A short little oneshot devoted to my favorite slash pairing. This is dedicated to Pri, in the hopes that she will find the person who brings her eternal joy.
The blindfold is itchy, and smells somewhat of Lavender's perfume and mothballs. Her palms are sweaty, her fingers slightly trembling. There is sweat running down the small of her back, causing her flannel night shirt to stick, and her pulse is beginning to quicken. Parvati, walking beside her, leading her, tells her to relax. They've invented this game of sorts for fun, it's no reason for her to have a heart attack. Hermione gives a stiff smile and takes a deep breath, though she can still feel the beads of sweat against her pyjamas. She hears Parvati push the Fat Lady's portrait open, and is pulled by her forearm into the quiet corridor, which she knows is dark and deserted. She can't help but think how many rules this "game" is breaking, and how much trouble they'll all be in when they're discovered wandering around the castle at all hours of the night.
They walk a little ways, careful to keep their steps silent, their breathing soft. Hermione knows the castle quite well, and when they stop she knows they are outside a tall, broad door with an ancient, tarnished brass door knob.
"If Draco Malfoy is on the other side of that door, I'm going to murder you," Hermione whispers, but Parvati shushes her and performs a series of rather complicated knocks.
Hermione hears the door swing open, and she is pushed inside the small, low-ceilinged room. "Welcome." She recognizes Lavender's voice. "The other person blindfolded will not speak, and neither will you. You have both been invited to play, and have accepted, thereby sealing a magical contract between the two of you. Once Parvati and I leave this room, you will not be allowed out until you kiss. Now don't misunderstand the power of our game. Kissing is not merely two people touching lips, it's something much deeper. Until you have reached that depth with each other, you won't see the outside of this room. The blindfolds are magically bound, you can try to get them off, but remember what killed the cat. Also, if it so happens that you're still in here a few hours' time, the house elves will be bringing you food and drink. Good luck."
Hermione hears the door shut. It is silent for a moment, then she hears the footsteps of the other person in the room. He or she was coming closer, and Hermione, panic rising, lifts her legs, which suddenly feel like led, to meet her companion in the middle of the room. Hermione sniffs the air, hoping that the scent of the person she was with might tip her off as to who it was, but the scent is not familiar, something like cinnamon toast, if a little sweeter. The breaths of the other person are long, as though they are trying to calm down, and Hermione cannot blame them. It's a rather terrifying situation to be in, because not only is she expected to snog a complete stranger, but she's never snogged anyone...not that she cares what this person thinks of her kissing, it's not as if they'll ever see her, know who she really is.
Hermione blindly reaches out, and for a moment can feel nothing but the thickening air. Then her fingers, still trembling, come in contact with silk, probably the pyjama top of her co-prisoner. Hesitantly, Hermione follows what she decides to be the sleeve up to a shoulder. Muscular, but slightly feminine, she thinks. She continues to reach, her fingers stretching across an exposed collar bone, up a delicate throat, her index finger finally coming to rest on soft, full lips. At this point, it's quite obvious she is in the room with another female.
She doesn't quite know how she feels about having to, ultimately, kiss a girl. Sexuality is something she's never really thought about, never has time for. Her days are filled with studying, always trying to get that last point on her essays. But now, in the endless black of this room, she is excited. It's very taboo for her, coming from a conforming household where you are expected to bring a tall, dark, handsome bloke to the family Christmas party, and the idea that she will be intimate with a woman is quite...liberating.
But it's also terrifying, because when she imagines kissing a boy, she is left blank inside, at first confused and a bit angry. Girls were supposed to kiss boys, to want to kiss boys, and here she is, getting quite excited at the thought of long, silky hair, soft brown eyes, sweet freckles in the patterns of swirling, celestial galaxies spread over creamy shoulders...she shakes herself, realizing that she is thinking of one girl, not girls in general, and that it was probably a really bad idea to be doing that.
She hears laughter, like the sound of clear, pouring rain or the ringing of many chimes, and her confusion settles itself in the back of her mind, pushed away, almost forgotten. Because she knows that laughter, knows it like the back of her ink-stained hand, and it belongs to the most beautiful girl she has ever known. Still nervous, still afraid, Hermione holds her head high, pulls the girl towards her, and presses her own lips to where she supposes her mate's are. A bit of fumbling of hands goes on for a moment, but finally, their bodies are pressed together, Hermione just a bit shorter than than of the girl whose lips taste like black licorice, who smells like sweet cinnamon and cloves, whose feathery hair is wrapped around her palm, so soft and reassuring.
The torches in the room are suddenly lit; Hermione can hear the flames bursting to life rather than see them, as the blindfold is still securely fastened around her eyes. The door to the small room creaks open, and Hermione, still clinging to the ambrosial girl, turns towards the noise of footsteps.
"Excellent." Lavender's voice says, gently pulling the two girls away from each other. "Very well done. You've both proved this game a continuing success. As we said before, for the door to unlock, you had to have met a certain depth within each other." Lavender's hand is on Hermione's arm now, and she whispers into her ear, "Would you like to know who it is?" In front of her, Hermione can hear Parvati whispering the same thing.
Hermione hesitates, but she is positive she knows who her blindfold is concealing from her. The smells, the touch, the lips...it's undoubtedly the girl she's spent late nights with, whispering secrets into the summer sunrise, the girl she's watched fly around the Quidditch Pitch for hours when she's pretended to be there in support of Ron and Harry, the girl whose fiery hair and spirit can ignite inside of her a passion so intense, she thinks she might combust.
"I know who it is." Hermione says, her voice slightly cracked, again reaching out to the surprisingly addicting girl in front of her.
"As do I." She hears Ginny reply, with a sweet smile in her voice, her lips itching to once again touch the most intelligent, softest person she's ever had the fortune to fall in love with.