A/N: Another Fred x Hermione. Enjoy! R&R! Thanks. –Mac
Disclaimer: I don't own HP.
Busted Superiority Complex
"I do believe I have the worst luck with men," Hermione and stated simply to her best girl friend, Ginny Weasley.
The two were sitting behind the counter at Weasley Wizard Wheezes. Ginny had taken to working there because she joined the pranks and frankly it was easy—plus she to spend time with her two favorite brothers, Fred and George. Hermione was fresh off her latest break up a needed a one-on-one girl talk with Ginny—and she could care less if Ginny was in the middle of a shift. She had conjured up another stool and plopped herself down. She gave no mind to the browsing customers, or the moments Ginny had to pause the conversation to ring someone up, or meet eavesdropping Weasley twin to her right.
"Honestly, since Ron and I split up, I hadn't been able to find a single decent guy," Hermione huffed.
Ginny frowned, "What about that nice man from the book shop? He seemed to take a liking to you real quick."
"He's barely out of Hogwarts, Ginny," Hermione crinkled her nose. "I'd still like a cradle robber."
"You're only a few years out of Hogwarts yourself," Ginny replied.
"Seven," Hermione corrected, "That's more than a few. Three is a few. And he got his N.E.W.T.s results in the post only a few weeks ago."
"Oh don't exaggerate," Ginny giggled. "Fine, what about that one from your department at the Ministry, the one with the accent. He was gorgeous."
"Interoffice romances and I don't mix well," Hermione shook her head, "Remember the last man from my department I let take me out? He spat when he spoke and spilled a drink down my shirt. Besides, word has been going around that Logan—the one with the accent—has a wife back in his country of origin that no one here has ever seen."
"I don't believe that," Ginny shrugged. "he wasn't wearing a ring when I met him…"
"He never has, but if he is married and never mentions his wife or wears a ring…that's something telling about his strength of character," Hermione responded.
"You're making an assumption based on a rumor," Ginny pointed out.
"Better safe than sorry," Hermione said.
Ginny shook her head, "But his accent is delicious…Never mind though. Dean Thomas asked you to dinner didn't he?"
"I turned him down."
"Why?" Ginny questioned. "Dean's a good guy."
"Yes, but you dated him…that would just be strange," Hermione answered.
"I guess," Ginny nodded, "So there are no prospects?"
"No one suitable," Hermione responded.
"You know what? Harry and I know the perfect guy for you. He works with Harry and—"
"No," Hermione said sharply.
Ginny pouted, "Why not?"
"Because the last time I left you and Harry set me up it ended in disaster," Hermione replied.
"It wasn't that bad."
"He set my dress on fire—my favorite dress by the way. I would much rather go out with the guy from my office and spend the night covered in saliva and fire whiskey," Hermione explained.
Ginny cringed, "Ew. Well look, think about it…this guy has no wife, no kids, he doesn't spit, and he doesn't drink. He also has no pyromaniac tendencies. I have to help this customer. Think it over."
Hermione scoffed lightly to herself as Ginny walked away, "Not happening."
"You're a piece of work, Miss Granger," Fred suddenly commented, turning from where he had been arranging new products on a shelf.
"What makes you say that?" Hermione questioned with her hands on her hips.
"Well, you've got one busted up superiority complex now don't you?" Fred replied.
Hermione frowned, "Excuse me?"
"Is no one good enough for you?" Fred asked firmly, stepping closer to her. "Because as it sounds, no one can fit your standards."
"Maybe someone is," Hermione responded. "I just haven't met him yet."
"Or maybe you already have and you let them go," Fred suggested.
"I don't believe that," Hermione disagreed. "Besides, you're not exactly an expert on romance yourself."
Fred grinned, "I suppose not, but at least I don't let one little issue stop me from going out with a gal."
"I don't do that," Hermione scowled.
"I would have to disagree," Fred countered, "From what I heard of your conversation with Ginny, it sounds like that's exactly what you do."
