A/N: This started as a short one shot, mostly just including the bit of adult content at the bottom—but then it just kept growing. Originally inspired by the song Fishnet Stockings, by the Stray Cats, and dedicated to my favorite muse CherriiMarina. Enjoy. 3

"The smell of her hair, the taste of her mouth, the feeling of her skin seemed to have got inside him, or into the air all round him. She had become a physical necessity."

Hermione's eyebrows furrowed as she read and a soft sigh escaped her lips. She usually didn't put much stock in the overly descriptive romantic passages of her books—she enjoyed them, sure, but she knew they weren't reality. They were pretty words, and that was all, but this—it didn't sound like those, at least not to her mind. It didn't sound like the over-articulated moans of a lust-filled scene, or the sexist depiction of the damsel's rescue. This was simple—it was a few carefully chosen words that seemed to hold the reality of what all love should be. The simple reality of finding someone who has always belonged, who fills the spaces you didn't know you had left empty.

She frowned to herself, shifting slightly beneath the sweat drenched arm that engulfed her. The book shut quietly as she pushed herself up on her elbows and glanced at her sleeping counterpart. Looking at her friend, quietly snoring beside her, she tried to see him— to really look at the person whom she had agreed to marry. Even asleep he caused a fond smile to appear. His red hair was tousled and he muttered petulantly in his sleep when a strand brushed across his nose, just as he always had. He had been one of her best friends since she was eleven years old, and she never failed to feel that happiness when he was in her presence. Having your best friend spend their days with you, listen to you, make you laugh? How could any person ask for more?

Her hand found itself tangled in her hair as she thought, her nose wrinkling slightly in frustration. He was her best friend, that much was true, but what of passion? What of butterflies, and wonder, and overwhelming waves of lust and emotion? Shouldn't she want to trace his freckles with her tongue? Shouldn't she swoon to see the sun lazily shining upon his back—melt at the sight of him? Shouldn't her nerve endings jolt to life whenever a hand drifts across her skin?

Shouldn't she have endeavored to read him like one of her treasured books—to know every page of his body and mind?

The simple answer was yes, she should have. But there was nothing like that. Nothing more than the comforting sense of knowing someone fully and feeling completely safe in their presence. Nothing more than friendship and loyalty. Ron and Harry had always been consistent in her life, and she loved them for that, but there wasn't even the smallest inkling of what the book in her hands mentioned—nothing like the adoration that beamed from her father whenever he spied her mother. Not even a smidgen of the affection that was so clearly written in Molly's eyes when she looked at Arthur.

None of that. Her chest became tight and cold within her as she felt her heartrate increase. She had agreed to marry him—agreed to love him forever—how had it taken this long for her to realize? How could she have confused her emotions so completely? He was her best friend, but he wasn't the man she was meant to marry. He couldn't be.

She quickly and quietly wriggled free of his embrace and slipped from their shared bedroom. Grabbing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt from the bathroom she dressed and made her escape. She needed to think, and she couldn't do that here.

Despite what many of her friends and former classmates had assumed, Hermione knew that one couldn't find relationship answers in a book. She had never looked for information about boys, tips on sex, or anything else of the sort in a book. Though to say that she had never looked for answers in the library would be a lie.

With her fingers dancing delicately across the shelved spines, and the comforting musk of dog-eared, coffee stained, baby torn books in the air, she was almost always able to find the answers she needed. Almost always able to settle her frayed nerves and carefully find her way to logic. It therefore only made sense that after fleeing her apartment she found herself seeking sanctuary in her neighborhood library.

She walked quietly among the shelves, eying the familiar titles and the newest acquisitions, breathing in the soft air and allowing her senses to fully awaken. She had forgotten her shoes in the apartment, and thanked Merlin that the librarians knew and loved her. They hadn't seemed in the least bit concerned, especially at such an early hour on a weekend. No one else would be in to follow her poor example, so they didn't mind. They even lent her paper and a pen, probably easily observing that she wasn't in an ideal state of mind.

Hermione eventually found herself tucked away behind the Earth Sciences section in the far corner of the room. She rested her palms against the cool wood of the table, breathing one final restorative breath before placing the sheets of paper in front of her and setting out to make her lists.

From a very young age she had been a list maker, obsessively so, and this was no exception. Three carefully scripted lists were composed and with each item neatly defined she felt a deep sense of relief. As heartbreaking as this reality was, she was making progress, and that was something.

The first list stated clearly all of the applicable facts, the things that she knew without a doubt in her mind. She knew that she didn't love Ron, not the way that she should. She also knew that it was unfair to either of them for her to marry him.

The second list was far lengthier, as it detailed those actions she needed to complete. There was a fair share of planning that would need to be done, and she would rather have everything considered ahead of time. First and foremost, she needed to break it off with Ron. The thought brought a wave of nausea through her and she shut her eyes firmly. She was terrified of that conversation. She was going to break her best friend's heart, and she despised herself for that. If it was anyone else, she would hex them herself. Equally pressing was the issue of their housing arrangements. She needed to find a new place to live, pack her things, and leave as quickly as possible. She knew Ron well, he would need time to heal and time to realize that there was no hope of reconciliation. Her continuing to share a space with him would only send mixed signals. The rest of the list was more simple, and intensely overwhelming. Formally call off the wedding, contact their families and close friends-tell Harry.

