A/N: I meant to post this Sunday, but I ended up getting violently ill. I suppose it's standard procedure at this time of year to crank out a cheesy New Year's one-shot. Not that I don't enjoy it. In fact, if you've read any of my other stories, you know that I'm a total sucker for sappy romances. So, here's yet another cliché little story, and my little way of celebrating the New Year.

Disclaimer: Um... duh.

This is positively disgusting.

Here I am, at the Ministry's annual New Year's Eve ball—looking fabulous in a floor-length black gown, might I add—walking slowly around the room, and I note that every single girl here is wound around some prick, waiting for her New Year's kiss.

Ugh.

Well, I shouldn't say every girl. There are three notable exceptions. My best friends, Hermione Granger and Luna Lovegood, and also my mother. But the last is likely only because my father was called away for some quick meeting with the Minister. I hope they'll be back before midnight, or Mum might just have an aneurism.

I make my way over to Hermione and Luna, who are chatting happily, completely ignorant of the blatant displays of lascivious begging going on around them. As I join them, they both smile at me.

"There you are, Ginny!" Hermione greets, giving my arm a light squeeze.

"We were afraid the nargles had gotten you," Luna says dreamily, and the look on Hermione's face clearly betrays the fact that she did not share that sentiment. "But it looks like your mind is clear."

I grin. "Crystal clear and free of imaginary creatures."

"So, who are you hoping to give you a kiss?"

My face falls. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, not you too!"

Luna appears unfazed. "It is tradition, you know. Whether or not the kiss results in a romantic relationship of any duration, it's customary to have a kiss at midnight on New Year's Eve."

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, it's also customary to get piss-drunk and find a good shag."

"Ginny!" Hermione scolds.

"I'll live without my kiss, thanks," I ignore her.

"If you say so," Luna smiles. "I think I see some pudding on the refreshment table over there. Would you two like some?" We both shake our heads, and she shrugs one shoulder. "Suit yourself."

As she skips away, Hermione turns to me. "You really don't want a kiss?"

I grimace. "What's the point? There's no one here I'm even remotely interested in. Hell, the only people I even like are either related to me, or so close that we might as well be related! Or they're girls," I add, gesturing to her. "Forgive me if I don't want to step that far."

"Fair enough," she chuckles. "But Luna's right, it is tradition."

"Well, I'm a maverick," I roll my eyes again.

Hermione mimicked my actions, then set her champagne glass on a server's tray as he passed. "Well, I want my kiss. Although I won't be going to such desperate measures to procure it." Ah, so she did notice the drunken yuppies around us. I give a grin of satisfaction, and she smirks in return. "Excuse me while I find Harry."

My grin widens as she walks away. She and Harry have been stuck in the almost-dating range for the last month, and it's been driving poor Hermione crazy. She's contemplated several methods of taking them to the next level, but they've all fallen through, because of something stupid Harry's done, or Ron, or anyone else that just happened to be nearby. Now, though, she's determined. And a determined Hermione is a scary thing, let me tell you.

The clock is ticking, and midnight is fast approaching. I just want it to come already, so that I can shout "Happy New Year!" take a huge swig of firewhisky, then extricate myself from this painfully boring party while everyone else is lost in the euphoria.

Five minutes to go.

"Why so glum, Weaslette?"

Ugh.

I turn around, a scowl marring my features, and look into the smug, pointed face of Draco Malfoy. "None of your business, Ferret," I snap.

"Come now," he chuckles. "It's almost a new year!"

"Yes, it is," I purr, leaning closer. "And I would prefer it be free of you."

"Tsk, tsk," he shakes his head, then repeats my action, further diminishing the space between them. "Manners, Weasley."

"Personal space, Malfoy," I attempt to step away from him.

He catches my arm, though, holding me in place. "So, who's going to be your New Year's kiss?"

I grimace. "No one, preferably. I just want to get the hell out of here."

"Really? Even if someone offered?" As he emphasizes the last word, his silver eyes darken to a stormy grey. His lips twist into the famous Malfoy Smirk, and he moves even closer. I swallow hard.

"That depends on who's offering," I hear myself whispering, despite myself.

The smirk widens. "Is that so?" I nod mutely. "Well, Weasley, since it's New Year's Eve, I'm going to extend this one-time offer toward you. I will give you a kiss, and in return, you'll promise not to stalk me."

I lift an eyebrow. "What makes you think I'd want to stalk you?"

"What do you say?" he ignores me.

Around us, the massive crowd begins the countdown to the new year.

"TEN!"

I gaze up at his remarkably handsome face...

"NINE!"

I'm surprised to find myself considering his offer. Has the world gone barmy?

"EIGHT!"

"So I let you kiss me..."

"SEVEN!"

"And you don't follow me around like a puppy..." he adds.

"SIX!"

"And we just forget this ever happened?" I finish.

"FIVE!"

He moves closer, his hands on my waist.

"FOUR!"

Against my will (sort of), my hands slide up his chest, and I could swear I feel him shudder, but whether it's out of pleasure or disgust, I can't tell.

"THREE!"

His eyes never leave mine as we slowly move closer, and closer.

"TWO!"

"No turning back now, Weasley," he murmurs.

"ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

In an instant, his lips capture mine. The hubbub and hoopla around us fades, and I concentrate on the kiss. My veins feel as if they're on fire, while simultaneously, a trail of goose flesh erupts on my skin where he touches it. I arch against him, pressing my body firmly into his, and in response, he tightens his arms around me. I kiss him with every ounce of passion and fire I have in me—which, being a Weasley, is rather a lot—and he surprises me by responding with equal ardor.

By the time we pull away, we are both flushed and breathless. He smirks at me, then moves away. "Happy New Year, Weasley."

I smile in return, watching him walk away. Well, I thought, I suppose if you must have a kiss to ring in the New Year, that's the way to do it. Still smiling, I turn to gulp down some firewhisky, before apparating to my flat.

Less than twelve hours later, Malfoy calls.

We're going to lunch.

And maybe we'll make out some more.

A/N: There you have it! Happy New Year, everyone!