He was ethereal no more.

He reached up and brushed the knuckles of his fingers against her cheek, and Ginny trembled. Wordlessly, she nodded, giving him permission for his unasked question. He licked his lips in response and she nearly came undone, but he was there helping support her weight, one hand tangled in the russet curls at the back of her neck, the other at her waist. Her arms had, of their own volition, snaked up and around his shoulders, drawing him ever closer.

When their lips were but a hairsbreadth away, and she could feel his hot breath on her face, he paused and looked directly into her eyes without any trace of his earlier wit. Ginny, unable to wait any longer, closed the distance between them.

If her dreams had been almost unbearable in the amount of desire they had created, his kiss was a thousand times moreso. His hand at her waist pressed her against him, crushing their bodies together. Her body was on fire, spiraling outwards from the point where her lips touched his, and she felt like she was falling, or floating in the middle of the air. He moaned hungrily, and the sound vibrated through her, down into her fingers and toes. With his tongue he delicately traced her lips, and she gladly opened them to him, allowing him to caress her mouth. The extraordinary heat between them reached feverish heights and Ginny knew she had never been kissed like this before, like the world had shrunk until it included only the two of them, like she was the only thing on his mind at that moment.

"Ginny."

Over the rushing sound in her ears and the mindlessness caused by the touch of his hands there came a voice, so awkward in its irrelevance that it jolted Ginny forcibly out of her daze. She pushed away from him, eyes wide, wondering what had just happened.

Someone tugged on her arm, and she turned blankly to see Luna there, looking worried. "We have to go. Harry's headed right for us."

"Harry," Ginny whispered. It took her a moment to remember who he was exactly.

"Harry?" The gray-eyed man's hands dropped away from her, and she nearly cried out in protest. "Harry Potter?"

"Yes, Harry Potter," Luna said to him calmly, as though he hadn't just been snogging the hell out of her best friend. "Sorry Draco, but we can't stay."

"Draco?" Ginny looked up at him, her mind still blank, wondering what on earth Luna was doing calling him that name. But then, as though a veil had been lifted, she recognized those gray eyes and remembered. She remembered that smirk, that slightly pointed nose, that too-pale skin.

She had just kissed Draco Malfoy. She had just kissed Draco Malfoy and liked it.

--Cinnamon_badge, Draconis and Ginevra

They stood on the sidewalk and gazed up, feeling the tingle of winter on its way, feeling the warmth of each other. His broom and a dirt road were on the left, the castle on the right, and they were alone in the world amidst it all. She could feel his eyes on her.

“Don’t worry.” His breath was warm in contrast to the cool breeze. “The way I look at it, it doesn’t matter if they think you need to change the world. Just do what makes you happy.” His arms tightened. “You’re not obligated just because you’re smart.”

She smiled. “I know. It’s just so much pressure sometimes.” She laid her head on his chest, closing her eyes as it rose and fell. “Thank you, though.”

His palm touched her cheek, ran over her hair and lifted her face up. Her heart was pounding, wondering if he would finally do it, praying he would. She glanced at his lips then back to his eyes, indiscernible in the moon’s faint fire.

His tone was matter-of-fact as he asked, “Would you be disgusted if I kissed you?”

Her heart expanded through her chest until it felt like it might burst. Unable to find words, she could only swallow, smile, shake her head. An awkward pause filled the space between them—and then, a hesitant touch. Warm, moist, uncertain and a little clumsy at first. But instantly addictive.

They began to grow more confident, finding a rhythm, gradually picking up pace, pressing harder and closer, mouths opening wider and holding longer. Hands grew restless, impatient to feel, to pull tighter, to know everything. This moment had been a long time coming; neither seemed capable of finding restraint.

Her fingers tracing his spine, his hands gripping her hips, brushing the bare skin beneath her shirt just above her jeans, their breathing rough above the drumming of their hearts.

Slowly, though, as if on cue, the kisses grew softer, sweeter, until they drew apart completely and locked eyes. She gave a slow, shy smile that became a grin, then a laugh full of happiness and freedom. He chuckled, pulling her closer and burying his head in her neck, lifting her to her tiptoes in his embrace.

It was cold. The couple holding each other that fall night hardly noticed.