Despite the number of tasks which she had assigned herself, it was the third and final list which bothered Hermione the most—it was a list of things she needed to consider. With her epiphany regarding Ron she realized that she had never really examined herself in terms of romance. She had dated, sure, but she had never actually considered what sort she was looking for, or to what ends. Did she even want to get married, or was she just trying to live up to other people's expectations? That was one question that she had jotted down, Marriage—yes or no? She also needed to seriously consider the fact that she couldn't remember ever feeling anything close to what she understood attraction to be—had never had a crush on a boy, or butterflies, or anything really. What did that mean? Introspection, that's what she needed.

As if cued by the thought, a small voice whispered into the back of her mind, 'You know, you don't need to have all of the answers immediately.'

'Yes I do,' she thought to herself. 'I need to understand all of this—I can't function in this state of limbo.'

'That's not a healthy mindset. Try to be patient.'

'Why don't I love Ron?' She thought with frustration.

'He'll be okay; he's stronger than you give him credit for.'

'I know he's strong, but that doesn't make this right. And what if I'm not strong? What if I can't handle this?'

'You can.'

'I need to know the direction I'm heading, I can't just walk out on one life I've built and spontaneously start another!'

'Why not?' The voice questioned calmly.

'Because that's not how it works! I need a plan, I need to at least understand myself enough to know what direction to head in.' She groaned audibly in frustration. 'Why don't I love Ron? He's perfect for me! He's sweet and kind, and apparently quite attractive.'

'Apparently?'

' Well—I mean—A lot of women seem interested in him. Logically speaking he has good symmetry, and a kind face. He is certainly in good shape.'

'And yet you don't feel attracted to him yourself?'

'Well, no, not really. He's—he's Ron.'

'Do you feel attracted to Harry? Dark hair, great eyes, abs for days?'

She cringed, shaking her head at the thought, 'Of course not.'

'What about Fred, you have to admit he's worthy of swooning over? Brilliant mind and one of the best looking men in Britain.'

' No, no, no.' She rubbed her eyes stiffly. She felt insane—she was arguing with herself! 'Just stop, okay? I don't feel that way about them, about any of them.'

'What—did you just skip puberty?'

Oh good, now she was insulting herself. 'Apparently.'

'You've had to have felt something for someone—a flutter, a quick surge of lust, anything?'

"Oh my god, I'm broken. I'm destined to be alone,' she thought in a panic.

'What about your books—do you feel anything when you read about romance in your books?' the inner voice asked carefully.

'Well—yes—I suppose. But that's different.'

'So have you ever felt that in real life? Even for just a moment.'

'No.'

'What about Fleur?'

Hermione's face twisted in confusion—where had that come from? She had never had feelings for Fleur, and besides, Fleur was part Veela. Any flutterings she may have had, not that she had, were obviously because of the Veela in her blood.

'Veela don't work that way—you know that.'

Hermione's face flushed red. 'It wasn't that sort of butterflies; I was just intimidated by her.'

She could practically hear a laugh as her inner self responded, 'Intimidated enough to stare when she stepped out of the water in that swimsuit two summers ago?'

'I didn't stare.'

'And have a dream in which she and that lovely blue number featured heavily?'

Hermione had forgotten about that. "Fuck," She whispered aloud, her eyes wide. "How had I forgotten that?"

'You blocked it out. You were scared of having people treat you even worse—you were already a Mudblood.'

Hermione racked her brain—had she ever felt that way before? Maybe it was just Fleur, just the Veela attraction.

Her inner voice made a noise of frustration and took on an academic tone very similar to her own eleven year old self, 'How many times must I say it, Veela don't work that way. They're allure doesn't work on those who aren't attracted to women.'

"I know that," she snapped at herself. She dug through her mind—other women, other moments—any men?

'Angelina Johnson—golden Yule Ball robes making her complexion absolutely glow in your fourth year. You were so desperate to impress her that night. You told yourself you just wanted everyone to see how fun and free you could be—but somewhere in the back of your mind you knew it was all for her.'

Hermione blinked—that was true. She hadn't realized it at the time, but that was completely true. She had blushed and nearly tripped over her shoes when Angelina shot her an encouraging smile as she entered the ball.

'Luna Lovegood, feet bare and hair uncombed, kindly handing out food to the injured house elves after the Final Battle. Smiling at them and healing their injuries. Your heart had swelled as you watched her, and you couldn't help but linger on her kind smile. Ever notice that you started writing to her on a weekly basis after that? Waiting for her letters? Smiling after you saw her?'

Hermione sat back in her chair. That was true too. She ran a shaking hand through her hair, amazed at how little she seemed to know herself. It seemed—not only was she not in love with Ron—but she had never once been even mildly attracted to a man. Never once had she tried to impress one, or felt nervous because of one. And yet—she had felt those things for women. By the minute she was remembering moment after moment, the small voice in her head reminding her of all she had forgotten.

Pink eyebrows rose comically as violet eyes peered down from her doorstep. Hermione waived awkwardly, trying to push down the over-anxious beating of her heart, "Hey Tonks, can I come in?"

