Fan Fiction ❯ Kiss Me ❯ Kiss Me ( One-Shot )

Disclaimer: Not mine!

 

Author's Notes: I had done all my homework and I was bored! Okay, about the story: either they're together or they're not yet. Your choice (but personally, in my mind, they're not). Ahem... It could be his (their) first, or not. But it sure does seem like it is (you'll see what I'm talking about). Random, pointless, but a complete joy to write—unlike my others! It started out as a random sentence (the first one you see), developed into... well, read! ;D (By the way, I wasn't trying to make it a surprise who the pairing is, since it's quite obvious! I just liked this style for this fic.)

 

Kiss Me

By Princess Stephy

 

"Kiss me," she said clearly. Her eyes were staring downwards and they were unblinking.

 

It was only natural he'd turn to her suddenly, alarm and bewilderment evident on his face and in his voice. "... What?" he asked, stunned.

 

There they were, scrubbing the marks of Neville's spilt potion off the ground and she was asking--no, demanding him to kiss her.

 

"You heard me..." She was whispering now, it was hard for him to listen, and he thought he saw her eyes dart to the doors for a second. "Kiss me." She faced him now, on her knees next to the tilted cauldron.

 

On the other side of the cauldron, he was kneeling as well, bent over on his hands with rags and a bucket of water separating the two of them. He knew now he couldn't have heard incorrectly, as ludicrous as what she was saying sounded.

 

He stared at her. He swore his heart burst. "Are you serious?"

 

As unbelievable as he thought it was, she was actually getting excited. A smile began tugging one corner of her mouth. "Yes," she whispered frantically. It was now his turn to look about their surroundings.

 

He didn't know how or why now of all times he began to think of the consequences. Consequences. Him. Come on.

 

But one did have to think. They were, after all, in the dungeons of a most git-ish professor. But git-ish as he could be, he was still a professor, and if he decided to walk in at that precise moment... well, they were in for a lot more punishment than cleaning up after Neville's concoction as the others had dinner.

 

And then...

 

He hadn't realized he was still staring at the doors until he decided to look upon her once again.

 

And then... this crazy woman had gone... crazy!

 

Minutes earlier they had been arguing fiercely, hence this slight 'detention', and they had not spoken a word to each other all throughout their castigation... that is, until those two words slipped from her lips and struck quite violently against his head.

 

She was biting her lip. He looked back down again.

 

He couldn't seem to make up his mind. He wanted to say yes, yes, yes, but he didn't want to dig their hole deeper. And what was going through her head? Crazy...

 

Crazy woman...

 

She had lost it.

 

He couldn't say yes because somehow it felt like he was taking advantage of her while she was in an incapable state. As if she was drunk, or something. Maybe the fumes of the potion had made her a bit peaky.

 

Yup, that must've been it.

 

He started to raise his head, inevitable disappointment marking his face.

 

A rush of breath erupted from the girl before him and before he knew it, his face was in her hands and her mouth was crushing his.

 

He was leaning backwards, sinking to rest on the backs of his feet as she angled over him awkwardly.

 

Without thinking about it, worrying about it, he kissed her back. Shamelessly inexperienced, he pressed his lips back against her pushing ones, his mind a complete blinding blank. It was a very noisy white and he wanted to get rid of it, but he couldn't be bothered.

 

He was pushing his face against hers, rising back onto his knees and making her mirror his previous position. It was a thrilling battle none were really aware of. He rose, she fell; she rose, he fell. It kept on that way for a while until both were too distracted to keep their bodies moving and they both remained stock-still on their knees, still quite far apart from each other, though their faces were joined.

 

He didn't think it was possible--as he did many things recently... concerning this girl--but his heart kept hiking up his throat, bursting continuously.

 

It was just lips pressing against lips, he thought. Twisting and turning of heads accompanied, but their mouths were still closed. He didn't care, though. It couldn't get better than this and it was quite good already.

 

He felt, rather than heard, her breath accelerating against his nose and he would've begun to wonder what the problem was... if his breath hadn't been hitching as well. He didn't really understand the why, but his air supply was snagging. Then he felt her tongue against his bottom lip and he died. Just for a moment.

 

On impulse, his mouth parted and both their tongues met half-way. It was wet and sort of... grainy. But pleasant.

 

She made a little noise with her throat.

 

Very pleasant.

 

He felt their lips slipping and he quickly drew them back together. They were breathing somewhat choppily and everything seemed to be getting stuffier by the second.

 

Damn robes.

 

There was wild throbbing reverberating throughout every inch of his body, the work of his pulse points; his stomach seemed to have conjured a flock of restless somethings; he didn't think he could feel so much at one time, but his incensed nerves were working to change his mind.

 

Apart...

 

They were too far apart.

 

Almost on instinct, they both began to inch closer to each other. They got as close as they could with the things intercepting their way. He didn't seem to notice the things, and he fumbled closer still, his knee colliding with the forgotten bucket of water, sending its contents all over the floor.

 

He stumbled slightly and he knew he heard a vague strip of laughter. The water now pooled around them, but being the selfish persons they were, they didn't care.

 

His knees were wet; her damp hands were still clinging softly to his cheeks. The cadence now seemed to slow down.

 

Back to step number one minus the nervous mistakes.

 

He breathed out slowly through his nose and his hands rose to slide over hers, gripping and kneading.

 

Her lips, his lips, they were gentle now and he nipped uncertainly at her bottom one as she remained still.

 

He felt her hold on him strengthen.

 

His chest suddenly felt full.

 

He heard her soft breathing, felt it warm and moist against him. They were still on their knees, but motionless. Their mouths had stopped their fervent mashing, but they were still touching.

 

Then he heard fast footsteps. It was apparent that they both did, for their eyes flew open simultaneously.

 

They shoved away from each other a millisecond before the doors were thrown open. She charmed the water back into the bucket. The sound of scrubbing continued.

 

Snape studied them carefully.

 

"Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger, I should've known better than to entrust you with even the most simple of tasks."

 

They responded with silence, their faces hued red as they looked Snape in the eyes, both donning a weird expression.

 

"Get out of my sight."

 

They both scrambled to their feet, Ron helping Hermione to hers. He noticed her pressing her lips together, trying her hardest not to laugh, and Ron found himself trying his best not to kiss her again.

 

The ends of their robes dripped with water and they half-ran out the dungeons just as Snape's brows creased, not missing the wet trail they were leaving.

 

"What the--"

 

Author's Notes: The end. =D