Happy Valentine's Day to lovers and loners alike. Let's kick off this excuse to spend tons of cash on candy and trinkets with another new fandom and some hot lesbian slash ;D

Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling. If I was… Well that'd be pretty awesome.

Thanks go to GrimGrave for beta-ing this :3


The Burrow was always a hive of activity, what with the flock of ginger-haired teens laughing boisterously, grins on their freckled faces and mischief in their hearts as their parents tried to keep up.

Naturally, there were visitors of all sorts—friends, family, members of secret, magical societies—and that only added to the perpetual chaos.

Especially during the Holidays.

Harry Potter, the famous "boy who lived" was in, visiting his best friend, which meant Mrs. and Mr. Weasley were doing their absolute best to make the house as hospitable as possible and the kitchen was abuzz with flying kitchenware and assorted ingredients while the boys romped around outside.

That left their other houseguest to sit by her lonesome amidst the hovering appliances, her nose buried in a thick tome—a lovely brown-haired witch by the name of Hermione Granger.

Said nose was scrunched cutely, her lips moving slightly as she tried her best to make out whatever the subject matter was. Judging by the long, complicated words on the cover, nothing terribly entertaining.

The young, brilliant brunette was probably the only one at Hogwarts who used their break to get ahead in their school work… She really needed to learn to just sit back and relax.

Hermione reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and Ginny sighed softly, leaning against the support beam she had been hiding behind. It just wasn't right to wan-admire the older girl like this… Especially considering the fact that her older brother, Ron, had a huge crush on her.

Besides, the brown-haired beauty would likely prefer him—if only because he was a boy. It was normal for young women to like young men.

Life was just so unfair sometimes.

"Up to no good, Gin?"

The red-head started, whirling to face two nearly identical, freckled, slyly-smiling faces—her twin brothers, Fred and George. She had been so lost in thought that she hadn't heard their approach.

"I certainly hope so. How else would we know she's our sister?"

They were well-known pranksters; class clowns of legendary proportions. The entirety of the wizarding community had been touched by their shenanigans in one way or another, whether it was through the joke shop, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, they now ran in Diagon Alley or by being the victim of one of their (admittedly brilliant) schemes.

Ginny sniffed. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm on my best behaviour."

The look they shared made the young woman bristle suspiciously.

"Well…" Fred began.

"If you say so!" George snorted.

"And just what is that supposed to mean?"

Another look. Did they have twin telepathy or something?

"Well…" George began.

"Ginny, you've got it bad," Fred supplied.

She swore she went as red as her hair. "W-what?"

"Little Ms. Granger over there." George jabbed his thumb in the studying witch's direction. "I mean, you've got brilliant taste—I'll give you that. She's probably a real tomcat in the sack, too."

"Will you keep your voice down?!" the ginger hissed, smashing her older sibling in the arm.

"Ow! What'd you do that for?"

"Calm yourself, Gin. You know Hermione can't hear anyone when she's focused like that. An entire herd of…Of unicorns that crap out the most astounding candies could stampede passed, neighing and shitting out chocolate frogs, and she'd just keep on reading."

He had a point… And a rather vivid one at that.

"How did you know…?"

Fred rolled his eyes. "You serious? You've been pining away for bloody ages."

George fluttered his eyelashes and sighed dreamily.

"Have not!"

"Ginny, we're your brothers. You can be honest with us. And honestly, it's obvious that you're a raging lesbian."

Fred burst out laughing, clapping his hands over his mouth to muffle the sound.

"A-am not!"

They shared yet another look then stared at their sister, simultaneously crossing their arms over their chests and assuming a disapproving expression.

"Hasn't mum taught you better than to lie?" the taller (by, what, half an inch?) of the two asked.


"Okay, okay!" she relented. "So I like—"

"'Desperately want,' you mean."

Her cheeks were never going to lose their rosy hue.

"So what if I do?"

"So we're going to help you out."

… What?

"You're our sister, Gin. Of course we're going to help you."

Okay, there had to be some sort of catch here. She eyed the twins suspiciously. "What for?"

Fred grinned. "Honestly?"

"It's just pathetic watching you pine away like that."

"Right. Bloody awful."

Fred and George doing something out of the kindness of their hearts? Hell must be freezing over. That or there was something more going on here… Either way, she'd find out soon enough.

"Besides, it'd be a laugh just to see Ron's face when you steal his girl."

There, see? Soon enough.

"George, that's horrid!"


"How do you even know she likes girls?"

"Tch. We love you, Gin, but you're rather dim at times."

"Completely," Fred agreed.

Since when were her jokester brothers also relationship experts?

"Anyway, we've got things to do. Don't worry, we'll call you."

And, with that, the siblings disappeared as quietly as they had come.

"We know what you've done to our sister."

Hermione blinked, suddenly finding herself trapped between two tall, lanky, ginger-haired males. "What in the world are you two talking about…?"


"Who else?"

The brilliant young woman frowned, confusion giving way to annoyance. She hated not understanding…

Actually, you could leave the sentence at that.

