Sometimes, a mummy dementor and a daddy dementor love each other very much. That’s how baby dementors happen.
Sessanine was an apprentice kisser, which meant that she hadn’t actually got to kiss any humans yet - or even anything remotely interesting. Oh, they’d practiced on rocks (although the average rock had so little soul, really, what was the point?), household dust, odd socks and today the teacher had brought in some mouldy cheese - but it was hardly big time stuff.
Little Sessanine fantasised while in the queue for the cheese, dreaming about her first proper kiss. Who would it be?
“I’m not sorry,” whispered Arthur.
“Shhh! He’s coming!” hushed Molly.
They waited until the brooding shadow of Apollyon Pringle had passed their cell, spiked cudgel in hand, hunched on towards his next victim.
“I mean that I’m not sorry I kissed you,” said Arthur Weasley. “I don’t care how many whippings old Pringle doles out, I’m going to kiss you again.”
Molly Prewett turned her head for a second as she blushed, her manacled hands straining against their chains. Then she looked Arthur straight in the eye with a gleeful fierceness.
“Me too,” she said. “Tomorrow night? Behind the greenhouses?”
In the end, it all came down to paperwork. That is, the staggering amount of paperwork required to bring a flying motorcycle into the hallowed Ministry of Magic.
Remus revved it up in gear until rubber started to burn, then kicked off the brake and watched as it shot through the veil like a bat out of hell. Then, attempting his best cricketing run-up, he cannoned an overarm volley of bike leathers, hair pomade (that dishevelled look didn’t come naturally, as well he knew) and please-come-back-to-us letters.
They performed their victory snog against the setting sun of the London rooftops.
“What beautiful big eyes it has!” whispered Lily.
The two girls paused in their sunny picnic, entranced by the animal cautiously nosing out of the Forbidden Forest.
“A stag! Look at those enormous antlers.”
They hardly dared breathe as it approached, its snorting breath and heavy hoofmarks nearer with every skittish step. Suddenly, the hairy head darted towards Lily and licked her face with its long rubbery tongue - then reared up and bounded back into the undergrowth.
“That’s a fiver you owe me. Pay up, Padfoot!”
“Dream on, Prongs. I said kiss her - not drool on her.”