Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Warning: Femslash.


Peccavi

Her gaze was toxic. So chill inducing that every single person in that crowded, once cheerful room realized that her sultry stare felt like death. There was this edge to her, this cold ferocity that was so unbearably unlike her. She leaned against the doorframe nonchalantly. Her pretty features set to pure indifference. Running her free hand through her luscious wavy hair, the woman spoke in a tone so fluid and sure that everyone gawked, stunned into silence. "Started the party without me I see."

"Nice to see you've returned from the dead." Ron couldn't seem to hold the bite back from his words.

Hermione didn't so much as flinch. The brunette simply smirked. There was nothing pleasant in her tone, nothing callous. It was just… empty. "I wouldn't be too sure about that Ronald."

He opened his mouth and waited for some snide remark to come to him. It was useless. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her. Her rich brown hair shined brighter than ever before, her hazel eyes holding a clever confidence that struck him speechless. And that slick, tempting curl of her lips… It was driving him mad. She wasn't the same. The burn of her gaze set every fiber of his being to flames and he simply submitted to the palatable torture. His hands stuffed themselves into his pockets and he looked away dejectedly.

Her dark, calculating eyes circled the room. They landed on a handsome raven-haired man and the amber gleam dulled. "Hello Harry."

"Hermione." He nodded civilly. A bitter sorrow coating his emerald eyes. "I'm glad you could make an appearance after so long."

"Yes, well," Her hazel eyes aimed steadily at his heart. Aimed with intent to harm. Intent to kill. She raised an elegant eyebrow. "Couldn't miss my best friend's wedding now could I?"

The tension in the room seemed to thicken considerably. She knew that all eyes were trained on her. Were dripping with awe and malice alike. There was no denying history. She nearly chuckled at the thought. History. And yet, to everyone in this tension laced room, it all felt like yesterday. She wouldn't doubt their knowledge of past events. Everyone knew that she and Ron had been an item. That she fucked his sister. That she fell in love with Ginny and they all especially knew what'd happened that night. How Harry had gotten his traitorous hands on Ginny before Hermione could. Now? Now they were all reunited, gathered in this dazzling apartment and for what?

The brunette's heart burned with deceit. A reunion for the purpose of announcing a wedding. Harry's wedding. Ginny's wedding.

"Why is everyone so quiet?" Ginny walked into the living room. Completely unaware of the ghostly figure standing in the doorway of their flat. Her radiant smile faded, her hand involuntarily going to her heart. Her blue eyes began to water and her body ached. Was she real? "…Hermione?"

She refused to look at Ginny. She refused to give the red headed woman the satisfaction. Refused to let anyone know just how dead she felt. Just how dead she really was. She turned her back on them, just as they had done to her. "I was just leaving."

"Wait!" Ginny screamed after a dizzying moment of labored breathing and the acidic blur of tears obscuring her vision. It was Hermione. It was her. After seven years. Seven years! She ran after the brunette. Something similar to sadistic bliss bubbling beneath her breast.

"Hermione! Wait!" Ginny caught up to the older woman. Her fingers gripping the brunette's shoulder, spinning her round, pulling her so impossibly close it was almost suffocating. Digging into Hermione's flesh so tightly that the brunette could do nothing but stay put. Nothing put sink deeper and deeper into the press of Ginny's perfect lips to hers.

The way Ginny was kissing her. With such urgent ferocity. Hermione could feel herself being torn into shreds. Could feel the cold stab of heartache clawing at the barrier between her heart and mind. The incessant barrage of memories playing like a stale TV marathon behind her closed eyelids. She wanted to cry out. She wanted to scream. She wanted to push Ginny away and tell her. Tell her she didn't love her. She couldn't love her anymore!

Ginny felt herself moan. Her body was betraying her. Tingling in places that hadn't felt so alive in so very long. Tasting those lips. Remembering, memorizing the feel of Hermione's skin against her fingertips. The heat of the brunette's body pressed so intimately to the shaking mass of fervent flesh and aching bones that she was ashamed to believe her own body. This wasn't what she'd chased after Hermione for. It wasn't. Was it? Wasn't it?

The older woman's back met the staircase railing. She should stop. She really should. Her head relayed the message to her urgent blood to no avail. She couldn't stop. She couldn't if she'd wanted to. Ginny's lips moved to her neck. Nipping roughly. Her hands began to roam. Taking in the tempt of every curve. The delicious feel of bare skin.

Hermione growled. A low animalistic sound of desire mixed with aggravation. She pinned the red head hard against the opposite wall. Her hands nearly bruising the delicate flesh of Ginny's wrists. Her hazel eyes were wild and she fixed Ginny with a look that was nearly lethal. She was breathing hard, mind fuzzy and body buzzing.

Sapphire eyes gleamed with the threatening promise of tears. She glared hard at Hermione as she spoke. "I thought you were dead!"

Hermione chuckled sadistically. Her eyes never breaking delicious contact with Ginny's. "Close enough."

"Then why are you here Hermione? Why did you come back?" The tears were falling now. Tracking like pristine jewels down her flushed cheeks. "Why couldn't you just stay away!"

"Because Ginny," She leaned in closer to the red headed woman. Her hot breath numbing Ginny's mind. Their lips were almost touching and Ginny hated the way she craved this woman. "You have something of mine. And I want it back."

This… new Hermione was beginning to scare her. Beginning to make her become more deeply infatuated. This new attitude. The old memories. She spoke cynically, cruelly. "What is it that you want from me Hermione? Sex? Revenge?"

Hermione simply smirked. Her hazel eyes darkening. "My heart."


Author's Note:

I've decided to make it the sequel to Debuchery. Maybe you guys will finally get that happy ending eh?

-Emokid-
(The dork that stole your heart and ripped it to pretty little shreds)