She didn’t know whether she had lowered her face to his, or if it had been he that lifted up to meet her. Their lips met gently between them, and in that moment, Hermione knew she would have always regretted not having kissed Snape if either or both of them were to perish before the war ended. A large, roughened hand came up to cup one of her cheeks as the other buried itself in her curly hair, drawing her closer as their kiss deepened. Hermione allowed his tongue to sweep past her lips, chasing it playfully with her own.