Prompt 1
Prompt 1: A leaning in to kiss B, then pulling away but B tugs them back in and kisses them hard
It was possible that Harry had had a little touch too much to drink, but it was also possible that the warm, glowing feeling inside him was because of the surprisingly pleasant music in the pub that had him swaying a bit back and forth. There was something about the music tonight that made him realize that he really didn't spend enough time appreciating the musical arts.
Not much time, he supposed, between the Dursleys refusal to buy him an instrument (waste of money) and being pursued by dark wizards (Voldemort). For some reason, this combination made him think of snake-faced Voldemort practicing the tuba. He let out a little laugh that sounded a bit like a giggle, but he must be imagining things.
Ginny, who had been saying brilliant things to Hermione, glanced at him with an amused smile, but turned back to her conversation.
She was really good at that, talking. Using her words and being entertaining.
Harry leaned in, intent on listening to her words.
It was inevitable, perhaps, that in his earnestness to listen to her brilliance, his eyes seemed to fall and focus on her lips.
They really were very pretty lips. The prettiest lips he had ever seen, and he had seen plenty of lips.
It was the way her lips were so expressive, curving just enough to hint as mischief without giving it away, like a secret only between the two of them. The way they stretched across her face when she laughed or beamed, so genuine and true. The rosy hue... the temptation when her tongue dipped out to wet them... the freckles on her face that seemed to lead him straight to...
"Ugh."
Harry jerked back, his eyes glancing over guiltily at Ron, who was staring at him with a look of open disgust. "What? I wasn't—"
Wasn't what? Dangerously close to kissing her?
"Mate." Ron's voice was deadpan, like he knew exactly what Harry had been thinking.
"What is it you have a problem with?" Ginny bristled. "This?"
She turned toward Harry, and god she had that blazing look in her eyes that, coupled with her flushed cheeks and flaming hair, would have made Harry a goner just then if he weren't already madly in love. Her hands gripped the front of his robes and tugged hard. His face naturally and willingly fell towards her, his hands reaching for her face, and then she was kissing him the way he hadn't even realized how badly he had needed until that very moment.
There was nothing but Ginny, liquid sunshine pouring into this system. Whatever thought processes he had been struggling with before were officially obliterated. He made what was probably an embarrassing noise, but he could hardly care or notice with her pulling him closer, as if he belonged here with her more than anywhere else.
After what seemed to feel like days or a short but satisfying lifetime, they so regrettably part (who needs to breathe when they could kiss Ginny instead?), and he slowly began to register what might be chips being pelted at him and noises of disgust across the table.
"Not on Wednesday pub night!" Ron shouted, bouncing a well-aimed chip against Harry's glasses.
"Ron, they've been married for years," Hermione cut in.
"Sorry mate," Harry said, not feeling the least bit sorry as he beamed at Ginny. She smiled back in response, before turning to yell at Ron some more.
Harry settled back into the booth, his fingers drumming to the music.
All was well.
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