This is a femslash, meaning relationships between two girls. Don't like,
don't read. Also, I'm just borrowing the characters from Harry Potter,
don't sue me.
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Hair of the most beautiful shade of red. Plush lips curving slowly into a smile. Eyes partly obscured by strands of hair which concealed the deep brown depths. Graceful neck, leading to the swell of breasts and curvy hips.
She could not help but stare. Then, she would remember where she was and quickly look away, only to be drawn again. Magnetic. Her eyes, so thirsty, unable to resist drinking in the sight. And drink she did, savoring it like a bottle of wine, for it was just as intoxicating. Before she caught herself again. It was exceedingly improper by any standards to have such thoughts.
The date it happened was obscure, but it did not matter. That it existed was more important in any case, but Hermione found herself trying to recall, if only because she hated not having everything down perfectly. It was the laugh, that much she had made certain. Soft and lilting, floating through the room.
But always for him. Just like now, her face alight, but all for him. If it was any consolation, they seemed perfectly happy nestled together.
Hermione laid sprawled across a couch. To any onlooker, the ceiling must have been infinitely fascinating to her as she hogged the seat. She could already feel the telltale prickling of petty tears of self-pity. Damn. Maybe she did have a little too much to drink, if her preceding poetry was any indication. Her thoughts felt as if they were pushing through caramel, and there were already signs of an impeding headache. She dimly reminded herself not to touch any beer again.
"You're taking the whole couch, bloody slug."
She noted that Ron was not far better off. Figured that he was not one who could hold his beer. He appeared comatose, slumped on the opposite sofa. Not particularly a conversationalist now and she found herself wishing for better company.
So she pushed herself off the couch and stood unsteadily. Better alone than with a drunken slob, she decided, so she walked to the exit, carefully stepping around prone bodies. The Gryfindors had really outdone themselves this time round.
The hallways were quiet. She was breaking the rules, wandering at midnight. It was surprise enough that she was not caught yet. Stealth was not a quality at the moment, and she was walking like an aimless exclamation point, screaming to be noticed. But then she only wanted a breath of fresh air, she reasoned. Certainly not against the rules, and of Filch thought so, he could very well go stuff himself.
The heavy oak doors creaked like a wailing donkey, and she stepped out into the grounds. Still not caught, she noted. The gods really wanted her to have time alone. She did not get very far, just a few yards into the grass before her legs decided on a mutiny and she flopped onto the ground non too gently.
The stars were out and twinkling merrily. How fitting to the mood, she thought.
Curse them to hell; they were so bright that they were giving her a headache.
She watched carefully as the clouds drifted and smiled triumphantly as they covered the offending glims. Finally, darkness. She was becoming grateful for the beer. Her ensnared brain ensured that thinking about Ginny took too much effort than she would bother. Forgetting was a masterful temptation.
Peace at last. Just her and the grass and the heady scent and a splitting headache. Now this was life, she was sure, bonding with nature. Ron always insisted she get out more.
The wailing donkey sounded again, and the doors closed heavily. She heard soft treading on the grass, and cursed eloquently in her head. Someone dropped down to the ground beside her, following her prostate posture, whom she pointedly ignore. Of course, she just had to meet a person who took absolutely no hints.
"Hey."
Of course, since it was Ginny, it was perfectly forgivable.
"Saw you heading out here all by your lonesome self, and I just had to find out why you would dream of trading the company of my brother to the company of the stars," Ginny chuckled. It worsened her headache tenfold, and she found herself even wishing for Ginny to leave.
"Came out here to do a little thinking huh?"
When there was no reply, Ginny turned to her side, observing her carefully.
"You're worse off than I thought. Let's get you back," Ginny decided, and tried to pull her to her feet. She stubbornly refused, muttering as she pouted petulantly, if unconsciously.
Ginny laughed again, and the sound threatened to tear her head apart. She just wanted to be alone, damnit. It was not as if she was wishing for a horde of half naked ladies to dance on her lap. It should not have been so hard; she frowned, as the tears threatened to spill again.
"Fine. You aren't bulging, but I'm not leaving you here alone, so you're stuck with me tonight."
Damn.
Personally, Hermione could think of no better way of spending the night than having to endure the company of the girl she was mooning over and could never shut her mouth for a minute if her life depended on it. And it seem as if a pitchfork was poking her brain.
