Disclaimer: No they're not mine, and never will be, and I'm never gonna make a penny out of this either.
Note: Just a little something that's been sitting on my computer since forever ago, and I finally found time to clean it up and post this. I may have messed up the tenses a little, but I try to be as consistent, clean and as in character as possible. [With a little bit of poetic license of course. :) ]
Other than that, enjoy:
The Burrow was quiet and Hermione could not sleep. Ginny's bare feet were cold against Hermione's thin pant leg and Hermione was hyper aware of any movement. She was afraid to wake Ginny and uncomfortable at having to share such a small bed, Ginny's limbs flung awkwardly around Hermione; her body warm and her face precariously close to Hermione's. Hermione could only think of the heartbeat in the warm body next to hers; and how many freckles were hidden underneath those pajamas. She dozed off to a frightful sleep, dreaming of soft lips and pointy elbows.
--
Hermione was pacing downstairs, waiting for Ginny and thinking about her again, something that had happened with recurring frequency over the last couple of days. She decides Ginny is all fire and sun and energy; wild and untamed, tan and freckled even in the overcast cold winter days. Her hair is silky and smooth down her back, crackling with energy all its own - and, oh wow, she is breathtaking in her dress. Hermione sees herself as all order, rules and books, and she hates flying. Her hair is the one that is unruly as ever and she was always punctual to her appointments.
Ginny was already making them ten minutes late, but then she slid her hand into Hermione's just before they apparate to their already late party, and Hermione doesn't think that being late is so bad, this time.
--
There was a glint in her eye; a quirked eyebrow in challenge perhaps, as the seconds ticked closer to midnight. Her lips were red and glossy, and loomed closer. They were both half drunk - and Hermione knew it too - cheeks red and eyes alight with want. She knew they were friends; and the last time that Hermione checked, friends didn't think about other friends like this. But the glint remained in Ginny's eyes, and there was no denying the attraction, even if Hermione had tried. So she realized that really, she didn't care anymore, the pretenses too perfect to forgo - something easily chalked up to an innocent half drunk kiss if things went awry in the morning.
--
She closed her eyes and found instead of lips, the freckled tip of Ginny's nose. So she tried again, this time waiting until the last second to close her eyes thinking that it could never be said that Hermione Granger was a coward, but the thought soon left her mind as all she could taste was strawberry on soft lips. Ginny's tongue was wet and delightfully warm; she managed to hear Ginny's soft "oh".
Ginny's fingers find her hair and pull her closer, with intent - feeling, needing, finding contact as Hermione lost herself.