Mala Fide: In Bad Faith

Mala Fide: In Bad Faith - Chapter 14

"Oh, this one's nice," the young woman said admiringly, picking up the ginger plant and displaying it for her husband's examination. Impressed once more by her uncanny ability to pick out a healthy specimen from dozens of samples, he nodded his approval. She was perfect in every way - regardless of what she wore on her head.

Neville didn't pay any mind to the simply awful hats Luna had worn for most of their honeymoon. Today's was a garish, bright orange hat with an oversized floppy brim. Her odd sense of style was a trait he had found quirky when they had first met, but now it truly endeared her to him. It was part of what made her Luna. Besides, he was in love; all he saw was her beauty and the way the yellow of the sunlight made her hair shine like gold underneath its edges.

"Yes. It is. Very nice." Never taking his eyes off her, he leaned in and kissed his wife. She tried to set the plant in the basket draped over her arm, but she had closed her eyes and accidentally put it on a nearby table.

It was a ghastly mistake, for that particular table contained a display of Turkish Snapdragons. They were similar to snapdragons that were raised by Muggles. However, the flowers on the Turkish variety resembled miniature dragon heads, and when agitated, they would snap their tiny jaws and spit out fire.

Thinking it was being provoked by the innocuous ginger plant, one of the young Snapdragons thrashed and shot out a flurry of hot sparks. The compact fireball hit the backside of an elderly witch who just happened to be standing next to the table. She screamed when its tiny mouth bit down on her protruding bum.

Neville suddenly realized it was probably a colossal waste of time to try and squeeze in some shopping for herbs and plants while on one's honeymoon. It was just too hard to focus on the task at hand. But it was too late - the damage was done, and it seemed like it would never stop.

The irate woman swatted her hand blindly behind her. Finding the source of her irritation, she drew her wand and swiftly subdued the plant. She looked around wildly. Then drawing even more attention to herself, she shrieked, "Well, no wonder! Turkish Snapdragons! What kind of dunderhead - you!"

She was pointing directly at the terribly embarrassed groom. "This is all your fault!" she bellowed. He watched in horror, wanting to crawl under the table, any table; famed herbologist or not, he still respected any witch who was old enough to be his grandmother.

The hefty woman strode over and slapped the poor young man's cheek as hard as she could. A half-second later, Luna decided she could no longer watch in silence. She rose to her husband's defense: The woman simply forgot was she was ranting about. She suddenly remembered she had left a kettle on the boil at her friend's house just down the street from the gardening show. Setting down the three plants she had intended to buy, she promptly left the show without another word.

The newlyweds breathed a sigh of relief. Neville retrieved the ginger plant; miraculously, it was apparently no worse for the wear. Carefully placing it in Luna's basket, he patted her sun-warmed hair. "Let's go," he suggested. She nodded in agreement.

But the fiasco wasn't over just yet.

"Monsieur Longbottom!" a French-accented voice called from across the crowded yard. "You know your mademoiselle will 'ave to pay for what she made the lady forget to buy."

It was Gabrielle Delacour. Her lips in a wry smile, she hugged him warmly and kissed each of his cheeks in the French style. "Bon jour, Neville! 'Ow are you? And you 'ave a girlfriend! 'Oo is she?"

He gave the young French beauty a goofy grin and corrected her. "This is Mrs. Longbottom, my wife. Luna, I'd like you to meet Gabrielle Delacour."

"Oh! You are married? 'Ow wonderful!" She hugged him once more then turned to hug the bride. "When did zees 'appen?"

The other witch's eyes lit up. "Delacour? Why, you must be Bill Weasley's sister-in-law. You share Fleur's striking good looks." The younger girl blushed slightly and bit her lip at Luna's honesty.

"Thank you, Madam."

"Longbottom?" another familiar voice said, joining the conversation. "I thought you were on your honeymoon."

Neville looked up and saw Vincent Crabbe. Pansy Parkinson was on his arm and smiling graciously. "Hello, Neville. Luna."

"Hullo. Actually, we're still on our honeymoon. It's just that, well, this show only comes along once every few years, so you know, you hate to miss it . . . it's crucial for any serious herbologist."

"Neville, 'oo are your friends?" Gabrielle chimed in.

He introduced his former classmates. A brief moment of slight awkwardness passed between the two wizards. Sensing their slight discomfort, Gabrielle shared some hints as to where the best buys of the show could be found. As the others talked, Luna thought back on her wedding day and said to Pansy, "I do hope you enjoyed the food at our reception."