There was a brief silence, before Ginny could no longer resist. "So, I heard rumors that you are interested in Ron," Ginny decided to jump straight into the juicier gossips. Her efforts at keeping the silence, if only momentarily, had to be commended, if anything. Hermione was secretly glad that she did not bother to make the customary small talk-it would have taken far too long.
A snort graced Ginny's question. Nothing more needed to be said.
Ginny giggled. "If it means anything, I perfectly understand." She then leaned closer, and Hermione had to bite back a groan. "So, anyone in mind?" she said in conspiring tones. "Because you know, there are some pretty cute guys around here. Of course, most are already taken, but you only need to look hard enough. There are quite a few in Gryfindor actually, but only if Seamus is your type," at that she giggled a little more. "You should have seen the way he was mooning over Harry. I swear, he could have at least tried to be a little less obvious. But anyway, Dean seems interested, I think. I wasn't supposed to tell; Parvarti noticed him looking at you all the time," she said. "And I think I'm the only one talking around here," she finally concluded.
Ginny propped herself on her elbows as she looked at Hermione. "You're being too quiet. Is anything wrong?" she sighed. "Love a touchy topic huh. But surely there is someone special. You study all the time, but I'm sure there are other things going in that head of yours."
Hermione remained silent, the possibilities running through her mind. She wanted and needed closure, and she could certainly get it now. But did she want to? Or dared to?
"Love's a bitch," Hermione finally settled on a decision.
Ginny wrinkled her forehead at that cryptic statement.
"Always one inch too far."
"Oh," Ginny said, rubbing the bridge of her nose. She was not sure if she entirely understood. Hermione could imagine the gears turning in her head. She briefly wondered if she was giving away more than she intended to.
"Ah well, bitch or not, it feels like the bloody Antarctic, and I don't think you're going anywhere, so I guess I'm stuck here tonight," Ginny said. She scooted closer to Hermione, and in one swift motion, snuggled into her side. "If I get a cold, I'm blaming you."
How sweet.
Soon, Hermione felt her eyelids falling shut as well, the effects of the beer finally catching up with her. It was so comfortable. She fell asleep under the stars, her love safely in her arms.
Like or hate? Please feel free to give me your opinions. Flame me if you will, but only on the way I write, not for the relationships in this story.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hair of the most beautiful shade of red. Plush lips curving slowly into a smile. Eyes partly obscured by strands of hair which concealed the deep brown depths. Graceful neck, leading to the swell of breasts and curvy hips.
She could not help but stare. Then, she would remember where she was and quickly look away, only to be drawn again. Magnetic. Her eyes, so thirsty, unable to resist drinking in the sight. And drink she did, savoring it like a bottle of wine, for it was just as intoxicating. Before she caught herself again. It was exceedingly improper by any standards to have such thoughts.
The date it happened was obscure, but it did not matter. That it existed was more important in any case, but Hermione found herself trying to recall, if only because she hated not having everything down perfectly. It was the laugh, that much she had made certain. Soft and lilting, floating through the room.
But always for him. Just like now, her face alight, but all for him. If it was any consolation, they seemed perfectly happy nestled together.
Hermione laid sprawled across a couch. To any onlooker, the ceiling must have been infinitely fascinating to her as she hogged the seat. She could already feel the telltale prickling of petty tears of self-pity. Damn. Maybe she did have a little too much to drink, if her preceding poetry was any indication. Her thoughts felt as if they were pushing through caramel, and there were already signs of an impeding headache. She dimly reminded herself not to touch any beer again.
"You're taking the whole couch, bloody slug."
She noted that Ron was not far better off. Figured that he was not one who could hold his beer. He appeared comatose, slumped on the opposite sofa. Not particularly a conversationalist now and she found herself wishing for better company.
So she pushed herself off the couch and stood unsteadily. Better alone than with a drunken slob, she decided, so she walked to the exit, carefully stepping around prone bodies. The Gryfindors had really outdone themselves this time round.
The hallways were quiet. She was breaking the rules, wandering at midnight. It was surprise enough that she was not caught yet. Stealth was not a quality at the moment, and she was walking like an aimless exclamation point, screaming to be noticed. But then she only wanted a breath of fresh air, she reasoned. Certainly not against the rules, and of Filch thought so, he could very well go stuff himself.
