Alright, so...I tried to be as accurate as possible with everything. This is my first Potter fiction on so please be gentle...
Kissing Lessons-
Takes place in year 6
3/17—What is wrong with me?
Everyone's done it. I know for a fact that Harry and Ginny have, and Ron…well…he definitely has. But I won't think about that. I mean, I'm 17 years old. It's absolutely pathetic. Just because I like to read and study doesn't completely exclude me as a possible kissee, does it? Just because I use words like conundrum and eclectic doesn't give me the plague, does it? Even that git Viktor didn't try. If only he had…then I wouldn't have this problem. If someone ever decides I'm worthy of kissing, I'll have no idea what to do. It will be horrid and awkward instead of wonderful like they say in all the books.
…yes…I've been indulging myself. I've degenerated to the young adults section. I must be mental.
In "Paprika and the Love Potions," the author says
"Her lips sparked with electricity. Witch though she was, she'd never felt this type of magic before. This was the Magic that even Muggles could do. A delicious tremor shot through her and suddenly she couldn't breathe. His lips were warm and soft as rose petals. She broke away, panting against him…"
Interesting. What kind of event is this that it feels "magical?" It can't be described in textbooks…so it must not be that special, right?
Perhaps…perhaps I aught to ask Harry for help. Of course. Since I couldn't possibly ask Ron. Think of how strange that would be…
Hermione closed her diary and sighed. This particular conundrum had come upon her quite suddenly and it wouldn't leave her mind. It burrowed into her skull and nagged at her even during the busiest of moments. She was even worried that Harry and Neville might pass her by in their respective subjects because she had been too busy pondering to pay attention during class.
"Oy, what are you doing?" Came a familiar voice over her shoulder, dangerously close to her ear. She started; the journal tumbled to the ground and landed with its pages neatly displayed. Her own words jumped out at her: I COULDN'T POSSIBLY ASK RON.
She leapt out of the chair and snatched up the tiny red book, holding it to her chest and smiling weakly.
"You git," she said, feeling dizzy. Had he seen it?
Ron laughed. "You jumped about a foot in the air. You should have seen yourself."
She clutched the book and tried to muster a scowl. "You shouldn't sneak up on people, Ron Weasley. It's bad for their health."
"Studying that much is bad for your health," he said, then, as an afterthought, "mum."
He was growing more arrogant by the day, now that the famous Weasley twins were gone. She hated it. What if he got so cocky he left all his old friends behind?
She stared at his lips. How many times had she seen those lips ravaging Lavender, locked in some passionate snog in the common room or over breakfast?
She wondered what it was like.
He wet his lips and she realized how she was staring.
"Do I have something in my teeth or something?"
"No-no." She acutely heard the tremor in her voice. "I have to go to the loo," she said hastily, gathering her stack of untouched books.
Ron looked at her, shrugged, and took the now-vacant seat. He was about to recline when he caught sight of the book Hermione had been fussing over. He picked it up and opened the first page.
PROPERTY OF HERMIONE GRANGER. DO NOT READ OR YOU WILL BE HEXED INTO THE NEXT DIMENSION.
Harry, Ginny, and Hermione were sitting in the courtyard. Merlin knew where Ron was, but Hermione could have used the company.
Ginny and Harry weren't nearly as obnoxious as some couples were, but she couldn't help feeling as if they were partaking in some secret tryst that she wasn't allowed in.
Ginny glanced at her watch. "Gotta go, I have charms." She untangled herself from Harry as Hermione watched from over Catching a Doppelganger with mild interest.
"Hey," Harry protested as the tall redhead began to trounce away. She turned and pecked him on the lips. Now Hermione stared, unabashed. Harry muttered something into Ginny's ear and she watched as her two friends leaned towards each other again. Their heads tilted- always tilt the head during the kiss, or an unfortunate collusion will occur- according to the Muggle magazine she had at home. Harry's green eyes became dewy and passionate, and Ginny flushed. Hermione was alarmed at the transformation of her friends. As their lips fitted themselves together, like the two pieces of a puzzle, her hands ruffled his hair while his traveled down her back. As the simple kiss quickly became a snog, neither stopped to breathe, making Hermione wonder how long it would be till one of them passed out.
Ginny finally tore herself off of him and sprinted away. Harry turned back to face her, face flushed, hair ruffled, a silly grin on his face.
"Still can't get used to the two of you," Hermione remarked conversationally.
"Yeah…" Harry responded absently, "she's something else."
He settled himself down and glanced at his books, dismissing them.
"You shouldn't spend so much time with Ginny that you neglect your studies," Hermione admonished him out of habit. He rolled his eyes a little.
