Underjoyed
Disclaimer: I don't own them, never will, blah blah blah. Which is a shame, you know, because the things I could do with them…oh well, as long as I get to play, I suppose.
Rating: I'm just gonna go with an all around R here. I don't know how explicit it's going to get, but there's no point in taking chances.
Summary: The summer before her sixth year, Ginny has a run in with an older woman that is going to change her life. (Trite, yet true)
Narcissa/Ginny. So wrong, yet so delightful at the same time. I've read a lot of Harry Potter fanfic, and I've noticed there is a sad lack of f/f stories. Maybe I've just missed them, if anyone knows of any good ones please tell me. And oh yeah, this is a lesbian story, and if you can't deal with that, LEAVE. Ooh, I love Ginny. And please review!
Triumph seemed to flash in the woman's, no, Narcissa's eyes but it left so quickly leaving behind only a pleasant residue of polite goodwill that Ginny couldn't be sure that she saw it. She let go of Ginny's hands rather abruptly and Ginny realized she hadn't let it go. She blushed again in discomfort. Why was this woman talking to her? She must think Ginny a fool, staring at her like a mute and in such a horrid outfit.
"So, what's a pretty young thing like you doing all alone on a fine day like this?" Narcissa's mouth twisted up in a wry little half smirk, as if recognizing the offensiveness of her statement and challenging Ginny to defend herself.
Ginny having not escaped the characteristic trait of the Weasley family—a rather explosive temper—proved herself quite capable of rising up to the bait. Her face flushed even further, her eyes narrowed, "I am not a helpless girl, always needing to be in the care of others. I am going into my sixth year at Hogwarts, and am quite capable of taking care of myself, I'll let you know!"
Narcissa took this all in stride and with an unnecessary flick of her wrist to pat down already meticulous pale blonde hair said smoothly, "Of course, I never doubted that for a second," leaving Ginny to blink wondering what exactly she had been trying to defend and her feelings of embarrassment returning full force.
"Oh," Ginny said rather stupidly.
"If you like art, you should come to my studio sometime, I'm usually in on the weekends from noon to five," Narcissa carried on their conversation. She reached into her robe and Ginny couldn't help noticing the way they clung to her waist and fell down gracefully just reaching the floor. Narcissa pulled what looked like a business card out of her pocket. Giving it over to Ginny, her hand lingered what seemed a tad too long.
"That's the address. I expect to see you soon." The look that Narcissa gave her burned into her skin as well as any touch could have. "Goodbye Ginny." And with that, Narcissa was gone, sweeping out of the store in a trail of musky perfume, leaving Ginny to fumble out a bye in her wake.
Ginny kept standing long after the door had shut behind Narcissa and she was along again. She shook her head, senses slowly returning from the strangeness of that encounter. Remembering the card Narcissa had placed in her hand before she left, Ginny opened her hand, revealing a rather plain seeming white rectangle of paper. It was quite simple, in that it had no moving pictures or sound like most of the garish advertisements that seemed to be taking over these days. Just the white background and plain, bold black lettering:
1 Narcissa Alba
548 Saxton's Road
1.1 London, England
Ginny didn't know quite what it was about Narcissa, but she did want to see her again. That is, if the woman wanted her to. She wasn't sure—what if she went and Narcissa didn't even remember her. Ginny could just see the disdainful look on her face turning it into a rather pinched mockery of its usual self, 'oh, that grubby little girl from the antique store, yes, I recall you now'. And then a stare as if asking Ginny to explain what the hell she was doing, invading her personal life. But…she had invited her after all. And Ginny had felt things in her company, strange things, and she wanted to meet this mysterious woman again to see what it was. The only problem was getting there. Pocketing the card, she tried to push the problem from her mind. She'd work it out.
Giving a parting glance to the sculpture that had started her whole encounter, she left the store, much to the relief, she was sure, of the shopkeeper. Walking down the street she looked at the large clock just outside of Gringott's. It was specially charmed to tell time specific to the person who was looking at it. When Ginny looked at it, she saw that it was still three hours from when she had to meet her mother.
She made her way easily to the Junk shop, feet knowing the route from many such journeys. It was her favorite place to go, it had bad security and everything was junk (as the name of the store so subtly pointed out) so it didn't matter anyway, right? She pushed open the door, smiling charmingly at the salesclerk, and meandered her way to the back of the store, where they kept their clothing. She browsed the pickings, searching for anything that would catch her fancy. She found her way to the lingerie section and smiled as she saw the old worn-out clothes still trying to be seductive. Searching for a while she finally picked up a rather cute little pinkish- white nightie, sheer on top, she shrugged her shoulders and held on to it. Why the hell not? Before heading to the dressing room, she also managed to grab a bracelet that she saw lying around.
Five minutes later she appeared from the dressing room, lingerie mysteriously disappeared, and if you looked extremely closely and knew what you were looking for you would see that her robes almost imperceptibly bulged a little more than when she had stepped in. Giving the clerk one more smile on the way out, she merrily walked her way down Diagon Alley, enjoying the busy atmosphere and the rush that such acts always gave her.
She saw Ron and Hermione, looked like they were headed into Flourish and Blotts, she knew that Hermione would manage to drag Ron in there somehow. She hurried past, not wanting to see them, making her way to a certain dumpster that she knew from experience could be very rewarding. On her way, she would almost compulsively pull out the card that Narcissa had given her and stare at it searchingly.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, never will, blah blah blah. Which is a shame, you know, because the things I could do with them…oh well, as long as I get to play, I suppose.
