A/N- This was a prompt someone gave me on LJ and it turned out VERY silly. Enjoy!

Pickles

"Harry? Is something wrong?" Hermione asked her boyfriend. They were currently eating sandwiches at a cafe near their flat.

"No, why?" Harry replied.

"You keep looking at something behind me. What is it this time, a Dementor?" Hermione said. Even after his Hogwarts years, Harry still seemed to constantly attract trouble. Hermione thought it was partly his blood (after all, what do you expect with a father like James?) and partly the fact that dangerous creatures seemed to love to take on The Boy Who Lived To Defeat Voldemort. It was usually a fatal mistake, as the creatures learned too late.

Harry lowered his voice, "No, it's this old woman who's sitting behind you. She keeps looking at us disapprovingly like she's expecting us to have sex right on this table at any moment. No! Don't look. What do you say we have some fun?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. Do males ever grow up? Apparently not.

"Hermione, would you like to eat my pickle? I bet you can't put the whole thing in your mouth," Harry said, raising his voice slightly.

"No Harry, I will not finish your pickle. I've already eaten too many," Hermione said, also raising her voice.

He looked behind her once again and burst out laughing. "Mission accomplished. The woman looks horrified."

She laughed too. If he never grew up, that would be fine. She could be just as silly sometimes.