"I must admit," Ginny said, "that there are some things that Muggles do
better than us." She stroked the frothy scrap of satin and lace that passed
as a brassiere with a covetous eye, and assessed it thoughtfully. "This IS
nice."
"That pale coffee shade would look very good with your skin," agreed Hermione.
They were passing an afternoon in the ageless feminine pursuit of shopping, chiefly for underthings, and were discovering that they very much liked the other's tastes and shopping style.
"Do you want to try it on?" Hermione said. "You know your size now...let's see if they have it here." She hunted through the rack, and produced it. "And I insist on the matching knickers. This lace is gorgeous."
"Oh, I don't need to try it on," said Ginny, happily. "The shade is fabulous, and we know what size I am. Let's just get it, and call it a day."
"That sounds like a plan...my stomach's starting to growl," Hermione admitted. "Shall we get a room? I really don't want to go to my mother's house or back to the Burrow tonight, not with getting up so early in the morning."
"Sounds good to me," Ginny said. They paid for their purchases, and laden with bags hailed a taxi and found a hotel not too far from the hospital. Accustomed to anxious family members, the desk clerk was smooth and efficient, and before long they were ensconced in their room.
"Lovely stuff," said Ginny, dumping the bags out on the bed and sorting through the clothes. "I think I'll wear some now. What's your recommendation, Hermione?"
Hermione was sorting through a fashion magazine she'd bought. "Depends on what you feel like wearing tonight."
"Well, yes..."Ginny wandered over to peer over Hermione's shoulder. "What were you thinking?"
Hermione looked at her, and smiled with more than a hint of mischief in her face. "Have you ever been to a Muggle dance club?"
"No," said Ginny. "But I like to dance."
"I think you'll like it," said Hermione with a smile. "First, though, dinner."
They ate at a little Italian place that Hermione's father had taken her to, once, with food that tasted like it had magic woven through it, bursting on the tongue and coiling around the senses. They drank wine, and laughed, and stared into each other's eyes as though the world didn't exist. And when they floated out of the restaurant on a happy haze of good food and infatuation, Hermione pulled them into an alley and pulled out her wand.
Ginny stared in amazement as her suit transformed into a dress that was about four inches longer than indecent and clung to her body like a lover's hand. The air on her body told her it had a lower cleavage than anything she'd ever worn in her life. She ran her hands down it, and felt the sensation of crushed velvet. "Whoa," she said, grinning. "I like this. Now....you."
Hermione smiled and turned the wand on herself, and was dressed in a pair of leather pants and a top that was sleeveless and damn near backless. The leather pants rode low on her hips, and Hermione pulled her hair up and back, conjuring combs to hold it.
"And..." she said, searching the alley for a couple of paper scraps..."ah, here." She tapped each with her wand, transforming them into ID cards. "Tuck it in your bra," she said. "They won't let us in without."
They Reduced their wands, and after concealing them hailed a cab to take them to the club. Hermione had been taken to the club by one of the boys her mother had tried to get her to date. He had felt positively racy going somewhere where all kinds of couples inhabited the dance floor, but it hadn't done a thing for her. Now, though, Ginny's hand in hers as they walked up to the door...the anticipation was making her blood sing. You could almost but not quite hear the music from outside, sliding over your skin like an erotic whisper, and Ginny cocked her head to listen as the bouncer looked at their IDs. He moved the rope, and they walked in.
In the bar area, it wasn't so very loud. Hermione skirted the tables and headed straight for a door in the back. "If you want to talk," she said, "do it now. We'll have to shout in there."
Ginny shook her head, cheeks flushed. "Let's go."
And they ducked inside.
The sound and heat hit them like a wave. The room was, of course, packed, but not too much so, and the techno they were playing sent shattered crystals of form and shape up their spines, calling an ancient rhythm. Move! and they moved.
Oh, it's like sex, Ginny thought, with delight, the music moving through her like a spell, that exquisite moment before its release, breasts rubbing against Hermione's body. There was sweat and arousal in the air, swirling and charging as the dancers moved. She glimpsed skin gleaming with sweat, a fall of intricately braided hair swinging...and then Hermione kissed her, and she lost track of it all. Heat in her mouth like heat around her, and the music pulsed and soared, like flying, like spellwork, like lovemaking. She could feel her body responding, and Hermione's arms came around her and pulled her close, curve to curve, and she ran her tongue up the tendon of her neck and made Ginny shiver, weak, suddenly...but the music caught her and bore her up, moved her along.
