Title: Pucker Up
By: JayKay
Rated: PG
Pairing: S/RW
Category: Humor
Summary: Ron learns a new skill from an unexpected source.
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter related characters and concepts are copyrighted by JKR and Warner Brothers; this is for non-profit, entertainment purposes only.
Notes: This is just a little one-off piece I wrote in less than an hour, so don't expect brilliance. *G* It was inspired by a throw-away line in a recent onlist post. You people *really* need to stop feeding me ideas like this! ;)

*~*~*

"Checkmate."

Ron stared at the board, where his fallen king lay gasping and writhing dramatically. No, this wasn't happening...

"Told you I'd been practising," Hermione said, not bothering to hide her smirk. "It's not my fault if you didn't believe me."

"But..."

Ron couldn't take his eyes off the king, who now lay still, its eyes crossed and its tongue protruding. It would recover as soon as Ron picked up the pieces and returned them to the box, but Ron didn't move, nursing the vain hope that if he kept staring at the chess piece, somehow that would cause him to wake up from the nightmare.

"Hermione..." He finally looked up at her, his eyes wide and pleading. "Surely you can't mean to hold me to the bet."

She reached out and patted his hand; her expression was sympathetic, but her eyes were dancing with glee. Beside her, Harry looked as if he were going to explode with suppressed laughter.

"A bet's a bet, Ron," she said. "Now run along. I'm sure Professor Snape will be in his office."

"NOW?" Ron yelped. "I have to do it now?"

"If you don't do it now, you'll only keep finding reasons to put it off, hoping I'll eventually forget. But I won't." She fixed him with a gimlet stare. "Best you go ahead and get it over with."

*~*~*

"Yes, Mr. Weasley?"

Ron stared at Snape, waffling. He supposed he could make up some elaborate tale about being attracted to Snape and wanted to confess before he graduated and went away, never to see him again. But while Snape was malicious, sarcastic, vitriolic, and snide, he was not stupid, and Ron doubted he'd believe such a yarn for a moment, especially since Ron wasn't graduating until the following year.

Perhaps honesty was the best approach. He had a feeling Snape would respect that more than a lie. Besides, if he told the truth, and Snape said no, Hermione would have no grounds for being mad with Ron for not fulfilling the bet.

"I have a favor to ask, sir," he said, squaring his shoulders and looking Snape in the eye.

"What is it?" Snape swiveled his chair so that he sat facing Ron and folded his arms across his chest.

"I..." He felt his face growing hot and knew his fair skin was turning scarlet. "I made a bet with Hermione. She said she thought she could beat me at chess, but she never has before, and..."

"And she proved you wrong," Snape finished for him, and Ron nodded. "What has that got to do with me, Mr. Weasley?"

"Well, sir... The bet was, whoever lost had to ask you for a lesson on kissing."

There. It was out. Ron braced himself, trying to look stoic and brave, despite his face was probably as red as a tomato. Snape stared at him for a moment, one eyebrow climbing almost to his hairline, and then he turned away suddenly, his long fingers pressed against his lips.

"I see," he said at last, clearing his throat. "And so you are here to see if I will help you fulfil the requirements of the bet?"

"That's about the size of it, yeah."

"I commend you on your forthrightness." Snape looked at him again. "No doubt you are also hoping that I will say no to your request, so that you may return to the Gryffindor dormitory and inform Miss Granger that you tried and failed."

Ron's spirits lifted. "Well, no offense, sir, but that would be easiest for everyone... right?" he asked hopefully.

"Mr. Weasley." Snape's voice turned silky. "I've spent the last six years chasing after you and Mr. Potter, trying to keep you from killing yourselves, each other, and anyone else unfortunate enough to stray into the web of chaos you seem to weave around this school. I have no incentive to make your life easier."

Oh, God.

Snape rose to his feet slowly and moved away from the desk, his dark eyes glittering. He beckoned to Ron, and, feeling as if he were being drawn along on a string, Ron shuffled forward reluctantly, his stomach filling up with lead weights. He stopped a short distance away from Snape, matching him stare-for-stare. He'd shot up over the past year or so, and while he wasn't quite as tall as Snape, he didn't have to tilt his head back to meet Snape's eyes anymore; they were on a more equal level, and that helped a little.

"Have you ever kissed anyone before, Mr. Weasley?"

"No," he admitted.

"I will be the first to taste your virgin lips?" Snape lifted one eyebrow again. "There is a sort of cosmic irony in that, which I will refrain from examining too closely."

Feeling a new rush of heat in his cheeks, Ron crossed his arms and glared defiantly at Snape. "Are you going to teach me anything, or not?"

"So anxious for your lesson?" The Potions Master smirked at him. "Very well."

He slid his arm around Ron's shoulders, drawing him nearer. Ron quelled his instinct to resist and let himself be pulled close, surprised to find that Snape smelled pleasantly of mint. It wasn't as bad as he thought it might be, being held by Snape. There was an unexpectedly nice sharing of body heat, and he could tell that Snape hadn't let himself go all soft and podgy under those robes.

"The most important thing to remember when kissing someone, male or female, is to keep your lips soft. Hard, stiff lips are not conducive to a proper kiss, nor is a locked jaw," Snape said, launching into full-blown lecture mode. "Relaxing, Mr. Weasley, is essential."

Easy for *him* to say, Ron grumbled to himself.

"It is often advisable to begin slowly, in order to ascertain whether your partner is indeed interested in being kissed by you."

Ron felt his eyes widen as Snape leaned in, brushing his lips across Ron's in a light butterfly kiss.

It was... not bad.

Then Snape captured his bottom lip and nibbled it gently, and he gasped, shocked by the electricity that skittered along his nerve endings in response.

That was more than not bad, that was nice!

"Once you have established that interest in further exploration is mutual, you may progress to a more extensive meeting of lips. Do try to remember, Mr. Weasley, not to keep either your mouth or jaw stiff."

Ron didn't have time to issue a retort before Snape touched his lips to Ron's again, and Ron tried to remember to keep his lips soft, to relax, and to breathe all at the same time. He let his eyelids flutter shut, and suddenly, the sensations caused by this meeting of mouths came into sharper focus -- and it became a lot easier to relax when he realized he liked them.

Instead of resisting, he let himself be guided by Snape, mirroring whatever Snape did and parting his lips at Snape's coaxing, which made things even more enjoyable. He found himself sliding his arms around Snape's neck, closing what little distance remained between them as the kiss continued, wanting more of the softness and heat of Snape's mouth, enjoying the feel of being pressed against a firm, lean body, even if they were separated by about a million layers of clothes.

When Snape drew back, he felt a pang of disappointment. His lips weren't the only thing tingling, and he rather liked learning this new skill with someone who knew what they were doing and who was trying to teach him to do it properly as well, rather than fumbling his way through a first kiss with someone he fancied, with whom he might embarrass himself.

"That is the basic kiss," Snape said as he released Ron and stepped away. "There are all manner of variations, but you have now experienced the foundation upon which all other kisses are built."

"Is that it, then?" Ron asked, feeling a little dazed. He quite liked this kissing business...

"That is the end of the lesson, yes." Snape returned to his desk and sat down again. "Unless you happen to lose another bet," he added, and Ron could have sworn he heard amusement in Snape's voice, but that wasn't possible, was it?

Ron left the dungeon and headed back to the Gryffindor tower, where Hermione and Harry were, no doubt, waiting anxiously to hear what had happened, and Ron wasn't sure exactly what to tell them, except, perhaps, that he could now kiss someone without fear of making an arse of himself.

"If I lose another bet," he murmured, grinning smugly. "Huh, right, or if I win it."

-End-