Hermione had never been kissed.

It was true! Never!

While Lavender and Parvati had paired off with Seamus and Dean at the All-Night Sunset To Sunup Party Extravaganza, she sat in a corner feeling slightly uncomfortable. Sure, Harry and Ron were sitting there with her, but they didn’t seem put off by the ample amount of public displays of affection going on in front of them. In fact, they didn’t seem to notice it at all! They were just sitting across from her drinking their butterbeers and talking about some Quidditch team or another. Hermione was trying to keep herself in the conversation, but her eyes kept traveling to the wild make out session on the other side of the room. If it weren’t for the din of the younger Gryffindors with their party favors and their games of Exploding Snap, Hermione was positive she would be able to hear the sound of kissing coming from her four classmates. God, just from watching she could almost feel it.

And it wasn’t like Hermione didn’t want to kiss somebody, because she really did! She just didn’t have anyone to kiss.

Viktor Krum wanted to kiss her, that was true, but… She just hadn’t liked Viktor enough to let him be her first kiss. A girl’s first kiss, she thought to herself, is supposed to be special. And in a romantic setting. Definitely not in the Gryffindor common room.

Lavender and Seamus unglued themselves for a minute to take drinks of the spiked punch that someone had thoughtfully made before the party began. Hermione was almost positive that Lavender made a special point of catching her eye and smiling a sly little smile before starting in with Seamus again. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take!� she muttered to herself.

At about two thirty in the morning she bids goodnight to Harry and Ron, saying she has a headache. She makes her way up to her dormitory that’s thankfully empty, quiet and dark. “I doubt I’ll be seeing Lavender or Parvati anytime soon,� she huffs to herself as she slips into her nightgown. “They’ll be busy all night long, I expect,� she says to Crookshanks who just appeared from under the bed.

Hermione crawls into her bed and pulls closed the dark red hangings. I just can’t believe that they’re sitting down there, snogging for the whole common room to see! She thinks to herself. I’d never be caught dead doing something like that!

About an hour later, she hears Lavender and Parvati stumble into the room. They’re giggling like mad and comparing the kisses of Seamus and Dean, sounding like total buffoons, Hermione grumpily thinks. There was a loud thunk!, a little gasp and some more giggling. Hermione sticks her head out of the hangings while saying, “Parvati? Lavender? Are you all right?�

A strange scene meets Hermione’s brown eyes: Lavender had apparently tripped over the leg of her bed and was now face down in a large drawer of a dresser and Parvati was collapsed next to her on the floor laughing. “Sorry, Hermione!� Lavender said slowly, pushing herself up. “I didn’t mean to wake you. It’s these shoes. They’re, uh—�

“Seamus’!� Parvati shrieked drunkenly, interrupting her. “And those are his knickers, too!� She points to something clutched in Lavender’s left hand. Both girls erupt in giggles again, and Hermione rolls her eyes, heaves a huge sigh and settles back into her bed.

It seemed like hours had gone by before the giggling twosome fell asleep, but in reality it had only been about fifteen minutes. It turned out that the spiked punch was actually super spiked, not just with mulled mead, but with firewhiskey too, which explained the drunken stupor of Hermione’s roommates. While the two girls settled themselves into bed, gossiping the whole way, Hermione decided that she needed to do something about the whole never-been-kissed situation. She realized that her first kiss didn’t have to be super romantic with moonlight, waterfalls, fairies, and roses; no, it could be average and plain… Just as long as it wasn’t in the Gryffindor common room!

Hermione quietly crept out of bed. The moonlight coming in from the windows provided her with enough light to get to the dormitory door without stumbling on anything. She inched open the door and slipped outside. She crept quietly down the cold stone spiral staircase to the common room. Seamus was face down in front of the dying fire, snoring (and probably minus his knickers, Hermione thought). Dean had passed out by the punch bowl, an empty cup still in his hand. About half a dozen other Gryffindors were also sleeping in various locations around the common room. Hermione surveyed them all, trying to figure out who was who, and to her surprise, saw Ginny’s red hair all over some boy’s face. Ginny and this mysterious someone were asleep on the floor behind a large old armchair. It looked to Hermione that Ginny was using this boy’s chest as a pillow. She crept in closer to the pair and was shocked to see that it was Neville who was Ginny’s pillow. “Good for you, Neville!� Hermione whispered, silently resolving to give Neville a pat on the back tomorrow. Neville had been in love with Ginny for ages, everyone knew that.

Hermione shivered a bit in the quickly cooling common room. The cold seemed to be knocking some sense into her, also. So many of her ideas seemed so great and foolproof up in her warm bed (how else could she explain S.P.E.W.?) but then turned nasty and stupid in the cold light of the common room. Perhaps she shouldn’t do what only minutes before seemed like such a wonderful plan. She stood and debated the pros and cons of her soon-to-do actions while watching the fire burn slowly lower. “You know, Hermione, it’s all this thinking that’s kept you from ever being kissed in the first place!� She said to herself. “Get up there and do it!� She gave herself a little shake, and throwing her hair back, strode purposefully towards the spiral staircase leading to the boys’ dormitories.