She older witch nodded, a small perplexed smile welcoming her. "Course, Hermione. Can't say I expected to see you today—is everything okay?"

Hermione nodded quickly as she stepped inside the apartment and nervously slipped off her muddy boots. "Everything's fine, I'm sorry I didn't owl first. I haven't been thinking extremely clearly today, but this was the only place I could think of so…" She shrugged as way of finishing her sentence, and Tonks felt her own nerves increase, she had never known Hermione to be spontaneous or lack eloquence.

"Make yourself comfortable, Mione—I'll get us both a drink. What are your thoughts on elf-made wine?"

Hermione chuckled as she folded herself into an overstuffed chair, "Thank god I came here—you're the only person who doesn't assume that I only want tea. Wine would be glorious tonight, thank you." Hermione studied the apartment as Tonks fetched a fair bit of wine for each of them. It hadn't changed much since the last time she had been here, and Hermione was glad of that. The whole place had a very homey feel about it. Wooden tables and fall colors—furniture that was almost too comfortable and an enormous fireplace. She had spent a good deal of time with the auror after the war, and considered the apartment to be a nice hideaway from the world.

Bringing each of them a generous serving, Tonks settled herself on the couch. "So what's going on with my favorite bookworm? I feel like it's been months since we've talked."

Hermione glanced at her hands guiltily, "I'm sorry about that—I've been swamped with work and wedding planning. I should have found more time."

Tonks just shrugged, "Don't worry about it. I'm what you'd call a 'low maintenance friend'. Sure, I love seeing you, but you're not going to find me affronted if I don't hear from you for a few months."

"It's refreshing," Hermione admitted, "Harry and Ron, bless their souls, get extremely testy if I even have a particularly busy week and can't see them much. It's nice to have room to breathe occasionally, and a friend who understands that."

Hermione took a long drink of her wine at that point, and Tonks took a moment to study her friend. It had been three months since they last got together and she had to admit, Hermione looked a bit rough. Where she was usually obsessively well-groomed, her hair didn't appear to have been brushed that day, and her clothes had obviously been thrown on at the last moment. On top of that, she looked exceptionally twitchy and tense. Tonks couldn't help but be a bit concerned.

"Alright Hermione—cut the suspense—what's going on with you? You're obviously nervous for some reason, and didn't just come here for a visit. So either spill or I'm taking back the wine," she threatened.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at her threat, "You wouldn't dare," she smirked, "I'm the great and powerful Hermione Granger—one third of the golden trio? You couldn't possibly be threatening the likes of me!" Tonks laughed aloud, and Hermione smiled softly, "Alright fine, I'll tell you, but only because I'm in no mood to smite today."

Tonks gave an over-exaggerated bow, and Hermione took a breath. "Ron and I are over."

Tonks coughed loudly, "Over?!" she exclaimed, "Your wedding was meant to be in two weeks! What happened?"

Hermione cringed, "I realized that I didn't love him that way—couldn't love him that way."

Squeezing Hermione's hand sympathetically, Tonks sighed, "I'm so sorry, love. How did Ron take it?"

Chestnut curls twitched violently as Hermione shook her head, "Not well, understandably so. He's heartbroken and feels entirely betrayed. He's also confused." She took a gulp of her wine, closing her eyes tightly. "Harry and Ron are my best friends, Tonks. They've been there for me since I was eleven—the things we've been through together—" she shuddered slightly. "For me to break Ron's heart, it's just unbearable. He was a mess, he cried. It all came completely out of nowhere for him—for both of us really. Yesterday we were working on seating charts, and today I was telling him that I couldn't marry him—couldn't love him. It nearly killed the both of us."

"It's better that you did it now," Tonks said comfortingly, "That you didn't string him along."

"I know," Hermione sighed, "But that doesn't make it easier. And Harry—Harry doesn't know what to do. I stopped by his flat after I left Ron, to give him a heads up and ask if he'd look in on him. He was just—lost. He doesn't know who to follow, and he knows that Ron won't be able to see me for a while. I've not only ruined my relationship with Ron, but also Harry—I've broken both of my boys," she said with a shudder.

Tonks shook her head firmly, "You didn't break anything Hermione. You just did what you needed to do to take care of yourself. And after all you've been through—they aren't going to abandon you. It's going to take a little while, probably months, but they'll come back to you. You'll be together again."

"I just don't know how that's even possible at this point."

"Write them?" Tonks suggested. "Act like it's summer holiday, just like in Hogwarts. Write to them knowing that despite their love they probably won't write back, but write to them anyways because you want them to know that you love them and value them. And that you don't forget them when they're away."

Hermione nodded sadly, "I just wish I knew when September 1st would come."

"No wonder you needed wine," Tonks grimaced. "Anything I can do—just tell me, alright? I know things are rocky with the boys, but you're not alone."

Hermione nodded. "Thank you, Tonks. I'm actually not just here for the wine—though that is a lovely addition."

"Oh?"

"I'm just going to be frank with you—alright? I don't have it in me to be gentle today," she cringed. "I need a new place to live. I know you've been looking for a roommate, so I thought that maybe you would be willing to try things out with me," Hermione rubbed the back of her neck nervously, "Full disclosure though—I have a cat who is nonnegotiable. And obviously there's a lot of upheaval in my life right now, ended engagements and such. Also, I'm starting to think I'm gay—fairly sure in fact," she said, her voice shaking slightly.

