A/N: Well, here you go. I want to thank every single person who has reviewed this fic, every person that favourited and followed. I'm still not over the numbers I see on this fic. So, thank you, it is truly appreciated.

I know Kreacher is out of character, but that will be explained in due time.

This is dedicated to all of you.

This chapter was inspired by Queen's "Another one bites the dust".

Chapter 7: Another one bites the dust

Harry sighed audibly. He hadn't freaked out when Ron and Hermione arrived because the wards that he, with Daphne's help, had cast in place would have alerted him if they weren't who they said they were.

A little honesty spell - better than that blasted potion Snape kept threatening to spill down his throat - could do wonders. Daphne was damned useful.

He was alone for now; his house guest was still asleep. He hadn't had much sleep himself, since Hermione had made some doubts stand out in his already muddled mind.

Were there things like psychologists for wizards? Did he need one?

"Is Master Harry wanting tea?" Kreacher said from his left. Harry nearly jumped through the ceiling - why the hell did the elf have to be so good at sneaking?

"Kreacher, for Merlin's sake, make yourself known!" He gasped, "Or would you prefer a bell around your neck?"

Kreacher's baritone chuckled, "Kreacher doesn't think that a bell would stop him."

Harry would've given almost anything to see his own face at Kreacher's joke, because his mouth was open for another two minutes in surprise.

After which he smiled somewhat fondly at the elf and asked for breakfast.

While Kreacher busied himself with his duties, Harry wondered if Hermione had been right.

"Harry, she's a Slytherin, well known for hanging around Malfoy and Zabini, her family are also known practitioners of Dark Magic - are you sure it's wise to allow her into your life?"

"Look, Hermione, Daphne and I have been spending quite a lot of time together, and you have no idea what she did to help me."

"Maybe that's because you're not telling me." Hermione accused him. Harry felt his throat constrict, but forced it away.

"I tried to kill myself," He said bluntly, and tears sprang to Hermione's eyes, "And she stopped me."

"What..."

"Let's just say she convinced me, shall we?" Harry interrupted her, "Point is, everyone thought I would be okay after every fucking thing I went through! I saw Voldemort come back and kill Cedric. I was stupid enough to let Voldemort get to me and in the end Sirius got killed. That isn't even mentioning the stuff from years one to three! Not to mention I killed someone while you were all off ignoring me!"

Hermione took a deep breath, "Dumbledore..."

"Fuck Dumbledore!" Harry shouted, before he could stop himself, and once it was out, he was glad, "He hasn't done bugger all to get in touch with me. And you and Ron, as my friends, I would imagine, would care for my well-being rather than that old man's rules."

Harry's chest was heaving. He didn't hate Dumbledore, he was just fiercely annoyed with the headmaster. He would force the man into his office and have a strict heart-to-heart with him.

"You're right," Hermione whispered, her eyes filling with tears again, "I'm sorry, Harry, I really am. I just have this idea in my head that Dumbledore knows best, when really it was his actions caused Sirius' death - not yours, Harry. I'm so sorry." She sat down on Sirius' old bed and let her head fall into her hands.

Harry sighed before making his way over to her, dust rising from the bed when he sat down. He put his arm around her frame and squeezed.

"Me too, Hermione. But you and Ron - and Daphne - you're all I have."

"And Dudley?" Hermione asked, looking around at him, her hands pushing her bushy hair out of her face, "I met him. Percy told Ron and the twins, and Ron told me. And I have this inkling that he has changed from the buffalo you described to me a year ago."

Harry laughed nervously; he'd forgotten his cousin. And Percy? Looks like the old headboy hadn't sold him out after all.

"Yeah, Dudley's been great too."

"We're here for you," Hermione put a head on his shoulder, "Ron's been ranting about Dumbledore's stupid rules too, you know. I just... didn't think."

"The great Hermione Granger not thinking?" Harry teased her, "Now that's something I need to see."

"Now, you said you killed someone?" Hermione asked. It was an accusation, it wasn't suspicion either - Harry suspected it was curiosity. She wasn't even surprised.

"Why aren't you surprised?" He asked, unsure as to where this was going.

"I have been thinking about you. A lot, actually, and I don't blame you for losing it. I'm shocked, but not as much as you would expect."

"He deserved it," Harry nodded, "That's all you need to know."

