Two minutes to midnight. Hermione was desperately surveying the club. Not him, maybe him...
It was a silly Muggle thing. Like kissing at midnight actually had influence on your love life throughout the year. Or that bringing in the New Year with someone would somehow increase affection. Still… couldn't hurt.
A voice from behind her. "Alright Granger. Let's get this over with, shall we?"
Blonde hair.
Ten, nine, eight…
Silver eyes.
Seven, six, five…
A knowing smirk. No, please no. Not Malfoy.
Four, three, two…
The softest, sexiest kiss.
One.
"Damn." Maybe this superstition stuff wasn't that bad after all.