FICLET: Supposing (Ginny/Ginny, Ginny/Dean, Ginny/Hermione)
Title: Supposing
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: (Ginny/Ginny, Ginny/Dean, Ginny/Hermione)
Length: 465 words
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Additional Notes: Right. Early present for siobhanohare. Am saving the last one for Christmas. :P *snugs upon* Er, I hope the Hermione/Ginny cheers you up, love, from all the Justin!Angst. XD
Ginny was fourteen when she first tried to touch herself, in the girl's bathroom, late at night when she was sure nobody would walk in. She locked the door and picked the cubicle in the farthest corner, stripping down to nothing and resting her back on cold bathroom tiles so there were no sheets to wash, no clothes to soil.
She nudged one finger in, then two, slowly moving them in and out and wondering whether they were supposed to feel good yet. She tried a third finger but they couldn't go all the way through, and she pushed and there was slick wetness but it had been blood.
She hadn't touched herself since then.
In fifth year she'd let Dean Thomas touch her, in the Room of Requirement because all DA members were doing it, with scented candles and red-laced pillows because they loved each other.
He kissed her slowly and took off her blouse, fumbling with the zip of her skirt before fumbling with his, squeezing her breast awkwardly as he thrust into her. She closed her eyes and clung to him, arching her hips to move with his but it had felt only like a whole lot of unnecessary friction.
He told her he loved her and he came soon after.
She lay there, spent and uncomfortable, with his head on her chest, stroking his hair idly and wondering if she'd missed something.
She was sixteen when she kissed Hermione in the Burrow, just before they went to sleep. She'd crawled into her bed and told her it didn't feel like Christmas even with the presents and the food and she was scared, and Hermione had told her things would be alright. She believed her, because it was Hermione, who knew things, and who wouldn't believe Hermione, and she'd leant in to kiss her thankyou on the cheek but Hermione had turned to tell her something else and she'd kissed the corner of Hermione's mouth instead.
That couldn't have been right, she thought, so she kissed Hermione on the mouth and slipped her tongue in, and when Hermione's fingers danced patterns on her skin she forgot to charm their door locked and how useful Silencio would be.
Hermione hiked up her nightshirt, smooth hands moving up Ginny's thighs, lips peppering kisses on freckled skin and tongue tracing wet impressions along the lines of her body. She reached down and stroked her with her thumb, a little bit roughly, and Ginny didn't even have to pretend when she moaned, didn't even consciously remind herself to kiss Hermione back, didn't have to wonder if that was it when she found herself clinging to Hermione's arms, pressing herself against Hermione's fingers, crying Hermione's name moments later.
She supposed the third time's the charm, after all.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: (Ginny/Ginny, Ginny/Dean, Ginny/Hermione)
Length: 465 words
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Additional Notes: Right. Early present for siobhanohare. Am saving the last one for Christmas. :P *snugs upon* Er, I hope the Hermione/Ginny cheers you up, love, from all the Justin!Angst. XD
Ginny was fourteen when she first tried to touch herself, in the girl's bathroom, late at night when she was sure nobody would walk in. She locked the door and picked the cubicle in the farthest corner, stripping down to nothing and resting her back on cold bathroom tiles so there were no sheets to wash, no clothes to soil.
She nudged one finger in, then two, slowly moving them in and out and wondering whether they were supposed to feel good yet. She tried a third finger but they couldn't go all the way through, and she pushed and there was slick wetness but it had been blood.
She hadn't touched herself since then.
In fifth year she'd let Dean Thomas touch her, in the Room of Requirement because all DA members were doing it, with scented candles and red-laced pillows because they loved each other.
He kissed her slowly and took off her blouse, fumbling with the zip of her skirt before fumbling with his, squeezing her breast awkwardly as he thrust into her. She closed her eyes and clung to him, arching her hips to move with his but it had felt only like a whole lot of unnecessary friction.
He told her he loved her and he came soon after.
She lay there, spent and uncomfortable, with his head on her chest, stroking his hair idly and wondering if she'd missed something.
She was sixteen when she kissed Hermione in the Burrow, just before they went to sleep. She'd crawled into her bed and told her it didn't feel like Christmas even with the presents and the food and she was scared, and Hermione had told her things would be alright. She believed her, because it was Hermione, who knew things, and who wouldn't believe Hermione, and she'd leant in to kiss her thankyou on the cheek but Hermione had turned to tell her something else and she'd kissed the corner of Hermione's mouth instead.
That couldn't have been right, she thought, so she kissed Hermione on the mouth and slipped her tongue in, and when Hermione's fingers danced patterns on her skin she forgot to charm their door locked and how useful Silencio would be.
Hermione hiked up her nightshirt, smooth hands moving up Ginny's thighs, lips peppering kisses on freckled skin and tongue tracing wet impressions along the lines of her body. She reached down and stroked her with her thumb, a little bit roughly, and Ginny didn't even have to pretend when she moaned, didn't even consciously remind herself to kiss Hermione back, didn't have to wonder if that was it when she found herself clinging to Hermione's arms, pressing herself against Hermione's fingers, crying Hermione's name moments later.
She supposed the third time's the charm, after all.