"Mione, there are more important things in life than getting top marks in every class."
She knew that; but for her, that "something" was nonexistent.
Now is the perfect time to ask him, she realized.
"Say, Harry…"
"Yes?"
"I've a favor to ask you."
"Yeah?"
Heat crept into her cheeks. She felt like she was losing her nerve.
"I mean…you have experience…you could, er…"
Apparently he enjoyed seeing her flustered. "Yes?" He asked, smirking.
"Teach me to kiss," she squeaked in a rush.
After he'd finished laughing at her, he looked at her again and realized she was serious. Immediately he sobered up. "I don't think Ginny would, er, approve of that." He said uncomfortably.
"Come on," she probed, "We're friends, right? I'm sure she wouldn't mind. It'd be- it'd be a most educational experience."
She most certainly would mind. Night after night she'd drilled Hermione on her true feelings for Harry, but finally she had ascertained that they were only friends. This would definitely cause problems.
He was looking at her as if she'd suddenly transfigured into a monkey.
"What?" She asked haughtily.
"Well…why?"
She couldn't even look at him. This was ridiculous. "Because, I've never done it, and I'm worried that a time may come when I would need the experience."
Harry's face suddenly took on a sly expression. She didn't like it.
"With Ron?"
He kept telling himself it was wrong to look at someone's diary, but he just couldn't help himself. It was like an early Christmas present, better than any amount of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans.
And this wasn't just any girl, this was Hermione- the puzzle of a girl that left him baffled. He had no idea what thoughts went through that IQ-150 brain of hers. Did she even think like a regular girl?
Ron had been hexed by her before, and it wasn't a pleasant experience. But the threat of being hexed seemed distant in the glimmer of the prize he held in his hands. He didn't just want to look; he needed to look.
His first surprise came when there was no ward on the book. Nothing exploded; there was no password; all the words were visible, written plainly in ink on the page. Ron would have figured Hermione to be smarter than that.
The pages cracked as he skimmed the entries.
"Today I we got our O.W.L.S. results. I only got "Exceeds Expectations" in DADA. I wanted to cry, and Ron only laughed at me. That prat…"
I didn't laugh! He thought indignantly. Suddenly, his thoughts scrawled out onto the page, directly underneath the sentence, as if drawn by an invisible quill. He swore under his breath and tried to smudge it off. It stayed fast.
Bloody hell…why does she have to be so good in Charms?
He watched the bloody hell appear on the page, and quickly shut the book, realization dawning in him. Of course she wouldn't leave her precious diary unprotected. In addition to the hex he would receive when she found it, she would know that he was snooping around in her stuff. She didn't even need to worry about whatever anyone thought of her once they read it, because she had all the evidence right there. What a bloody brilliant genius.
Ron weighed the possibilities in his mind. His hand slowly crept over to the cover. No! His hand opened the book, seemingly out of its own will. Upon catching sight of her neat upright handwriting, he tore his eyes away. No, I mustn't…she trusts me, after all…Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the book mimicking his thoughts.
"Oh, bloody hell," he muttered. She would know he'd opened it anyways. He might as well reap all the benefits while he could.
"Harry found something odd today. After Ginny second year, I don't trust suspicious books. I urged him to return it."
His name began appearing more and more frequently.
"I hate Ronald Weasley.
Quidditch game today, Ron was brilliant because he thought he'd taken Felix Felicis... But afterwards- oh, I hate him. That insufferable prat, stupid bloody piss-ant, bampot-brained, baboon-kissing, arse-faced…"
Ron flinched. Harsh. He didn't even know Hermione knew so many creative insults. I really shouldn't have been such a stupid bloody piss-ant, he verified to the diary. He really had been quite the insufferable prat. He was surprised that she was still speaking to him-but the fact that he had dumped Lavender helped quite a bit.
The next 20 pages or so contained a detailed analysis of every conversation they'd exchanged throughout every single day since they'd reconciled. It was almost embarrassing. He was the subject of nearly every entry.
What does this mean?
Then he came to the most recent entry. The one she had probably been working on when he interrupted her. With greedy eyes he read the entire thing, and then promptly burst out laughing. Paprika and the Love Potions! Was she loony? No wonder she has wards on it! No, no…didn't mean that, didn't mean it…and thank Merlin she didn't kiss Krum!
Still chuckling, he pocketed the book. Perhaps in due time he'd return it. Either that, or it would suffer the unfortunate fate of being consumed by the giant squid.
