With that sort of encouragement, Neville could not hesitate any longer. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her gently on the lips, tasting the sweet honey of her mouth. It was moments—it was lifetimes, that they kissed under the trees, dappled sunlight through the leaves warming their skin. Only Neville’s honor, which he felt hanging by a mere thread, led him to pull reluctantly apart from Pansy to breathlessly ask for her hand in marriage. 