"Yes, very much. The whole day was lovely."

"That's good. I didn't see either of you for most of the afternoon, and I wondered if maybe you had taken ill. Did you think there was something strange in the crab dip? It tasted like it might have had a pinch of Jakesong in it, and you know how that can upset a person's stomach. I felt a little bit queasy myself after eating it. But I felt much better after I had some champagne."

By now, Vincent had stopped listening to Gabrielle and Neville and exchanged a glance with Pansy. She grinned and blushed modestly. "No, we were fine, actually. We had to leave early to pick up Vincent's boys."

"Pardon, mademoiselle?" a man said in a thick accent.

"Oh, excuse me," Gabrielle said to her friends, "I 'ave another customer to attend to. Good to see you again, Neville. Nice to meet you, Luna. Au revoir, Monsieur and Madam--"

"Crabbe. A-and Miss Parkinson," Vincent added, indicating his girlfriend.

The younger witch nodded. "Oui. Enjoy ze rest of ze show, and your stay in Provence. Au revoir!"

The former schoolmates continued browsing through the various aisles, discussing the various herbs and plants and their properties. The two wizards were soon arguing about how to make Strengthening Solution and whether one was supposed to add the salamander's blood before putting in the pomegranate juice or after. When Vincent reminded Neville of the disastrous results Potter had had when he had switched the order of these ingredients in one of their Potions classes, the Gryffindor was a bit stunned. The two had long had a professional respect for each another, but this took him by surprise.

"How could you even remember something like that?" he asked without realy thinking. But instead of taking offense, the other wizard shrugged casually. Neville then suggested the two couples meet up for dinner that night.

They had a pleasant evening. It was mostly spent exchanging theories about plants and potions over a meal of fresh seafood. Each man learned little tips he didn't know and was grateful for the advice. Pansy interjected her two Knuts worth when they were discussing the careful handling of Bubotubers. Luna, sharing her own unique brand of information that her father regularly posted in The Quibbler as if they were well-known facts, reminded the others that Blibbering Humdingers love to eat Bubotubers.

"It's true," she said when Pansy snorted softly into her glass of sparkling water. "People who grow Bubotubers really need to keep a sharp watch out for them, or their whole crop could be destroyed overnight." Neville just smiled and took his wife's hand.

After they had finished their dessert and café au lait, the two couples parted ways. The Longbottoms went to their hotel, while the other two Apparated back to England. While Pansy would have liked to stay in France one more day, she said they had plans to take Vincent's boys to Rhiannon and Lucas Malfoy's birthday party tomorrow.

While Luna was brushing her hair before bed that night, she suddenly gasped and turned to her husband. "Oh! You should have given Vincent the letter for Ginny. He could have taken it to the party tomorrow."

It seemed like a good idea, but Neville frowned.

"Yeah, I thought of that. But for some reason, Brian asked me to deliver it to her personally. That's why I haven't bothered sending it by owl."

"Oh, I see." She finished her brushing then dimmed the lights for bedtime.

* * * * *

Lucius looked up at the sound of the doorknob turning in the handle. When Ginny entered the room, he set his book on the oval table in front of him. "How is she?" he asked with concern.

She sighed as she sat down next to him on the fine leather sofa. "Fine. She's sleeping."

"That's a relief," he said, smiling faintly.

"I had to give her a child's dose of Dreamless Sleep Potion."

The young mother sounded tired herself. But then, having birthday parties for small children was rather exhausting, even with house-elves around to do most of the work. She rubbed her eyes. It had been a very stressful day, what with all the children running around, some of them performing accidental magic - although she doubted that all of it had been purely accidental. The incident with Rhiannon only made it worse.

Lucius stared silently into the fire. The crisp crackling of the wood and the dancing flames held his gaze for several moments. Ginny, too, fell under their hypnotic spell. She watched as the blaze transformed itself into new patterns, fading slightly on one side, only to be reborn on the other. She was mesmerized by its vibrant glow.

Without a word, he edged nearer to her. He placed a hand on her thigh, and when he did, she looked up at him and smiled wearily.

"What do you think could have happened to frighten her so?"

