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“Is it supposed to smell like that?” Ron asked, long nose wrinkled in disgust. He and Hermione were crammed into a stall in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, crouched on either side of the toilet that held Hermione’s waterproof flames. Between them was a large, pungent, merrily bubbling cauldron.
“Yes, of course it is,” snapped Hermione. “Which you would know if you’d bothered to read the potion instructions like I asked you to.”
Ron rolled his eyes. “Polyjuice Potion is really complicated. It makes more sense for you to do it. I’d probably just mess it up if I tried to help more.”
She sniffed. “I suppose you’re right,” she said haughtily. But her face had softened somewhat, Ron noticed.
“Do you think Harry’s all right?” Hermione asked as she stirred, her motions precise. Ron watched the potion roil. “I thought he’d be out of the hospital wing as soon as he woke up.”
“I thought he would too,” said Ron. “But, I dunno, it’s still early, and it must be hard to regrow that many bones. It probably takes a long time.” He glanced up at Hermione. The light from her waterproof flames illuminated her face with an eerie glow. Bits of hair frizzed around her face like a halo.
“Probably,” said Hermione.
“Huh?” He’d forgotten what they were talking about.
“Harry’s arm,” Hermione said impatiently. “Honestly, do you ever listen?” They were so close together in the tiny stall. He’d never noticed how long her eyelashes were.
“Hermione, have you ever kissed anyone?” Ron’s stomach dropped. He didn’t know what had come over him. He seemed to have skipped the part where he was supposed to consider things before he said them, and the words had come right out of his mouth.
Hermione gaped.
“Er, I mean, sorry, that’s a personal question…” Ron rubbed the back of his neck. He could feel his face getting hot. He shrugged. “I never have, so…”
“Well, I don’t know where that’s come from, but as it happens, yes, I have,” said Hermione matter-of-factly. She was staring determinedly at the cauldron as she stirred. “We practised once, in our dormitory.” She glanced up at him, then added hurriedly, “Just to know what it’s like in case any boys want to kiss us someday.”
“Oh,” said Ron. His face really was exceptionally warm. He probably looked like a strawberry. “Well…” Words bypassed his brain once again and he heard himself say, “Do you want to show me?”
“Show you what? Me kissing Parvati?” Hermione looked taken aback.
“No!” Ron said quickly. “No, that’s not what I meant. I mean, erm, show me how?”
“Show you how. You want me to kiss you,” said Hermione flatly. She wasn’t looking at the cauldron anymore. She stared him down with the intense focus she ordinarily reserved for difficult homework assignments.
“Er, yes?” Ron could feel his pulse pounding in his ears. He wanted out of this situation. He regretted ever saying anything. He—
“All right,” Hermione said with a shrug. She leaned through the steam emanating from the potion and pressed her lips to Ron’s.
Before he could register more than Her lips are soft, it was over. She leaned back through the steam and resumed stirring. “Anyway, that’s what it’s like,” she said, a small smile on her face.
“Oh,” said Ron softly, and touched a finger to his lips. “Erm. Thank you.”
——
Ten Years Later
“Do you remember the first time we kissed?” Ron asked absently. They were sitting at the breakfast table in peaceful silence, Hermione’s nose buried in a book as always—some things never changed—and Ron twirled a strawberry by its leaves and stared at it, remembering. He’d thought he’d been as red as a strawberry, that day in the bathroom stall. He probably had been.
“Of course I do,” said Hermione fondly, putting down her book and sticking her napkin in as a bookmark. “But what’s got you in the mood to reminisce about the Battle of Hogwarts?”
Ron raised his eyebrows. She didn’t remember? “Not that one.”
“Not that one?” repeated Hermione, head tilted. “But—” She stared into space, frowning. Then her eyes snapped to Ron’s. “Over the Polyjuice Potion! I’d forgotten!”
He grinned. “That’s the one. You were so confident. You’d practised.”
Hermione flapped a hand. “Oh, that. The girls and I gave each other the tiniest peck on the lips and called it kissing. I didn’t know what I was doing any more than you did. And do you seriously count that as our first kiss?”
“I seriously do,” said Ron, laughing. “You, me, lips on lips, that has to count, right?”
“It must have lasted less than a second,” Hermione protested. “And I didn’t open my mouth one bit.”
“Well, no, then you might’ve inhaled Polyjuice vapours. That stench was not nice.”
“Also, we were second years.”
“Practically babies. I still count it.”
Hermione rolled her eyes, but she was smiling just as much as he was. “We can have two first kisses, then.”
“Who says we have to stop at two? There was that one, the one at the Battle of Hogwarts, the first one after the war ended, the first one once we were married, the first one in a snowbank—“
Hermione burst out laughing. “I enjoyed that one.” They’d taken Mr. Weasley snowshoeing for the novelty of the thing, and Ron and Hermione had fallen into a snowbank and been unable to extricate themselves for several minutes until Mr. Weasley had assured them the coast was clear and Hermione could magic them out of it. While he’d had his back turned, craning his neck for any Muggles around the bend in the snowy trail, Ron had grabbed her face gently in one mittened hand and rubbed their cold noses together before planting a kiss squarely on her lips.
“But the first one was special,” Ron concluded. “I was so nervous and I wanted to act cool—”
“Let me assure you, you were not successful.”
“Thanks for that. Glad that’s the memory you retained from that day. Anyway, I already liked you so much, but I had no idea at the time. Looking back though, I can see it.”
“You kissed me and didn’t realize you liked me?” Hermione teased.
Ron had a sudden thought. “Hang on. Did you like me, at the time?”
“Of course I did. I was just better at hiding it.”
“You sound very proud of yourself.”
She plucked the strawberry out of his hand. “Oh, I am.”