"Please make sense for once, boys."

"I'm wounded!" Fred (or was it George?) sniffed.

"Such a pretty face, but such a sharp tongue. Shame," George (or was it Fred?) sighed.

"But, you know, it's not entirely a loss."

"What makes you say that?"

"Some people are into the bossy types."

A snort. "Now that I think about it, I'm not surprised."

Hermione was starting to get dizzy.

"Look, point is, we know you tried to love potion our dear sister."

H-how…? Poor Ron had been the victim of that particular mix-up as well, but how had the twins known that the intended target had been the sweet little red-haired tease she half-witch, half-muggle hybrid had fallen for? She hadn't told a soul—not even Harry.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." It sounded weak even to her ears. She had never been a very good liar.

The twins shared a look. Then, the taller (but just barely) of the two leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, "What would you say if I told you that you could skip all that silliness?"

"What do you mean?"

"For someone so smart, you're awfully thick."

"That's how it always is, Fred."

"Think so?"

"Remember that girl I dated back in fast year? Real egg head—no offense Hermione. Didn't know you were hitting on her unless you specifically stated that you were."

"Oh yeah… Whatever happened to her?"


"What does this have to do with me and your sister?" Hermione interrupted, expression incredulous.

"Mm? Yeah, so, you're sleeping in Gin's room, right?"

She was and it was downright torture to be so close… And yet so far from the person she wanted most.

Contrary to popular belief, Hermione Granger wasn't some sort of asexual being created solely for the purpose of absorbing knowledge. Oh, no. She was very much aware of the world around her and the people in it, though over the years that awareness had changed dramatically. The brunette wasn't sure when she had stopped swooning over chiseled features and hard, sculpted bodies and started salivating over gentle, exquisite looks and soft, sweet forms—nor did she care.

What she did know was that her interest in the youngest Weasley had developed ages ago and it was still going on strong; still leaving her restless and aching and damp without fail.

Some nights she just couldn't help herself… With wild red locks and dazzling green eyes in mind, she—


"Merlin's beard, Hermione, where did you go just now?!"

The brunette opened her eyes, her bottom lip between her teeth, to see the astonished faces of the Weasley twins and she felt her cheeks go supernova.

"Um…" Had they heard that…?

"My innocent ears!" Despite his words, Fred's expression was appreciative.

"Looks like you won't even be needing our help," George said thoughtfully.

Of course, she couldn't very well touch herself, what with subject of her wettest, wildest dreams sleeping a bed away. Hence the horrid fidgeting she had been trying to quell with a good book.

"Be straight—" He snickered. "—with us, Hermione: you're awfully horny, right?"

Never in a million years or a dozen different alternate universes would she have thought she'd be having this conversation with Fred and George—the older brothers of one of her best friends.

"W-what kind of question is that!"

"Don't be such a prude. We've all fapped before."

"Though, in her case, would that be the right term?"

"Good point. Girls jack… on?"

After a pause, the boys burst into laughter and Hermione hid behind her hands, her face the same shade as a tomato.

Why in the world was this happening to her?

"Would someone please pass the salt?"

She really didn't have any hope that someone would hear her with the way everyone was laughing gaily, practically shouting to be heard over each other.

"'Arry, it's always such a pleasure to see you!" the pretty blonde Quarter-Veela, Fleur Delacour, gushed, sweeping the boy into a hug. "'ow 'ave you been?"

Hermione shook her head at the way the other boys tried to capture her attention, falling over themselves in an almost pain attempt to impress the blonde.

Just what did they see in such an air-headed primadonna?

The brunette flinched as someone sat down beside her, smiling shyly a moment later when she realized that the 'someone' was Ginny.

"Phlegm strikes again," she chuckled, setting down a slim glass container next to the older witch—the salt.

For some reason, the simple gesture made her unreasonably happy.

"Right? I never understood why boys throw themselves at girls like that."

The ginger-haired young woman smirked. "Pretty and brainless has never been my type."

Her type—were they still talking about girls here?

"And what is your type?" Hermione wasn't sure where the playful, almost confident lilt to her voice had come from. "If I may ask…"

"Mm… I've always been a fan of dark hair."

Her body heated hopefully, a little thrill zipping along her spine. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. And dark eyes, too. They're sexy." Ginny beamed. "And they've got to be brilliant."


"O-oh. That does sound lovely."

"What's your type, 'mione?"

The young witch was one of the few people that called her that and it made her heart quiver excitedly every time without fail.

'You.' "I-I'm not sure."


Was it just her or did the red-head seem disappointed?

What time was it?

Outside, owls are hooting and crickets chirping, a soothing symphony that normally would have lulled the young witch into a deep sleep.

Of course, normally there wouldn't be a sleeping red-head curled up next to her.

Unless this was a dream?

Hermione shifted, propping her head up with one arm and pinching herself with the other—'Ow...' Okay, this was no dream.