"I don't know, exactly. All Rhiannon said was that she saw a monster. I thought maybe she meant a ghoul, until she said it had red eyes and a mean laugh. Can't imagine who would - wait a minute . . . "

Ginny chuckled to herself and shook her head. "Of course! It had to be one of the Flint boys, just having a laugh. They're always up to something, just like the twins." She laughed again, mostly at her own stupidity. "Those imps! I should give them a good scare myself next time we're at their house. Imagine, picking on a little girl who's too small to defend herself."

"It must have been," Lucius said, placing a consoling hand on her shoulder. "We certainly don't have any ghouls or monsters at the manor. Now, come here," he said as he pulled her close to him. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and began stroking her arm. She relaxed into him, amazed at how the little things he did never failed to bring her comfort.

She was right where she belonged.

He seemed to sense what she was feeling and lifted her chin. When their eyes met, he said, "I love you, Ginevra Malfoy."

The way he said her name, so reverently, that it made her heart ache. . . . like he thought it the most beautiful sound in the world. It made her pulse beat faster and her face flush. When he dipped his head slowly and kissed her, she felt a fire burning her, threatening to devour her from the inside out.

How could I ever deny him?

"Yes," she breathed between kisses, "yes, Lucius. I will. I will marry you. I love you so much, and I don't want to live another day without you in my arms, in my heart - in my life."

Lucius turned to face her, and holding her at arm's length, he looked at her in wonder. For a moment, Ginny thought he might cry. But he simply said, "You have made me the happiest of men. I will adore you always. You won't regret this, my love." As he kissed her tenderly, she felt a surge of magic flow between them. It was unlike anything she had ever felt in her life.

When he finally broke the kiss, he said in a voice that sounded almost victorious: "And now we are one."

They made love in his room that night with renewed energy. Ginny could barely grasp how loving he was with her. He was passionate, yet tender. She had not known ardor like this for such a long time. And yet, it wasn't completely unfamiliar to her; she knew she had felt this way before, once. It was somewhere in the recesses of her mind, but in a place she couldn't go. Her lover was on fire, his thirst for her unquenchable. It was heavenly.

She realized he must have taken some sort of potion to be able to go on that way. It flattered her that he wanted to spend so much time pleasing her, enjoying her, loving her. As the morning's first glow came slipping through the curtains, they both collapsed in exhaustion and slept for hours.

* * * * *

Stella tapped her toe impatiently. Her cousin was late - again. She couldn't fathom how a person who had magic at his disposal could ever be late. Yet he was, more often than not.

To pass the time, she alternated between perusing the menu again and counting the beads of rain collecting on the window at the front of the noisy café. She'd been hoping for an end to this early winter storm - she was on-call that night - but unfortunately, it showed no signs of slowing.

It was a dreary Sunday afternoon. She had looked forward to having tea with Brian. But when she rose that morning to gloomy skies, she regretted suggesting they go out. If only my flat weren't so small, she thought. Besides, his tended to be filled odd aromas, resulting from any number of experiments; the effects of which she wasn't sure were always entirely safe.

When her cousin came into view at last, she waved her hand to flag him down. He caught her motioning for him and quickly came indoors, joining her at the small round table.

"Afternoon, Stella. Sorry I'm late," he said in way of greeting as he bent down to hug her. She met him halfway up and returned the gesture.

"I'll never understand why you're always late for our meetings, Brian. You're a wizard, for God's sake," she added in a fierce whisper. "And by the way, your tea's gone cold."

While she continued to chastise his lack of punctuality, he discreetly warmed his cup. "So what was it this time? A flat tire?"

He smirked at her. "Ha, ha. I couldn't find my notes from last week, and I couldn't exactly owl them to you later on. Your neighbors might start to wonder about you."

"They already do. I have no social life; my only friends are you, two aging cats, and a rather strange red-haired girl who comes to visit me, on average, twice a year." She paused to take a sip of her tea. "Besides, couldn't you have just, er, found them and then had them delivered here - you know, magically?" she asked, saying the last word in barely a whisper.

"You mean Summon them? No, I couldn't have done that. For Accio to work, you need to know exactly where an object is. You need to be able to visualize it in its spot - very clearly - to call it to you. Besides, seeing folders fly through the air does tend to cause Muggles to stare."

Stella cleared her throat nervously. Rolling her eyes in the direction of the next table over, she hissed, "Sort of like what you're doing right now?"

The two teenage Muggle girls who were seated beside them were staring at him, wide-eyed, their mouths agog. "Oh! Hello, there," Brian said to them with a little innocent wave of his fingers.

