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A group of Slytherins sit in a circle in front of their common room fire. They are all within months of their thirteenth birthdays and many have already perfected their expressions of perfect boredom, as though they have seen everything life offers and found none of it very interesting. So they sit and look unimpressed as Daphne Greengrass stands in the middle of them holding an empty bottle and explaining the rules to a game she learned from a Muggle magazine she found at the train station.
"Spin the bottle," she says, and giggles, having emptied most of the pilfered bottle herself. "It's very simple. You just...spin the bottle!"
She staggers, like she imagines very drunk girls do, to an empty space in the edge of the circle and plops down to the right of Draco, giggling again as her limbs entangle with his in her carefully executed stumble. Pansy Parkinson glares at Daphne from Draco's left. Daphne behaves like an imbecile, Pansy thinks; pretending to be drunk, pretending to fall in Draco's lap, using stupid Muggle games as an excuse to kiss him. She is surprised so many people agreed to play, but figures they are all, like her, harbouring affections for at least one person in the circle.
Daphne calms her giggling for a moment now that she has separated herself from Draco and taken a proper seat. Draco watches Daphne with a mix of revulsion and attraction. Pansy feels a feline urge to hiss at them both and slink away to sulk in the corner, but she stays hoping that soon she will have Draco's attention and his tongue all to herself while Daphne watches.
"You kiss the person the mouth of the bottle is pointing to when it stops spinning," she grins and looks around the circle expecting to see her housemates widen their eyes and gape at the pure scandal of it. They continue to stare at her as though this is just another History of Magic lesson, but she does not notice. "Vincent, you go first!"
Vincent Crabbe is surprised to be acknowledged, but when he realises he's about to kiss one of the girls sitting around the circle he grins like a lecher and focuses his dull eyes on Pansy. She sees him staring and pulls her skirt over her knees. Feeling sick and violated, she vows to push Daphne into the fire if Crabbe's spin lands on her.
Daphne passes the bottle to Crabbe and he leans forward on his knees. He grasps the bottle in his meaty hand - every girl there notes the hair on his knuckles with dread - and a turn of his wrist sets the bottle spinning. The ennui disappears as girls become invested in each circular trip, tensing as the mouth of the bottle passes them by. Anxiousness sets in even more as the bottle begins to slow down, making a hollow sound against the stone floor. Crabbe is still staring at Pansy, mentally undressing her, she thinks, and then mentally covering her in brown sauce and trying to eat her. She shudders as the bottle takes one last turn and inches past, pointing two people to her left where Tracey Davis sits. If Crabbe is disappointed he does not show it, he simply lumbers forward until he is in the middle of the circle and wriggles his eyebrows at Tracey, who looks as though she's been asked to kiss some kind of sea monster. Daphne giggles.
"Go on!" she says, excited that the game is working.
"Do I have to?" Tracey asks.
"That's the rules!" Daphne says. She puts her nose into the air and crosses her arms, enjoying her role as The Authority On Spin The Bottle.
Tracey pulls a face and moves forward, inching her way to the middle of the circle, hoping to delay the inevitable. The others watch, wondering what Tracey did to deserve this, but they enjoy her misfortune anyway. She stops and presents her face to Crabbe, eyes shut tight like she's about to jump off the side of a boat and be devoured by that sea monster. Crabbe makes a dirty hand gesture and everyone laughs. Tracey's eyes pop open to catch the joke, just in time to see Crabbe lean forward, his tongue already wagging at her. She opens her mouth, appalled, and does not shut it in time to stop Crabbe from enjoying his first French kiss, if that counts as one. Tracey would claim it didn't for the rest of her life; too many clacking teeth and too much drool.
"Ugh!" Tracey says, and pushes Crabbe away. He falls backwards, laughing, as she returns to her spot, wiping her tongue on the sleeve of her robes.
The circle is no longer pretending to be bored. They all lean forward to see who will be tortured next.
"Tracey spins now!" Daphne tells them. Tracey backs away from the circle.
"I'm not playing any more!" she says before retreating to an armchair to watch.
