Pansy's mum was always bringing her over. Sometimes young Draco loved having her as a playmate, but other times he thought she was a pain. Why did she have to be a girl, he thought, pouting.
Then there were days like today when sometimes he liked it, and sometimes he didn't. It had started out nice enough, but then she'd gotten all bossy and they were currently standing toe to toe, yelling at each other over whose turn it was.
To do what, they'd probably forgotten, but they were yelling, nonetheless. Draco's white-blond locks were uncharacteristically mussed (even this young, he was fastidious like his parents), and Pansy's were in similar disarray.
And abruptly, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers, a child's innocent sort of kiss, but it shut her up as well.
They just stared at each other for a moment, wide-eyed, and simultaneously wiped their lips in disgust. "Ewww, what'd you do that for, Draco?" Pansy asked petulantly.
"It always works on Mum with Dad," the boy replied.
From the shadowed doorway, Narcissa and Mrs. Parkinson smiled at each other conspiratorially. "They grow up so fast," Narcissa said.
They were dancing and having fun. Hermione was oblivious to the stares of all her classmates, even the glowers of Ron and Harry, as she danced enthusiastically with Viktor.
They whirled around the dance floor and she laughed with joy. Tonight, she felt, dare she say it, beautiful and carefree. Her hair was smooth and tamed, and she didn't feel like there was a threat to her life at the moment. It was perfect.
Viktor held onto her hand after the song finished, impulsively drawing her out the doors and into the garden momentarily, an uncharacteristic smile gracing his lips. He pulled her into his arms and then his lips were on hers, and his hand gently cupped her cheek. She looked back up at him, smiling, before her gaze trailed back to his lips.
She leaned forward, eyes fluttering closed, and he obliged her with another kiss before they headed back into the Yule Ball.
They'd been dancing around each other for a long time, Remus thought afterwards. He hadn't wanted to get involved, but he couldn't help watching her whenever she was around, surreptitiously breathing in her scent when she was around.
And she'd noticed, he could tell. He could smell it on her, and it tantalized and tempted, but he refused; he wasn't good enough for her.
And so he refused to get too close, because he was only a man (most of the time) and she was just so … attractive.
But he didn't have a say when he was paired with Tonks on an Order mission. It went bad from the start, from her falling against him to them currently taking heavy Death Eater fire.
For a moment they had the advantage, and he grabbed her hand and pulled her behind him as they ran. Alley, corner, street, alley, duck behind, breath hard. Unconsciously, he had her close to him, protecting her, them, and he turned his head to look at her to make sure she was all right.
Her lips met him as she did the same thing and he groaned, the kiss suddenly taking on an adrenaline-filled life of its own. "I … we can't," he protested weakly afterwards, his grip on her still tight.
"Not now, mate … but later, sure," Tonks replied, winking saucily at him.
He'd had girlfriends before, kissed a couple of them. But he hadn't cared for them like he did Penny, hadn't felt this … gut-wrenching, palm-sweating, heart-thumping nervousness when he was around them. With her, it was all different, and he was nervous.
Percy had invited her to go out on a picnic around the lake. The twins, in a fit of rare good will once, had told him where the kitchens were, and he'd had the house elves make a tasty little basket of food.
They walked around the shore, holding hands, before getting to the tree where they'd first really talked to each other. He spread out a cloth and set down the basket, and abruptly, the nervous tension coiling through him snapped as they began to sit, her head close to his.
He closed the small distance quickly, pressing his slightly chapped lips against hers, and she made a soft sound in surprise before returning the pressure. After another moment, he gently touched his tongue to her full lower lip, and she opened to him as he tentatively deepened the kiss.
They pulled apart after a moment, both blushing and smiling shyly, before settling down the rest of the way and taking out the food.
The first time Draco ever kissed Blaise Zabini, he was completely and totally pissed. In both senses of the word. Blaise was a quiet guy, a lot of the time, but he drawled out insults and advice equally well when he wished.
The two had been passing friends ever since arriving at Hogwarts; Draco never wanted to be on the dark boy's bad side, not with the … ah, mysterious deaths of Blaise's mother's husbands.
They—Draco's Slytherin compatriots—were all in the Common Room late one night, spelled for privacy just in case. The cards they played with were worn from many such nights, but the bottle of Firewhiskey was a relatively new addition.
Pansy had been taunting Draco about … well, he'd been too drunk to recall now, but it had pissed him off, on top of his being that very drunk. He'd lost the hand and had been forced to kiss his friend.
He'd never expected to like the faint rasp of strong-jawed stubble against his, or the more forceful lips and tongue.