"Humph," Hermione pouted, "Not true."
"You could prove me wrong," Fred challenged.
Hermione questioned, "How would you suggest I do that?"
"Go on a date with Married-Accent-Man from your department or the baby from the bookstore," Fred answered.
"Not likely," Hermione responded.
Fred chuckled, "What's the difference? I'd bet you wouldn't even make it through one date. You couldn't."
"I could too," Hermione felt herself rising to the challenge. "I would wager I could."
"I'll take that wager," Fred replied. "I would bet a dinner on it…one from that expensive new place at the other end of Diagon Alley. If you can't make it through one dinner with a guy you've so far rejected, then it's your treat."
"And if I do?" Hermione raised an eyebrow.
"Then you can have your pick of the menu, at my pocket's expense," Fred answered.
Hermione held out her hand, "I'll take it."
"Rightly so," Fred took her hand for a quick shake.
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Hermione hadn't known what she was getting into. Clearly, Fred had been right about her enjoying the feel of being superior. She didn't like that he had pointed out something she couldn't do and with her quick to react reflexes played right into Fred's game. He had known she would take the bet, for the pure satisfaction of proving him wrong, and that was why he made it. Evidently, she was destined to lose it. Her stubbornness refused to let her forfeit before ever going on the date—she could face Fred's taunting with more dignity than she could when running from a hideous date. Yet she still wanted the chance to win (however unlikely). So she chose the allegedly married man with the accent, because at the very least he was closer to her age (and if he was married, then someone had seen something in him in order to want to be with him for the rest of their lives).
So the next Friday night, Hermione and Logan went out to dinner. From the first minute, she knew it was going to be bad. She had started with inquiring about his marital status and he had laughed it off, completely denying the rumors. While that was a start, it didn't make up for his lack of personality. He was intelligent and the accent was nice—Ginny was right, it was delicious the way his tongue twirled around his words—but it did no good in changing the fact that he was duller than a doormat. She needed someone she could laugh with (and he lacked any trace of a sense of humor). She needed someone who challenged her (and all he did was agree with everything she said, which was annoying as well as unnecessary). She needed a spark, chemistry (and when he held her hand, she barely noticed). He just wasn't cutting it.
The one thing that had her ready to flee the table was his obvious attraction to her. She didn't know how to let him down at the end of the night. And her mind kept screaming at her to run. The one thing that kept her glued to her seat was Fred's mocking voice in her ear, telling her she couldn't do it. For that reason alone, she had to do it.
Even if it was torture.
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The next evening, Hermione apparated into the shop as Fred and George were closing up. George spotted her as she moved forward and further into the store. She pulled her jacket off and draped it over the deserted front counter. She knew Ginny had already gone home—she always left early on Saturdays—but she was there to see one person and it wasn't her. George dropped a couple of boxes haphazardly on a shelf to approach Hermione.
"Ginny's gone home to Harry already," George said as he walked up to her.
Hermione smiled in greeting, "Hi? How are you? It's nice to see you too. I'm actually not here to see Ginny."
"Sorry," George responded bashfully, "Excuse my poor manners. What can I do for you Hermione?"
"I wanted to talk to Fred," Hermione answered.
"Oh?" George raised an eyebrow. "Whatever about?"
"We had a bet," Hermione replied vaguely.
George nodded knowingly, "Ah, and you're collecting. The boy may have my looks but…he does not have my knack for a good gamble. I'll get him."
George walked back to the rear of the store. He pushed open the door that led to their storeroom and leaned in. His head poked through and he steadied himself on the doorknob. Hermione stayed where she was as George fetched his twin.
"Fred, you've got a visitor," George called out.
"George, just tell the people we're closed," Fred's voice got louder as he left the storeroom and came back into the front of the store. "I don't see why I always have to…" He trailed off as he caught sight of Hermione, "Hermione Granger, I figured you would turn up sooner or later."