Rating: I'm just gonna go with an all around R here. I don't know how explicit it's going to get, but there's no point in taking chances.
Summary: The summer before her sixth year, Ginny has a run in with an older woman that is going to change her life. (Trite, yet true)
Narcissa/Ginny. So wrong, yet so delightful at the same time. I've read a lot of Harry Potter fanfic, and I've noticed there is a sad lack of f/f stories. Maybe I've just missed them, if anyone knows of any good ones please tell me. And oh yeah, this is a lesbian story, and if you can't deal with that, LEAVE. Ooh, I love Ginny. And please review!
Triumph seemed to flash in the woman's, no, Narcissa's eyes but it left so quickly leaving behind only a pleasant residue of polite goodwill that Ginny couldn't be sure that she saw it. She let go of Ginny's hands rather abruptly and Ginny realized she hadn't let it go. She blushed again in discomfort. Why was this woman talking to her? She must think Ginny a fool, staring at her like a mute and in such a horrid outfit.
"So, what's a pretty young thing like you doing all alone on a fine day like this?" Narcissa's mouth twisted up in a wry little half smirk, as if recognizing the offensiveness of her statement and challenging Ginny to defend herself.
Ginny having not escaped the characteristic trait of the Weasley family—a rather explosive temper—proved herself quite capable of rising up to the bait. Her face flushed even further, her eyes narrowed, "I am not a helpless girl, always needing to be in the care of others. I am going into my sixth year at Hogwarts, and am quite capable of taking care of myself, I'll let you know!"
Narcissa took this all in stride and with an unnecessary flick of her wrist to pat down already meticulous pale blonde hair said smoothly, "Of course, I never doubted that for a second," leaving Ginny to blink wondering what exactly she had been trying to defend and her feelings of embarrassment returning full force.
"Oh," Ginny said rather stupidly.
"If you like art, you should come to my studio sometime, I'm usually in on the weekends from noon to five," Narcissa carried on their conversation. She reached into her robe and Ginny couldn't help noticing the way they clung to her waist and fell down gracefully just reaching the floor. Narcissa pulled what looked like a business card out of her pocket. Giving it over to Ginny, her hand lingered what seemed a tad too long.
"That's the address. I expect to see you soon." The look that Narcissa gave her burned into her skin as well as any touch could have. "Goodbye Ginny." And with that, Narcissa was gone, sweeping out of the store in a trail of musky perfume, leaving Ginny to fumble out a bye in her wake.
Ginny kept standing long after the door had shut behind Narcissa and she was along again. She shook her head, senses slowly returning from the strangeness of that encounter. Remembering the card Narcissa had placed in her hand before she left, Ginny opened her hand, revealing a rather plain seeming white rectangle of paper. It was quite simple, in that it had no moving pictures or sound like most of the garish advertisements that seemed to be taking over these days. Just the white background and plain, bold black lettering:
1 Narcissa Alba
548 Saxton's Road
1.1 London, England
Ginny didn't know quite what it was about Narcissa, but she did want to see her again. That is, if the woman wanted her to. She wasn't sure—what if she went and Narcissa didn't even remember her. Ginny could just see the disdainful look on her face turning it into a rather pinched mockery of its usual self, 'oh, that grubby little girl from the antique store, yes, I recall you now'. And then a stare as if asking Ginny to explain what the hell she was doing, invading her personal life. But…she had invited her after all. And Ginny had felt things in her company, strange things, and she wanted to meet this mysterious woman again to see what it was. The only problem was getting there. Pocketing the card, she tried to push the problem from her mind. She'd work it out.
Giving a parting glance to the sculpture that had started her whole encounter, she left the store, much to the relief, she was sure, of the shopkeeper. Walking down the street she looked at the large clock just outside of Gringott's. It was specially charmed to tell time specific to the person who was looking at it. When Ginny looked at it, she saw that it was still three hours from when she had to meet her mother.
She made her way easily to the Junk shop, feet knowing the route from many such journeys. It was her favorite place to go, it had bad security and everything was junk (as the name of the store so subtly pointed out) so it didn't matter anyway, right? She pushed open the door, smiling charmingly at the salesclerk, and meandered her way to the back of the store, where they kept their clothing. She browsed the pickings, searching for anything that would catch her fancy. She found her way to the lingerie section and smiled as she saw the old worn-out clothes still trying to be seductive. Searching for a while she finally picked up a rather cute little pinkish- white nightie, sheer on top, she shrugged her shoulders and held on to it. Why the hell not? Before heading to the dressing room, she also managed to grab a bracelet that she saw lying around.
Five minutes later she appeared from the dressing room, lingerie mysteriously disappeared, and if you looked extremely closely and knew what you were looking for you would see that her robes almost imperceptibly bulged a little more than when she had stepped in. Giving the clerk one more smile on the way out, she merrily walked her way down Diagon Alley, enjoying the busy atmosphere and the rush that such acts always gave her.
She saw Ron and Hermione, looked like they were headed into Flourish and Blotts, she knew that Hermione would manage to drag Ron in there somehow. She hurried past, not wanting to see them, making her way to a certain dumpster that she knew from experience could be very rewarding. On her way, she would almost compulsively pull out the card that Narcissa had given her and stare at it searchingly.