Chapter 144: Kiss

Hagrid was about to speak when a teasing voice suddenly came from the window.

"Hagrid, your suit looks great; don't bother the two of them."

Sirius was leaning against the window frame at some point, a sly smile at the corner of his mouth, and even Big Orange perched on the sill, squinting and meowing as if echoing Sirius's words.

John and Hermione suddenly realized, quickly pulling away, their ears flushing red in unison.

Hagrid scratched the back of his head, then let out a chuckling laugh as if suddenly enlightened.

Sirius deftly flipped and leapt into the room, casually ruffling John's hair.

"Lately that Snape fellow has been cracking down on early romances; you two better be careful not to get caught in his grasp."

"Ahem, we... we haven't gotten to that stage yet..."

Hearing Sirius's remark, John gave a light cough, neither denying the suggestive meaning in Sirius's words, and brushed it off ambiguously.

Hermione, hearing John's words, lowered her head even more, her cheeks so red they seemed ready to drip water.

And seeing Hermione show no sign of rebuttal, John slightly curled his lips, a surge of excitement bubbling inside him.

Then he continued speaking.

"Sirius, you're attending the ball tonight too, right?"

"Yes, Kruk Mountain is my dance partner."

Sirius blinked and pointed at the lazily stretching Big Orange on the sill.

John, upon hearing that, instantly took a few more steps back from Sirius, his face wary as he stared at him.

Big Orange is a tomcat...

He couldn't have been locked in Azkaban for over a decade; something must have gone wrong...

Forget it, I'm too lazy to chat nonsense with him.

John directly grabbed the Great Robe from the nearby chair, draped it over himself, covering his tuxedo.

Then he took Hermione's small hand; Hermione's hand trembled slightly, then she let him lead.

"We'll step outside for a walk, Professor Hagrid, sorry about this; you can have Sirius watch your clothes."

Afterwards, John led Hermione toward the outside.

Outside, snowflakes drifted like flying cotton, with a distant Castle as backdrop, resembling a tranquil winter painting.

Hermione let John hold her hand, stepping slowly through the snow, her breath's white vapor gently fading in the cold air.

John led her all the way to the vicinity of the Beating Willow.

"Hermione, while Titus and the others aren't here, I'll take you to see our Secret Base."

He held Hermione's hand, gave a playful wink, and said with a smile.

"Secret Base?"

Hermione's face stayed flushed, and upon hearing John's words, she blinked with a hint of confusion, looking quite cute.

"Hmm, I discovered it last year."

John smiled mysteriously, then waved his hand, sending a stone soaring to precisely hit the Beating Willow's mechanism.

The Beating Willow instantly froze.

Then John led Hermione around to the back of the big Willow, and a tree‑hole Secret Passage appeared before Hermione's eyes.

John was the first to bend and crawl inside, then turned and extended his hand toward Hermione.

Hermione pressed her lips together, placed her hand into his palm, and used his strength to step into the passage.

As a result, her foot slipped and she fell straight into John's arms.

Instinctively, John wrapped his arms around her waist, preventing her fall; their noses almost touched, breaths intermingling.

Hermione's heartbeat suddenly quickened, her cheeks burning as if about to ignite.

John, however, didn't let go, instead asking concernedly.

"Are you okay?"

Hermione lowered her head, gave a gentle shake, her voice as thin as a mosquito's: "No... I'm fine."

Only then did John release his hold on her, then took her hand and continued deeper.

Inside the Secret Passage, John led, one hand casting a Magic Spell to illuminate the path ahead, the other tightly holding hers.

Looking at John's profile, Hermione felt momentarily dazed.

Since when did this start?

John seemed increasingly proactive, increasingly masculine.

Before, she was the one approaching John, and John silently accepted, but now it had quietly reversed.

It became John who approached her, and she who passively accepted.

Perhaps because that Durmstrang person arrived?

Yet she didn't dislike the feeling; she was actually a bit thrilled.

On the way, John also told Hermione the origin of this Secret Passage and how he discovered it.

These were things he hadn't told Hermione about last year.

Hermione only now learned that the time John discovered Sirius was far earlier than the time he mentioned last year.

He just didn't know then that the Black Dog was Sirius.

Also, this place was originally led in by Kruk Mountain, and back then Professor Lupin used it on a full‑moon night as a hideout for turning into a Werewolf.

And at the end of the Secret Passage was the Screaming Shack she had once seen in Hogsmeade.

However, after she entered the second floor of the Screaming Shack, she found the scene here vastly different from her imagination.

The place was surprisingly arranged warmly and orderly.