His cousin explained to them with a kindly smile, "It's all right, my dears. My brother. He just got released from Bedlam. Still having a spot of trouble with reality. He'll be fine." Both girls blushed then quickly turned back to their plate of chocolate scones.

"Now," Stella continued rather brusquely, "let's get to work, shall we?" She leaned over to one side and swept her case off the floor and up into her lap. Withdrawing three folders, she placed them in the middle of the table, rearranging other objects so that everything would fit in the small area between them.

Stuffing another biscuit in his mouth, Brian asked, "Wha's aw 'is?"

"Research," she answered a bit tersely. "Weeks and weeks of it."

"Where'd you get all of it?"

"Internet." Seeing his confused expression, she shook her head. "Never mind. I'll show it to you sometime."

Even though he was born to Muggle parents, Brian had immersed himself in the wizarding culture once he got to Hogwarts. He loved everything about their world. The only modern device he had was the mobile phone Stella insisted he have - and only because the Floo system scared the living hell out of her.

She opened the middle folder and flipped a few pages back. When she found what she was looking for, she handed it to him. "Finish that biscuit," she said, "and read this."

When he began reading, she reminded him, "Don't you have something for me? We were both supposed to be looking into this."

"Oh, right. Sorry." He wiped the cinnamon and sugar off his mouth then took out his notes. He cast a quick spell so that the pages would look like newsprint to anyone else who happened to glance down at it, only without the moving photographs.

Lowering his voice, he said, "Of course, this is a violation of about 32 separate wizarding laws. I could lose my license to practice medicine, even face possible jail time. I know, what are the odds? We're nowhere near any the Ministry, but we should have met at your flat. We could have the convenience of using magic without . . . "

Stella waved an impatient hand at him, told him to 'shut up and read', and continued studying his notes. After several minutes of reviewing each others' documents, she looked up. "Well? What do you think?" she asked then poured some more tea for both of them. By now, the rain had let up and the crowd in the café was thinning out.

"Interesting. I'd never thought of some sort of blood disease."

"I know, it sounds crazy. I didn't know wizards even got them. But it would explain why the methods your hospital uses couldn't figure out what was causing her illness, or how to cure her."

They polished off the remaining biscuits and emptied their cups. Finally, she said, "Listen, Brian, could you possibly get some of her blood, so I can have it tested? That is, does your hospital keep anything like from its patients?"

"Well, in unexplained deaths, the hospital keeps a few samples and freezes them in a magical stasis. That way, as new spells and techniques are discovered, we can go back later and test them further so I imagine we would have blood, tissue - any number of things."

"Really? Well, that's very modern for your hospital. No offense, of course."

"None taken." He shrugged and said modestly, "To be honest, it's a rather new practice. Some of us younger Healers thought of it, mostly the Muggle-borns, having grown seeing so many ailments with no apparent cause that our parents couldn't just 'wish' away."

"Well, I think it's fantastic. Look, why don't we get the samples now, so I can have them looked at?" He nodded, and they gathered up their things and left the café.

* * * * *

Near the end of her time in her temporary post as Madam Pince's assistant, Hermione found herself no closer to learning the identity of the mysterious Brian. When she stumbled upon books and books of photographs of past and present students, she was overjoyed. They were organized by year and house; all she had to do was look for the Brians.

Unfortunately, it wasn't that easy.

The books, it turned out, didn't list any first names - only the student's first initial, followed by a last name. "Fat lot of good that does me," she muttered as she flipped through the pages for what seemed like the thousandth time, scouring for boys with the first initial B. She had found several possibilities, but how was she to know the Brians from the Bradleys from the Bills?

No matter what she tried, no Charm would reveal the students' first names. It was fast becoming an exercise in futility.

She decided to call it a day as soon as Madam Pince got up from her afternoon rest. Since the librarian's days were generally quite long, she frequently took a nap to prepare for the 'evening rush', as she called it, when large numbers of students often came down to do research for essays and other homework. Just before 5:00, Hermione wrapped her warm traveling cloak around her for the long walk across the grounds to the front gates. Of course, she could Floo to the Burrow in seconds, but she wanted some time to think and unwind.

At least, that was what she meant to do.

Hearing her boots crunch down on the packed snow as she walked was oddly liberating and seemed to brighten her mood. As she moved further away from the castle, the snow was softer, fresher . . . untouched. Her feet sifted through the light powder. The simple pleasure of being the first person to wade through new snow made her smile subconsciously, just as it had when she was a girl.