Hermione let out a breath, and took another large gulp of her wine. Her hair nervously curled as she waited for a reaction from Tonks, who looked to be rather shocked. Hermione couldn't quite blame her—she had just put quite a bit of information in front of her.

"Well then." She whispered finally, shaking her head as if to clear the fog. "Sorry, I'm just rather stunned— trying to make my brain start functioning again."

"Sorry," Hermione said with a cringe, "I just needed to get that all out—I probably should have been a bit more delicate. I've spent the whole day talking to Ronald and trying to be sensitive when all I wanted to do was run away, I just didn't have any more to give right now."

Tonks ran a hand through her meticulously messy hair, "So you're looking for a place to live."

"Yes."

"And you think you're gay?"

"Yes?" Hermione blushed deeply and gave an unconvincing half smile, "I would say definitely, but I only came to realization about six hours ago, so I thought I should give it a few days to sink in. That's—that's the other reason I left Ron."

Tonks nodded again.

"That's not—that's not a problem for you, is it? I mean, I guess I shouldn't have assumed. I know not all people are open to the idea. You've just always seemed pretty accepting of various lifestyles—I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable."

Tonks shook her head quickly, finally making eye contact with the brunette and reaching out to take her hand. "I'm not upset about that, Hermione, please don't think that. You're wonderful, and nothing could ever change that in my eyes. I'm trying to process everything and think—I bought a dress for your wedding yesterday, so you can see why it's taking me a moment to process the fact that you're single, gay, and wanting to move in." Hermione nodded.

Tonks allowed herself to sink back into the couch again, thinking for a moment before she took a deep breath, "Alright, my turn for full disclosure. Prepare yourself," she smirked, "I'm looking for a roommate because of some issues I've been having living alone. Nothing all that wonky, purely some post-war issues. I would just feel better if I had someone else here—wasn't alone with my thoughts quite so much."

Hermione nodded in complete understanding as Tonks plowed forward, "It's a two bedroom apartment, with a bathroom for each of us. Nothing glamorous, but the neighborhood is safe and convenient. Rent is split equally, as well as all utilities."

She smiled next, "I love your cat, so that's absolutely splendid. And I don't mind your drama, as long as the boys leave it outside of here," A fire flashed momentarily in her eyes, "I won't have anyone causing you grief in your own home, or bringing that kind of energy into my home. If I have to I'll put up wards against them, and my wards pack a punch," she growled. "Last but not least—my sexuality isn't strictly defined one way or the other, but I mostly keep that to myself. So I would appreciate it if any romantic encounters that occur in this apartment are kept confidential. That goes for both of us. I know I can trust you, but I thought it would be better said aloud."

Hermione grinned, "So—you'd be willing? Are you sure? Because you don't have to feel obligated, I'm sure I could find something else."

Tonks waived a hand in dismissal, "If I didn't want you here I would tell you. I think you'll be easy to live with, and if you aren't I'll tell you. I'm all about honesty."

Leaning back against the chair Hermione closed her eyes and gave a sigh of relief, "Finally something is going right today."

Tonks smiled sympathetically, "When do you want to move in?"

Hermione blushed deeply as her eyes flickered to the beaded bag in her hands, Tonks laughed, "Is that the famous bag I've heard so much about? From the war?"

Hermione nodded sheepishly, "Talking to Ron today did not go well—understandably. So I magicked my belongings into the bag and fled. If it's too soon I can get a room at the Three Broomsticks, I just figured it was worth trying."

Tonks shrugged, "The room is empty, so I don't see why not. I'll show you around."

Tonks watched in awe as the brunette's magic transformed the room before her. She had seen beautiful magic before, but not often, and never from someone as young as Hermione. McGonagall had done things like this, and Molly Weasley—but few others. Where a humble bedroom had been, with one window and a small bathroom, there was now something completely different. After bashfully asking Tonks if she minded some 'minor' alterations to the room, Hermione had begun her work.

She started with the window, the simple two pane quickly turned into a full sized bay window with a window seat. The walls shifted to accommodate built in bookshelves on two of the four walls, while the paint was charmed to be a beautiful spring green and curtains of pale yellow appeared with the flick of Hermione's wand. The single bed that occupied one corner was quickly expanded into a full size, and the old drab sheets were softened and transfigured into a lovely a green that matched the walls. A golden comforter found its way onto the bed, and the pillows doubled in size. One more flick and the old wooden floorboards had been redone completely, sanded and refinished.

Then she moved to the bathroom, her flabbergasted friend following closely behind. Tonks cringed a bit at the sight they found, it had been a long while since she had entered that particular room. A small shower, a slightly leaky faucet on a chipped metal sink, and a toilet that had made a gurgling sound for as long as Tonks could remember—that's what every person wants to find in their new home.

"Sorry about this," Tonks apologized. "It's not a very up to date apartment." Hermione just waived away her comments, grinning as if she was playing some marvelous game. She seemed to consider the room for a moment, biting her lip gently before nodding to herself. She held her breath and with an expression of utmost concentration cast an undetectable extension charm, much like the one on her bag. As the room expanded around them she gave an excited squeak, turning to Tonks, "I wasn't sure that would work," she confided, "usually it takes several wizards working together to expand a whole room!"