"I'm just gonna be upstairs," George replied, "Fred finish with the boxes up here will ya?"
"No problem," Fred answered, though he never took his eyes off Hermione. When George disappeared upstairs, Fred continued, "So, Hermione, here to collect?"
"No," Hermione responded, "Actually…"
"But you won fair and square," Fred frowned, "I know you braved every second of the date…How was it by the way?"
"Horrible," Hermione breathed, "Absolutely horrible."
"Then you should be rewarded for your victory," Fred said, "You did what you said you could. Grab your coat, I'll get mine. We can go get that dinner."
"Right now?" Hermione's eyes widened.
"Yes, right now," Fred nodded, "It's still early…and you haven't eaten yet, have you?"
"Well, no…"
"Then let's go," Fred gestured her toward the front door.
When she didn't move, he gently gripped her arm and guided her to it. He picked up her jacket and grabbed his own off a hook by the front door. Once outside the shop, they pulled on their jackets and began to walk in the direction of the restaurant.
"What about the boxes?" Hermione asked.
"They'll still be there when I get back," Fred shrugged. "And George only said that as an excuse to leave the room. If you couldn't tell, he believed you had some other motives for your visit."
"Such as?" Hermione tilted her head.
Fred looked at her pointedly, "You're the brightest witch of your age, can't you figure it out?"
Hermione's eyes widened once again and she flushed a pale pink, "Why would he get that impression?"
"Well, you're a beautiful young woman, I'm a good-looking young man…we're both single," Fred listed off a few reasons. "And my brother likes to see things where they aren't."
"But he should know…I'd never…I dated your brother…It wouldn't be right…" Hermione stammered.
"You're going to hold that against me?" Fred raised an eyebrow. "That month long chaotic mess with Ron? Does that even count? Besides, do you remember what this whole bet was about it in the first place?"
"I tried to tell you," Hermione began, "I don't think I should call myself the victor. You were right. The only reason I stayed during that dinner was so I could prove you wrong and all I did, in the end, was prove to myself that you were right."
"We never made any stipulations about under what pretense you must complete the date, just that you did," Fred shook his head. "You stayed. So, you win. End of story."
"But it's not," Hermione stopped and turned to Fred as they stood outside the entrance to the restaurant. "You were right about me. I've found flaws in every man I've met. Little things that I've foolishly believed made them not good enough. I've set impossible standards. I was wrong, you were right," Hermione mumbled the last part, "I hate being wrong."
"Try again then," Fred offered, "Tonight, right now with me."
"Huh?" Hermione responded, confused.
"What do you like about me?" Fred asked.
"That's an odd question," Hermione replied.
Fred waved off the excuse, "Just answer."
"Well, you make me laugh—which apparently is hard to do. You're quite intelligent, must be to do what you do. You've called me out on something that no one else would…You challenge me without hesitation, and we've easily held conversations together, bantered liberally," Hermione listed, "I can't think of anything else off the top of my head."
"And what are your reasons for why you wouldn't date me?" Fred questioned.
"You're Ron's brother," Hermione answered automatically.
"That's all?" Fred responded, and Hermione nodded. "So here's what you do…we go to dinner, you and me, right now. It's a date. If by the end of the night, the things you like about me matter more than the one flaw you've concluded then you're right…and I was wrong. Do you think you can handle that?"
"I know I can," Hermione smiled.
"Then let's go," Fred gestured her into the restaurant.
As she followed him in, she quietly asked, "How long have you fancied me?"
"Why do you think I do?" Fred countered.
Hermione simply raised an eyebrow.
"Alright, awhile, I have for awhile," Fred answered. "The bet was an opportunity I couldn't pass up, because either way, I got you to dinner with me."
"Mmhmm," Hermione nodded, "And?"
"And maybe I was the one that gave George the impression that there was more to your visit than there was."
Hermione's smile widened.
"You enjoy being right a little too much," Fred commented.
"What can I say? I have one busted up superiority complex. Are you going to hold it against me?"