Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all its
characters do not belong to me.
A/N: This is the little fantasy that runs
through my head when I read the HP books; Ron and Hermioneís first kiss.
She stares down at their intertwined hands,
each finger moving into its place as if they had always been there. Itís their
first kiss, and she supposes that she should be more nervous, but with Ron it
feels as natural as breathing or sleeping.
She inhales and realizes that she hasnít been
breathing for the last few minutes, because the pleasant fizzing in her veins
is very distracting.
He moves closer and so does she, which
results in their knees colliding, and he winces, as if expecting a reprimand.
But she just laughs and puts her arms around his neck, and she doesnít care that
the hole in his pant leg is as wide as her fist, or that itís eight in the
morning and she hasnít brushed her hair or her teeth.
Because theyíre in love, and thatís what
people in love do; they ignore faults and look for things to treasure.
He bends his head over hers, and now she
fully appreciates how tall he really is, because he has such a long way
to bend, so she helps him by standing on tiptoe. He moves his hands from around
her waist to rest on either side of her face, but even with the support, his
first try misses and his lips land on her nose instead. She giggles because his
ears now match his hair, and she stretches up some more to plant her lips on
Her first thought is that she never knew her
lips could tingle. Her body goes limp, and the strong arm curled around her
waist once again is probably the only thing holding her up. She expected to
enjoy kissing, but this roaring in her ears drowning out everything else, the
fire in her body that blazes, goes so much further than enjoyment.
Ronís fingers are digging into her waist,
now, and she canít suppress the laugh that bubbles up. He pulls away and looks
at her quizzically, so she quickly explains that sheís incredibly ticklish. He
looks at her for a moment, and suddenly, it seems too funny, and they both
laugh until tears prick at their eyes.
When they have managed to calm down, they
find that theyíre sitting on the couch in the room, and his arms are around her
shoulders, and she is almost in his lap, but theyíre both comfortable. And when
she looks into his dancing blue eyes, she feels the sudden urge to kiss him
So she does. And it goes much smoother this
time, so he runs his hands through her hair that has definitely not been
brushed, and she kisses each and every one of the freckles that so plague him.
Even though itís eight in the morning, and
they look awful, theyíre in love, so it doesnít matter.
After all, beauty is in the eye of the