Tonks' jaw was slack as she stared at the room around her in astonishment; it had nearly doubled in size. "You don't mind, do you?" Hermione worried, "I could always put it back the way it was, it wouldn't be a problem."

Shaking her head, Tonks just smiled. "Please, for the love of Merlin, do my bathroom next?"

Hermione laughed and started working again, transforming the old shower into a full bathtub and mending the sink before turning it a brilliant gleaming porcelain. Another wave fixed the gurgling toilet, painted the walls blue, and put a lovely daisy print on the shower curtain.

Giving another excited giggle Hermione skipped back into the main bedroom and opened the door to the closet, expanding it with a word. Pausing to survey her progress she muttered, "That should do," before swishing her wand towards the small bag on the bed. Suddenly dozens of books were springing out of the bag and on to the shelves, along with several framed pictures, a hat rack, and an entire desk. Another flick had her clothes neatly hanging in the closet.

With a beaming smile Hermione turned to her new roommate, "So what do you think?"

Tonks shook her head and laughed, "I think that Mary Poppins would be quite impressed by you—and that I'll give a major break on your rent if you'll help me makeover my room, and teach me to hang my clothes like that."

Shaking her friend's hand, Hermione smiled, "It's a deal."

When she walked into the room across the hall, Hermione's eyebrows shot up, as Tonks' face burned. "Sorry," she muttered, hurrying around the room and picking things up. "I've been having a bit of a rough time lately, and have been working a lot. I'm also just rubbish at household spells."

Hermione laughed without unkindness, "Tonks, drop the clothes," she said firmly, and Tonks did. She waved her wand and all of the clothing happily sorted itself into clean and dirty—the dirty landing in a previously buried basket, and the clean putting itself into the closet and dresser. "Don't worry—I'm a horribly messy person, you just can't tell because I'm good at the household charms."

"How did you get so good at those spells? You never came off as the domestic type."

Hermione shrugged as she sent a scourgify around the room, "Partially, staying at the burrow every summer was like its own separate education. I was extremely grateful that Molly and Arthur were willing to take me in, so I wanted to help as much as I could. But the unpacking, redecorating, and expanding spellwork just fascinated me in school. I moved around a lot as a kid, and ended up living out of boxes quite a bit—having to put up with mismatched paint, or badly installed plumbing. So learning about that magic was thrilling for me. It meant that I could instantly make any place I moved to a home."

Tonks watched in amazement as her room cleaned itself, "Well, you're certainly brilliant at it."

Hermione blushed lightly, "Thanks. I don't have any urge to be a domestic goddess—despite what former fiancés may have wished. But I like to have a nice place to call home, and it's a lovely distraction when I'm having a bad day." As the room finished tidying, Hermione turned to her with a grin, "So, Madame Tonks, what does your dream room look like?"

Tonks' eyes sparkled with excitement as she shrugged, "I don't have anything specific in mind. Do you have any ideas?"

Hermione smiled, "How about I show you what I'm thinking, and you can tell me what you like or don't like?" Tonks nodded, and watched as Hermione waved her wand.

The walls changed first, their shade changing from a badly painted light purple to a flawless deep violet color that made Tonks smile wickedly. "Oh, I like that," she practically moaned, causing Hermione to smirk. Like in her own room, Hermione expanded the window, but Tonks couldn't contain a gasp when Hermione added a wrought iron balcony overlooking the street, and sheer white curtains.

As soon as she tore her eyes away from the balcony, she found Hermione transfiguring her furniture. The old dresser she had moved from her Mother's house was expanded and turned into a vintage inspired dark teal dresser, with an enormous mirror attached. Her bed was quickly expanded into a queen size, with a wrought iron headboard that matched the balcony.

She covered the bed with an embroidered teal comforter, the color matching the dresser perfectly and with peacock feathers patterned across it. Hermione's final touch to the bed was to conjure extra pillows in turquoise, purple, green, and gold.

Finally, after glancing around for a moment, Hermione smiled broadly. Swiping four candle holders from her dresser Hermione transfigured them into hanging iron lanterns which she placed in each corner of the room, and then transfigured the simple overhead light into a miniature chandelier that matched the headboard and balcony. With the added light fixtures the room absolutely glowed.

"Hermione," she breathed, "This is absolutely perfect. By far the nicest room I've ever had."

Hermione beamed, "I'm so glad you liked it. I didn't know if it would be too posh."

Tonks just shook her head, "Not at all." Glancing towards the far wall she grinned widely, "And you made it all match my Weird Sister's poster!"

"I just assumed that would be a requirement," Hermione shrugged. Making her way to the bathroom, which was thankfully cleaner than the bedroom, Hermione performed a few basic cleaning spells and expanded the room just as she had her own. She charmed the walls a bright green, similar to her own bedroom, and added a peacock printed shower curtain to compliment the bedroom.

"You are by far the best roommate I've ever lived with," Tonks gushed, "This is absolutely amazing—I can't believe you would do all this for me."

"I can't believe you would let your dramatic friend show up at your doorstep and move in with you," Hermione responded. "It's the least I can do."

