First Kiss

A collection of Potterverse first kisses

Hermione closed the doors that led off the Great Hall behind them, shutting out the sounds of the student body leaving the Welcoming Feast.

Tomorrow they would be the new Transfiguration teacher and Flying coach, but for now they were just old friends catching up.

Hermione trailed her fingertips along the stone wall as she gazed out over the rose garden. She laughed softly as she realised that they'd been here a lifetime ago. "Do you remember the last time we were here?"

Viktor nodded, and smiled wryly. "Snape and Karkaroff, their timing vos not so good, I vos thinking."

"No, no it wasn't." It had been abysmal, actually. That moment of longing and wanting when she'd felt his breath warm and chocolate on her lips had been cut off abruptly as Snape had passed with an ice-cold fluttering of robes, and Karakaroff had levelled narrowed eyes on his Champion. And then she'd lived with the endless and fanciful what if, because they'd never had another moment quite like that again that year.

She turned to face him as the air grew heavy with awareness. The heat in his gaze swirled in her stomach. Their fingertips met on the wall, and Viktor licked his lips. "I vos always vondering ..." he said softly as his hand closed warmly over hers.

"Yes," she agreed. They stood so close now, although she couldn't remember having taken a step. The years seemed to melt away, and she felt the tickle of his breath again, scented apple and cinnamon this time. And this time there were no interruptions as his mouth closed on hers, save for the flaring of the torches in their brackets.

They walked back to Gryffindor Tower slowly (Neville had the feeling that Ginny's feet were sore, and that it was mostly his doing), talking mostly about the ball and the upcoming Triwizard tasks. Well, Ginny did most of the talking. Despite his bravery in asking the prettiest third-year girl to the Yule Ball, Neville still felt rather shy and tongue-tied on his first official date.

Ron stormed past them, his face almost matching his dress robes. Neville winced when Hermione followed a few minutes later – a stormy, wrathful blur in blue.

"Thank you for inviting me to the ball, Neville," Ginny said, turning just out of earshot of their nosy portrait. "I had a really good time."

"Yeah, me too," he said with a shy smile.

Neville's heart skipped when she put her hand on his shoulder and rose up on tiptoes to brush a butterfly kiss to his cheek and the corner of his mouth.

She smiled prettily and turned, heading into Gryffindor territory, leaving Neville frozen except for the warmth where her lips had brushed.

Hermione Granger & Blaise Zabini

The lights in the laboratory flickered ominously, and then extinguished – the dark was like a vacuum down here; Hermione couldn't see anything. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears as she let out a wavering breath and set her quill down carefully.

"Lumos … Fuck!" Blaise Zabini, for all his pomp and privilege, swore like nobody's business when provoked. "Where the bloody fuck is the light, Granger?"

"Generator's off, Blaise. I'm sure they'll get it going again soon," she said, sliding off her chair. She slid her fingertips along the workbench, trying to guess where the door was. Although it would be useless trying to open it; in the bowels of the Ministry, the magically dampened room ran off a generator which supplied electricity to the laboratory, and the access door. "I think I'll have to keep some candles and matches in the lab," she muttered to herself, stretching her arm out in the blackness, testing the air to make sure she didn't run into anything.

"Have to struggle like a fucking Muggle," Zabini was muttering nearby.

"Well, then, put in for a transfer to the pure magics," she said bitterly – he was such a bloody pureblood purist, honestly!

"You just – ouch, bloody hell," he exclaimed, just as she bumped into something solid in the dark. "You trying to kill me, Granger?" His hands here warm on hers, and he was close enough for her to sense his presence looming over her.

"I should be so lucky," she shot back. Wow, he smelt good. She generally avoided dealing with Blaise on more than a strictly professional level – he was an arrogant prat firstly, but also because he was so damn appealing, so darkly attractive.

"Liar," he told her, and she could imagine the smirk on his face at that moment. She opened her mouth to argue again, and was forestalled when slanted his mouth over hers. In the darkness, bright surprise and lust sparkled behind her eyelids, leaving her disoriented and breathless when he lifted his head.