Her dark gaze wandered to the slumbering form on the other side of the bed: Ginny's expression was adorably innocent, a small smile curving her lips while her eyes moved restlessly behind closed eyelids.

What could she be dreaming about?

That big, brilliant brain returned to the conversation the witches had shared at dinner that evening.

/ "And dark eyes, too. They're sexy."/

The way she had narrowed brilliant green eyes and bit her bottom lip… Hermione sighed, her free hand instinctively sliding down her front, pausing to tweak rosy nipples that stood sweetly at attention beneath the sheer fabric of her nightgown…

Wait, what was she doing?

The brunette frowned, her body hot and her skin overly sensitive. It had been far too long since she had achieved physical release and it was starting to wear on her. There was only so one could do to distract themselves and she was running out of things to do.

With that in mind, the witch continued her path downwards, dipping under the waistband of her underwear and brushing against—

Merlin's beard, she was wet.

Hermione gasped quietly, angling her hips and drumming her fingertips gently against the swollen bundle of nerves at the top of her slit, and her eyes rolled back, an electric jolt of pleasure zipping along her spine in response to the slight pressure.


It wasn't going to take much at all for her to cum… Already, pressure was building in her loins, coiling and twisting into a tight little ball of ecstasy.

She didn't notice the stirring of her bedmate until a sleepy voice asked, "Mm… Hermione? What's going on?"

The young woman froze, her entire body tensing fearfully even as a horrified crimson shade swept from the tips of her ears to her collar.

No no no no no… This couldn't be happening. There was no way Ginny had just discovered her with her hands in her knickers, the red-head's name firmly in mind—no way…

No way a warm hand was slipping down to join hers?!

"Oh…" The quiet exclamation gusted hot air over the brunette's ear and she shuddered, a whimper leaving her.

"Ginny, I—"

"You never answered me earlier." Slim fingers encircled Hermione's wrist, moving the appendage away from velvet heat.

"Never a-answered what?

"What's your type?"

She frowned slightly, perplexed. "Why does that…" The brunette trailed off, whimpering and biting her bottom lip as wet heat enveloped her middle finger, a talented tongue swirling around its tip as Ginny cleaned the excitement from it.

Oh… Gods above… She was melting.

By the time the red-head had moved to her pointer finger, the older witch was breathing hard, her brain pleasantly blank.



Hermione reached out and hooked her arms around Ginny's neck, drawing the young woman in close and, after a moment's hesitation, claiming full lips with her own.

It was everything she had ever dreamed of—and more. She could taste herself on the ginger's lips and that only turned her on more.

With a soft, throaty sound, the brunette flipped the youngest Weasley onto her back, straddling her slender form and swirling her tongue against the other girl's in a sensual tango; she grabbed Ginny's hand and shoved it between pale thighs, her spine arching as skillful digits moved teasingly along her lower lips through the damp fabric of her knickers.


Not to be outdone, Hermione pressed her fingers passed the totally soaked cotton of the younger woman's underwear and into velvet heat, a thrill of bliss travelling along her spine as the red-head moaned and spread her legs.

Delicious friction made both girls gasp and whimper, hips bucking to extend the sensation, and the coil wound tighter, already on the verge of snapping.

All-nighters weren't exactly a new thing to the studious young witch, but somehow she felt as though this one would be infinitely more fruitful than any before it.

The sun had been up for several hours now, but Hermione couldn't find it in her heart to detangle herself from the arms of her new-found lover.

The Burrow was unusually quiet… Were the others still sleeping?

Lips brushed gently against her temple and a goofy grin spread across the brown-haired witch's face as she cuddled into Ginny's slim form.


"Mm… 'Hey' yourself, gorgeous."

Her heart fluttered beneath her breast and she kissed the younger girl's chin. "What're we doing today?"

"I like the idea of staying here." The arms around her waist tightened affectionately. "Do you mind keeping me company?"

Normally, the brilliant brunette would have scoffed at the very idea of wasting the day away when there was so much to do. Somehow, the pleasant ache between her thighs made her much more willing to take it easy.

After all, there was still plenty of holiday left for her to complete her schoolwork… What harm could a few more hours of relaxation do?

At that very moment, there was a quick knock on the door to the room and it swung open without awaiting a response.

"Ginny, Hermione, wake up. Mum and Dad left the house with Bill and Fleur, so it's… just… us…" His jaw slackened, eyes going impossibly wide. "GINNY?!"

"That's what Hermione was saying last night," Fred offered helpfully, peering around the doorway.

"'Saying' is being kind, don't you think? More like howling it," George corrected, appearing beside him.

"Fred?! George?!"


"Your room is right next to ours! It was bloody impossible to miss the fact that you were shagging half the night—"

There was a loud 'thud' as Ron hit the floor, his face an unnatural shade of puce.

"Look, now you've gone and made the poor bastard faint."

George nudged the incapacitated ginger with the toe of his slipper. "Out like a light."

And, as the twins none-too-gently hauled their brother away, the girls looked to each other and burst into incredulous laughter.

This was already shaping up to be the best holiday ever.