Hermione planned out the first kiss with the young man she'd loved and adored for years to the point where it lost all spontaneity. She charted it, plotted it, circled the date on her calendar in fat, pink marker, and even thought briefly about consulting the stars before her logical side reasserted itself.
She'd been kissed before, but this one was going to be special, meaningful, the first step to a future together as more than friends. He was all she wanted and they were meant to be. It was a mantra she repeated to herself every night before bed and every morning on awakening.
So, when they kissed, on a trip to Hogsmeade a few days before winter break with a light snow dusting their hair and the sound of caroling filling the air, why did it feel so incredibly awkward?
Disappointed and confused, Hermione slipped from Harry's arms and stared up at him. He looked just as unsettled as she knew she did. She fidgeted and stuck her hands in the pockets of her coat, as he shuffled from foot to foot and stammered something about needing to go somewhere and check on something.
Hermione watched him hurry through the falling snow, and sighed in consternation.
"That didn't work quite the way you wanted, did it, Granger?" came a slightly snide voice from behind her. Before she could respond, two arms encircled her and she was tugged back against a warm, hard body.
"Leave me alone, Malfoy."
"I told you that you'd never forget my kisses with him," Draco whispered in her ear before nipping at the lobe.
"I love Harry."
He snorted and brazenly slid his hand up to cup one of her breasts. Through the coat and sweater she could feel his heat, and a moan broke from her. "I don't care who you love. Keep kissing all your little friends. Keep discovering that all they will ever be is friends. You'll just keep coming back to me."
"You're so sure of yourself." Her breath caught in her throat on the last syllable as he pinched her nipple.
"I always get what I want."
"But it must kill you that what you want is me," Hermione smirked back, turning and rising on her toes to give him a hungry, open-mouthed kiss, so very different from the one she'd shared only moments before with Harry.
Disappointment over the failure of that relationship--a stumbling block only, she silently prayed-- was shouldered aside by the desire Draco's kisses always inflamed in her, and the two of them backed their way into a secluded alley where the snow did nothing to cool them off.
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