HP fic: Looking at Each Other [Ginny/Hermione, adult]
Title: Looking at Each Other Author: celandineb Fandom: HP Pairing: Ginny/Hermione Rating: adult Warnings: Ginny's 15, Hermione's 16. Summary: The boys are all watching Fleur, to Ginny and Hermione's annoyance. Note: Teenyfic (719 words) written for magna_maxima, at the request of lottelita, who suggested Hermione/Ginny, prompt "straight," and asked for something fluffy and smutty.
"She's so, so..." Ginny flopped on her bed, too furious to even think of the right word.
"I know," agreed Hermione from the other side of the room.
"I can't even decide if it's deliberate. But she must know how irritating it is when she walks through a room and all the boys stop talking – or thinking, to all appearances – and stare at her." Letting out a frustrated sigh, Ginny ticked off Fleur's qualities. "Beautiful features, slim, blonde, blue eyes, French accent... Harry's not even going to look at me if she's around!"
"Ron's the same way." Hermione paused. "But we can look at each other."
"We can what?" Then Ginny remembered, with a blush, the way that she and Hermione had practiced kissing before the Yule Ball, both of them anxious lest their lack of experience might show. "Oh..."
"Haven't you wondered, just a little bit? Because I have." Hermione's voice was not as throaty as Fleur's, but intense nonetheless, and Ginny swallowed.
"Yes," she admitted. It would be safe; Hermione wouldn't tell anyone, wouldn't think less of Ginny. She took a deep breath and stood up, walking over to Hermione's bed.
Hermione gave her a shaky smile. "I've never..."
"Me, either." Certainly not with Neville, who had only given her a very chaste kiss on the cheek, after all. Michael had been quite a good kisser, but they'd never gone much farther than that; a little touching through clothing. He might have liked more but Ginny had been reluctant.
With Hermione she didn't need to be. They'd been sharing Ginny's room, seen each other change into their nighties; Ginny had told Hermione about the Cold Water Charm that took blood out of fabric much better than actual cold water.
Hermione's hair should have smelled like ink and parchment, Ginny thought, but instead it gave off the scent of sunshine as Ginny buried her face in Hermione's neck, kissing her way from ear to mouth. Hermione's hands slid shyly across Ginny's back to cup her bum and pull her closer as their lips met.
Some hazy time later, Ginny was naked and panting as Hermione moved down her body. Where had Hermione learned that way of flicking her tongue? Ginny squirmed, caught on the edge between finding it ticklish and erotic, and suddenly Hermione's mouth was on her clit, warm wet tongue sliding between equally wet folds.
"Oh," Hermione gasped, and licked again as if tasting one of the twins' more successful experiments.
Her own fingers had never felt this good, not even when she pretended it was Harry touching her. Ginny cried out softly as she came, her thighs locked around Hermione's shoulders. Hermione looked up at her, brown hair frizzing more wildly than usual from Ginny's wetness, then bent her head and kept on, until Ginny was shaking, coming over and over, her whole cunt seeming to melt under Hermione's tongue.
When Hermione finally stopped, Ginny was almost too languid to move, but she sat up anyway and brought their faces together, tasting her own juices on Hermione's face and mouth, familiar and strange. She wanted to make Hermione feel as good as she did.
Pressing Hermione down onto the bed, Ginny traced a straight line from Hermione's mouth to navel and down to the triangle of hair that concealed her clit. It was dark-brown and curly and much thicker than Ginny's still-sparse auburn tuft, and tickled her nose and cheeks as she tentatively spread Hermione's legs apart and ran her tongue over the soft pink flesh.
Not quite the same as her own; better, tangier, and the way that Hermione groaned and said Ginny's name as if it were an incantation made the blood rush to Ginny's head. She tried sucking on the little nub, one hand holding Hermione open, and then she slid a finger into Hermione – would she like that? – and Hermione gasped out, "yes, please," and Ginny fucked her triumphantly with two fingers until Hermione writhed and quivered and made sounds that Ginny'd never heard from anyone before, not even when she'd listened to her brothers wanking.
"God." Hermione touched Ginny's hair, her shoulder, urging her up.
They cuddled together, sweaty skins and smell of sex.
"And with Bill in London, Fleur's not getting any," said Ginny. She looked at Hermione, and smiled.