A/N: Sorry nothing has been posted here for awhile. My last bit of fic as been too adult for this website.
Prompt: Love is like peanut butter.
Author: ideaofsarcasm
Disclaimer: I'm just borrowing them for a little while
Pairing: Hermione/Blaise
Rating: PG-13
"I've decided that love is like peanut butter," Hermione declared the words, flopping down on the couch beside Ginny and resting her feet on the coffee table in front of them.
She realized after she'd said it that the statement seemed nonsensical. But that was to be expected; she and Ginny were well into their second bottle of fire whisky and had no plans of stopping. She hiccupped delicately before taking another gulp from her glass.
"You're going to have to explain that one Hermione," Ginny had begun to slur her words a little, even as she refilled Hermione's glass. "I don't even think that would make sense if I was stone cold sober."
"There are many varieties of peanut butter," Hermione explained. "There's smooth peanut butter, there's crunchy peanut butter. There's honey-roasted varieties, there's whole nut varieties. There's kinds mixed with chocolate, there's kinds mixed with honey. There's cinnamon raisin peanut butter, white chocolate peanut butter, and even a spicy peanut butter. But even though they are all so different, they are still inherently peanut butter."
"You're trying to rationalize the relationship you have with Blaise again, aren't you?" Ginny replied dryly, more perceptive than she should be under the influence. "I think we've been over this a million times Hermione, in many different ways. "
Hermione looked panicked for a moment, "And you've still never mentioned a word of this to Harry or Ron, right?"
"No," Ginny quickly sought to placate her friend. "I can keep a secret. Well, at least your secrets. Angelina deserved to know that Fred and George were switching up with her. Besides, I don't think Harry and Ron are capable of hearing about your love life without having a brain meltdown."
"I love him, and he loves me," Hermione said the words, but they weren't declared with certainty. "It's just…..it's just……"
"Yours is a spicy kind of peanut butter," Ginny giggled at the statement, unable to take the analogy seriously.
Hermione shot her a look, "This isn't funny."
"It is. Just a little bit," Ginny admitted, "Although this is coming from a girl whose peanut butter is as smooth as it gets. Harry blushed for days the first time I suggested, uh, 'buying' the crunchy brand. And we've never even contemplated the spicy."
"Ok, now I'm confused, are we talking about love or sex?"
Ginny shrugged, "What's the difference?"
"I don't know," Hemione sighed. "And that's part of the problem I'm having."
"The first step is to stop comparing Blaise to all the other men you've known," Ginny instructed, waving her glass in the air. "So he's not the type to worship you as some mortal goddess, refusing to sully you. If you'll remember, that's why you broke up with Viktor. And he's not like Seamus, who, let's face it, writes some pretty good poetry for a straight man. So he's never going to buy you chocolates, or send you flowers at work, so what? That's not what defines love. And so what if you express that love a little more, uh, enthusiastically than most couples? It doesn't mean you don't love each other, I think it means you do."
She nodded for emphasis before continuing, "Actually, I know it does. I don't think anything less than love would make you as sexually adventurous as you've been."
"Don't make me regret telling you about my sex life," Hermione threatened. "I would kill Blaise if I ever found out he had told any of his friends about the specifics."
Ginny looked a little wistful, "Don't worry, I won't. Because then you might stop," she took a large gulp of fire whiskey before continuing, "and then I'd have nobody to live vicariously through. Because I think Harry and I are destined to embody a new variety of peanut butter."
Hermione raised her eyebrows questioningly when Ginny broke off, and the girl sighed a little glumly before replying. "Vanilla."