Disclaimer: Belongs to JK Rowling
She walked up behind him, and leant over. "I believe I told you that that would happen."
"Is that right?"
Hermione tried to keep the laugh out of her voice, "Yeah, it's about right."
"Well Granger," he said sitting upright, "You never actually told me what would happen."
"Ah, details," she laughed, sitting down on the armchair next to him. "I told you it wouldn't work, you should have listened."
"And done what?" He asked pushing his books off his lap.
"Not put your name in the Goblet," she said quietly playing with the edge of the cushion.
"I couldn't do that, even if I wanted to. George wanted to, and I had to do it with him, simple as that."
"I suppose," she said looking up at him, "I am glad it didn't work though, that Tournament is deadly, and no amount of glory or prize money makes it worthwhile in my opinion."
"Worried about me were you?" Fred teased, laughing at the glare she threw at him. "What did you think of the side effects? I thought I looked quite dashing with a beard."
Hermione giggled, "If you like older guys."
"You don't?" He asked waggling his eyebrows for effect.
"Not that old," she smiled, "You looked like Professor Dumbledore."
"So what's a good age gap you'd think?"
"Not too many years," Hermione said, "Only a couple."
"Sounds about right," she smiled, moving a bit closer on the chair.
"Hermione, there you are," Hermione sprung back as Ron walked over, "You about ready to go to dinner?"
"Uh, sure Ron," she got up, and followed Ron over to the portrait hole.
"I'll see you later Hermione," she heard Fred call from behind her.
"What does that git want?" Ron asked, as they started down the stairs.
"I'm not sure," Hermione answered, smiling to herself. "I guess I'll find out later."