Harry leaned against the wall and marvelled at the evening. It was his best mother's birthday ever. Harry couldn't wipe the grin off his face, even if it only could cover half of it. Fucking Voldemort and his power curses. Silly cunt. Hermione had kissed him. Actually kissed him, with her tongue and everything. On purpose. That was something he found extremely hard to conceptualise, even though it had happened less than half an hour previous. The texture of her tongue still clung to the inside of his cheek. He didn't want to lick it off. He wore it like a private badge of honour.