Fierce tones, relentless in harmonic progression, and Ginny used her slightly shorter stature to reach up and suckle Hermione's earlobe, and the ragged moan the other girl made had her wetter than she had been before. Merlin, but the girl was lovely in the pulsing lights, something pagan and unholy, luscious and unsafe. And still the music throbbed and swelled, driving them on, crushed together by the press of people, and they danced, stripped to essential raw nature in this public intimacy. And they danced.
And somehow in the dance it all fell away....fears of acceptance, of belonging, of success and failure, shed like the clothing the other dancers were shedding on the floor. There was nothing but them, like flames, nameless but known past naming, until, for fear they should burst, they stumbled to the door and fell through it, leaving the music to pulse behind them like the memory of an orgasm in the blood.
Walking back to the hotel cooled the blood in their face and the sweat on their bodies, but not the fire in their blood. They couldn't touch...even being close made their bodies pulse.
"Shower, " Ginny said firmly once they were in the room, peeling off the velvet mini-dress and kicking off knickers and shoes, pulling off her bra. Hermione was prying the leather and satin from her own body, following her in. The warm water suddenly made them both aware of how sweaty they were, and it was with a slower but no less profound intimacy that Ginny ran soapy hands over Hermione's torso, seeing pleasure darken the caramel eyes while the lids hooded slightly. Her lips parted, ghostly sigh emerging, and she lifted her arms, letting Ginny run her hands down her sides to her hips, a touch that was both innocent and erotic. She turned her face to the water, and it sleeked her hair down, otter slick, and Ginny felt her heart skip a beat with sheer desire.
Drying charms had their hair dry, despite its fullness and length, a moment after they stepped out of the shower, and it was Ginny who led Hermione in to the bed, laid her down, and pressed her arms above her head. "Stay there," she whispered into her ear, then slid down her body and began to kiss her feet.
So much heat between them, let loose in a place they didn't have to worry about interruption, for the first time ever. And so much worry, drawing them both so tense...It made them sharp, called out a kind of sweet mercilessness in them both. Heat and teeth and softness and wanting, deep and powerful, memory of the music stirring in her blood...Talk to her, touch her, and whisper more wild words into her ear, until she curls herself like a bow into your shoulder and sinks her teeth in, eyes like something wild and startled in the forest, and sobs, and shivers, and there are tears in her eyes that are so lovely that there's nothing to do but kiss them away....and let her touch you in return....
"That pale coffee shade would look very good with your skin," agreed Hermione.
They were passing an afternoon in the ageless feminine pursuit of shopping, chiefly for underthings, and were discovering that they very much liked the other's tastes and shopping style.
"Do you want to try it on?" Hermione said. "You know your size now...let's see if they have it here." She hunted through the rack, and produced it. "And I insist on the matching knickers. This lace is gorgeous."
"Oh, I don't need to try it on," said Ginny, happily. "The shade is fabulous, and we know what size I am. Let's just get it, and call it a day."
"That sounds like a plan...my stomach's starting to growl," Hermione admitted. "Shall we get a room? I really don't want to go to my mother's house or back to the Burrow tonight, not with getting up so early in the morning."
"Sounds good to me," Ginny said. They paid for their purchases, and laden with bags hailed a taxi and found a hotel not too far from the hospital. Accustomed to anxious family members, the desk clerk was smooth and efficient, and before long they were ensconced in their room.
"Lovely stuff," said Ginny, dumping the bags out on the bed and sorting through the clothes. "I think I'll wear some now. What's your recommendation, Hermione?"
Hermione was sorting through a fashion magazine she'd bought. "Depends on what you feel like wearing tonight."
"Well, yes..."Ginny wandered over to peer over Hermione's shoulder. "What were you thinking?"
Hermione looked at her, and smiled with more than a hint of mischief in her face. "Have you ever been to a Muggle dance club?"
"No," said Ginny. "But I like to dance."
"I think you'll like it," said Hermione with a smile. "First, though, dinner."
They ate at a little Italian place that Hermione's father had taken her to, once, with food that tasted like it had magic woven through it, bursting on the tongue and coiling around the senses. They drank wine, and laughed, and stared into each other's eyes as though the world didn't exist. And when they floated out of the restaurant on a happy haze of good food and infatuation, Hermione pulled them into an alley and pulled out her wand.
Ginny stared in amazement as her suit transformed into a dress that was about four inches longer than indecent and clung to her body like a lover's hand. The air on her body told her it had a lower cleavage than anything she'd ever worn in her life. She ran her hands down it, and felt the sensation of crushed velvet. "Whoa," she said, grinning. "I like this. Now....you."
