Hermione rolled over in bed, listening to the sound of rain hammering the roof. The Burrow was quiet, aside from the thunderstorm outside and the hearth downstairs, which sent the occasional loud snap through the house as it crackled.
She opened her eyes in the darkness, trying to make out the outline of Ginny’s sleeping form. She could envision her long hair sprawled across her pillow, despite the room being too dark to actually see it. Hermione was used to sharing a bed with the redhead; her and Ron’s relationship had finally been made official after the war, but there was no chance of them sleeping side by side under Molly Weasley’s roof before vows had been read. Therefore, from their Hogwarts days to now—two years later—Hermione spent every visit staying in Ginny’s bedroom, sharing her downy full bed. Hermione never protested this rule—to tell the truth, she didn’t mind being so close to Ginny. She could smell her sweet, herbal soap, and there was something soothing about her soft, even breathing. She was admiring the way the lighting flashing outside the window lit up Ginny’s sleeping face when she felt something stir at the end of the bed. Chills ran up her spine when she realized Ginny’s foot had just brushed her own, coming to rest against it.
Tentatively, she adjusted her foot, careful not to move it away. She closed her eyes, relishing in the contact, despite its insignificance. When her eyelids fluttered open once more, lightning illuminated the room, revealing that she and Ginny were now only an arm’s length apart. Nervously, she inched back, not wanting to disturb her friend’s slumber. Hermione sighed softly and pulled her foot back, feeling embarrassed by her own excitement. You’re with Ron, she silently scolded herself. Pull yourself together.
She shut her eyes more firmly, determined to fall asleep and ignore the feelings of gentle longing coursing through her. A clap of thunder rattled the room, piercing the constant rhythm of raindrops. Hermione pushed her head further into the soft pillow, pulling the patchwork quilt up to her chin. Suddenly, she felt a jolt of electricity shoot through her as Ginny’s foot brushed hers again. Her stomach lurched and her eyes shot open, but as lightning lit the room, she saw that Ginny’s lids were shut, her expression peaceful.
Hermione held her breath as she moved her foot back slightly once more, just enough to barely lose contact with Ginny, their skin mere millimeters apart. After a moment that felt like an eternity, she felt Ginny’s touch once more, her foot skimming over top of Hermione’s so that their ankles were crossed.
Hermione released an exhale, pulling her shaking hands to her chest. As she fiddled nervously with the neckline of her t-shirt, the rain outside began to slow. The thunder and lightning had ceased, leaving only a gentle rainshower once more. The room was filled with inky blackness, with Hermione unable to see the girl beside her any longer.
She knew that sleep would be far off now; her head was filled with thoughts of the red-headed girl with soft skin, ever-so quick-witted and kind. She thought of the rosy lips that held her sharp tongue, and immediately cursed herself for doing so. She imagined tracing her fingertip across Ginny’s face, mapping constellations in the freckles scattered across her nose and onto her cheeks. Her thoughts wandered down from Ginny’s face to her neck, then to her pale collarbones, her defined stomach… Hermione felt heat rise into her cheeks as something fluttered deep within her core.
Before her thoughts could travel any lower, she felt the mattress stir beside her. Ginny was moving in her sleep, turning closer to Hermione than she’d been previously.
Hermione’s breath hitched as she noticed the flowery scent of Ginny’s hair. The fragrance was light and airy, but it might as well have been opium the way it captured Hermione’s attention. She was pulled away from the sweet distraction by the feeling of something brushing her hand. She inhaled sharply when she realized that Ginny’s fingertips were touching her own. Hermione hesitated, her mind racing as she wondered whether or not Ginny was still asleep. She cautiously moved her thumb, rubbing it along the side of Ginny’s hand. Her heart leapt as Ginny moved her hand once more, intertwining their fingers together.
As she committed every second of this tiny moment to memory, hoping it would never end, Hermione tried to steady her breathing. She could feel her heart hammering against her ribs, and in an instant, she was overcome with a need to know.
“Ginny?” she murmured, so quietly that it was barely audible over the pattering of rain on the roof.
There was a moment of silence and Hermione’s throat tightened, as the anxiety that this was all accidental filled her. She’s probably dreaming, she thought mournfully.
Before she could pull her hand away, she caught the sound of a faint whisper.
“Yes?”
Hermione’s heart threatened to break free of her sternum. She inched closer to Ginny in tiny motions, trying desperately not to move her hand even a millimeter. Her head was now on the very edge of her pillow, dangerously close to sliding onto Ginny’s. She blinked into the blackness, trying hopelessly to see if Ginny was looking back at her, but there was nothing visible in the tiny, dark bedroom.
Suddenly, she felt a tiny rush of air against her face, and realized that Ginny’s face was only inches from hers. Before she could decipher this reality, Ginny’s hand left hers. Warm, shaking fingertips grazed Hermione’s jaw before coming to rest cautiously on her cheek.
Hermione’s eyes fluttered shut as she lay there frozen; only the continued force of her pounding heart could show that she was alive and filled with fire. She held her breath and forced herself to move, tilting her jaw up only slightly before she felt her lips brush Ginny’s. She retreated slightly, nervously pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. Two seconds passed, each one feeling like an eternity, until she heard Ginny take a deep breath. Before another moment had passed, Ginny’s lips were on hers, kissing her softly.
