Pairings: Ginny Weasley / Hermione Granger
Rating: R
Summary: Hermione doesn’t know everything.
Content: masturbation
Notes: This story is an answer to Kaz’s Girl Power Challenge, located at: http://www.livejournal.com/users/kaz814/149887.html It is also the first thing that I have written in about 6 months, so bear with me, if it is a little rusty.
Hermione didn’t think of herself as particularly naive. She couldn’t have told you why, when she realized what was happening, she didn’t quickly – and quietly – turn around and leave. Instead, she felt the hard wood against her shoulders and her fingers were clenched, white-knuckled, around the handle of the closed door, and she was on the wrong side of it.
She must have made a small sound of distress, because Ginny’s eyes flew open, and locked with hers. Hermione could only stare at the vision in front of her, and other than a slight narrowing of her eyes, Ginny didn’t seem inclined to move.
Her shirt was bunched up around her armpits, leaving her chest bare. Her skin was creamy and smooth, with scattered freckles coming from her collarbone, through the shallow valley between her breasts, across the smooth, flat, plane of her stomach all the way to her hips, which were visible above the open waist of her shorts. They had been pushed down, just enough, that Hermione could see the ginger curls that were just slightly darker than the long tresses spread out beneath Ginny, across her pillow.
One small hand was buried in those curls. It was still now, as Ginny watched and waited for Hermione’s reaction, but there had been no mistaking the furious motion it had been occupied with when Hermione had walked into the room, or the way Ginny still hadn’t caught her breath, and a rosy glow still highlighted her skin.
“What are you doing?” Hermione said in a voice barely above a whisper, and knew it was an inane question, even as she asked.
“I figure that should be pretty obvious, even to someone with half your brains, Hermione.” Ginny sighed and started to sit up, tugging her clothes into some semblance of order. “It’s not like you’ve never done it.”
Hermione’s blush and strangled squeak told another story.
Ginny’s head snapped up, and she pinned Hermione with her gaze, as she crossed her room to where Hermione stood. “You mean to tell me that you’ve never stirred your own cauldron?”
Ginny reached for the door handle, as Hermione turned an even deeper shade of red. She barely heard Ginny’s chuckle and her throaty whisper – “You don’t know what you’re missing.” – before the other girl was gone, leaving Hermione alone in the middle of the bedroom, wondering what the hell had just happened.