Disclaimer: Ant recognizable figures in this fable do not, will not, and have not belonged to me. I simply own the idea. :)
AU: For Fred:)
CRACKSHIPING is AMAZING
And Cannon too, it's pretty good when the couples are decent.
I thought this was great:)
Established: Angelina/Oliver Wood
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Fred was conscious long before he'd willed his eyes to open. Fred felt strange; that sort of "I don't know what the hell happened last night and where I am and I'm mildly frightened to find out" strange.
He didn't open his eyes yet. He may have not known what was happening, but he was sure of one thing; his head was pounding and his stomach felt as flimsy as whatever sheet lay over his, from current observation, very naked body. The room smelled harshly of whiskey and a soft, slender arm was snaking around his waist.
At this, he began to open his eyes. He hissed at the light and ducked beneath the sheet, blinking a few times. Whomever this body belonged to, he was delighted to be laying next to it. He slowly rose from beneath the sheet to see whom he would be congratulating on such a fit body when he froze.
He knew that black, soft, wavy hair.
He knew that smooth dark skin.
He knew those full, slightly puckered lips.
With near hesitance, he rose the frayed curls from off of the girl's eyes and panic rose into his throat and stopped there.
His former suspicions were correct.
He'd shagged Angelina Johnson.
Angelina Johnson, whom, according to the off axis wall calender, was getting married in two days. Right beside a lipstick stained glass and the slid-out-of-place clock, laid the invitation to that wedding.
He ran a hand through his hair, and attempted to even his breathing, pushing the strangling panic away. "Bloody hell", came his hoarse whisper.
Angelina stirred slightly and his eyes widened to a near comic size.
She curled closer to him, her lips brushing his hip as she moved. Normally, he'd have smiled, because that felt damn good, but due to circumstances, he was struck dumb, awaiting her arrival to consciousness and the state of mind she'd be in upon it.
She had seemingly found a comfortable spot before he felt her body tense. She blinked her eyes open.
Too fast, he thought, as she let out a loud groan and rubbed at her sore eyes. She slowly sat up, and opened one eye, then the other, and met his.
Her face was a mixture of sorrow, fear, and panic. Ergo, he began to panic.
"Oh shit, what have I done?"
Fred breathed nervously, turning forward. The two gripped the bed spread at their chests, staring at the wall opposite the bed they were siting up in. They were quiet.
He didn't turn to look at her, mostly in fear that he'd receive some sort of physical harm. He knew Angelina, and she wasn't fun under duress.
"Please...please tell me that we didn't do what I think we did and this is all some terrible prank?"
"I'm afraid I cannot provide you with an honest answer, seeing as my mind is mush right now", Fred looked at her now, and her jaw hung in silent panic and disbelief, "however, from the looks of it...", his eyes scanned the room; it was practically torn apart, "seems like you and I tore the roof off of this one".
And, against his better judgment, he smirked.
Angelina gave him a good whack to the back of his head.
"Fred, this is not funny, I'm getting married in two days and I am NOT supposed to be shagging anyone; especially if they are NOT my fiancee!", she was winded, and the tears were making an appearance "Fred, what-I-Oh Godric...", she began trembling, and Fred panicked again.
His mind was racing, a million and one reasons for what was wrong and so very right about this flying through his head but he could not entertain those thoughts now; his best friend needed him.
"Angie", he reached over and held her, and she cried a little harder. Blimey, was he screwing up, "I-"
They both froze when they heard keys jingle somewhere outside the door.
Without a word, the two flew out of the bed, searching for articles of clothing and flinging them to the respective owner. Naturally, Fred found her bra, and couldn't help but ask, "is this your's or mine?"
He received a shoe to the head for that one and decided not to make any more jokes for the time being. After putting his underwear on, he fled the room, whispering a harsh "hide", before he put his full weight against the opening door looking through the peep hole.
The person opposite the door let out a surprised grunt, "bloody Hell!"
Fred didn't get a good enough look before he was on his arse and nose to nose with the tip of a wand.
He figured, if he was going to die, he'd die with dignity, so he looked right at the wanker with the wand.
"Fred, what the bloody hell were you blocking the door for?"
"George", Fred stood to his full height, "I've never been happier to see you. Now I know that I am in our apartment...which means we were in your room because the wall was blank, oh godrick, I'm sorry Georgie, I didn't-"
"Hold on", George rose his palm to silence his mirror, pocketing his wand before giving Fred his attention again, "what the hell are you talking about?"
Fred grimaced, "I'm going to buy you a new bed, sheets and all."
George's face turned up in knowing disgust, "Fu**, Fred, not this again! You tosser, bringing random broads into my-"
George stopped short of the incoming insult.
Because the random broad was sitting on the edge of his bed.
And she wasn't a random broad at all.
It took George four seconds to piece the puzzle.
"Fred, you don't have to buy me a new bed".
Fred's brows furrowed, "why?"
"Because, brother", George laid a heavy hand on his brother's shoulder, "You slept with Oliver Wood's fiance. I'll need the money for your funeral."
RnR and I hope you enjoyed it!!