There were tables and chairs, bookshelves, even soft carpets and beds.

Although there is no fireplace, a single Insulation Spell can make the whole room warm as spring.

"These were all arranged by Ryan and his friends; last semester I was taken by Professor Snape to be a black slave, so I didn't come at all last term, and they took care of everything."

John laughed as he explained, his gaze sweeping every corner of the room.

Hermione's eyes also fell on a photograph on the wall, a group picture of John and his three companions, though no one knew when it was taken.

In the photo John smiles, with Ryan, Ethan and Titus beside him, and even Kruk Mountain appears in the picture.

"I always wonder whether you'd be bored in the Castle when I come to Hogsmeade, so I bring you snacks."

"So you've been living so comfortably."

Hermione paced around the room once, then said to John with a slightly reproachful tone.

John heard it, couldn't help but laugh out loud, and continued.

"From now on you can bring snacks straight from Hogsmeade over here for me."

"You're still ordering me around, huh?"

Hermione snorted at the words, then pinched John's arm and gave it a gentle twist.

The pain made John grit his teeth and grimace.

"Ugh, it hurts, hurts, hurts—I'm just hoping to see you more,"

While pleading for mercy, John blurted out the words he had been holding in his heart without a second thought.

Hermione's pinching made her pause; the complexion she had barely regained flushed red again.

John noticed Hermione's motion stop, and immediately grabbed her wrist with his other hand.

"Aha!"

John, who had seized Hermione's wrist, let out a loud laugh, feeling he had restrained her and was about to retort.

But Hermione, already flushed from John's words, was startled by the sudden wrist grab, leaned backward and lost her balance.

Seeing Hermione lose balance, John quickly reached out, pulled her into his arms, and the two fell onto the soft carpet together.

Hermione gasped; when John lifted himself, her breath caught.

He realized he was supporting Hermione's back of the head with one hand, the other bracing the floor, pressing Hermione beneath him.

Hermione's cheek was within arm's reach, her eyelashes fluttering slightly, her eyes flashing with panic and shyness.

John tried to stand, but Hermione's watery eyes and her luscious red lips froze him in place.

Hermione also noticed the change in John's gaze, her heart leapt as she realized something.

The male aura washed over her, making her eyes grow even more hazy as her breathing quickened.

Yet she made no move to urge John up, looking like a little white rabbit, displaying an expression ready to be plucked.

Hermione was no longer a child, and John certainly wasn't either (in mind, personality, soul, all three realms).

They both understood what was about to happen.

An ambiguous atmosphere spread throughout the room.

John thumped his foot on Hermione's body, his gaze becoming earnest.

"Hermione..."

"…en..."

John only called Hermione softly, saying nothing,

and she gave a gentle hum, slowly closing her eyes, her lashes trembling like butterfly wings, her breath slightly heated.

John understood Hermione's meaning, lowered his head slowly, and with a gentle, slightly tentative touch, pressed his lips lightly against Hermione's red lips.

The instant their lips met, the myriad thoughts in both minds shattered, leaving only the warm flow between their lips and teeth to convey their feelings.

The kiss was light, yet unusually lingering.

After a brief, tentative taste, John slowly pulled away.

They opened their eyes again, gazes still glued to each other's faces, breaths not yet settled.

Hermione lightly bit her lower lip, her face like a ripe apple, water‑shimmer in her eyes.

John wanted to continue deep‑kissing her red lips, but restrained himself, rose slowly from Hermione, and gently helped her up.

After standing, the two sat on the carpet, both flushed, unwilling to look at each other.

The air still held the lingering tremor; that kiss, though confirming their feelings, left them in a helpless silence.

Hermione lowered her head, her fingers unconsciously tracing her lip corner, as if the warm touch still lingered.

Silence stretched for a long while.

John gave a soft cough, trying to break the awkward silence.

"…um…h, Hermione."

"Hmm..."

John became a bit stammering; after all, in two lifetimes this was his first time kissing a girl, so he truly didn't know what to say afterward.

Should he utter grand vows or sweet words…

Right, he still hadn't confessed…

How should he confess? Waiting online, pretty urgent!

Hermione was equally at a loss, but watching John's clumsy attempt to speak,

she couldn't help but lift the corner of her mouth, a smile rippling outward, bearing the shy tenderness of a girl.

She said nothing, only gently grasped John's hand.

John froze for a moment, but quickly recovered.

He returned the grip on Hermione's hand, and the two fell silent again, sitting quietly together.

John shifted toward Hermione, and Hermione, being very considerate, leaned close to his side, her head gently resting on his shoulder.

At this moment, silence outweighs sound.