's got more mental problems than a Mad Cow. I really must thank Mum for choosing me to be the more intelligent twin. If I can't be better-looking for him, I can damn sure settle for being better at everything else than him. Now, now, journal, don't frown. I know that I said he was horrid in bed in my letter but do remember that when I say I'm better than him, I mean in every aspect of life. Be sure to pass that on to the ladies, for me. I think that my sexual prowess (thank you, Hermione) has been kept a secret long enough! Everyone should now be well aware of my exceptional abilities.
Yes, journal, call the Prophet. We have a front page story here. Forget about Harry Potter saving the Wizarding World by dumping a bucket of water on He-Who-Must-Not-Bathe by accident. Oh no, George Weasley's big secret is out!
But, back onto Fred-The-Prat's letter or lack-there-of (Once again, thank you). It exploded as I thought it would before I could read it and I wouldn't have really gave a hoot had it not exploded-...Oh, I can't even say it. I get queasy just thinking about it so I will skip onto the good part.
Yeah, journal, insert a lot of throwing up here.
Ahah! Here we go: I was sick because of Fred's dreadfully nasty -and uncalled for (Hermione, again. Wait, it is grammatically correct to do this? Y'know, the parenthisesis inside the dashed things?)- explosion and went to be as soon as I managed to struggle out of my clothes. I didn't bother with new clothing. No one ever comes into my room, anyway. Well, not usually, atleast. But, yesterday was Hermione's lucky day so...
She came in around lunch-time. I was still in bed. I still had no clothes on. She says she was traumatized, but I know better. Her scream had woken me up but after years of living with Mum you kind of learn how to ignore shrill screams of "George Weasley!". I'd sat up a little and squinted to try to clear my view so that I could see who it was. Brown hair was all I could really grasp and assumed out loud that it was Hermione. I couldn't quite spit out 'Hermione' so when I did question her presence it came out as more of a, "'Mione."
I was rather fond of the shortened name spilling off of my tongue. It was quirky. I like quirky. I'd liked it more if it was tricky. But I can deal with quirky...for now.
She'd been turned around and was breathing like a elephant who had just run a marathon. It was over-done and fake as all. I should know, I've been faking heavy breathing since before Hermione was even born. She obviously had no idea who she was dealing with. Hmph. I smirked to myself as she waved her hand a little in my general direction and had to keep myself from laughing while I said, "You act like you've never seen-"
She cut me off -the woman has quite the temper- with some long tale about seeing things and having to clean and some other jibberish (perhaps she's having a "Mum" day, too...). I, being the kinder twin, pulled up my sheets to cover myself and let her hand me the bit of my lunch that had survived before walking to the doorway and pausing to tell me that dinner would be ready in a few hours and that if I didn't feel up to coming down to eat it, she could bring it up. I knew I was going to be fine to go down to eat and told her so before she left with a loud slam.
Pushy woman...
Don't get me wrong, though, you'll never hear me complain about Hermione Granger being pushy. I've seen the positive side to that pushy-ness a couple of times, now.
I saw it in the kitchen after dinner when Ginny, Harry and Ron had scrambled out of the kitchen at the first shattering plate. They'd mocked her openly about her screech from earlier and seemed to find it quite entertaining that they're little giggle-fit was finally finding some sort of reason for existence. Hermione, such a fragile girl, didn't take too lightly to this and after the fourth joke -"Hermione, can you imagine you and George's kids!? HA! They'd have bushy red hair! Poor things!"- she grabbed one of the white china plates and tossed it against the wall with more force than a hippogriff getting insulted. For a moment, I wondered if Buckbeak had come for a visit while I slept...
I hadn't moved during her outburst. I'm a man (unlike Harry and Ron) and no woman's little fit is going to keep me from food. Sorry. She'd watched me curiously while I took another bite of my roast. It was better than the roast at Hogwarts' and I dug in a bit more after swallowing that bit. Full-blown confusion was on her face by that point and she'd slammed her hand down on the table infront of me to make her presence known.
I didn't even look up. Food. Food-plus-George-equals-good. George-plus-Hermione-minus-foot-equals-Bad.
"Aren't you going to leave, now!?"
Okay, So I decided I should atleast acknowledge her, "No. I'm eating." What did they say to always do to woman to keep them happy? Oh, yeah, "This roast is very good," compliment them.
Hermione didn't say anything after that. She watched me eat in complete silence... Well, almost complete. In the living room, we could hear Ginny blasting that muggle song about girlfriends or something rather. Perhaps that was what gave Hermione the idea.
What idea?
Well, the idea to kiss me, of course.
I stood up to take my plate to the sink. I pushed back my chair. I bent over to pick up my plate. I was pushed against the wall. I was cornered by a smaller body that smelled of sage and citrus with pouty lips that had more strength than any that had ever been pushed against mine, before. I had a set of feet stepping on mine and pressing uncomfortably against my toes as she tipped-toes to reach my mouth and I consented silently by leaning down slightly and returning the kiss. I encouraged her when I reached down and grasped her hips loosely.
I don't remember how long it lasted or exactly what happened afterwards. In fact, all I really remember after that was walking slowly past her bedroom door after my shower thinking about kissing Hermione Granger and wondering whether the pigs flying around outside where pink or green...
Someone help me,
George "I kissed Hermione Granger" Weasley