Written for QLFC Round 5
Team: Falmouth Falcons
Position: Beater 1
Main prompt: Hypocrisy
Optional Prompts:
(word) casual
(dialogue) "You think you're so clever, don't you?"
Words: 2,327
"'Suppose you couldn't just leave it alone?" Fred sighed, tired. He'd exhausted his usual deflective measures, jokes and quips, trying to change the subject. "You're almost as bad as my mum, poking about. I happen to like my privacy."
"I'm just trying to help," Hermione huffed next to him, rolling her eyes as he stocked the shelf next to them.
"How is torturing a man about his dating life helping?" he asked, raising his eyebrows at her. She scoffed.
"Torturing?" Hermione rolled her eyes again, more obviously. "Trying to set you up with Parvati, who has had a crush on you for an excessively long time is hardly torture."
"An excessively long time, you say?" George yelled from behind the counter. "Are you sure she isn't thinking of the more handsome twin?"
"Clearly she is speaking to the more handsome twin, isn't she?" Fred yelled back, winking at Hermione. "Sorry to break it to you, Georgie. Though you could always go in my place."
"Somehow I don't think my fiance would like that," George replied looking around in faux fear.
"Somehow I think you're right," Angelina's voice called from the second floor. George pointed up mouthing "told you so."
"Could one of you equally ugly wizards stop arguing and please send up some of the daydream quills?" she added.
"Oi," the twins yelled, but George sent several boxes flying up to Angelina.
"I can't believe you're still selling those," Hermione sighed as Fred turned back to the shelf, stocking the Creepy Crawlies. He glanced at her, eyes stuck to where the boxes had disappeared to, mouth twisted in a scowl.
Finally. Something else to talk about.
"Of course we're still selling them!" he exclaimed, dropping the remaining boxes on the shelf. "Can't deprive our loyal customers of one of our most popular items."
"It's so childish. And unhealthy."
"You said their predecessors were brilliant magic!" Fred said, leaning against the shelf and arranging himself to look at casual as possible. Yet lately around Hermione, he often felt anything but. Fred wasn't sure when that shift had happened, a change from his little brother's best friend to just Hermione.
"Well, of course they are. Most of your products are," Hermione said, gesturing around the aisle like it was obvious. Fred's heart flipped at the compliment. "But it doesn't change the fact that people are using them as an emotional crutch instead of facing the psychological repercussions of the war. I can't believe you're enabling that."
"Believe it, beautiful," Fred smirked as Hermione's frown deepened. "We're here to make people happy. These make people happy."
"At what cost?"
"Tell me something," Fred said, leaning closer. "Why are you so against a little daydream? What do you see, Granger?" She looked away and chewed her bottom lip.
Interesting.
Before he could ask more, Hermione backed away quickly. "I have to head into work now, I'll just tell Parvati no for you." She rushed out the door without turning back without giving Fred the chance to reply. He furrowed his brows as the doors swung shut.
"Why the rush?" George asked, appearing at his side. "Catch a whiff of how bad you smell?" Fred punched his twin's arm. George had been getting an unhealthy amount of joy out of teasing him whenever Hermione came around lately.
"Boys, I think you've done the math wrong in your books!" Angelina called from behind the counter a few hours later. "You didn't account for the sale of two of your daydream quills." George swaggered towards her and leaned over her shoulder.
"No, that's what we sold yesterday," George said, shaking his head.
"So why are you missing two boxes and have more money than they are worth in the register?" she asked, pointing to the books. "Unless you two are paying for your own daydreams."
George and Fred looked at each other, both realizing there had been only one other person in the store who could've stolen any products since yesterday. And she'd be the only person who would actually buy the products rather than steal.
"Will you clue me into your creepy twin telepathy?"
"Hermione," the twins said at the same time.
"Why would she secretly buy them? Isn't she basically like your sister?" At Angelina's question, Fred felt sick, but couldn't figure out why. "Couldn't she just ask?"