"Oscar Greengrass?" The brunette girl lifted an eyebrow, "Daphne Greengrass' father? The girl who has basically moved in with you? His body was found at Greengrass manor, mangled and torn, and the eldest daughter was said to have run away. Everyone's assuming she did it."

Harry shrugged. Hermione shook her head and laughed dryly.

"It was all over the news. So, it was you?"

"Hermione, you don't want to know what we did," He said lowly. He didn't want to venture into the details.

Hermione nodded, "Probably not. What're you going to tell Ron?"

"The truth," The seeker replied simply, "I know what it's like being lied to," Hermione blushed, "I don't intend to do it to my friends."

She didn't say anything but rather put her arms around his neck. He squeezed again, assuring her it would be okay, before he let her go.

"Please send Ron in," He asked as she left his godfather's old bedroom. She nodded and not long after that Ron was knocking, his head poking into the room awkwardly.

"Mate?"

"I guess you should know what happened too," Harry started, "With Daphne and..."

"Honestly?" Ron closed the door behind him with a firm click, "Harry, I know. Greengrass senior's been... murdered, rumour has it that it happened in some muggle village - the one we rescued you from in second year - and that the boy who lived was nowhere to be found."

"So you just figured I killed him?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

"No, I figured she did it and you're hiding her," Ron jabbed a thumb at the closed door; Harry assumed he was gesturing at Daphne, "And I know I haven't been the best of friends these last few years."

"You were there for me when the entire school turned against me," Harry pointed out.

"Before that I hated the idea of being Harry Potter's little sidekick," Ron confessed, "But it's okay. I mean, I am. And it's okay."

"You are not my sidekick, Ron," Harry said, "I thought we were partners. Like Superman and Batman."

"Like what?" Ron was confused. Harry smiled - he knew what to get Ron for Christmas, then.

"Never mind." Harry shook his head in mirth.

"Are we okay?" Ron asked. Harry pretended to think about it for a while.

"You mean we aren't gonna talk about how we feel? And cry and hug and do all the things we usually do?" Harry pretended to be disappointed, his bottom lip pushed out in a pout.

"Oi! Mate, you're my best mate and all, but don't tell me that after spending a few days with Greengrass you're about to go soft..." Ron said quickly, only to fall flat when he saw Harry's expression of barely contained laughter, "And you were taking the mickey out on me...Nice."

How was Harry sure he could trust Daphne? Thing is, he wasn't. One could never be truly sure of anything. For instance his career as an Auror. He knew he wouldn't meet Snape's high expectations for the Potions OWL, and thus his dream of becoming one who fights dark wizards, besides Voldemort, was flushed down the drain.

Well, maybe he could convince the professor otherwise. Maybe he needed to use some of that Gryffindor courage and demand from the bat what exactly his problem was.

Yeah, maybe he'd do that.

"Morning," Daphne said from behind him, putting her arms around his neck in a hug, "Sleep well?"

"Better. You?" He asked. They'd slept in two separate beds in a single room. Not Sirius' old room - that seemed to have become the headquarters for whatever they were doing. Were they starting up the DA again? Or was the Order of the Phoenix branching out?

Actually, starting up the DA didn't sound half-bad. They could ask Bishop, Davies and Zabini to join; provided Zabini decided to choose a side.

"For a change, yes. Kreacher made me some hot chocolate and I slept like a baby," She smiled sleepily when she sat down next to him. Her blonde hair must once have been a ponytail, but it was hard classifying what it was at that very moment.

"Bless him," Harry sighed as his breakfast appeared before him, "Thank you, Kreacher."

Daphne echoed his call before they dug in.

"Hey, can we meet up with Zabini today?" Harry asked, "I think we might have a chance with them."

"Blaise? Why?" She frowned, running a hand through her hair, "I'm sure he would join us, his father is another story. They enjoy their neutrality, it makes them untouchable."

"Well, maybe a bit of a guilt-trip is in order," Harry winked at her, and she giggled. Harry chuckled - that had been adorable.

Another hour later and the pair were washed, fed and standing outside Zabini's house. Harry lifted an eyebrow - it wasn't grand, or as grand as Grimmauld Place once must have been, but it was impressive. The house was two stories high, decidedly old-fashioned with wrought-iron gates surrounding it. Harry found himself wondering if there was a dungeon underneath it, or if the house expanded downwards, like the Ministry of Magic did.

"Come on," Daphne said, drawing him with her, "And you're apparating back."

