Draco/Hermione (arguing, first kiss)
“No, no that’s not right at all, Malfoy. It’s a diminutive.”
His head is already shaking before she’s even finished talking. “It’s not. You’re not taking into consideration the shift in use in 1576 when–”
She cuts him off with a scoff.
“Right.” He pushes back from the table and stands. It outrages her even more than his patently incorrect opinions about the Rune translation assignment they’d been paired up for.
“Hey! Where are you going?” she demands.
He slams his book closed. “Flying.”
She wants to snap every broom in creation.
“Flying,” she repeats. “But we’re not finished!”
He shoves his textbook into his bag, head down, and that he’d dare ignore her after an entire hour of being such an overwhelmingly un-ignorable presence brings her to her feet and around the table to his side.
“Malfoy.” Her hands aren’t on her hips but they may as well be. “Stop it. Just–come on, we’ve only got a few inches left.”
“Later.” He flips his bag closed and goes to sling it on.
She knows it’s unfathomably rude to touch someone else’s things but she’s so worked up that it’s not even a question as to whether she should or not. She just does it – grabs his bag and throws it to the floor.
He stares at her for a moment, chest expanding like he’s really about to let her have it, but then he’s stepping close. His hand raises and for a sparkling second she thinks he’s going to pay her back finally, to set the score even between them, so she gasps when he makes contact with her cheek.
But his hand is gentle, warm and curling and steady. He’s not striking her – not in the same way, anyway – but she’s sure her eyes go as wide as if he had.
And then he’s kissing her.
She makes a noise and his fingers tighten in response, sliding further to hold her closer as he offers her a low hum of his own.
She needs to touch him then, for support and because she’s finally allowed to, and her hand curls around his collar until the backs of her fingers are touching his skin.
It’s pathetic of her that something so innocent makes her whimper.
He steps closer, properly in her space now, and when his tongue slides into her mouth at the same time his hand slides across her lower back, she knows she’s lost.
She’s never conceded an argument so quickly, so wholly. But Merlin, if that’s his tactic for shutting her up then she thinks she’ll yell at him for the rest of her life.