Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
Warning: Femme slash.
Blahhh: Are you trying to spell school or full? If you mean school, its not a school full of lesbians… its just that my main characters happen to like women. But if you mean full… Dunno. Could be one of many reasons. Maybe its cause this is a femmeslash based fic. Maybe its cause I'm a big 'ol lesbian. Or maybe the story just went in that direction. I think the real question is… why does it matter?
Arachelly: Whatever. You never reviewed anything else. .:tear:. You don't love me! And that makes me unhappy. Haha. Yes, I'm very happy.
Ab23deoe: Eh… it wouldn't suck too much. Well, not for me. I'd get it outta the way. Then I'd be able to work on other stuff and maybe make new stuff. Hoorah…
Angel-1844: Cliffhangers… ahhhh. I hate 'em. But only when other authors make them. Haha. This'll probably be the last and I'm still not sure what or even who Hermione is going to choose.
FiresOfDeath: When I feel like it. :)
Lady Felton1: Or else what? You'll tell my mom? Lol.
And thanks to Galandria, HybridMutant and anyone else who may have read but didn't leave a review.
The brunette stood before the foggy glass, staring. She'd been there long after Ginny had rushed out. She'd watched the girl's form evaporate through the reflection of the glass. It seemed so unreal. Was it even real? What was real anymore? Hermione sighed. Was the wet droplet running down Ginny's cheek, as she stared at Hermione through the glass, real. Or was it just a mocking droplet of rain sliding down the glass.
She tensed. She knew what she had to do. And she had to do it now. Hermione stood from her gloomy perch. She buttoned up her shirt half-heartedly and strode firmly through the door and down the marble staircase. It was before dawn and she knew no one would be up. She entered the common room. There, by the fireplace. A head of red hair, illuminated by the fire burning, warming and chilling her bones.
Hermione made her way over to Ron. Determination in her eyes and a sinking feeling in her gut. She had to know. She had to know now or she'd never figure it out. She'd never have the guts or the will to do so.
The tall red head stood before her. Eyes hard, connecting with her own and sending chills down her spine. Those were haunting eyes. Those were confused, wanting eyes. He watched her through those clear blue depths, took in her ruffled appearance, her bloodshot eyes and that determined stare. This was the woman he was in love with; this was the woman he was slowly dying for.
She gripped the front of his shirt tightly and pulled him close. She needed to do this. She needed to do it right. To feel his body pressed against hers as intimately as possible. His eyes never left her own. She wouldn't let them. The enticing pull of lusty brown pinned him to an invisible slate. He was lain out on an operating table and Hermione had all the pointy objects spread out, ready to cut trough. To pierce any organ that he may have left exposed.
Her lips met his. Their eyes closed. It was soft, slow, a verse in a lilting song. Ron could feel that familiar pulsing hum, that sweet allure. It was warm. His arms went around her, pulling her closer. He poured everything into her. Every feeling, every thought, every beat of his heart. It was hers to take. The kiss became harsh, more bruising. The heat was burning him, melting him into oblivion. She wanted him.
One hand cupped her cheek, long fingers gripping her face and pulling her closer. His other hand crept quickly up the front of her shirt. She didn't stop him. She needed this. She needed to know.
"You know," A voice spoke from the shadows, startling her. "The corridors before dawn, aren't any more private than the corridors during the day."
She looked up. Meeting cool emerald tinted eyes. She laughed cynically and swiped lightly at her tear-streaked face. "What are you doing here?"
Harry Potter sat down next to her. His enticingly gloomy emerald eyes never left her form. He watched her through the corner of his eye. Her red hair seeped like waterfalls of blood through her delicate fingers. Sapphire eyes were set at an invisible spot on the cold stone floor. Every once in a while those shining blue gems would be veiled by thick golden lashes and Harry's breath would catch in his throat.
The raven-haired boy bit his bottom lip and looked away. He couldn't stand the tempting pout of her primrose lips. He took a slow, calming breath and turned to face her. She was watching him. Eyes shining like precious jewels trained on him. On the shape of his lips. On his dark, thick hair. Boring deep into his own emerald eyes. Looking at him the way he'd wished she would…. Before. The way he wished she'd look at him before.
"I was looking for someone I thought I'd lost." He was surprised by the seriousness in his tone. By the curiosity seeping across Ginny's face.