"What? Daphne you haven't even given me a lesson!" He cried out.

"No time like the present," She replied merrily "I'm kidding, Harry, I'll teach you when we go back."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief and followed her. She took a hold of his wrists and walked forwards. Harry wondered if there was an invisible bell to ring, or if she would knock on the gate, since there was no one to receive them.

Daphne kept walking. And she made no effort to stop. And then she just walked through the gates, dragging Harry with her.

He half expected to open his eyes and find himself impaled, but, luckily, that didn't happen.

"Daphne!" A voice yelled, and then the girl was torn from him as someone possibly tried to swallow her.

"Blaise!" Daphne shrieked, positively delighted. Harry saw the smile Zabini's presence caused and felt a strange tug in his chest. He shook it off as Zabini let her go and took a step towards him.

"Potter - I understand you've been looking after Daphne here," The dark skinned boy said evenly, his gray eyes seemingly weighing Harry, before a sliver of a smile appeared and he stuck out a hand, "I can't thank you enough."

Harry took his hand, dumbfounded, before Daphne retorted that she did not need looking after.

"Come in," Zabini invited the pair inside, "I think we have quite a bit to talk about."

The inside of the Zabini home reflected the outside - a sort of old-fashioned grandeur surrounded them. The heir showed them to a dining hall, offered them tea and disappeared down the hallway when a house elf arrived.

"Blaise and his dad are good people," Daphne said once they were alone again, making sure to keep her voice low, "Mr Zabini said I could pull out of the marriage contract if I wanted to, but Oscar decided I had to choose where my loyalties lay. Obviously it wasn't with him."

"And Mrs Zabini?"

"My wife passed away," Mr Zabini said from the doorway, "A few years ago, but I don't miss her."

Harry stood and extended his hand. Mr Zabini was what Harry imagined Blaise would look like at the age of thirty-something: slim, dressed in a dark suit, a calm look on his face and a firm hand on his wand. The Zabini patriarch shook the boy who lived's hand and gestured for him to take a seat again.

Daphne launched herself at Mr Zabini, and he smiled coolly as he patted her blonde head in their embrace.

"I would convey my condolences with the recent murder of Oscar," Mr Zabini said in a lazy tone, "But I know that would mean nothing."

Daphne laughed uncomfortably when she sat down again, "You know what he was like, sir."

"I also know he had a nasty tendency to let his hands roam," Mr Zabini said. Harry raised a mental eyebrow - he knew? And he never did anything? "I apologise for never saying anything."

"You welcomed me into your home more than once," Daphne said carefully, "To get me away. So I think we're even, sir."

Mr Zabini accepted that with a nod, but he didn't let his cool mask slip.

"And Mr Potter," Mr Zabini turned to him, "I take it this isn't simply a social visit?"

"No sir," Harry started, folding his arms, "I have been made aware that I am prejudiced against Slytherins..."

"No doubt because of Draco," Zabini junior intercepted, "He was a ponce when you first met him."

"You know about that?" Harry frowned, thinking of the day he met Draco in Madame Malkin's.

"He couldn't shut up about it," Blaise retorted, "But do go on."

"Okay..." Harry paused a moment to turn his thoughts back to his mission, "Well, Daphne told me that there are a lot of purebloods who declared themselves neutral in the last war and will probably do so again. I'm here to try and convince you to choose a side. Hopefully my side."

"You expect a war, Mr Potter?" Mr Zabini asked.

"We all do," Harry replied, "It's sort of inevitable."

"Because of some prophecy?" Mr Zabini sounded sceptical, "Mr Potter, we choose our own destinies."

"And I've chosen mine," Harry pushed forward, unwilling to back off, "He killed my parents and singled me out by doing that; I'm fully aware of the fact that I'm not ready or trained to take him on, but with allies who are skilled, I can be taught."

"You're willing to learn?" Mr Zabini raised a dark brow, "You will likely die in this war."

"I know that too," Harry said quickly, "But if I'm willing to take on Voldemort, why can't I have friends to take on his followers?"

"You're a leader, Potter," Mr Zabini spat, "You're also likely the strongest competitor we have. Why use the king first?"

"What?" Harry didn't understand that last question.

"In chess you usually send out the pawns first," Blaise explained, "You don't use the king."

Harry thought about it for a moment, before he finally said: "A king can't expect the pawns to follow if he doesn't move."

