She sometimes wondered about him. Things like, he IS sane, right? He hasn't completely lost his mind? She wondered the same things about herself. It started with a simple kiss. Her lips merely brushed his softly, and it was meant to tease, not to mean anything. It could have even been meant to irritate him, it was so emotionless.

The next kiss, though, he started. She had simply been walking down the hall, on her way to the Great Hall for lunch, when the back of her robes was tugged, and she stumbled backward. Dropping the book she'd been carrying, she was flung behind a curtain, then hit the wall. He stood there in front of her, towering over her, pinning her arms to the stone wall. Just as she opened her mouth to protest, the blonde boy's lips were touching hers - only touching. He ran his lips gently back and forth once across hers, the delicate touch making her unwillingly shudder.

"Like that, Granger?" His voice was low, quiet.

Before she could respond (not that she was even sure she could), his lips crushed hers, and the change almost frightened her. Almost. Mostly, it made her mind fuzz out. So thier lips continued moving together, her fingers tangling in his all-too-perfect hair. He licked her lips slowly, then pulled back. Smoothing down his hair, he emerged from the curtain, and began casually striding down the hall.

"Scared, Malfoy?" she muttered to herself.

She pushed aside the curtain, and picked her book up, restarting her path to the Great Hall.

They never mentioned what they did outside of when they did it. Sneaking off every day to find a private place to snog, sometimes locking lips slowly, smiling into each kiss, sometimes having it be fierce, each fighting to stay in control.

Before and after (and sometimes in the middle) of each little meeting, they might say something, but what they said was hardly ever important. It all consisted of hellos and name sayings and goodbyes. Nothing even interesting.

One of these days, she demanded to know what the hell he thought he was doing, to which he responded, "This," briskly bending down to toyingly press his lips to hers, then to her cheek, then to right below her ear. Moving back to capture her lips again, he grinned, pushing a hand back through her hair, gathering a fistful at the nape of her head. She wanted to pull away and say, "I don't want to do this anymore." But that would be a lie. She wanted to push him away and call him foul names, like it should be between them. But she couldn't. She wanted to tell him she hated him, hated him with evey miniscule fiber of her being. But that would be the worst lie of all. She wanted to tell him she loved him, she really did. But that was impossible. For one, he never let her lips alone long enough for her to say anything. For another, how could she leave her heart on her sleeve like that, knowing not in a million years would he actually love her back? He did love her. He wouldn't admit it to even himself, but it was true.

Then came a night when it happened. The kiss had been surprisingly soft, and he took his time holding her. She felt like he was never going to let her go, ever, and she didn't care. She actually hoped he wouldn't. He took his lips off hers, leaning thier forheads together. He kept his eyes closed, breathing slowly as he could, trying to relax himself. He was truely nervous, completely and undoubtedly terrifyed. Tenitively stroking her cheek with the back of his hand, his eyes opened, and chrome met chocolate. Not wanting to see her reaction, his eyelids drooped again. And then he whispered it. It was almost inaudible, and his voice was low, but every word he said rang through her head, and she smiled.

"I love you."

The way he said it, he sounded so unsure, almost as if he was asking himself if it was true. So he said it again, eyes open, more determined, totally sure.

"I love you. I love you, Granger."

She kissed him, only for a second. And then she said the same thing, wanting to laugh at how serious he looked (but at the same time wanted to cry, he was so sinscere).

"I love you, too, Malfoy."

"You know what?" He was grinning now.

"I don't."

"I think we're both insane."

"Me too."

"Well, as long as we agree on it, there's no problem, is there?" And with that, his lips were on hers, and it felt so completely right.

And there. The first of these little things. I love writing fluff, I just can't help it...