There was no tingle, no swooning like a gusty heroine in a romance novel. Their lips mashed awkwardly together, and she could feel his breath against her cheek. His lips played all over hers, and she moved her mouth hesitantly. Was she supposed to close her eyes or open them? She didn't want to get spit into his mouth. His glasses pressed against her forehead, and it hurt. And what was he doing with his tongue?
She broke away, and Harry stared at her. "Wow, Hermione. Bloody awful."
She stared at him miserably. Kissing lessons were not going well. They had started two days ago. First he'd gone over the basics, but she always forgot them in the strangeness of being so close to Harry. Yes, they were platonic friends, but he was still a boy…and a fairly attractive one, at that.
She couldn't help feeling a sense of guilt for deceiving Ginny. They weren't doing anything wrong…it wasn't as if he was the one she really wanted to snog with. She made sure Harry didn't realize this.
She could just imagine the look on his face.
Hermione burst into the common room, a frantic expression on her face. "I'm missing something very important. Has anyone seen a small red book?"
Harry shrugged. He was busy with Ginny. Ginny shrugged, as she was being busily groped.
Ron shrugged. He was busy doing nothing, like usual. The book was in his pocket. He'd been carrying it around for three days, pulling it out occasionally to peek at it. The pages were scribbled with his thoughts. In fact, an internal voice told him that this wasn't very healthy and bordering on obsession, but he didn't care.
Everyone else muttered noncommittal answers, and Hermione sank down into the seat next to him on the sofa.
"What could have happened to it?" She muttered. Turning to Ron, she said, "You will help me look for it, won't you?"
He was temporarily struck stupid by her syrup-brown eyes suddenly focused on him. He gulped, feeling guilty. "Yes, of course I will." He sank back into the couch, maintaining the cocky, ass-boy persona, but inside, he felt horrible.
"Neville? What do you know about- about kissing?"
The brown-haired boy's eyes widened as he stared at her suspiciously.
"What? Why are you asking me?"
She twirled a strand of her frizzy hair. "Well, I thought that you might have…had some experience with…" with someone who wasn't your grandmother. Good thing she had stopped herself.
Neville's face was slowly turning the color of an overripe strawberry. "Well, actually, I- I do have this one time…but…why?"
She explained to him what she'd told Harry, and he was instantly more at ease.
"It was Luna," he said frankly, returning to the plant he was trimming. "She basically…pushed me up against the wall."
Hermione flinched. This was not the kind of experience she wanted to hear about.
Still, she persisted, although this entire conversation was already far too awkward for her to bear.
"Would you, um…help me learn? I'm not coming onto you…I just…need some experience, because I'd like to know, just in case."
They learned together for about three minutes before Hermione decided that Neville was worse at kissing than she was. She thanked him profusely before making a quick exit.
Ron actually thought a few times about giving it back, but the giant squid was looking more and more appealing by the instant.
There was only one boy left to ask.
This would be horrible. She had no idea what he would say, but she kept reminding herself of the positive learning experience.
She waited outside the Gryffindor common room for the boys to emerge from the portrait hole. When he came out, she pulled him aside, heart pounding, and asked him the same question that she'd asked Harry and Neville.
"Sure," he said, grinning arrogantly, "let's find somewhere private to practice."
Seamus led her into an empty classroom and shut the door. He looked at her expectantly. "We could make this a weekly thing," he said, walking towards her.
"No, no- I just want to practice. I don't fancy you or anything. There's someone else."
"No commitment is fine," he continued, advancing towards her. The poor lad had probably not gotten any action in years. She reminded herself of the learning experience as he descended upon her, mouth open like a hungry lion.
Seamus had potential to be a good kisser, but it was quickly killed as his tongue started doing acrobatics in her mouth. It was a very damp kiss. And his hands- that daft fool- they were wandering to places they didn't belong.
She pushed him away and glared at him. "I didn't ask you to grope me," she snapped.
Seamus looked stupefied. "But, you asked me for some action."
"Did your mother drop you on your head or something?" She demanded, "If you were listening, I just asked you, as a friend, to do me a favor, and there were not any sexual connotations…" She gave up; he wasn't listening, just staring at her lustily. She stormed out of the empty classroom and went to go gargle her mouth.
"She did what?" Ron exclaimed.
Seamus sat on the bed, pouting. "My mother did not drop me on my head!"
Harry was laughing and Dean was smirking.
Ron felt angry, unjustifiably so. They weren't dating. She could kiss whomever she liked. But still, the diary…that person she fancied had to be him. Even Ron, in his incredible denseness, had figured that out. Why hadn't she come straight to him? He would have given her some good kissing that she wouldn't forget anytime soon. Thinking about that made shivers shoot up his spine.
