It had been Hermione’s idea the first time they’d kissed, though Harry admitted at least to himself, he’d considered it,
but the thought of Hermione being his best friend’s girl for one and for another, his best friend and someone he wasn’t sure if he should think about
kept him from acting.
What he’d found out was Hermione knew how to kiss and she was fond of peppermint, since her kisses always tasted of the red and white candies.
He’d licked his lips afterward and adjusted his (fogged) glasses and asked if she was sure she knew what she was doing.
Hermione had given him That Look (the ‘don’t I always?
’ one, possibly mixed with the ‘boys can be so dense’ one) and pressed in for another kiss and this time, Harry didn’t think much about Ron, or Ginny,
or anything but the taste of peppermint and that very clever curl of Hermione’s tongue.
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