Tonks exited the bathroom, and took a seat on her new bed. "Hermione, I'm so grateful for all of this—but you really didn't need to do all this for me? You deserved a night of rest.'

Hermione conjured a high wingback chair in teal, and settled herself in it. "I like distracting myself," she said quietly. "It's easier."

"Obviously," Tonks said softly, "But that doesn't mean it's a good idea."

She summoned their wine glasses from the other room, handing Hermione one. "You think it'll get better soon?" Hermione asked quietly, "For him? For me?"

"Be patient," Tonks assured here, "You'll be out dancing in no time."

Dear Harry,

I have to admit, given the circumstances I had expected I wouldn't hear from Ron for some time, but it's been three months, and I had hoped that after fifteen years our friendship meant something more to you. I wish you would respond to one of these letters—let me know that there is still hope of us being friends again someday. I'm growing quite weary of this game.

Nonetheless, for the moment I will continue giving you updates on my life, however unanswered. Living with Tonks is a completely foreign world to me, but I can't say I'm not enjoying it. She forces me to prioritize my life slightly more, and actually try to enjoy it somewhat. There's a time for bill paying and research, and there's a time for watching corny muggle comedies and laughing ice cream through my nose. She makes me remember that. (I can picture you shaking your head at that—how many years did you and Ron spend fighting me to put down my books?)

Work at the bookstore is exhausting, but making me quite happy. It's nice to have a consistent job which allows me to truly go home at the end of the day—unlike school, where every day seemed to end with another horrifying adventure. I can't imagine how you cope with being an Auror. The mere idea of ever having another adventure of that sort exhausts me. I'll stick to my books, thank you very much.

Anyways, I'm starting to feel as if I'm just talking to myself, so I think I'll cut this letter short tonight. I miss you, Harry, and I hope that you're well. Ginny too. Give my love to the family.

Hermione

Dear Hermione,

I'm sorry it's taken me so long to write, things have been a bit rough here lately. I honestly have been busy at work, but I know that isn't really an excuse. Mostly, it's been tough with the Weasleys, Ginny included.

Honesty, right? Ron has been a mess, and that's made Ginny angry a lot of the time. I love her, but you know how her temper can be. Even mentioning your name tends to lead to a fight. They blame you, whether or not that's completely fair. Don't worry Hermione, I'm not angry with you. I'm upset that you hurt Ron, and yourself actually, but I'm glad you were honest and ended things when you did. Better than faking it for years and making everyone involved more unhappy.

I should have written sooner to tell you that, and to tell you that your being gay doesn't upset me, but I was just too turned around. Ron needed me—and I knew you would be okay. I'm sorry for abandoning you, Mione.

Ginny and I are alright, though there has been a bit of tension because of everything going on. I'm sure we'll weather through though. Really, things are okay, the world keeps turning. I'm glad that you're enjoying living with Tonks, and that she's been able to insert some fun into your life. Let her. You deserve to take a break sometimes.

I miss you, Mione. Hopefully we can see each other again soon.

Harry

Hermione let out a load grown, tossing the parchment across the room and laying her head on her folded arms

"Problem, love?"

Hermione mumbled into her arms, causing the currently purple haired witch to roll her eyes. Hermione turned her head slightly to the side, her cheek still squished comically against her arm, as her extra outrageous hair fell in front of her eyes. She blew out a breath causing her hair to fluff out in front of her slightly.

"Boys are stupid."

"And this is a new revelation?"

Hermione chuckled slightly, "I suppose not, but I keep hoping something has changed. I have so much hope for them as a race—and yet they always disappoint me."

Tonks took a seat at the table next to the brunette, pulling her knees up against her chest and and laughing lightly. "So what did the doufuses do this time?"

Hermione snorted, "Doufuses, that's mature."

"Says the woman who's currently sucking on a strand of her hair."

"I'm not sucking on it! It just keeps getting in my mouth," Hermione protested.

"So who's the letter from?"

"Harry," Hermione groaned.

Tonks' eyebrows furrowed together, "Took him long enough—what did the wanker have to say for himself."

Hermione sighed, "He was nice enough, and somewhat apologized for his absence. But it all came down to the same thing it always did—he didn't want to upset Ron or the rest of the Weasleys so he ditched me. He seems to think that's completely reasonable."

Tonks frowned sympathetically, "I'm sorry, Hermione. I know he's an idiot about that—always has been."

"I really hoped he would grow out of it."

Tonks made a face, "Men don't grow out of anything—they're perpetually twelve years old."

"Sexist."

"Realist," she insisted.

Hermione finally lifted her head from the table, brushing her hair away from her face, "I guess I had just hoped for something a bit more. Even if he didn't apologize, or have a better explanation, I just hoped he would offer a bit more of himself—it's been three months. Couldn't he have even given me a full page? Good lord, that's barely two hundred words."

"Hermione," Tonks said reasonably, "It's Harry—I think that's the longest letter he's ever written you. You know how he is. I'm not saying he's in the right, but I do think you should consider that maybe he's giving you everything he can. Don't expect him to suddenly be a different person."

Hermione gave an exaggerated pout, "You're not supposed to be on his side."

"Never!" Tonks defended, "I'm on your side, always am! I'm just suggesting we postpone the crucifixion until we have more information."

