A HariPo drabble
Note: The Harry Potter characters belong to J.K. Rowling, not me. This pairing was discovered by me, so please gimme a little mention if you write them! Thanks! It is one of many of Mew and Mor's Weird Pairings, most of which you may find in Mor's and my forum, "Mew and Mor's Weird Pairings Fan Stories," found here (Just take out the spaces!): http : / forum. fanfiction. net/ forum /Mew_and_Mors_Weird_Pairings_Fan_Stories /76194 / Read, review, and enjoy! And check out and join the forum FUN!
In your opinion, anything's "the worst that could happen."
It's a bull excuse, and you know it, but you're sure it's what's helped keep you in check all these years. You'll just sit back and watch from afar… Don't girls like that? Don't they? Don't they swoon for the man who watches over them like some sort of angel?
But there are horns holding up that halo, Freddie, old boy.
It's tiresome sometimes, to just watch and not act. Why should you have to bottle it up? How is it that something that—in any other scenario—is so pure and wonderful and endearing is actually so tainted and horrid and ensnaring? And you know what it's going to ensnare? Your heart, life, and reputation—because, Freddie, old boy, you're doomed.
Whatever happened to the "witches are icky" stage? Huh? Didn't there used to be a time when you looked up to your father and his twin, imagining that one day you and Roxanne would be the geniuses and take over the joke shop and then go on to be master of the universe or something?
Maybe you forgot that stage when you started seeing Lucy in that kind of light.
It was a funny turn, you'd told yourself at first. Maybe you'd eaten a bad treacle tart—Mum was always better with a broomstick than with a whisk. But you surely had some hallucination, because suddenly your cousin was all girly and dainty and so unbelievably Lucy that you couldn't look away:
—soft, auburn hair—
—gentle, plain-yet-not-plain brown eyes—
—a pretty pink pout that was all the more beautiful when she laughed at a joke, your joke—
And then, she looked at you.
You melted at her gaze. You were a helpless little ice cube or something as your words turned completely incoherent in your conversation with your best mate, Lorcan, over the best Quidditch teams. Perhaps that was all right—perhaps it helped you to address that tingly feeling you'd started having. Because face it, Freddie, old boy—
You're the son of George Weasley, so when you fall, you fall hard and don't hit the ground running.
And she—she—Lucy ate a chocolate-dipped strawberry, not knowing any better what she was doing to you. It was torture…the condensation from her breath forming on the chocolate shell…the bite mark of her white teeth as she bit the berry…the trickling juice on her chin that stayed there for an agonizing, eternal six seconds as she fumbled to find a napkin…
Your heart saw an opportunity, and your napkin placed itself in her hand. All on its own, of course.
So watch as she smiles at you, Freddie. Hear her giggle, see her toss her hair over her shoulder, and remain frozen awkwardly at her side. Even if she laughs as she pushes the rest of the strawberry into your mouth and you gag a little on it, think nothing of it. Keep yourself in check. Let her take the tiny stem and cap of the berry back to lick the leftover juice from it…
Oh, Freddie, old boy, you've had years of practice keeping it bottled up. Don't let her make you crumble. No, don't let her… Yet.
A random idea and Freddie's jumbled thoughts on Lucy and liking/loving her. I still think it's hilarious that I only like Lucy with Freddie, for the most part. :P XD
Thanks for reading and please review!