HP fic "A Bird In The Hand" (M)
Title: A Bird In The Hand Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns all the characters. I just borrow them on occasion. Rating: M Summary: Sometimes you take what you can get. Hermione/Ginny.
A Bird In The Hand
If it wasn't for the war, we wouldn't even have this, Hermione thinks. She can still feel the featherlight trail of fevered kisses tracing the curve of one shoulder, sliding from her collarbone down between her breasts and further. Ginny's touch is like a brand, marking her with a ferocity no one ever sees.
"I'm not as sweet as I seem," she would say, licking her way languorously along along Hermione's spine. Hermione shivers with pleasure, but still begs to differ. She has, after all, tasted Ginny, and thinks that she is very sweet indeed.
Hermione rolls over, rubbing herself lazily into the pocket of warmth Ginny has left in the tangled sheets. Jealousy, bitter as bile, rises up in her like a tidal wave.
For Ginny never stays the whole night with her. She glides in under cover of darkness, slipping silently into Hermione's welcoming arms. Her kisses taste of fire and ice. She wastes no time with teasing, but drives fingers and tongue into Hermione, somehow managing to be both tender and brutal.
Ginny never forgets the Silencing Charms, or to put extra privacy wards on the door.
She brings Hermione to ecstasy, again and again, rubbing herself relentlessly against the older girl's fingers to achieve her own satisfaction.
They rarely talk. No one whispers words of love or commitment, but instead trace their oaths on skin with slippery tongues, writing all sentiment with silent probing fingers.
Ginny never stays the night.
She waits just long enough for the sweat to dry a little, for the breathing to calm, for Hermione to begin drifting into a light doze.
And then she leaves. And goes to Neville, who knows nothing of this.
"If you tell him," Ginny promises, "then it's over."
But Hermione doesn't care, not really. For there is a war on; these are desperate times, calling - as they say - for desperate measures, and she has many future plans that include Ginny Weasley not at all.
She closes her eyes and dreams of flame-red hair fanned out on the pillow, igniting her in ways she never read about in books.
A lot of people, good people, are lost in the Last Big Battle.
For years afterward, when she awakens gasping and sobbing in the dead of night, Neville asks no questions but simply holds his wife until she calms.
He never asks Ginny why she sometimes cries out Hermione's name during their lovemaking.
It's immaterial now, anyway, Neville realizes, for he and Ginny both, and he will take whatever pieces she has left.