Hermione nodded solemnly, "I suppose that would be acceptable."

A bright smile was the only response Tonks gave before hurrying into the kitchen in search of coffee. "It's almost ten o'clock! Is that really the best idea?"

Tonks laughed brightly, "Only if I want to maintain my insomniac status!"

"Tonks," Hermione said seriously.

"Hermione," Tonks responded in kind. Finally she shrugged slightly, "We both know that I don't stand a chance of beating you at Scrabble unless I'm highly caffeinated."

"Scrabble!" Hermione beamed, a grin spreading across her friends face.

"The only thing that is guaranteed to cheer up a moping Hermione."

Hermione sprung across the room, giving the auror a tight hug. "You're the best!"

"We'll see if you still think so once I've beaten you!"

Hermione glared, "That was only once, and only because you whined until I allowed 'Fraggle' as a word."

"And thusly created a precedent!"

"I did no such thing!" Hermione gasped, "That was a one-time allowance!"

"Fraggle is an acceptable Scrabble word!" Tonks sung loudly, pirouetting in place as she nearly spilled coffee grounds across the kitchen floor.

"I'm not going!" Hermione shouted from her spot on the couch, "I'm just out of a relationship, and everyone knows that rebounds are entirely unhealthy. I'm going to stay in, get some rest, and maybe order Chinese food."

"You're going," Tonks responded, her voice echoing from her bedroom.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "You seem to have a listening problem."

"I don't have any trouble listening—I just hear what you're really saying, and that's 'Oh Tonks! Please convince me to come with you to the fantastic new club! I desperately need a good night out!'"

"I don't think that's what I'm saying," Hermione grimaced slightly, trying to focus on the book in her hands. Tonks had been pushing her more and more lately, trying to get her out of the house. She had gotten increasingly better at taking time off when at home—at playing games, laughing over old muggle comedies and singing off key to her favorite music. She thanked Tonks for a lot of that relaxation—but that didn't mean she wanted to go to a club full of sweaty strangers. "I really don't think clubs are my thing, Tonks. I know you're trying to help—but I don't think I'd like it."

"Hermione, this isn't a normal club! It's a throwback to the old American speakeasies! It's all 1920's themed, Jazz music and swing dancing. I think you'll love it!"

Hermione bit her lip slightly, "Tonks I really don't know…"

Tonks stepped out of her room, apparently finished getting ready, "Come on Hermione, live a little."

Hermione looked up from her book and felt her heart jolt to life; Tonks was standing in front of her wearing a red fringe dress, with red heels, and a pair of black fishnet stockings. An old muggle tune suddenly went racing through Hermione's head, 'She's gotta pair in pink, gotta pair in red, when she puts the black ones on she makes me lose my head.'

"You look fantastic, Tonks," Hermione breathed, and Tonks laughed, a sparkle in her eyes.

"Don't I know it!" With a wink her hair had turned to a dark brown bob, and her lips were a bright scarlet. "Are you sure you won't come dancing with me?"

Hermione didn't quite know what had come over her, or at the very least she wasn't prepared to admit to what had come over her, but with that single wink she found herself convinced and transfiguring her mousey brown dress from work into a figure hugging black dress, made for swing dancing. "Give me five minutes to fix my hair," Hermione grinned, and Tonks did a little dance of triumph.

"My sweet baby wears fishnet stockings, when she starts a'rockin man there aint no stopping!"

That night, Hermione couldn't find it in herself to regret following Tonks out the door. It couldn't be denied, she'd had fun! They had drank far more than was strictly appropriate, danced far faster than their heels should have allowed, and ignored the large majority of men who asked them to dance, instead choosing to dance outrageously together.

They smiled widely, laughed loudly, and when Tonks had giggled between kisses at their door, Hermione hadn't been able to say no.

Her hands happily trailed up the covered thighs of her friend, deliciously wrapping themselves around her waist, pulling her ever closer. "This isn't a good idea," Hermione breathed, "You remember what I said about rebounds."

With a slight gesticulation Tonks unlocked the door, dragging Hermione in behind her and pinning her to the wall, kissing her desperately. "This isn't a rebound, darling. This is two friends, acknowledging the fantastic chemistry they have, and giving in to that."

Hermione held back a moan as she shook her head, kissing the older witch quickly, "You wouldn't look twice at me if you weren't drunk."

Pulling back slightly, Tonks ran a hand along Hermione's jaw, slowly tracing the curve of her neck, and the rise in her chest. Her fingers paused momentarily to roll an erect nipple between her fingers, and listen to the smaller woman moan against her. Pulling her hand away, she directed Hermione to look directly into her eyes, "You're right, I wouldn't look at you twice—I wouldn't have to. I would look at you once, and never look away again."

Hermione gasped as Tonks descended on her neck, sucking lightly on her pulse point and relishing in the torturous noises which Hermione produced. "You—you really want me?" Hermione gasped, the feel of Tonks' tongue causing her words to stutter.

