Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its characters but I claim stakes on Daniel Radcliffe's half-nekkid bod in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
Possibly Several Sunlit Days
You are in the middle of a debate of some sort with one of your teammates about a certain Quidditch strategy when you break off in mid-sentence as the portrait hole opens. You look up expectantly, feeling like your heart is in your throat. Sure enough, there he is although he nearly vanishes again from your sight as he is besieged by your screaming, happy fellow Gryffindors headed by your brother who is waving the Quidditch Cup at his stupefied face.
It barely registers in your brain that your teammate has left after giving you a knowing look and that your very recent ex-boyfriend has just appeared at your elbow; bearing a glass of gillywater you had asked for moments ago and is holding it out toward you.
You call out his name before you can stop yourself. And when he looks around at you, you start running towards him even if the distance between the two of you is considerably short. You feel a number of emotions—some familiar and aching, some unnamed—rise in your chest as you reach him, making your heart pound loudly, sounding like it's the only thing you hear as of the moment; you have no idea what expression your face is showing. And, without hesitating, and knowing fully well that the whole of Gryffindor House is in the room with the two of you, you throw your arms around his neck and hug him.
For a split second you expect he would draw back, the way he did when he hugged you after your team won the first match of the season, but you certainly never expected he would tighten one arm around your waist, tilt your chin up with his other hand, and bend his head down and kiss you.
A roaring enters your ears as your heart explodes with bliss, then abruptly becomes mute, sounding like the time your eldest brother pressed a horned shell to your ear when you were six to let you hear the ocean waves without seeing it. You think you hear a far-off sound of a glass being broken and a horrified, high-pitched scream, but it is all pushed out by the thought, blimey, he's a good kisser. It takes you several seconds to remember that you actually know how to kiss back. And so you do.
It is much, much better than any of the other kisses you've shared with all your other…well, boys. You don't know if it's because he is possibly the best kisser in the world, or because he's the boy you really love, the one you've been in love with after all these years.
The sound in your ears has by now become complete silence and you can hear your heartbeat again, this time along with his. You could die at the niceness of it all—his lips are gentle and sweet on yours, unlike the others who would immediately clamp their lips to yours before you have time to take a breath in and kissing you like they're dying. His thumb presses your chin gently and you open your mouth and—wow, he even knows how to…well, you two sure moved into that with no problem at all.
He pulls away and you blink up at him before you notice that the room has indeed gone quiet. You look around at everyone's faces, all of which seem hazy to you at the moment, save for your brother's face who looks like he's hit himself with the trophy he has been waving around. You look back up at him to find him grinning down at you and gesturing towards the portrait hole.
You walk hand in hand, his fingers intertwined with yours, towards the school grounds outside, which seem to stretch out before you in the pinkish-orange light of the setting sun. Squeezing his hand to catch his attention, you grin as he turns toward you, and you pull him closer before standing on tiptoe for another time-stopping kiss.
Fin.