Hothousing
It is a recurring dream of Hermione's, no matter where she is. It first came to her at 12 Grimmauld Place, persisted after relocation to the Burrow and, even now, stays a constant element of Hermione's life in the school dormitories. Try as she may, she cannot help but see Ginny Weasley in her dreams and wake with her bedsheets in anxious coils, tightly twisting around her damp thighs.
With her fastidious attention to detail, she realizes even while asleep that each location could prove awkward for a night rendezvous. In her dream she knows there are family or furious paintings or classmates to avoid awakening, and enchanted chairs with sharp teeth or discarded copies of Fantastic Beasts & Where to Find Them or butterfly nets to evade or trip over in the dark.
But every night, her dream-self sidestepping all of the potential dangers, Hermione creeps into Ginny's bed. When she kisses Ginny into wakefulness, she can taste toothpaste and the sweet, faintly sour tang of the bright orange candies Ginny likes to sneak after dinner.
In her fantasy, Hermione inexplicably knows exactly what to do. Navigating by touch, she fumbles under the ruffle of Ginny's pink nightie, her hands dancing on the ticklish land of her soft underbelly, her pointy little girl hips. Ginny's body becomes a length of white paper for Hermione's fingerprints to leave their signature upon, and her freckles become comrades to the tiny pomegranate-colored bruises that blossom under Hermione's hands. In the darkness of the dream-night, Ginny's hair glows crimson and tangerine, unfolding from her myriad insect-glittering hairpins like eager bursting buds.
Hermione, always so exact with language, looks to Ginny's face and calls it a flower, beautiful in its openness as her hands discover and rediscover the petal-slick secret place between her freckled thighs. Ginny's face is in full bloom when she's coming hard, her body clenched around those ink-splattered fingers and her lips forming a wet posy shape.
When Hermione wakes up, the sunlight is warm on her face and Ginny-- the real Ginny-- is leaning over her bed calling her a sleepyhead and smiling brilliantly. Her hair catches the yellow light of day and she is wreathed in orange blossoms, fire flowers, and tiger lilies just as she was in the gloom of the dream. The sweet memory of Hermione's fantasy is but a floret, a tender seedling she will hold close to her heart until the day it blossoms into wonderful, irrevocable reality and she can taste satisfaction in Ginny's true kiss, banishing the cold comfort of a phantom embrace.