Tonks growled lightly, as she kissed Hermione again, "I have wanted you since long before you showed up at my door six months ago—and that feeling has only grown since that day." A hand pulled Hermione ever closer to her best friend, as lips departed from her skin and currently green eyes stared carefully into her own. "I don't want a one night stand with you, Hermione. You can tell me no now, and it won't change anything. I don't do awkward. You'll still be my best friend, I'll still play scrabble with you, and bring you ice cream, and beg you to magic my clothes away for me—but if you say yes, please know that I'm not going to just walk away from you. I'm not that drunk—I'm only drunk enough to get a bit of Gryffindor in me—" She laughed at the frisky pun, "And drunk enough to say ridiculous puns when I'm simply trying to say that I've found my courage."

Hermione searched Tonks' eyes, studying her for even the slight sign of doubt. A sigh escaped her, and her lips parted ever so slightly, "You really mean that."

Tonks just smiled softly, her eyes patiently waiting for an answer. Hermione gave her one. One hand coming up to slide delicately into her hair, the other slipping up her leg, feeling the intoxicating fabric scratching against her fingertips. Her lips quickly found their way through the fog, and without another question the two women found themselves pulled desperately together, their lips tangling in a dance far more tantalizing than anything they had experienced at the club. Tonks pulled the younger witch towards her own bedroom, never once loosing her grip on the brunette.

They tumbled towards the refurbished bed, all legs and lipstick. Hermione found her black dress relocated to the floor without quite knowing how, but she could only assume it had happened while she was distracted by the zipper of Tonks' dress. Finally finding the troublesome clasp Hermione delighted at the smooth skin under her fingertips. Slipping the straps from her lover's shoulders, she carefully removed the garment, teasing her as she went, her fingertips ghosting across the over-stimulated skin.

Tonks groaned slightly, her back arching from the bed and causing a wicked smiled to appear on Hermione's face. Beneath the classic fringe dress, Hermione found nearly nothing. The stockings which had teased her for so many hours, and the high heels that made her swoon—and nothing else.

Taking full advantage of Hermione's moment of awe, Tonks flipped the witch on to her back, kissing her again and allowing her lips to trail excitedly down Hermione's body. Her neck. Her shoulders. Her hands. The smooth stretch of skin just above her waistband. Her tongue found it's way to a silk covered breast, teasing around the unseen nipple and making Hermione writhe in pleasure.

"Tonks," she gasped, her mind completely blank.

Tonks moved lower, hands slipping the silk and the stockings from Hermione's legs as she gasped just to touch them. "Your legs—your beautiful devilish legs. Always so teasing to my mind—always making things difficult."

Hermione laughed airily as Tonks ran her hands down the outside of her thighs, "Is that so?" she breathed.

"Mm," Tonks assured, "Do you have any idea how difficult it is to be a good supportive friend, when legs like these are only inches away, just begging to have my hands running along them?"

Hermione's back arched and a blissful moan escaped her as Tonks ran a single finger along her delicate folds, just barely touching. "You are so sensitive, love. So responsive."

A blush spread across Hermione's body and Tonks couldn't help but smile, this was all for her. She once again let her fingers just barely ghost against Hermione's skin, but quickly ended the torment as her lover gasped again. Sliding dexterous fingers against the tight bundle of nerves, and into the quickly tightening passage, she felt her own heart quicken.

Hermione smiled as she watched the beautiful witch, excited and intrigued with her exploration—the woman could have been a Ravenclaw. As Hermione's body convulsed against her hand, Tonks' hair found itself short and pink again, her eyes a dark purple, making Hermione smile even more widely. There was her girl. Barely giving Tonks a moment to exhale, Hermione launched herself forward, capturing her in a passionate kiss and nipping lightly at her lower lip. Only two words were needed to completely undo the witch—"My turn."

Long midnight blue curls cascaded down pale skin as the witch padded quietly across the room, searching the freezer desperately for Ice Cream. It was two o'clock in the morning, in an apartment inhabited by two women—how could there possibly not be any ice cream?

Hermione smiled silently from across the room, watching the sneaky witch. "Revelio," she whispered quietly, and watched the other witch jump in surprised delight when a pint of ice cream appeared.

She looked back across the darkened room, searching for her genius lover. "Tricksy, Tricksy," she grinned. Pulling the pint from the freezer, and stealing two spoons from a drawer, she slipped quietly across the room.

"How else am I supposed to ensure that I ever get any of the ice cream?" Hermione joked softly.

"Well—eating it with me at two a.m. is one way," she smiled skipping across the hall and back into her bed.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you, you shouldn't eat ice cream in bed," Hermione scolded.

"There are many things I've been told not to do in my bed—would you like me to start listening to all of them?" Tonks winked, causing Hermione to blush.

Joining Tonks on the bed, she lightly tapped her foot against Tonks', "Hand me a spoon, you."

"My pleasure."

'The smell of her hair, the taste of her mouth, the feeling of her skin seemed to have got inside him, or into the air all round him. She had become a physical necessity,' Hermione thought to herself, a small smiled drifting across her face as frozen chocolate met her tongue. It all made sense now.

As usual, thank you so much for reading. It means a lot to me that you took the time! If you liked what you read, please let me know! (Or I suppose if you didn't like it, you should let me know that too!) I personally think there are far too few Hermione/Tonks stories, and am going to start my own one woman crusade to make that a thing. Also, if you like my writing and want to know what I'm working on consider following me on Twitter! BehindTheBooks08