Hermione's first kiss came during Christmastime in her third year. Sirius Black was on the loose and Dementors were looming at the edge of the school grounds.
Her schedule was ridiculous. That much, at least, Hermione could admit to herself. At fourteen, she was using a Time-Turner, something that most fully-grown wizards aren't even qualified to do (although it was so dangerous that most who did qualify didn't bother). And the workload was so grueling that sometimes she'd end up spinning the Time-Turner two or three times, with one of her working in the Common Room, one in the Library, and one out by the lake. It was a complete wonder that she hadn't been caught. It wasn't even Christmas yet, and she knew Harry and Ron were getting suspicious. Although it's not as if I've the time to worry about that, she reminded herself.
The clock in the Common Room showed that it was 20 past 1 o clock in the morning. Hermione rubbed her eyes and looked around. The fire was reduced to little more than embers, and the low light was making any further study impossible. That won't do, she thought, looking down onto her papers, I've still another 6 inches to get done on this tonight, plus reading for Divination (what nonsense) and Charms... She stood and pointed her wand towards the fire, whispering a spell to kindle more flames. As the Common room filled back up with light and warmth, she noticed that the Christmas decorations had already been put up. When did that happen? Hermione wondered. She thought back on to her evening. Of course! I must have fallen asleep here. No wonder my essay isn't finished. That was rather silly of me, but of course now that I've slept it should be no problem to stay awake and finish it, right? Hermione stifled a yawn and bent back over her parchment. Her quill was hovering above the top of the page as she struggled to remember the definition of "eihwaz" when she heard it. At nearly 1:30 in the morning, someone else was in the Common Room. Hermione dropped her quill, splattering ink across her half-finished essay. Cursing under her breath, she tried to vanish the extra ink while she looked around to see who could possibly still be in the Common Room at this hour. She knew it wasn't Harry or Ron...but she had stopped paying attention to who came and went after those two had gone to bed.
Her eyes found a sofa off to the side of the room, on which she could barely detect a breathing body. Stocky, muscular build, at least a 4th year, but probably older...finally, her gaze settled on the mop of messy red hair. A Weasley? She thought, More specifically, Fred. Or George. Hermione hadn't yet learned to tell the twins apart. And even if she could, at this distance and in this light it was impossible. She stood nervously and crossed the room, walking towards the couch and the sleeping twin. He was smiling softly in his sleep. Well, when are they ever –not- smiling? Hermione mused. She had to admit, the twins were funny, charming, and much smarter than they let on. They had been the life of the Gryffindor Common Room for the two and a half years that she had thus far called it home. And, she begrudgingly admitted, really sort of attractive.
Whichever twin it was stirred on the couch. Hermione gasped and jumped back, surprised, but regained calm when Twin didn't wake. No less than I deserved, standing here and watching him sleep. I should probably wake him up though, at the very least so I can get back to my work. Before she was really sure what she was doing, Hermione found herself shaking Twin gently. "Hey, you. Wake up; it's 1:30. You really should get to bed. Honestly, why are you still out here? Everyone else went to bed hours ago!"
He blinked groggily and spoke "Wish you had. Then you wouldn't be waking me up and asking me a million bloody questions." He sat up and rubbed his eyes. "'F it's as late as you say it is, why are you still...don't tell me, studying?"
Hermione crossed her arms. "As a matter of fact, I was, and I intend to continue. It would be much easier if I didn't have to play babysitter to a lazy 5th year who should probably be studying, himself!"
He groaned and leaned his head back against the sofa. "You never stop this, do you?"
"For your information, I do not, and it would do you and your twin a lot of good to take a page out of my book! You're too brilliant to be wasting yourselves of petty jokes and..." Hermione stopped. He was raising a brow at her, and she wanted to know why. "What?" She demanded.
"My twin?" He laughed, "You don't know which one I am, do you?"
Hermione blushed, stammering, "Of course I...well, it's dark, you see...It's really quite obvious that you're...well you're both so..."
He laughed at her through her miserable attempt to convince him that she knew which twin he was, and then held a single up to her lips, silencing her. He could see her blushing crimson in the light of the fire as he thought; Let's have some fun with this, shall we? He pointed with his free hand to the boughs of mistletoe that hung from the ceiling.
Mortified, Hermione looked at the ceiling, and then back to the twin, who stood to face her. "Stop smiling like that! I know you must be about to do something awful. What are you pointing to those things for?" She was panicking, falling apart, and he knew it. He doesn't just know, he's bloody enjoying it! Oh, I don't know what he's doing... Look at him; standing there with his arms crossed like he knows something I don't...her mind was racing, her heart was pounding, and she couldn't stand the way he was looking at her. It made her face uncomfortably hot, and there was no logic or reason behind it. Oh, why can't Mrs. Weasley have already sent them their sweaters? Her eyes searched anywhere but his face for some kind of indication of whether he was Fred or George. She remembered what she'd read about twins and repeated it in her mind. Twins, even identical ones, have subtle differences. One may be taller than the other, or have a slightly deeper voice...Their hair might lay differently, they could have scars or birthmarks their double didn't...But all of that is completely useless when I haven't the other one to compare to! She hadn't realized she was hyperventilating.
The twin laughed yet again and rested a hand on her hip. Hermione blinked, her eyes wide, and looked up at him. Slowly and deliberately, he leaned into her and planted a soft, warm kiss on her lips.
Hermione was so shocked that she let it happen for half a second before she got a hold of herself and pulled away, gasping for air and blushing crimson. She wanted to turn, to run, to bury herself in a book until things made sense again, but his hand was still on her hip and his eyes were still boring into her. When he spoke, it was barely above a whisper. "I'm exhausted. I would love to go upstairs and to sleep, but refuse to unless you go to bed, yourself."
"But I simply can't! I've Ancient Runes to finish and Charms to study and Divination to read for and-"
"And a dashingly handsome wizard to dream about," he winked.
Hermione looked like she was about to fall over. He put a hand on her shoulder and said, "You're going to bed now," before flicking his wand at her books and folding them up. "S'not the neatest job, but it'll do." He walked over and picked the books up, handing them to a still-frozen Hermione. Much to her horror, she remembered where she was and what had just happened. Blushing furiously, she was too embarrassed for words as he pushed lightly on her lower back, guiding her towards the stairs to the girl's dormitories. Rather mechanically, she stepped up the stairs and quietly into her room, setting her books down by her bed. She shrugged off her cloak and her shoes and climbed into the bed, too overwhelmed with what had just happened to bother changing out of her uniform.