"Well said," Mr Zabini praised him, "Very well, Mr Potter, you have me convinced."

Harry was dumbstruck, "I haven't even tried yet."

"You don't have to," The heir said with a grin, "Dad had declared himself the moment Mr Greengrass was found dead."

"Oscar wasn't an easy man to kill," Mr Zabini said, "He was an excellent duelist trained in the Dark Arts. He was a strong wizard, not necessarily a good one, but a strong one. He had boasted about how he would be the Dark Lord's lieutenant once the tyrant came back to power. Now it'll fall to Lucius Malfoy and Rodolphus Lestrange."

"So you decide to go to the good side when a lieutenant's killed?" Daphne asked, "You know Lucius is powerful in the Ministry and he has Fudge in his pocket. Why not go to him?"

"Because he wasn't the one to kill Oscar," Mr Zabini answered, his expression unwavering from the cool mask he had constructed over the years, "Mr Potter did."

"How do you..." Harry started, then he stopped talking. This could be a trap, the Ministry could be using this man to draw a confession out of him.

"Cyrus Bishop is a good friend of mine," The younger Zabini supplied, shrugging his shoulders, "He came by yesterday. He didn't say anything, but I could tell he was in a very good mood. He didn't want to say why. So I, uh, kind of invaded his mind and saw him give Mrs Greengrass her birthday present."

"I'll warn Bishop in the future," Daphne said, "You're not turning us in?"T

"Heavens, no," Mr Zabini laughed, "I've been trying to kill that man for years, but even Acromantula poison didn't phase him. I should've guessed he'd carry a bezeor around with him."

Harry spluttered. Mr Zabini had been trying to kill Mr Greengrass? And he hadn't succeeded? How was that possible?

"Hey, Potter, you had that Defence thing last year, right?" Blaise asked, "You think you can get that going again? Only legally this time, through Dumbledore?"

"That was a sudden change of topic," Daphne noted, "But he's right. It'd be a good idea to start that up again, with Umbridge gone."

"I'd already considered that, and after a few choice words to our dear headmaster," Harry spat the words distastefully, "I will ask him."

"Don't underestimate Dumbledore," Mr Zabini said, "He's influential, more than Lucius is, and he is very powerful."

"He's also got a lot to explain," Harry sighed, "I don't intend to throw him away, we need him, but I need answers first."

"Understandable, Mr Potter, but I urge you not to alienate him. We do need him and his madness." Mr Zabini sounded almost fond of Dumbledore. Harry laughed, shaking his head.

Maybe this wouldn't be so hard as he thought it would be.

"Now, I know you have Bishop on our side," Mr Zabini said - Harry liked the way he said "our" and not "your", "And I know the Davis family will turn, if Daphne is involved. Who else?"

"I don't know who else to ask," Harry admitted, "I know Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle are off-limits, like Macnair..."

"Try Rowle's son," Mr Zabini said, "Blaise is already friends with him, and I gather that he doesn't wish to follow in his father's footsteps."

"And Crabbe junior," Daphne piped up, and everyone turned to stare at her. "What? Come on, Vince is like a huge plush bear."

"Vince?" Zabini junior said, the same as Harry said: "Bear?"

"Yes, Vince. He doesn't like Draco or Greg, he just sticks to them because he thinks he doesn't have any other choice." Daphne shrugged, "It's up to you, Blaise, I'm already a bloodtraitor."

"It's up to Potter to win them over," Mr Zabini interrupted, "Turn up the charm, as it were."

"Why is it my job?" Harry was flabbergasted. Wasn't being saviour of the wizarding world enough?

"Because it's your resistance, not Dumbledore's," Mr Zabini, always the voice of reason, said, wiping a hand across his face.

"Of course," Harry mumbled, unimpressed, "Well, we need adults too, not just teenagers. Who else?"

"The Froges," Blaise said absently, "They're not exactly a big deal in pureblood society, but their daughter's a genius at Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. Not like Granger, who recites everything from a textbook, she has a natural talent in them."

"That would be a good idea," Daphne agreed with her friend, "She can help us create new spells."

"The Ruffalo clan," Mr Zabini said, "A bunch of Irish wizards, they keep to themselves, but they're good business partners to have. Old Geoff was furious at the Dark Lord in the last war for murdering his sisters, and vengeance is a good motivator to get an ally."

