A/N: Wow. Feels good to write fanfiction again. Okay, so a little one-shot. I'm practising my writing skills on kissing scenes, and this is my first, so I do know that it totally sucks, but overbear with me, please? :3 Oh, and look out for more one-shots; they will be coming randomly and they might not have anything to do with what I am currently writing on. Tsh, ideas that comes in the middle of something boring = brilliant. :)
Disclaimer: I own nothing at all, sadly. Credit goes to the amazing J. K. Rowling we all know and love.
1. He really did everything he could think of to impress her, but it just seemed to drive her away from him. Maybe talking about himself or Quidditch wasn't such a great idea. What else could he possibly talk about with her? They had never really talked to each other before and he knew nothing about her interest. Yes, he did know of her studious habit, but he didn't feel like talking about school stuff – so anything to with the library was off limits. Only if she mentioned it would he dare talk of the subject. Quidditch was all he knew anything about, but he also knew she didn't really care for the lovely sport; she only went to the games to support their team. And so he told her about Quidditch.
She couldn't care less, he knew, about how one guarded the hoops properly. But he couldn't get himself to shut up and let her take the lead. And that's why he was grateful for the mistletoe appearing over their heads. He couldn't let her see it, for he knew she would run away before he could blink. As gently as he could he quickly let his lips touch hers. They were soft and tasted mildly of the pumpkin juice she had been sipping earlier.
Both his hands went to cup either side of her face and ever so slowly she began to move against his own lips. Hermione Granger was kissing him, Cormac McLaggen, and he had never felt better. He saw how she relaxed and let her eyelids flutter before they closed. Cormac swore to himself that he would kill himself if this turned out to be a dream.
When they finally broke up for air, Cormac let his hands go to hers. He held them against his chest, where she had put them under their kiss. He silently begged for to stay instead of running away, which he was partially expecting. As Hermione slowly opened her eyes, a smile grazing her pink lips, Cormac felt like he was flying – and this time he needed not his broom.
She was his Christmas Angel.
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