"What's wrong, Weasley? Jealous?" asked Dean, that condescending smirk still plastered on his face.
Ron retorted by cursing him out.
As he lay in bed that night, he knew what had to be done. This was getting out of hand. Although Harry hadn't said anything, he figured that he was the first one she'd gone to. Dean must have been a last resort. Ginny would be heartbroken and furious if she found out. Tomorrow, then….
Saturday dawned clear and flawless. All the boys wanted to go out to play Quidditch, but Ron declined, claiming he had a stomachache. Actually, his stomach was beginning to churn when he thought about the certain death that was about to befall him.
Meanwhile, Hermione awoke as if from a dream. What had she done? She felt like a trashy wench, throwing herself at every available (and taken) guy. She was worse than Lavender. Completely bloody possessed in her mad crusade to learn to kiss.
Breakfast was a quiet affair. Both Ron and Hermione were deep in thought, subtly avoiding one another's eyes. Harry only briefly noticed because Ginny came downstairs dressed in the tight Muggle clothes they'd bought over the summer.
Everyone left to go outside, but Hermione remained seated. Ron sat directly across from her.
"I suppose you've heard," she said dully. He must think her stupid.
Ron shrugged. "Yes, I suppose I have. But it doesn't matter. You need practice before the real thing, anyways."
Was this an apology for Lavender? And this a silent absolution for her lack of patience?
Neither of them said a word. The silence seemed to say everything they were too afraid to utter. Hermione felt as if she would smother from his oppressive gaze, so she stared at her hands.
Ron cleared his throat. Hermione looked up, and their eyes met across the table. "I, uh, have something to tell you. Or…namely, something to give to you. Come over here."
Silently she got up, her heart hammering. Was it what she thought it was? She followed him to a small room underneath a stairwell. It was dark.
"Lumos," he whispered. He sat down on an overturned box and gestured for her to join him.
Why could she suddenly not breathe? This was Ron. Ron, her friend who shared chocolate frogs with her. Ron, her friend who sat with her in the stands and watched Quidditch matches. Ron, whom she'd spent her last four years dreaming about.
He was fumbling in his pocket, and pulled out a familiar red book. It was tattered and the pages were wrinkled. Suddenly he transformed into the awkward, bumbling boy she'd always known.
"You l-left it on the Common Room that day. I kept it…I read it…I read it- all of it…"
Hermione had always hoped that he would one day leave her speechless, but not like this. She couldn't think of a single thing to say. He had violated her privacy, and she felt that her soul was stripped and exposed. It alarmed her mildly that she didn't feel the anger she thought she would. Finally a word came to mind.
"Why?"
Ron took a shuddery breath. "Curiosity , mainly. Nosiness. And…I wanted to know how you felt about me."
She did not just hear that.
"What?" She asked faintly.
Ron sounded angry now. "I said it once, don't make me repeat it. I know, I'm a git, a prat. Go ahead and hex me."
"No…" she sounded airy and stunned. "I don't want to hex you, I just…"
"I'd let you read my diary. If I had one, that is."
They looked at each other in the faint blue glow, and a manic laugh burst out of Hermione.
"I just- I just don't believe this. So I suppose you know all about Harry, and Neville, and Seamus."
Ron nearly choked. "Neville?"
Hermione bristled. "Maybe I will hex you!"
Ron's eyes widened. "No, no…joke!"
She looked down at her diary and lit her own wand. She began reading all of Ron's comments from beginning to end. He watched her face as expressions chased one another. Sometimes she seemed on the verge of a smile; other times, tears; other times, fury. When she reached the end, she looked up at him, a smile on her face.
"You've confessed your love to me several times in contradiction to my musings," she stated.
"What?" Ron was too flustered to make sense of her multiple-syllable words.
"You said you loved me in that journal when I said that I thought you hated me."
He nodded.
"Is that-is that true?"
Another nod.
She could barely think. "Can you…can you say it?"
His voice was husky, but she heard every word. "I'm in love with you, Hermione Granger."
Without waiting for further prompting, he leaned towards her.
Hermione panicked, knowing what was coming. He was going to kiss her, he was going to….
She noted numbly that he tilted his head. She remained paralyzed. They avoided an unfortunate collision, and his lips pressed against hers.
All the air evaporated out of her lungs. The universe closed around them, leaving her and him, connected by this unexplained magic. She felt warm and safe and complete. It wasn't clumsy or embarrassing. In fact, it was the most wonderful thing that she'd ever experienced in her life.
He gently moved his mouth against hers. "Just follow along," he whispered, "I'll teach you."