His hand slid down the length of her bareback. His lips were smothering, his mouth suffocating. She kissed him back, her eyes shut tight. Why did she want to break away? Why couldn't she just feel that…. That spark? That burning passionate fire she felt with Ginny. Why couldn't she love him? She pushed the question back, her fingers fumbled for the buttons on his shirt.
Hermione's eyes glazed over. Thinking of what had just happened with Ron moments before. Ages ago. Her footsteps echoed through the dimly lit corridors. The taste of his mouth wouldn't leave her. Neither would the aching sensation of dread coursing through her veins. She needed to find Ginny. To tell her. She needed to tell her she loved her.
She tangled her fingers in his red hair. It was so similar, so like hers. But he wasn't her. He could never be her. Her stomach churned with uncertainty. The coarse feel of his lips against her neck made her draw back slightly. Ron was caught off guard by the action. She wanted him. She didn't speak a word, didn't seem to make a real sound. But her actions spoke louder. The whisper of her fingers down his back, the press of her soft lips to his own. Those gestures told him what he wanted to hear.
When he looked into her hazel eyes. He saw nothing but desire. The red headed man never gave a thought as to whether or not she was really looking at him. Really seeing his blue eyes and not his sisters.
The brunette shook the memory from her mind. What had she done? She hated how she'd used him. He was one of her best friends. She hated that he'd been used as such a tool. That when she had looked into his eyes she saw nothing but an ocean of blue that was a shade too light. An ocean she couldn't get lost in. She couldn't get lost in the simple intensity. His eyes didn't shine like sapphires. They were too warm, too cozy to drown her in the depths of the ocean or chill her with the cold glare of hard blue gems.
Her palms ran down his muscled chest. He was too hard. Too toned and not as soft. His skin wasn't the milky white color hers was. Because he wasn't her. She trued to loose herself in the intensity, in the feel, the lure, the desire. Hermione shut her hazel eyes and tried to block out the rough feel of his body. His shoulders were too broad, his hair was too short, eyes too bright a blue.
Her back hit the cold stonewall. They were farther from the light of the fire. The heat was gone, the bright fire dimming and seemingly so far away. She shivered; goose bumps ran up along her body. Only the cold feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach was left as his fingers trickled up her thigh, lifting her skirt up over her hips.
Hazel eyes skimmed the forms of two figures. They were touching and yet they weren't. Not really touching but so close to one another. Fingers whispered over skin, the action so barely expressed it wasn't there at all. Breath caressed sensitive flesh in small exhales of warm air.
The faint light of a single torch illuminated golden red and dark ebony. The same light threw shadows against the sharp, beautiful features of the two figures. Their breath mingled in the empty space between their bodies and their dull expensive eyes fluttered shut.
His arms went around her, pulling her closer, hands pressing against her back. Pulling. She didn't move away. She didn't push him away. Ginny yielded to the pull of his sweet breath and the soft caress of his fingers against the small of her back. Their lips touched. Tentative, testing, teasing.
Hermione watched the display. An expression, half bewildered curiosity, half strained malice and half gentle awe, spread across her face slowly. Hazel eyes watched on with a gloomy remorse as the kiss continued. This was what it had come to. This was the end. Her mind had denied her, her heart had led her and her soul was gone.
The brunette turned away from the scene. She didn't know where she was going or if she was even moving at all. She had no destination. Where would she go? She'd started at the end. Images fluttered through her buzzing mind. Images of Ginny and Harry kissing in the corridor. Of Ginny and her before Ron had found out. And then the look of desperation, love, hurt and dejection that had slid across Ron's face.
Hermione pushed him away, pulling her skirt down. She didn't have enough courage to look him in the eyes just then. The brunette was breathing hard, she saw him get upoff of the ground slowly, cautiously. She couldn't suppress the slow hum of words on repeat in her head. She knew they would destroy her if she didn't say them aloud. If she didn't let them rush out as a refreshing breath of clean air. Her insides were burning. She needed to breathe.
She looked up at him. She couldn't bear the look on his face. The hurt. It was too much to bear. She needed to breath or she would choke. Air filled her deprived lungs and she led it out in an excruciatingly long tormented confession.
"I'm in love with Ginny."
Maybe. Maybe not. I have the "happy ending" chapter but I dunno if I wanna just keep it the way it is. Bleh. We'll see how I'm feeling next week. If I feel like it you get your happy ending. Or maybe I'll just make a sequel... :)