She had loved his smile the most.

The way he turned his head to the light, the way his hair would follow his movement ungracefully and flap about, and the way he squinted his emerald eyes to the sun.

She had been his friend for as long as she could remember, and they had grown closer over the years. He was just about the closest person she had to her, apart from Ron of course.

Good old Ron.
He had liked her for a while and though she gave no signs of reciprocating his feelings, it was widely thought among the school rumour mills that they were going out.

Oh how wrong they were.

They had never thought she would like him, though it never seemed odd to them that she would come at his beck and call.

It never seemed odd that she would check on him during the night, and let him copy her notes.

It never seemed odd that her every sentence started with, "Harry said…"

After all, he was the boy who lived.

So in her final year of school after the exams, a few weeks before the end of term; Hermione finally could breathe. Only a few more weeks of keeping up the charade she had played for her entire school career. Only a few more weeks and she would disappear, and as soon as he wasn't there in her presence every day; she was sure that she would get over him.

After all, he was only the boy who lived.

Even fewer days before the end of term, Harry had persuaded her to come to the room-of-requirement with the other seventh years they were going to play truth or dare, and other hormonally charged games.

She only went because he'd asked her, and she just couldn't say no to that smile.

So she sat wistfully in the circle of newly united houses, wishing she could escape away. And when passed the bottle of Veritaserum, (stolen from Snape's stores) which was compulsory aspect of the game, she took the obligatory sip and passed it on without comment. She didn't object at all.

The game began, but she was lost to her own world. Occasionally words stole into her mind from the game, "Truth," "Dare," giggling from the group would litter her mind and it was only when Malfoy had shouted out, "Granger!" that she fully came into realisation about the precarious situation she was in. Her entire image which she had carefully constructed could be shattered with just one question.

The entire façade that she hid behind demolished.

"Dare," she swallowed. At least they wouldn't get that out of her.

"Kiss Potter."

She froze. She couldn't kiss Harry, she just couldn't. He liked Ginny, hell! He loved Ginny. She couldn't kiss someone she liked, what if he knew, what if he guessed?

Horrified, she stood up and shook her head. "No Malfoy, pick again."

Complaints came from the circle, shouts of, "Play fair!" "It's only a kiss."

She looked to Harry in desperation, and shook her head tearfully. "Harry I can't." He stood and took her hand, leading her outside.

They stood in the corridor, and she leaned on his shoulder. "Harry I can't."

He nodded, half in understanding, half in confusion. "Hermione its okay if you don't want to…"

She let out a wounded wail. "It's not that I don't want to Harry…"

"Then what's the problem?"

She looked up at him, her eyes blotchy from the crying.

"It just wouldn't be right…"

And then he kissed her. Straight on the lips.

She hiccupped, and sniffed, but her smile brightened up the hall.

Half shocked; Malfoy closed the door he had been looking through,

"They could have just said they didn't want a bloody audience," he grumbled.