The Kiss. All night Hermione had thought about it, to the point where in her own head it was capitalised and italicised. The Kiss. She couldn’t keep thinking about it, and the best plan she could come up with to forget about it, forget about Draco, about everything, was to get back into the fight. She had spent far too long hiding away in the Order’s headquarters, doing paperwork and research, playing at Healer’s assistant, and then Draco, her own personal Project. No, no more.