Hermione had been kissed before. She and Victor had kissed after the Yule Ball, before departing to their separate dormitories. It was a polite kiss, practically tradition given the night they had spent dancing. She had drunkenly kissed Harry during a game of truth or dare in the Gryffindor common room during 6th year, but there had never been any spark of romance between them—it was a comical, childish kiss. She had kissed Ron many times throughout the years—from inexperienced, fumbling kisses during the school to comfortable, easy kisses now that they were adults in a real relationship—she had kissed him more times than she could count. Yet, every kiss paled in comparison to this one. Those kisses felt okay—the boys were all kind, and her memories of their lips were pleasant enough.
This was different.
Ginny’s lips on hers made her feel like her body was floating. Her head was spinning, and for the first time in her life, her mind could think of only one thing; the only thing in the world that existed was the girl in front of her. She tangled her fingers into her hair and deepened the kiss.
“Is this okay?” She murmured into Ginny’s mouth, still somehow terrified that this was all a misunderstanding.
“Yes,” Ginny breathed, moving her hands to Hermione’s waist and pulling her closer. She kicked at the quilt, pushing it down towards the foot of the bed.
Hermione had dreamed of this moment more than once—dreamed of holding Ginny close and kissing her, breathing her in, disappearing into her arms. She had pushed the idea away, shoved it down whenever it crept back into memory and tried desperately to love Ron the way she thought she was supposed to. But in this moment, she realized what it felt like to truly want someone, to need them.
A quiet moan escaped her lips as Ginny’s hands roamed underneath the fabric of her t-shirt, her fingernails tracing softly across her back. The hem slid upward, exposing her skin to the cool air. Hermione’s skin prickled with goosebumps at the sudden dip in temperature.
“Can I?” Ginny murmured as she pulled Hermione’s shirt further upward. Hermione nodded her agreement, sitting up and raising her arms to allow Ginny to remove it.
Hermione felt suddenly insecure when her t-shirt hit the floor, pulling her arms to her chest to cover herself as she laid back down. She heard the soft sound of Ginny’s tank top hitting the floor beside the bed. Without a word, Ginny placed her hands on Hermione’s, pulling them gently away from her body. She leaned down and kissed her, and in one swift motion, swung her leg over Hermione’s hips so that she was straddling her waist. Ginny’s long red hair curtained her face as she deepened the kiss, pushing Hermione’s wrists into the mattress on either side of her head. Hermione pushed her hips up, grinding against Ginny as she let out another soft moan.
“Shh,” Ginny breathed, breaking the kiss and moving one hand to trace her thumb over Hermione’s bottom lip. “We need to be quiet, don’t we?” She placed her other hand on Hermione’s jaw, stroking her cheek.
“Yes,” Hermione managed, pressing her legs together to release some of the tension building between her thighs. Her efforts were pointless because the moment Ginny moved her lips down to Hermione’s neck, she felt a wave of pleasure spread across her pulsing sex. She slid her hands around Ginny’s waist, pulling her closer. Moving one hand up to Ginny’s chest, Hermione felt her nipple harden under her teasing fingertips. Ginny moaned into her neck, grinding into Hermione as pleasure coursed through her.
“I thought we had to be quiet,” Hermione murmured, moving her hand to Ginny’s other nipple and caressing it with her fingers.
Ginny could only groan in response as she latched her lips onto Hermione’s skin, sure to leave a mark. Hermione gasped at the mixture of pain and pleasure, moving her other hand down to Ginny’s arse and squeezing. Ginny kissed the bruise she had just created, teasing the sensitive spot with her tongue.
Hermione’s breath hitched as Ginny moved one hand down her stomach, her fingertips coming to rest at the waistband of her shorts. She dipped her fingertips underneath the fabric, bringing them to Hermione’s wet core. Hermione moaned, bucking her hips upward as Ginny stroked her slit, never quite reaching her aching clit.
Ginny sat up and moved off of Hermione, who whimpered at the loss of contact. She felt Ginny take hold of her waistband and pull her loose pyjama shorts down her legs, before tossing them onto the floor beside the bed. When Ginny straddled her again, Hermione could feel that she had discarded her shorts as well. Their lips collided once more as Ginny slowly moved her hand between their bodies, back down to Hermione’s cunt. Hermione gasped as Ginny circled her clit, teasing her slowly.
“Ginny, please,” Hermione moaned.
Ginny leaned forward. “Tell me how you like it,” she whispered into her ear, her warm breath sending chills down Hermione’s spine.
“Down, just a bit,” Hermione managed. Ginny obliged, moving her gentle fingers down a fraction of an inch. “Yes, right there,” Hermione panted. “Just like that.”
Continuing to rub her clit, Ginny began moving downward until she was kneeling between Hermione’s legs. She took her other hand and began to circle the entrance of Hermione’s cunt. As she eased one finger into Hermione’s soaking core, she leaned forward, moving her hand away so she could use her mouth. Swirling her tongue around Hermione’s clit, she pressed a second finger into her cunt. “Tell me how you like it,” she murmured between strokes.