"It fits too, since that's your main reason for doing this," The blonde said to Harry, who just nodded in response. He wanted to get Voldemort because he killed Harry's parents. He caused Sirius to die. He killed Cedric. He made Neville's parents go insane. Voldemort deserved to die.

That's not your judgment to make, a little voice whispered to him, but he shook it off. He could have this argument with his conscience after Voldemort was dead.

"The Weasleys are already on your side," Blaise mused, "But I heard Percy Weasley's in the Ministry's pocket..."

"Percy's cool," Harry stopped him, "Percy's on our side."

"Good job!" Blaise exclaimed, obviously impressed with Harry, "I thought his pride would get the better of him."

"So focus on those families," Mr Zabini said, interrupting their conversation, "There are more, but we handle a few at a time. The Froges, Rowle and Crabbe junior and Ruffalo."

"Why them, exactly?" Harry had to ask, "Froge and Ruffalo, why them?"

"Because they have the biggest numbers," Blaise answered smoothly, "The Froges have at least twenty in their extended family, they're also a close-knit group, so if five agree with you, then the other fifteen automatically join. As for the Ruffalo family - they want revenge. They'd be easy to convince, as I said earlier."

Harry nodded, "All right. But you two have a job too: soften Rowle and Crabbe up for me. I have the entire Gryffindor to handle, and then we'll work on Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff."

"That's fair," Daphne agreed.

Mr Zabini invited them to stay for lunch, but after that they went home. Harry decided to tackle the Ruffalo clan the next morning, since it was already getting late and he still had some apparating training to do.

. . .

Another week passed, and it was an eventful week too. Apart from aparating lessons, that were fairly successful, the meeting with the Ruffalo family had gone smoothly. Harry had gone in alone, as Mr Zabini had suggested, because it showed a great deal of faith.

Harry had strode in, like he owned the place, and explained the situation to them. He had been charming, but he refused to beat around the bush. He said what he wanted to say, focusing mostly on destroying Voldemort, because that was what 'Old Geoff' wanted.

The Gryffindor had explained that he wasn't going to take Voldemort's tyranny when the time came; he wasn't going to hide like some idiot anymore, he was done being manipulated into doing what others wanted and had taken the matter into his own hands.

Old Geoff didn't need telling twice. And like that, the Ruffalo clan was an ally. Just like that. The Ruffalo family had three children: one boy, Geoffrey junior, that was Harry's age and two girls, twins, in their fourth year. Harry extended a hand of friendship to them by inviting them to join the DA. Old Geoff had been ecstatic at the idea that his children might finally learn some defensive magic at a school with standards issues, according to him.

Harry sent letters to both his best friends, explaining what had happened. Hermione's reply had been excited - Harry was thinking clearly and she loved that.

Ron's reply was a bit awkward; it was as if Ron didn't know how to reply to Harry's policy of using politics, but he assured his friend that he had his full support, even if he thought his best friend was going a bit nuts.

Harry and Daphne had celebrated with a movie and ice cream. Harry feared he'd created a monster, because Daphne was already planning on seeing the next movie.

The Froge family had been a bit harder to win over. The patriarch, Felton Froge, had been suspicious when Harry, Daphne and Cyrus Bishop showed up on his doorstep (apparently Mr Froge was a good customer of Bishop's Bottles). He didn't understand why the boy who lived decided to dirty his reputation by talking to them.

"I have a reputation?" Harry's reply had been, "Cool, I want to hear this."

In the end, Felton agreed. His daughter, the one that was a genius and could help with the creation of spell, Madeline, agreed too. Then two young men gave in, both shaking Harry's hand and giving him a clap on the back. And a middle-aged woman with a smart haircut.

Then the rest.

The children were all invited to the DA too. And Harry felt like he was finally going to win.

. . .

"It's almost time to go back to school," Daphne said one evening. It was about two weeks before school was supposed to start. Their Hogwarts letters had been delivered via Dudley, who said some man named Lupin had dropped them off. They didn't need to do the shopping, seeing as it had been taken care of earlier, so they spent the evening relaxing. Harry had been made Quidditch captain; she knew Slytherin were done for. But she didn't mind, they deserved it.

She had been growing increasingly fond of her host. They shared a bedroom, yet he made no advances on her. He had barely touched her, safe for a few times he touched her arm to get her attention and at the beginning when she fell asleep in his arms.

The blonde knew he was being careful, because the two of them were obviously physically attracted to one another and he rather liked their newfound friendship.