"I don't know," George shrugged. "She doesn't like them. Could be binning them as some sort of revenge."
"Why not just take them?" she persisted, studying the inventory list again.
"Really, the Prefect?" her fiance scoffed, likely remembering the countless times Hermione had yelled at him in their seventh year.
"Who robbed a bank!" Angelina exclaimed back, crossing her arms.
"Maybe I can go over to Flourish and Blotts and check in on her," Fred interrupted, finally finding his voice. "I could watch her, see what she's done with them.
"Didn't you say something about respecting your private life to her just this morning?" Angelina asked, cocking an eyebrow.
"This is different!" he said, tipping his chin defiantly at the pair behind the counter.
"Ah yes, you wanting to spy on her private life is a step further," George said with a Cheshire cat-like smile. "Careful brother mine, you're walking that thin line of hypocrisy."
Fred waved him off, headed to the door. "And if she's using them after giving us so much trouble about them?" Fred asked before he stepped out. "What does that make me then? Other than a genius."
"Then the pair of you can be hypocrites together." George shrugged, sharing a smile with Angelina. Fred threw up a rude hand gesture as he walked out the door.
"Love you too, you wanker!" George called after him.
Fred wandered into the bookstore, waving at the cute blonde witch working at the counter. Amy, he thought her name was. She had come into the store several times, often just to flirt with Lee.
"Hermione?" he mouthed. The woman smiled broader and pointed to the stairs. As he climbed, Fred shook his head, remembering when Hermione had told him she'd picked up weekend shifts at Flourish and Blotts. He had asked her why, as he knew she was busy enough, but her answer of loving books was hardly satisfying. Fred didn't mind though, since it meant he saw her far more often. He found himself looking forward to working weekends more than any sane person should.
He figured Hermione was on her break now, hiding out in the top floor back corner, nose buried in a book. Finding his way to her favorite corner, he stopped short when he spotted her. She was sitting in the comfortable chair she favored for her breaks, wild curls piled on the top of her head. But what captured his attention was that Hermione was sucking on the quill with a far away look in her eyes.
Bloody hypocrite.
George's voice in the back of his mind rang out with, "Which one of you, you voyeur?" Pointedly ignoring that, Fred tiptoed over to her spot.
"You think you're so clever don't you?" he asked, bending down to whisper it in her ear. She jumped looking up at him with wide eyes. He looked at the quill and back up at her, unable to contain his smirk. A pink flush danced across her cheeks.
Hermione took her break, letting Amy take over the front desk. She reached into her bag, reaching far down to the bottom of her extendable bag to find the quills she'd taken. She hesitated, looking down at it, remembering her words to Fred.
"Childish," her brain whispered. "Unhealthy."
Yet she found herself unwrapping the quill, bringing it to her lips.
Last year she'd beta tested the product for her friends, alongside Ginny, Harry, Ron, and Lee. Everyone had talked about the fantasy that drew them in, from winning Quidditch matches to catching dark wizards.
Except Hermione. Hermione's daydream had shocked her, a fantasy pulled from some untapped part of her brain. She'd ignored it, refusing to acknowledge it, keeping her report as vague as possible. During their second test, the same fantasy cropped up. To her surprise she was the only person who had a repeat daydream. This pattern continued and she lied when asked what her daydreams were about.
Then the lying continued, lying to the twins about using the item, lying to herself about why she kept using them. She had become a victim to the quills, an addict to a future she'd never see. When she wasn't actively using one of the quills, she was thinking about the illusions they showed her, imagining she was there instead of stocking shelves or doing paperwork at the Ministry.
Hermione sighed and sucked on the charmed sugar quill, letting the hazy feeling take over the front of her brain, the sharp angles of reality fading away.
It always started the same. The bride and groom were finishing their first dance, Harry dipping Ginny low and giving her a kiss as the music came to a stop. Fred appeared in front of her, wearing a sharp muggle suit, the dark navy highlighting his broad form.