"Think I might quite like this Muggle power cut thing, after all," he murmured.

For once, Hermione Granger was speechless.

Draco pressed his hands between his thighs and pulled his head down to touch his chest, shivering through his scarf. "Bloody hell, Weasley," he said bitterly, rocking slightly to keep moving. "You can't do a Warming Charm to save your sorry life."

Charlie rubbed his cold-reddened nose and sniffed. "Never had much use for Warming Charms in the past," he said affably. "Although mine has lasted longer than yours did."

Draco gave him an icy glare and renewed the Warming Charm - although the winter seemed to leak through the very fabric of the magic, into their bones.

Five minutes later, Draco was shivering again. "It's not like the evil git is going to come outside in this weather."

"You know somebody has to keep tally on the Apparition ward, too." How many people Apparating in and out of the Riddle Manor was good intelligence to have as well.

"I know what I did to piss Potter off," Draco said darkly - just existing was all it took. "What did you do to deserve this fucking awful job?"

Charlie just shrugged and opened his thick coat. "Here, I'll share," he offered.

"My coat is perfectly -"

"Expensive, yes, but rubbish at keeping a bloke warm."

Draco shifted over eventually, and Charlie closed the enormous jacket around them. Lulled by the warmth of Charlie's body and the steady beat of his heart - Draco was exhausted by the war, too - Draco fell asleep.

A smile curved Charlie's wide mouth and he brushed his lips over Draco's temple. Dragons, he thought, all bark and no bite.

In a quiet section of the extensive Hogwarts dungeons, Lily Evans pushed a heavy door open and lit the lights in the room with a murmured, "Lumos." The candles flared to life, briging warmth and light to the room that was icy cold, despite the fact that the summer shone brightly outside. "Severus?" she called, narrowing her eyes as they adjusted to the dim light and the shifting shadows.

"Don't you mean Snivelly?" His voice, low and snide, came from a dark corner where he sat, knees drawn up under his chin, his dark hair falling over his face; no wonder she hadn't seen him at first.

Lily sighed and dropped her heavy schoolbag to the floor. "You called me Mudblood first," she said pointedly.

"All the Slytherins call you Mudblood," he said bluntly. "Snivellus," He spoke the word like it was acid on his tongue, burning at his soul, "is their name for me."

Lily's frown softened and she dropped to her haunches in front of him, at face level now. "I'm sorry," she said, putting a hand on his knee.

"You should have just left well enough alone," he said, lifting dark, sad, lonely eyes to hers.

Lily shook her head. "I couldn't, Severus. I just ... couldn't." Her head tilted forwards to rest against his, and she wanted to cry for her bitter, angry friend, and she wanted to hurt James and Sirius for being so thoughtless and callous.

"I'm sorry," Severus murmured, barely loudly enough for her to hear.

Her eyes flew open - an apology from Severus was ... well, rare - and she brought a hand to his cheek, gently tracing a sharp cheekbone. Then she pressed her lips to his. She didn't know if it was attraction, or pity, or just friendship. She just knew that in that moment, she was drawn to kiss Severus Snape.

Narcissa took a wavering breath and willed herself not to cry as she watched her sisters disappear into separate compartments with their friends.

That wasn't how it was supposed to be, she thought. She'd imagined sitting with Bella and Andy and finally getting to go to Hogwarts with them. But now she was standing in the corridor, all alone with a trunk that got heavier and heavier the longer she stood.

"Do you need help with that?"

Narcissa turned to see her mirror's image standing there, with long, grey eyes and a gorgeous smile. She smiled tentatively.

The boy held out his hand. "Lucius Malfoy."

Narcissa set her trunk down, and flexed sore fingers before offering her hand. "Narcissa Black."

Instead of shaking her hand, Lucius curled his fingers into hers and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. "Enchanted," he said, and then he bent to take the handle of her trunk, her knight in Slytherin colours.