'It is not, it's blood.'
'That is pumpkin juice. From where I threw it at you this morning.
Honestly, Harry. It's orange.'
Harry looked offended. 'It is too blood.'
Hermione grabbed Harry's hand, lifted it up to inspect the stain, and then to his apparent immense surprise, stuck out her tongue and gingerly licked the skin. 'Pumpkin juice,' she said.
Harry looked at her, his mouth twitching. 'I can't believe you did that.'
'Kind of makes all that whining about blood on your hands seem a little affected, doesn't it?'
'Mmm,'' said Harry. He was looking thoughtful. 'You know, come to think of it, I think you spilled some pumpkin juice here as well,' he added, and pointed at his neck.
'Really?' Hermione smiled. 'Well, in that case,' and she stepped closer to him, and put her lips against his neck, and very gently kissed him there.
He tasted of soap and salt. 'Definitely pumpkin juice,' she said.
'And here,' he said, and indicated his face. She touched her mouth to his cheek — the skin there was as soft as it had been the first time she had kissed him, when he had been fourteen. 'And here,' he said, and touched his lips, and she stood on tiptoe and put her arms around him and kissed his mouth.
He folded his arms around her and held her tightly while they kissed, so tightly she could barely breathe, his hands knotted into fists against her back. 'Oh, Harry,' she said, when they had broken apart. 'I'm so sorry about everything.'
'Don't,' he said, and leaned back a little so that he could look at her.
'Don't apologize, you haven't done anything you'd need to apologize for.'
Her breath caught in her throat. His eyes were on hers, full of concern, but more than that they were animated and alive and he was present.
Present as he had not been in a long while. He was really there. Lately touching him had been like touching a hollow shell, something reflexively animate but certainly not familiar, but now she was holding her Harry again, feeling just as he always had, solid and limber and a little gawky.
He was cold, his cloak still wet with melted snow, his skin chill against hers, but he was hers, her Harry, whom she adored.
He let her go. She kept hold of his wrist as she stepped back. She could feel the blood pounding in it under the skin. She smiled up at him, and he smiled back. 'We should go to class,' she said, her voice very soft.
'Oh, right. You run along,' he said.
She blinked. 'You're not coming?'
'Well, I would,' he replied patiently, 'but someone's stuck my feet to the floor.'
'Oh!' Hermione felt herself flush. 'Oh — oh — I forgot. Oh, dear,' but he was laughing, and as she took her wand and removed the hex on him, she found that she was laughing too.
They went a little ways down the hall, Seamus walking in front of her.
Ginny looked fixedly at the back of his head, feeling unaccountably guilty.
And for what? She thought. I haven't done anything! By the time Seamus slowed down and turned to face her, she was beginning to feel rebellious.
'I wanted to talk to you about Malfoy,' he said, brushing his thick wheat-colored hair out of his eyes with his left hand. She had never previously noticed that Seamus was left-handed. Then again, there were a lot of things about Seamus she had never previously noticed.
'What about Malfoy?' Ginny asked, her voice flat and uninviting.
'Do you know if he owns a shovel?'
She blinked, thrown. 'What?'
'Or a spade? A trowel, even.'
'Why do I have the feeling that this has nothing to do with, say, Herbology?'
Seamus smiled at her, but his eyes were serious. 'I wasn't going to say anything, mainly because Malfoy pretty much threatened to rip my liver out, but he doesn't seem to be in any kind of liver-ripping shape right now, so…'
'So what?'
'What's between you two?'
'There's nothing between us,' Ginny said. This was somewhat true. One-sided feelings didn't count as 'between'.
'Well, what's going on then?'
That was a trickier question. Ginny decided to dodge it by being flippant.
'Why? Suddenly decided you fancy him yourself?'
Seamus raised an eyebrow. 'I don't think Malfoy likes me that way, or at least if he does he's playing it very close to the chest.'
Ginny giggled despite herself. 'Sorry. I was just winding you up. It's only that, well, you don't know him, Seamus.'
'I do actually,' Seamus said. 'We used to play together on opposite Junior Quidditch teams back in prep school. He was a little cheat, one of those kids that will do anything to win. Whatever it took. Every time he was Beater, someone wound up with a bloody nose or a cracked elbow.'
'Well,' said Ginny weakly, 'things are different now.'