"May I have this dance?" he asked, low and slow. He was wearing the mischievous smirk as he offered his hand. She slipped her hand into his rough grip and let him lead them to the dance floor. "I know you're basically a master at everything you do, but try not to be intimidated by my amazing dancing skills."
"I'll try not to," Hermione chuckled at his vibrato, feeling at ease in his arms. They danced offbeat, Fred twirling her until she was dizzy and they were laughing. The song changed, a slow tune clearing the floor around them. Fred collected her in his arms, holding her flush to his body, and led them in a gentle sway.
Hermione knew was nearing her favorite part of the daydream. Her pulse quickened.
"You look beautiful, you know," he whispered, ducking his head down to rest his forehead on her's. She tipped her head up, her lips about to brush his and -
"You think you're so clever don't you?" his voice asked, causing her eyes to spring open in alarm. That wasn't supposed to happen. The haziness disappeared, her gentle Fred replaced by a smirking one.
"So what fantasy are you lost in?" Fred asked smugly. "What could possibly be so embarrassing that you are sneaking these out? Must be especially good if you're leaving a tip."
"Nothing," Hermione lied evenly, shifting under his amused gaze. "It was about becoming Minister of Magic."
"Well, that's hardly avoiding reality," he replied with an easy shrug. "That's the future. No, there's something else. Maybe someone else?"
Hermione ducked her head, hoping she could hide the flush creeping up her neck.
"So it is someone else," he said lightly, leaning over her. "Care to share?"
"I need to go," Hermione rushed out. "My break's probably over." As she moved to stand, Fred stepped even closer.
"Tell me it's not still my brother," he said, so close she could feel his breath hot on her cheek. His tone was serious, so wrong coming out of his mouth."Or any of my brothers, really."
"Ron?!" Hermione scoffed, momentarily distracted from her escape route. "No! That was two weeks, and we realized it didn't work." Fred pulled back and nodded solemnly.
"Your problem was not going after the most handsome Weasley."
"I'm sure Fleur would've protested if I went after her husband," Hermione said, crossing her arms over her chest with a quirked eyebrow. Fred smiled, easy and lazy, her favorite, and her stomach came alive like it was filled with pixies.
"When's the last time you got your eyesight checked?"
"My eyesight is fine!" Hermione scoffed. "I don't need anything checked."
"I beg to differ," he said with a wink. "What, owl got your tongue? Who do you see?"
"Someone once told me 'ask me no questions and I'll tell no lies,'" she said as haughtily as possible. The effect was lost when her eyes drifted towards his lips. When she glanced back up, his eyebrows hit his hairline, all of his mock superiority gone.
"Oh," he breathed, studying her intensely. She could see the tips of his ears had tinged pink.
"Yeah," Hermione said lamely, wishing she could have plucked any other word from her famous mind. They stared at each other for a moment before Fred leaned in and captured her lips with a gentle kiss. Chaste and over too soon, the kiss left her wanting more.
"Did I fulfill your wildest fantasy then?" he whispered teasingly as he pulled back, a smile lighting up his face again.
"I always find that practice is the only way to get something perfect," she said, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and pulling him closer.
"Why weren't we doing this kind of studying back at Hogwarts?" he joked before she kissed him again.
Hermione watched Harry dip his bride as their first dance ended. Fred appeared before her, smiling mischievously. He held his hand out to her. "May I have this dance?"
Fred asked, a near perfect match for her daydream. Only his purple suit gave him away.
"I thought you'd never ask," she replied, letting him lead her onto the dance floor. He pulled her close, snaking his arms around her waist. That familiar smell of cedar and gunpowder hit her nose. Hermione sighed happily, letting her head drop onto his chest as they moved slowly together.
"You are the most beautiful witch here," he whispered into her ear. She squeezed him tighter, looking up at him with a smile.
"My two favorite hypocrites," George sing-songed as he danced by, Angelina laughing into his shoulder.
"I'm okay with that title," Fred murmured before pulling Hermione in for a kiss.
As their lips met, Hermione could only think about how this reality was better than any daydream.