As she, Ron and Harry walked away from Seamus, the boys talked animatedly about the Bulgarian team, each making guesses about what decorations their supporters would be hanging from their tents. Personally Hermione, not being a fan of Quidditch, or flying itself for that matter, couldn't care less. In fact she couldn't care less about anything, except for what had happened between her and Fred.

She kept hitting the rewind button in her memory, reliving again the moment. In her mind she continuously looked up at Fred, his winded face, his blue eyes. She remembered feeling his flush, warm chest against hers, feeling her face going red from the memory. He had looked as though he was about to kiss her, and what was even more surprising to her was that she would have let him.

She shook her head in silent dismissal. Since when was she the kind of girl who would have her first kiss pressed against a grass, having just hit the ground after having queasily teleported for the first time; with someone like Fred Weasley of all sorts! Not that she had anything against Fred: despite all of his immature pranks that put so many in danger, he was all in all a nice guy, who'd never went out of his way to hurt anyone, at least someone not from Slytherin. And she had to admit; some of his pranks were funny, even if they were a little childish. I mean seriously, blowing off a toilet lid? Millicent Bulstrode's face had been priceless, and she'd always had a secret vendetta against her since the Polyjuice potion incident.

But she wasn't even in a relationship with him! Unless you counted friendship that is.

Anyway, Fred couldn't possibly be interested in her. She was just a bushy-haired, big toothed, know-it-all teacher's pet who'd never had a date or been kissed. She told herself she didn't care what he thought of her anyway, but who was she kidding. Fred was nice, funny (if a bit outlandish) and surprisingly smart, considering all of the complex experiments he and George undertook to create all of their inventions. She giggled softly, remembering the toffees Molly had snatched from the two that morning. She wondered what they were for.

She sighed. Fred, and likewise George, were popular at Hogwarts, especially with the girls. They basically flocked to them like fireflies to a light. Compared to the girls who threw themselves at Fred, she was nothing. Resigning herself to a life of watching as Fred flirted with those so much luckier than her, she decided: if she couldn't control or ignore her feelings, she would just have to avoid Fred; she wondered if this would even be a better life than watching Fred flirt with people. Surely friendship was better than constant heartbreak?

She shook her head again, reemerging herself into Ron and Harry's fervent appraisal of 'Krum'. This was just something she had to do.