Her heart beating madly, she climbed the stairs and slipped inside Harry and Ron’s dormitory. She saw that the two beds opposite each other had occupants, and hoped she could remember whose bed was whose. For a moment, Hermione had a small bout of panic. What if she crept into the wrong bed? What if she woke up the wrong person? Oh, things could go horribly wrong if she didn’t guess correctly! She was frozen for a fraction of a second, her eyes darting between the two beds bathed in moonlight. She bit her bottom lip, unaware of what to do next.

“Ron, oh Ron, which one are you?� she breathed to the room, hoping for divine intervention to point her in the right direction.

“’Mione?� she heard a hoarse voice whisper off to her left. “Is that you?�

“Ron?� she squeaked.

“Yeah, what’s going on?� Ron replied groggily. Hermione scuttled to the bed on the far left (the one that happened to have the most amount of moonlight falling on it, incidentally) and pulled back the hangings to reveal Ron half sitting, and looking up at her.

Hermione knelt down on the bed and pulled closed the hangings behind her. Ron tried to sit up a little, but Hermione put her little hands on his chest to push him back down.

“Hermione, what’re—?� Ron started to ask, but was interrupted.

“Shh, Ron, you’ll wake Harry,� she said simply.

Hermione then lay down next to Ron and put her head on his shoulder. Her fingers found their way to his torso and rested there. It only took Ron a moment to hook his arm around Hermione’s waist and for his other arm to reach for her face. Hermione’s heart was racing again, much worse than it was down in the common room, and she could hear Ron’s breathing had quickened. Lying there with Ron was extremely comfortable and something Hermione had been dreaming about for months now, but she knew she couldn’t fall asleep. Not yet at least.

“’Mione?� Ron’s voice sounded a little husky and it sent shivers down her spine. I love it when he calls me that, she thought. She closed her eyes for a moment, preparing herself for what she was about to do. She moved her head upwards until her lips were resting on the side of Ron’s neck. She lay there a moment, breathing, and listening to Ron’s breath. He had gone from breathing quickly to almost gasping, and his fingers tightened on her waist, grabbing a hold of her nightgown. Hermione then puckered her lips and gave Ron a little kiss on the neck, savoring the feeling of his skin. Ron’s head rolled to the side to give her more room, and Hermione took full advantage. The hand that had been resting idly on his chest found its’ way to his face and her fingertips paused at his lips where he began kissing them. Hermione gave Ron’s neck a little bite and he gasped audibly at this. His hands were now running up and down Hermione’s body, feeling as much of it as they could.

They were both short of breath by the time Hermione pulled herself up from Ron’s neck and she hovered over him. He looked at her with his wide, eager eyes and Hermione found herself thinking:

“Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight!
For I never saw true beauty till this night.�*

She was overcome with emotion and thrust her head recklessly forward. Her lips found his, and they fit there perfectly. Their bodies relaxed and fell in to each other while the kiss went on and on. Ron’s hands were in Hermione’s hair, were touching her face, were running up and down her back, were massaging her neck, and were everywhere. His body was the world to Hermione, and she knew if she let go of him, if she stopped kissing him, she’d be lost. Lost and drowning in a cold, dead world she never knew existed before she had tasted Ron. His lips were the only things holding her safely to him; the only things that mattered.

Hermione finally felt Ron pry his mouth away from hers and she gazed, once again, into those startling blue eyes wondering how she had survived the last sixteen years without him.

Her lips were parted a bit, red and puffy, and Ron kissed her again.

“Hermione, Hermione!� he gasped. “I’ve loved you for so long! I’ve loved you for—oh my God, I love you!�

Hermione was overcome with emotion. Her lips found his face in the dark and she kissed every single inch of it she could. She grabbed onto Ron’s hair just as he rolled her over so he was on top, hovering over her.

“Hermione? Do you… Did you hear me?� Ron asked quietly, his face flushed, staring down at her with a look of utter tenderness.

“Oh, Ron!� Hermione whispered, just as Ron realized she was crying. “I’ve always loved you! It’s always been you!� And then they were both crying. Crying and kissing and laughing and spilling their secrets of love to each other.

The night wore on, and still, Ron and Hermione kissed and spoke words of worship to each other. And still, Ron and Hermione cried and laughed and discovered, together, the mysteries of the world and the mysteries of each other.

The sky was turning gold and pink before they fell asleep that night. They were laying together, a mess of limbs and hair, under Ron’s green and yellow sheets. Ron had fallen asleep, still holding on to Hermione’s hand, and Hermione was almost asleep as well. She heard a bird chirping somewhere outside and snuggled in closer to Ron.

Maybe there were no rainbows and fireflies and symphonies and stars, but there was definitely moonlight, she thought to herself, dreamily. And that really was one hell of a first kiss.

She giggled to herself. “Not average or plain at all!� she whispered.

“You are stunning, ‘Mione,� Ron murmured in his sleep. “Absolutely stunning.�

*******


*from William Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet