George looked up and grinned widely in obvious agreement. "It'd be like tossing acid on a work of art." Which had happened with one of the Hogwarts portraits, but it'd been an accident. And they'd fixed it, even if a little bit of the canvas behind the frame had never quite come back and the old goat in the portrait had whinged about it until the day the twins left school. "I'll ask him for you," he offered magnanimously. Mostly because it would make Wood sputter, hopefully. That was never not entertaining.
He watched her adjust the banner and grinned, then hopped to his feet, going over to root through a box of things and coming up with inkwells and quills and the like, carrying the lot over to plop down on the ground next to her, and then dropping down again, reaching for the bottle and taking a couple long swallows before offering it back. "Yeah well - you or the other girls would have bloody hexed off our ears if we'd tossed them at you. Besides, you'd be a lot less fun to look at, all pussy."
He groaned theatrically. "You're killing me, Johnson. Just cruel to tease about that but never let me see. . . unless I can come see? Then you're just ace."