The feel of it reminded her of countless snowball fights, something she had hated in her early years at Hogwarts but learned to enjoy as she and Ginny became closer friends, and eventually, confidants. She was soon giggling at memories of the four of them - Harry, Ron, Ginny, and herself - making hundreds of snowballs and filling them with magic so they stayed together but were still slushy and wet on impact. She could still see Ron, running after her, red-faced and puffing like an angry dragon without its fire. It always made the girls laugh raucously; he was so easy to get riled up. Harry would just roll his eyes and tell him, "They won that time, mate. Give up!"

Looking around to make sure no one could see her, Hermione lay on her back and made the most perfect snow angel. She tried to ignore the way the snow was creeping inside her cloak and robes. When it reached the edge of her skirt and spilled into the tops of her boots, she squealed. The sound of it echoed into the deepening twilight.

Wouldn't Ron be surprised to see me now?

A few minutes later, she rose and dusted herself off, prepared to walk on. She felt cold but rejuvenated.

The closer she drew to the gates, the slower she walked. She hated leaving this place - she always had and still did. Back when they had all lived here, it was a different time, a time when their responsibilities were to each other. Of course, there were their studies, but neither Ron nor Harry took them very seriously. What had mattered most, what still mattered today, was their friendship.

At last, she reached out and touched the gates with her gloved hand. She stood there for a moment, smiling as she reflected on how lucky she was: she had Harry's children, and she still had Ron and most of his family. A few moments later, she walked outside, the gate clanging shut behind her. Once she was far enough into the outside world to Apparate, the lands around her melted away.

Splat!

Her arrival at the Burrow was heralded by something wet and slushy hitting her hat, which was already damp from making the snow angel. She shrieked in surprise. Just as the moisture soaked through and started to saturate her hair, a man's voice roared, "Get her!"

His battle cry was echoed by a band of small children. The four - no, five - warriors rushed her, coming out from behind their make-shift fortress and going into full attack mode. Laughing, she tried to cover her face as she lumbered through the deep snow and made a run for the house. She could barely catch her breath. Her attackers were relentless in their pursuit and continued to pelt her with snowballs.

When they finally caught up to her, she was almost at the front porch. The little ones wrapped themselves around her legs and waist and brought her to the ground.

"Yay, Uncle Ronnie! We got her!" they cried as they jumped up and down. "We win! We win!"

Sitting down on the snow-dampened steps, Hermione reached out for her daughters and grabbed them. Their faces were beaming; their noses and cheeks were as red as apples, their breath coming out as visible puffs that filled the air around them then vanishing.

"We got you, Mummy!" Lily said, her jack-o-lantern grin a mile wide.

"Yes, you did, my little flower. Look at me - I'm soaked from head to toe!" Her oldest friend in the world was crouching down among the children. She turned to him and stuck her tongue out. "I'm sure this was all your idea, Ronald Weasley."

"Well, actually your girls asked me to help them defeat the Huns--"

"Hey!" young Artie objected, sounding offended - even though Hermione was fairly certain the six-year-old didn't know what the word meant. "Wait, what are Huns?"

"Never you mind," Ron said. But he wasn't looking at his nephew. He stood up and raked his fingers through his hair to clear out the rest of the snow. When he offered to help Hermione to her feet, she smiled and took his hand gratefully.

Finally, she noticed just how wet her clothes actually were. She cried, "Ahhh! I'm freezing!" and started to shiver. The kids giggled at her.

Pretending to be upset, she resumed her authoritative manner. She clapped her hands twice and ordered, "Now everyone, let's all get inside and get into some dry clothes! Leave your outerwear on the hooks just inside and then go change at once for dinner."

The children herded past them, making battle sounds and shouting cries of victory about their conquest. Jocee thrust her fist in the air and announced proudly, "Grandma, we won! We defeated the Huns! And we took a prisoner, too!"

Ron rolled his eyes and smiled, partly in amusement at his niece, but mostly because Hermione sounded like herself again . . . like the girl he knew and loved. True, he had ribbed her terribly when she was Head Girl. But he had always liked that certainty she had about herself - the conviction that actually, she was right, all the time.

"You know, going to Hogwarts three times a week is starting to rub off on you. I think you should consider taking a post there permanently. It suits you."

"Me? Work at Hogwarts?" She sounded as if the idea surprised her.

