Hermione slid breathlessly into the seat between Harry and Ron. A box of of brightly colored pins rattled loudly as she dropped it jerkily on the table in front of her. From his spot across the table, George observed absently that her face was flushed from exertion or excitement, or perhaps a mixture of the two. He couldn't help but notice how alive she looked with that faint blush of pink coloring her caramel toned skin, making the adorable sprinkle of freckles across her nose and cheeks stand out even more than usual. Her molten chocolate eyes sparkled in the same way they did when she was telling him and Fred off for one of their various alleged misdoings.

He could see her chest rising and falling rapidly beneath her jumper with each breath she took, her mocha curls even more tousled than usual from her rushed trek across the castle. Her piercing gaze met his for a moment and she smiled slightly in recognition before turning back to her friends. A rush of warmth flooded into George's chest and the corners of his mouth began to turn up of their own volition.

George was suddenly jostled out of his reverie by the arrival of Fred who leaped over the bench, shaking the entire table as he slammed into the open seat to George's right.

"Hope it's Angelina," said Fred, in greeting, not even turning to look at his twin or the trio of younger students across from them.

"So do I!" Hermione responded, smirking at the glazed, dreamy look in Fred's eyes as he stared at the beautiful girl laughing with her friends a bit further up the table from them. George simply rolled his eyes at the obvious infatuation his brother was illustrating for all the world to see.

"As if I would ever be that obvious about liking a girl! He has completely lost his marbles over that girl," thought George, who was truly getting a little tired of Angelina being the only topic Fred ever wanted to discuss.

When he refocused on the table, he realized that Hermione was looking at him and doing her best to keep from laughing outright, her fist pushing against her mouth with her elbow on the table. George wiggled both eyebrows at her, causing her to snort in a way that he most definitely should not have found to be cute in any way.

The rest of the feast passed relatively uneventfully, Harry and Ron at one point retelling their encounter with Hagrid and his excessive cologne usage, while Hermione looked on, shaking her head ruefully at the ridiculousness of the situation.

Silence fell almost instantly as the food vanished from the tables, each and every student waiting in anticipation to see what names the flaming goblet would spit out. Dumbledore stood and made his way toward the goblet saying, "Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision. I estimate that it requires one more minute."

George noted amusedly that Hermione's eyes rolled back in her head for a moment at the headmaster's ridiculous estimation. "Now, when the champions' names are called," he continued, "I would ask them please to come up to the top of the hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber where they will be receiving their first instructions."

I headmaster then extinguished nearly all the lights in the hall, leaving the Goblet of Fire shining more brightly than anything else, its blueish-white flames leaping and dancing across its brim, too bright to look at for any large length of time. You could hear a pin drop. Tensions were running high.

"Any second," Lee whispered loudly into George's ear, startling him so badly he nearly fell out of his seat. A covert glance at Hermione revealed she missed the whole incident. George let out a tiny sigh of relief, before turning his eyes back to the blinding goblet.

Suddenly, the flames turned blood red and began to spark violently. A tongue of fire shot into the air, leaving a charred piece of parchment fluttering in its wake. Dumbledore snatched the parchment from the air and, reading by the now blue tinted light from the goblet announced, "The champion for Durmstrang, will be Viktor Krum."

"No surprises there!" yelled Ron in full support of his idol, struggling to be heard over the waves of applause and cheering booming throughout the hall. George felt a slight twinge of nausea when he saw a wide smile gracing Hermione's face, reaching all the way to her eyes, as she clapped her hands rapidly in support of the Bulgarian hulk who was lurching awkwardly toward the head table.

Silence fell once again as the flames darkened to scarlet, signaling the selection of the second contestant. Grabbing the scorched parchment from the air, Dumbledore called, "The champion for Beauxbatons, is Fleur Delacour!"

While the two boys next to her focused on the ethereal blonde gracefully ascending the stairs to reach the champions' assigned room, Hermione found her gaze drawn to the Beauxbaton students left at the table. The French students seemed utterly distraught, several girls dissolving into tears right there at the Ravenclaw table. "Look," she commented to Harry on her right, "they're all disappointed."

Hermione found herself wondering if there had been some sort of reward offered for the student selected, something beyond merely the ability to compete. Or worse, perhaps there was an academic detriment for not being chosen. "Not a whole lot of school unity going on at Beauxbatons it would seem," she thought absently to herself.

When the goblet turned red a third time Hermione felt herself stop breathing entirely, literally holding her breath in anticipation.

"The Hogwarts champion," announced Dumbledore with his eyes twinkling merrily, "is Cedric Diggory!"

Hermione laughed, grinning widely as every single Hufflepuff leapt to their feet, screaming at the top of their lungs in support of Cedric. Cedric, looking equal parts trilled, terrified, and embarrassed, made his way to the front of the hall.

"Good," she thought to herself, "Hufflepuff deserves to win something for once. Utterly ridiculous that Slytherin and Gryffindor seem to always be neck in neck for everything. And having a champion from a neutral house will go a long way to promoting inter-house unity. For the duration of the tournament at least…"

Hermione was still lost in her thoughts, completely ignoring whatever goodwill speech Dumbledore was making when the goblet turned a brilliant red for a fourth time.

"Bollocks," thought Hermione, as a wave of dread swept through her body. Experience told her, as much as she would love to ignore it, that when something strange and potentially life-threatening occurred, it always involved Harry. She turned to the dark haired boy next to her who, looking just as confused as everyone else, had obviously not yet reached the same conclusion she had.

Beginning to feel panic well up from deep inside her gut, Hermione began to shift her gaze toward Ron on her other side, in a desperate hope that he might share her growing apprehension, only to match eyes with George sitting opposite her before she made the full turn.

George did not know what about the goblet changing colors a fourth time had made Hermione's chocolate colored eyes widen so dramatically, but he recognized the terror on her face and felt himself begin to share in her dread. In unison they turned to face the head table just in time to hear Dumbledore clear his throat and say with an apparent lack of emotion, "Harry Potter."

AN: Thank you so much for reading this piece, especially those who of you who were he back in my junior year of high school when I started the story. Senior year and freshman year of college took a lot out of me and I am just now finally getting back into writing in general. Like I said in the bio, please always comment, good or bad, I need the feedback and if you have any plot suggestions or cute George/Hermione moments you would like to see incorporated, please let me know. Until next time (after I finish my 3 papers I have assigned). - Rhonnie