Daphne found his body attractive; his shoulders were broad, his muscles stood out beneath the shirts they had bought, or at least those on his arms did. Quidditch did him good, otherwise he would probably be a scrawny little thing. His eyes were so alive, and she loved it when he smiled at her.

His smile was so infectious. So, one night, when they said good night, she gave a peck on the cheek and danced towards the lavatory. She didn't stay to watch his reaction, but she could guess he would be blushing.

One morning she greeted him by throwing her arms around his shoulders from behind. She had surprised herself with that, but she couldn't stop smiling.

And then... She had no idea how it happened. They were out for a walk, which was a fairly dangerous activity for them, the Death Eaters could be anywhere, as could the Ministry, but they were becoming claustrophobic in Grimmauld Place, even if Dudley swung by every third day or so, and a case of cabin fever was setting in.

The Slytherin girl honestly liked Harry's company. He had a sort of wit that reminded her vaguely of Professor Snape, only it wasn't mean or cutting; his sarcasm always made her laugh. He also looked down on himself, she realised, and slowly started to build up his self-confidence. Small things, like pointing out when he said something smart and he wasn't aware of it.

So there they were, taking a walk to a nearby pond. There were ducks there, and she wondered if ducks were a normal sight in these parts. The grass was a sparkly green, small yellow flowers peeking out from several tufts of grass. There were rose bushes too, but, Daphne noted, they had no smell at all, but the beautiful mix of light yellow and soft pink made up for it.

"You okay?" He asked, his voice soft and gentle. She looked up at him, and nodded. She smiled at him. She loved the way he was looking at her, as if she was special to him. He didn't think she was a fragile porcelain doll, he thought she was unique.

"I'm fine," She said, reaching for his hand. She took his hand and entwined their hands. Harry stopped walking and looked down at their joined hands. Her hand was small and soft and she had neat, clean nails; his hand was slightly bigger, his fingers somewhat square.

She flushed and kept walking, drawing him with her. He followed, but out of the corner of her eye she saw him shrug and smile. Gosh she loved that smile.

Holding someone's hand was something she considered intimate. She didn't know why, but it was. She had never held Theo's hand. She was beginning to think more and more that whatever they had, had been for show.

When they arrived home later, she wondered something: what they were doing. Were they, for use of a better word, courting? Where they just friends? She felt the need to classify what they were.

"Harry?" She said his name carefully. He turned his head to her, but his eyes didn't move from the paper he was reading. "Harry, please put the paper down. I need to talk to you."

He set the newspaper down and glanced at her, "This sounds serious. Should I start running?"

"No," She laughed, "Nothing like that. I just... I, uh..." She was stuttering. How eloquent - she was bloody stuttering! "I..."

"You...?" He tried to egg her on. Her face went red, and she stuttered even more. What had happened to her confidence? This wasn't like her! She usually just came out and said what she wanted to.

Harry looked at her curiously, and she closed her eyes. She couldn't do it. She couldn't ask him this. She didn't even know what they were. She didn't know what she wanted them to be. Close friends? She knew was fond of him. She was very fond of him, in fact, and very dependent on him too. She needed him like she needed her wand. She needed him to stay strong. She...

Her thoughts were cut off when a pair of lips met her own. She opened her eyes in surprise and met Harry's grassy green eyes. She responded to his kiss, her arms locking around his neck as his hand came to rest on her hips. She loved having him touch her.

He took a deep breath and pulled her closer, his mouth starting to move. He didn't open his mouth, but this was... this was new. She had barely kissed Theo.

She met him, moving her lips with his. Her eyes fluttered close as she was drawn into her emotions and sensations. His lips were soft and... salty. She liked it.

This was... this was amazing. She felt like she was floating on a cloud - that was what people said, didn't they? She could've dropped dead at that moment and not care at all.

He drew back, the smile she loved on his face, and he gave her a sweet peck on the lips before loosening his grip. She didn't want him to, though.

"You're an excellent kisser," She said, somewhat out of breath, with her arms still around his neck. Not that she really had something to compare it to.

"Wait until you try to snog me - that'll be a disaster." He joked, or tried to joke. Still looking down on himself...

She put her head on his shoulder, as a sort of hug. She felt him rather than saw him smile.

Gosh she loved that smile.

. . .

A/N: And there you have it. The next chapter should come sooner, but I make no promises. Please be kind in your reviews. And a shout-out to my amazing beta.