Author's Notes: Yet another entry for Asking Me Where My Love Grows' First Kiss Challenge on the HPFC forum (I think this makes 23. Almost halfway done!)

Ooh, a canon first kiss… tricky…


I was all but dancing with sheer joy.

No, not just joy. Satisfaction was there too. Derisive satisfaction.

Winning has always been something that I enjoy. I can't remember a time when I didn't do my very best to compete with anyone and everyone. I can't remember a time when people didn't underestimate me. I can't remember a time when I couldn't win.

And I'd won again. I'd won a real victory, a material one, validated by the Quidditch cup that was being fondled by the whole of Gryffindor house.

It was too easy.

The other teams should have known by then that I could fly. I'd been seeker last year, it should not have surprised them that I could do it, even on short notice, when the team lost its star captain. But the other team had underestimated me. They had played the game as though it would be easy for them to win.

They had made mistakes.

The Fat Lady's portrait creaked open, and I saw Harry clambering in, looking tired and worn out.

I saw his eyes light up when he saw us.

Ron was jumping up and down, waving the cup above his head, and I saw a grin break across Harry's face, but I was no longer concerned with the Quidditch victory. Another victory was close to being mine – a victory I'd been working towards since I was eleven years old.

I closed in on Harry, a fierce grin on my face, and grabbed him by the front of his robes.

I'd won the Quidditch game.

I'd won respect.

And when I kissed him, I won the boy who lived.