The heavy oak doors creaked like a wailing donkey, and she stepped out into the grounds. Still not caught, she noted. The gods really wanted her to have time alone. She did not get very far, just a few yards into the grass before her legs decided on a mutiny and she flopped onto the ground non too gently.
The stars were out and twinkling merrily. How fitting to the mood, she thought.
Curse them to hell; they were so bright that they were giving her a headache.
She watched carefully as the clouds drifted and smiled triumphantly as they covered the offending glims. Finally, darkness. She was becoming grateful for the beer. Her ensnared brain ensured that thinking about Ginny took too much effort than she would bother. Forgetting was a masterful temptation.
Peace at last. Just her and the grass and the heady scent and a splitting headache. Now this was life, she was sure, bonding with nature. Ron always insisted she get out more.
The wailing donkey sounded again, and the doors closed heavily. She heard soft treading on the grass, and cursed eloquently in her head. Someone dropped down to the ground beside her, following her prostate posture, whom she pointedly ignore. Of course, she just had to meet a person who took absolutely no hints.
"Hey."
Of course, since it was Ginny, it was perfectly forgivable.
"Saw you heading out here all by your lonesome self, and I just had to find out why you would dream of trading the company of my brother to the company of the stars," Ginny chuckled. It worsened her headache tenfold, and she found herself even wishing for Ginny to leave.
"Came out here to do a little thinking huh?"
When there was no reply, Ginny turned to her side, observing her carefully.
"You're worse off than I thought. Let's get you back," Ginny decided, and tried to pull her to her feet. She stubbornly refused, muttering as she pouted petulantly, if unconsciously.
Ginny laughed again, and the sound threatened to tear her head apart. She just wanted to be alone, damnit. It was not as if she was wishing for a horde of half naked ladies to dance on her lap. It should not have been so hard; she frowned, as the tears threatened to spill again.
"Fine. You aren't bulging, but I'm not leaving you here alone, so you're stuck with me tonight."
Damn.
Personally, Hermione could think of no better way of spending the night than having to endure the company of the girl she was mooning over and could never shut her mouth for a minute if her life depended on it. And it seem as if a pitchfork was poking her brain.
There was a brief silence, before Ginny could no longer resist. "So, I heard rumors that you are interested in Ron," Ginny decided to jump straight into the juicier gossips. Her efforts at keeping the silence, if only momentarily, had to be commended, if anything. Hermione was secretly glad that she did not bother to make the customary small talk-it would have taken far too long.
A snort graced Ginny's question. Nothing more needed to be said.
Ginny giggled. "If it means anything, I perfectly understand." She then leaned closer, and Hermione had to bite back a groan. "So, anyone in mind?" she said in conspiring tones. "Because you know, there are some pretty cute guys around here. Of course, most are already taken, but you only need to look hard enough. There are quite a few in Gryfindor actually, but only if Seamus is your type," at that she giggled a little more. "You should have seen the way he was mooning over Harry. I swear, he could have at least tried to be a little less obvious. But anyway, Dean seems interested, I think. I wasn't supposed to tell; Parvarti noticed him looking at you all the time," she said. "And I think I'm the only one talking around here," she finally concluded.
Ginny propped herself on her elbows as she looked at Hermione. "You're being too quiet. Is anything wrong?" she sighed. "Love a touchy topic huh. But surely there is someone special. You study all the time, but I'm sure there are other things going in that head of yours."
Hermione remained silent, the possibilities running through her mind. She wanted and needed closure, and she could certainly get it now. But did she want to? Or dared to?
"Love's a bitch," Hermione finally settled on a decision.
Ginny wrinkled her forehead at that cryptic statement.
"Always one inch too far."
"Oh," Ginny said, rubbing the bridge of her nose. She was not sure if she entirely understood. Hermione could imagine the gears turning in her head. She briefly wondered if she was giving away more than she intended to.
"Ah well, bitch or not, it feels like the bloody Antarctic, and I don't think you're going anywhere, so I guess I'm stuck here tonight," Ginny said. She scooted closer to Hermione, and in one swift motion, snuggled into her side. "If I get a cold, I'm blaming you."
How sweet.
Soon, Hermione felt her eyelids falling shut as well, the effects of the beer finally catching up with her. It was so comfortable. She fell asleep under the stars, her love safely in her arms.
Like or hate? Please feel free to give me your opinions. Flame me if you will, but only on the way I write, not for the relationships in this story.
