His mouth opened and moved against her own, swallowing her moans as he slipped his tongue inside. He tasted exactly as she had always imagined: like the green apples she always caught him sneaking out of the Great Hall, with just a hint of sweetness, presumably from his favourite sweets, Fizzing Whizzbees. She knew, as her tongue gently caressed his bottom lip, that she was made to kiss him—they fit perfectly together. She cupped his face with her hands and pulled him closer, wondering whether she might leave a damp patch on his trousers, marking him as hers.