Hermione smiled and turned the wand on herself, and was dressed in a pair of leather pants and a top that was sleeveless and damn near backless. The leather pants rode low on her hips, and Hermione pulled her hair up and back, conjuring combs to hold it.
"And..." she said, searching the alley for a couple of paper scraps..."ah, here." She tapped each with her wand, transforming them into ID cards. "Tuck it in your bra," she said. "They won't let us in without."
They Reduced their wands, and after concealing them hailed a cab to take them to the club. Hermione had been taken to the club by one of the boys her mother had tried to get her to date. He had felt positively racy going somewhere where all kinds of couples inhabited the dance floor, but it hadn't done a thing for her. Now, though, Ginny's hand in hers as they walked up to the door...the anticipation was making her blood sing. You could almost but not quite hear the music from outside, sliding over your skin like an erotic whisper, and Ginny cocked her head to listen as the bouncer looked at their IDs. He moved the rope, and they walked in.
In the bar area, it wasn't so very loud. Hermione skirted the tables and headed straight for a door in the back. "If you want to talk," she said, "do it now. We'll have to shout in there."
Ginny shook her head, cheeks flushed. "Let's go."
And they ducked inside.
The sound and heat hit them like a wave. The room was, of course, packed, but not too much so, and the techno they were playing sent shattered crystals of form and shape up their spines, calling an ancient rhythm. Move! and they moved.
Oh, it's like sex, Ginny thought, with delight, the music moving through her like a spell, that exquisite moment before its release, breasts rubbing against Hermione's body. There was sweat and arousal in the air, swirling and charging as the dancers moved. She glimpsed skin gleaming with sweat, a fall of intricately braided hair swinging...and then Hermione kissed her, and she lost track of it all. Heat in her mouth like heat around her, and the music pulsed and soared, like flying, like spellwork, like lovemaking. She could feel her body responding, and Hermione's arms came around her and pulled her close, curve to curve, and she ran her tongue up the tendon of her neck and made Ginny shiver, weak, suddenly...but the music caught her and bore her up, moved her along.
Fierce tones, relentless in harmonic progression, and Ginny used her slightly shorter stature to reach up and suckle Hermione's earlobe, and the ragged moan the other girl made had her wetter than she had been before. Merlin, but the girl was lovely in the pulsing lights, something pagan and unholy, luscious and unsafe. And still the music throbbed and swelled, driving them on, crushed together by the press of people, and they danced, stripped to essential raw nature in this public intimacy. And they danced.
And somehow in the dance it all fell away....fears of acceptance, of belonging, of success and failure, shed like the clothing the other dancers were shedding on the floor. There was nothing but them, like flames, nameless but known past naming, until, for fear they should burst, they stumbled to the door and fell through it, leaving the music to pulse behind them like the memory of an orgasm in the blood.
Walking back to the hotel cooled the blood in their face and the sweat on their bodies, but not the fire in their blood. They couldn't touch...even being close made their bodies pulse.
"Shower, " Ginny said firmly once they were in the room, peeling off the velvet mini-dress and kicking off knickers and shoes, pulling off her bra. Hermione was prying the leather and satin from her own body, following her in. The warm water suddenly made them both aware of how sweaty they were, and it was with a slower but no less profound intimacy that Ginny ran soapy hands over Hermione's torso, seeing pleasure darken the caramel eyes while the lids hooded slightly. Her lips parted, ghostly sigh emerging, and she lifted her arms, letting Ginny run her hands down her sides to her hips, a touch that was both innocent and erotic. She turned her face to the water, and it sleeked her hair down, otter slick, and Ginny felt her heart skip a beat with sheer desire.
Drying charms had their hair dry, despite its fullness and length, a moment after they stepped out of the shower, and it was Ginny who led Hermione in to the bed, laid her down, and pressed her arms above her head. "Stay there," she whispered into her ear, then slid down her body and began to kiss her feet.
So much heat between them, let loose in a place they didn't have to worry about interruption, for the first time ever. And so much worry, drawing them both so tense...It made them sharp, called out a kind of sweet mercilessness in them both. Heat and teeth and softness and wanting, deep and powerful, memory of the music stirring in her blood...Talk to her, touch her, and whisper more wild words into her ear, until she curls herself like a bow into your shoulder and sinks her teeth in, eyes like something wild and startled in the forest, and sobs, and shivers, and there are tears in her eyes that are so lovely that there's nothing to do but kiss them away....and let her touch you in return....