"Sure. Why not? Harry and I always figured McGonagall was your idol. You're just like her - except you do know how to have fun. McGonagall wouldn't know fun if it came up and bit her in the arse."

Hermione followed everyone in and cast a Drying Spell on the children's outerwear. Once she and Ron had hung and dried their things as well, they stood together by the fire. Lily, Jamie, Artie, and Jocee had all trooped upstairs to put on dry clothes for dinner at the command of Admiral Molly.

The two old friends relaxed into a casual conversation about Ron's Quidditch practices, which were being canceled due to inclement weather. "Besides, with Christmas just around the corner, we're probably just going to regroup next month. We'll see what Oliver wants to do." As she turned around to warm her backside, he noticed the way her skirt was clinging to her thighs in a provocative and positively indecent manner . . .

He swallowed then asked, "Do you want to take that skirt off?" Mortified, he quickly rephrased the question. "Er, I mean do you want to get into something dry for your trip back home?" His face had turned the color of stewed beets.

Feeling slightly self-conscious herself, she cast her eyes downward. "Does your mum have something of Ginny's I could borrow?"

"I think so. Let me go ask her."

Anxious to escape the embarrassment he was feeling, Ron took off for the kitchen. Hermione stood by the fire quietly and listened for his return. Instead, she heard his mum chastise him for bothering her in the middle of her cooking with something he could 'very well get himself'. He skulked through the living room, his face even redder than before, his lips twisted into an annoyed frown. He headed to the stairs, all the while grumbling something about how she didn't need to yell at him - after all, he was only asking. His friend turned back toward the fire and bit back a grin.

Once Hermione had put the dry clothes on and adjusted them to fit her a little better, she and Ron resumed their conversation by the fire while waiting for dinner. "Is Fred coming over tonight?" she asked, as if she had just thought of her boyfriend.

"I s'pose." He seemed a little disappointed to have to tell her this. "So, how do you like working with Madam Pince?"

Hermione shrugged and grimaced. "She's all right, I guess. I don't know if it's because I'm so familiar with the place that the work is so incredibly easy for me - it's almost boring at times - but some days, I find myself with a good deal of free time on my hands."

"Well, you're not down there in the evenings, are you?" he observed. "I reckon that's when the library is busiest."

She laughed. "I know. It is kind of silly to have an assistant during the day. But still, I have had time to . . .

"Hey, Ron, do you know someone named Brian that Ginny and Neville would both know but I wouldn't? I figure he's got to be close to our age, or how else would they know him? But if they know him, then we would too--"

"Brian? Why the devil do you want to know about some wanker named Brian? You've already got one boyfriend." This time, he sounded downright annoyed.

Hermione just looked at him. Is someone jealous?

She sighed in exasperation. "I don't want to date him, Ron. I don't even know him, but - please help me out with this. It's for Ginny." She looked at him seriously. "Don't you worry about her being with Lucius Malfoy?"

"What do you think?" he snarled sarcastically. For a few moments, he said nothing more. Then his eyes lit up. "Hey, I wonder if it's the same Brian that Percy used to hang out with at Hogwarts."

"Percy had friends at Hogwarts?"

She didn't mean to say it like that. It sounded cruel. It just sort of slipped out before she could stop herself, and it was her turn to blush. Even so, Ron laughed wryly.

"Kind of amazing, eh? Most of them were in Ravenclaw, of course."

She smiled and asked hopefully, "Do you happen to know Brian's last name?"

"Well, if it is Percy's old friend, it's Gilpin. He's a Healer at St. Mungo's, probably of the youngest one they've got. Why do you need to fi--"

But before he could finish, her lips were on his and her arms around him. He tried not to read too much into it. It was nothing but a gesture, a gut reaction to wonderful news . . . the rush of instant relief one has when an important but vexing question has been answered. Especially when that someone was Hermione.

When she finally grasped what she had done, she felt a bit awkward. But for some reason, she got too caught up in the moment to let reason take over, let go, and simply back away.

Besides, Ron didn't seem to mind terribly that she had kissed him . . . or rather, that she was still kissing him. No more than he minded the way she was starting to run her fingers through his hair or the feel of her tongue as it was invading his mouth or the sound of her moaning into his lips or just how close she was pressing up against him. To the contrary, he clenched her tightly as his body responded to her.

"My, my . . . isn't this cozy?"

~End of Chapter~