“Cho Chang has already put her colours on you,” Susan said casually.
“And you still haven’t kissed me.” Adrian stopped walking.
The rest of the Hufflepuff first-years had rushed ahead toward the basement, eager to spread the story of Harry Potter’s spectacular dive and Neville’s frightening fall.
The stone corridor leading to the kitchens and their common room was entirely empty.
Adrian turned to face her properly.
Susan had controlled the pace between them from the beginning.
She chose when Adrian’s hand moved higher, when it stopped, and how far each encounter went.
He had assumed the first kiss would be no different.
“I thought you wanted to decide when it happened,” he said.
Susan studied him for a moment before walking back across the distance she had created.
She stopped close enough that the front of her uniform brushed his, then caught his shirt between both hands.
“I decided several days ago,” she said.
“You were simply taking too long to notice.” She pulled him down before Adrian could answer.
Their noses bumped on the first attempt.
Susan drew back barely an inch, adjusted the angle with one hand against his jaw, and kissed him again.
The second attempt found the right angle.
Susan’s lips softened against his as soon as he stopped trying to control the kiss and followed her pace instead.
She pressed closer, her fingers tightening in his shirt while Adrian’s hand settled at her waist.
The cold corridor disappeared beneath the warmth of her body.
When his tongue brushed her lower lip, Susan opened her mouth and answered without hesitation.
Adrian’s hand slid around to the small of her back, drawing her flush against him as the kiss deepened.
A quiet sound escaped Susan’s throat.
Her hands left his shirt and moved around his neck, fingers threading into his hair.
Each time Adrian eased back for breath, she pulled him down again, making it clear that she had not complained about the missing kiss merely to settle for a brief one.
They finally separated when a portrait farther along the corridor cleared its throat with exaggerated disapproval.
Susan remained against him, flushed and breathing harder than before.
She looked toward the portrait, then back at Adrian, showing no embarrassment whatsoever.
“That was better,” she said.
Adrian glanced at the hands still locked behind his neck.
“You appeared dissatisfied with the stopping point.” “I was.” She kissed him once more, shorter this time, before finally letting him straighten.
Susan lowered one hand and pressed her fingers against the trouser pocket containing Cho’s ribbon.
She did not demand that Adrian throw it away or pretend the race had never happened.
He had accepted the wager and lost honestly.
Susan respected that, even if the idea of him displaying another house’s colours clearly irritated her.
“Wear it tomorrow,” she said.
“You owe her the forfeit.” Her fingers remained over the pocket while she leaned close enough for her breath to touch his mouth.
“But when Cho sees it, make sure she understands that she won the ribbon.
I got the first kiss.” Susan brushed one final kiss across his lips, smoothed the front of his shirt, and resumed walking toward the Hufflepuff entrance.
Adrian followed a moment later, watching the pleased sway of her hips as she walked.
The next morning, Sunday breakfast filled the Great Hall with clattering plates, overlapping conversations, and students comparing stories from the previous day.
Adrian sat at the Hufflepuff table with a cup of black tea beside his plate.
A length of bright blue Ravenclaw silk was tied neatly around his left wrist, highly visible against his white shirt cuff.
Susan had noticed it the moment he sat down.
She made no public complaint, but her knee remained pressed against his beneath the table.
Cho paused beside the Hufflepuff bench on her way toward Ravenclaw.
Her eyes dropped to the blue silk around Adrian’s wrist, and satisfaction brightened her expression.
“You actually wore it,” she said, sounding pleased.
“I was half expecting Hufflepuff loyalty to develop a convenient exception.” Adrian lifted his teacup slightly.
“I take humiliation very seriously.” Cho’s smile widened.
She told him to keep the ribbon visible until breakfast ended and warned him to practise before she challenged him again the following weekend.
Their next wager, she promised, would not be nearly as harmless.
She gave Susan a brief, acknowledging nod before continuing toward her own table.
Susan continued buttering her toast as though nothing significant had happened.
Only the slow pressure of her knee against Adrian’s told a different story.
Susan’s calm made considerably more sense after the previous evening.
The blue ribbon might have belonged to Cho, but the satisfied pressure of Susan’s knee made it clear that she did not consider herself the one who had lost.
Across the aisle, Cho reached the Ravenclaw table and glanced back once to confirm that the ribbon remained visible.
Susan noticed the look.
She leaned closer to Adrian without turning her head, her knee moving slightly higher against his beneath the table.
“Practise before the rematch,” she murmured.
“I have no intention of kissing someone wearing Ravenclaw colours after he loses twice.” Then she returned to her breakfast, leaving Adrian uncertain whether she had meant his flying or his kissing.
The small smile at the edge of her mouth suggested that she meant both.
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