"Spoilsport!" Daphne yells. "Well...I'll go!" She moves forward on all fours like a drunken baby animal and grabs the bottle. Her long blonde curls hang over her shoulders as she flicks her wrist. The bottle spins a frantic pace and she returns to seat to watch its progress. She doesn't giggle any more, too busy practising telepathy to continue her drunk girl farce.
Stop on Draco. Stop on Draco.
The bottle slows again and she gets her wish. It is pointing between Pansy and Draco, and since he is the boy the alcohol-flavoured kiss is his.
"I want to see the girls kiss!" Goyle shouts. Daphne tries to shush him between giggles. Pansy looks as though she'd like to kill. Who, it doesn't really matter.
"That's not the rules!" Daphne shouts back before turning to Draco. Pansy watches closely as Daphne places a hand on Draco's knee. He glances around the circle at all the boys with a look of smug satisfaction - not only does he get to kiss her, she is obviously excited about it. Pansy knows this is a mistake; Daphne is showing her hand. Draco will eat her alive. Daphne presses her mouth against his and they kiss. To Pansy it is not spectacular. No tongue, no moaning - it is perfectly chaste. Idiot, Pansy thinks, because she still wishes it were her. When Draco pulls away Daphne shoots Pansy a look over his shoulder. I'm winning, it says. Draco's mine!
"Maybe you'll get lucky nex' time," Daphne slurs, suddenly drunk again. She blows Pansy a kiss.
Pansy moves forward and snatches the bottle, not sure if she's going to spin it or break it over Daphne's head.
"It's Draco's turn!" Daphne tries to protest, but Pansy glares her into submission and she sits back to watch with everyone else.
There is quiet around the circle as they all watch Pansy move forward; she kneels on black stocking covered knees and lowers the bottle to the stone floor. A lock of black hair slips from behind her ear as she flicks her wrist. The bottle spins quickly with a loud rattle. Who will she be kissing? Who in the circle hasn't she kissed before? She has kissed them all, if you ask the boys. When they swap stories in the dorm it always Pansy who shows up unexpectedly. According to them, she has thrown herself at each boy in turn, and then they tell of it as though they are reading letters from the tawdry magazines hiding beneath their mattresses. It's her who falls victim to their blooming seduction skills; she becomes the empty puppet in their fantasies.
Daphne has her charms, but she is tall and knock-kneed, and her body is straight as a pin. Pansy's new curves catch their imagination. Daphne is desperate and Pansy is aloof. In truth, Pansy doesn't kiss anyone, but the stories have become a mythology around her. She is unattainable, but now she is about to give away a kiss. Everyone holds their breath as the bottle slows and comes to rest on Theodore Nott.
Theodore Nott?
He is sitting directly across from her in front of the sofa. She had not noticed him there. They stare at each other; Pansy's blue eyes bright and curious, Theo's brown ones darting left and right. Otherwise his expression is blank. He could be sitting in class except that he appears to be looking for an escape route. Pansy takes it in; his curly dark hair, his twitching hands and long, spidery fingers, the blush creeping into his pale cheeks. He is not bad looking, she thinks, this could make Draco jealous. It looks as though Theo is about to forfeit his good fortune, jump up, climb over the sofa and make a run for it. She will have to catch him before he does. She moves forward, not waiting for him to approach her in the middle of the circle. She kneels in front of him.
Before he has a chance to assess the situation - to really appreciate the smell of vanilla Pansy carries in her hair, or the smell of jasmine she splashes on her throat, she has grabbed his face and planted her lips on his. Her lipgloss is slick and sweet. Her tongue is hot and soft as it parts his lips. They are both unlearned at this, and his eyes stay open watching her eyelashes flutter until finally her eyes open too. She pulls away, taking a piece of him with her, it's in the smile quirking the corner of her mouth. She realises, staring at his pink, parted lips that her head is spinning like the empty bottle of spirits. She is thirsty for more.
This is how it starts.
With Daphne gasping, Draco scowling and everyone else in the circle, all dignity forgotten, cat calling and encouraging them to get a room, or congratulating Theo, the fates have clearly smiled on him.
He is the first to kiss her.