“Oh, Gods,” Hermione moaned, forgetting to be quiet. “Just like that, fuck,” she gasped, burying her hands into Ginny’s hair. Hermione felt every muscle in her body begin to tighten as Ginny continued working her tongue against her clit. She gasped as Ginny curved her fingers up inside of her, pressing hard as she continued pumping them in and out.
Hermione’s entire body burned as the feelings of pleasure built inside of her. “Oh, Ginny,” she breathed as the redhead increased the speed of her fingers, her tongue ravishing her clit. “I—I think I’m going to come,” she managed.
“Come for me,” Ginny murmured before returning her tongue to Hermione’s sensitive bud. She reached up with her free hand and took Hermione’s pebbled nipple between her fingers, pinching it gently.
The added wave of pleasure took Hermione to the edge. She felt as if she were teetering at the top of a mountain, trying desperately to fall to the other side. She had given herself orgasms before, when she was touching herself alone in her room. Yet every time she’d been with Ron, she’d left the interaction unsatisfied. He didn’t seem to know what to do, or even care to figure out what she liked. This was an entirely new sensation, to have Ginny’s fingers pumping out of her, her relentless tongue pressed against her clit. Every nerve ending in her body was alive, electricity running through her veins. Pleasure radiated out from her soaking-wet core, and as the muscles in her abdomen clenched, she came undone.
She cried out as the orgasm tore through her, amplified by Ginny’s still-moving fingers. Her back arched off the mattress as she came, fisting the sheet underneath her as she wriggled away from the overstimulation of Ginny’s tongue. “Oh, Gods,” she panted as her lower body twitched, still feeling the shockwaves of her climax.
As Hermione came down from her high, Ginny slowly withdrew her fingers, bringing them to her mouth. “Heavenly,” she murmured, her face slick with Hermione’s wetness.
Hermione pulled Ginny towards her, tasting herself on her lips as she kissed her. Ginny rose to her knees, straddling Hermione’s waist once more.
“Come here,” Hermione said, taking hold of Ginny’s thighs and pulling upward.
“Are you sure?” Ginny whispered as she inched forward until her cunt was positioned over Hermione’s face.
“I’ve never done this before,” Hermione managed, “but I—I’ve imagined it.” She tightened her grip on Ginny’s hips, lowering her so that her soaking core grazed her lips.
“Oh,” she heard Ginny gasp.
Hermione opened her mouth, bringing her tongue to Ginny’s cunt. “How’s that?” she murmured into her sex.
“More,” Ginny begged, bringing her hands up to play with her own nipples.
Hermione flicked her tongue against Ginny’s clit. She licked the length of her slit and then returned to her sensitive bud of nerves, relishing in Ginny’s whimpers and the movement of her hips. She took her clit between her lips and swirled her tongue against it, the way Ginny had done it only moments before. Hermione tentatively brought her hand up, pressing her fingers against Ginny’s entrance.
“Fuck, Hermione, please,” Ginny begged, throwing her head back.
Hermione pushed two fingers into Ginny’s cunt, causing Ginny to lean forward and grab the headboard as she moaned. “Yes, fuck,” she panted, grinding her slit into Hermione’s open mouth.
Hermione began to pump her fingers in and out of Ginny as she swirled her tongue, lapping against the bud of nerves. She felt Ginny’s defined thighs stiffen, tightening slightly on either side of her head.
“So good,” Ginny moaned, unable to articulate a complete sentence. Hermione continued the motion, increasing the pressure of her tongue until she felt Ginny’s thighs begin to tremble.
“I’m going to come,” she heard Ginny gasp. “Oh fuck.”
Hermione felt Ginny’s walls clench around her fingers as she came, grinding against Hermione’s tongue. Hermione slowed her tongue as Ginny’s motions grew sloppy. Eventually, Hermione withdrew her fingers, and Ginny shakily pushed herself back, collapsing onto Hermione’s chest.
“Where…did you learn that?” Ginny panted, moving so that she was sprawled next to Hermione, her arm thrown over her stomach.
“My dreams,” Hermione responded, wiping her glistening lips as Ginny giggled.
“What about you?” Hermione whispered.
“The Harpies locker room,” Ginny whispered back. Hermione stifled a laugh. She breathed in the familiar scent of Ginny’s hair as she pressed her lips to the top of her head.
Tomorrow, there would be things to deal with. There would be consequences to face, there would be explanations needed. But tonight, there was only her.
“Accio quilt,” Hermione murmured, the blanket having hit the floor long ago. The patchwork fabric flew through the air into her outstretched hand. She pulled it over their bare bodies, relishing in the warmth radiating from Ginny’s freckled skin.
“Wandless magic, how impressive,” Ginny murmured, snuggling into Hermione’s collarbone.
“Clearly wands aren’t a necessary part of the equation,” Hermione giggled.
Ginny groaned. “Godric, help me. That is the worst joke…” But she soon joined Hermione in her laughter. The only other sound in the Burrow was the rain on the roof, which continued to patter against the roof above the now-sleepy witches.