It's strange, really, how things like this can happen. It's strange what leaving your room and walking to the bathroom can end up in and it's strange the people who aren't straight can be.

She's pressed up against you, lips pressed against yours and her hand's toying with the hem of your shirt, and you're only now realizing how easily she gives you goosebumps.

You've always had a thing for Ginny Weasley, ever since you first saw her in her first year, standing there nervously, trying to flatten her hair and fiddling with her shirt, trying to make sure that she looked okay. It was sweet, really, that such a pretty young girl could have such bad self esteem, but there she was, so shy and so unsure of herself.

Who couldn't fall for her, honestly?

It wasn't much of anything at first, just you sticking up for her and sitting next to her at meals when you had the chance and carrying her books for her like the boyfriendly friend that you are. You're pretty sure you weren't even out when you were twelve years old. You're not sure if you even acknowledged your ever growing crush on that cute little redhead, but you do know that even then you were aware she meant something to you, and to a twelve year old's mind, something was everything.

You were just leaning against the bathroom sink, rubbing your eyes and shifting uncomfortably, wishing that your clit would pick a time when you're actually in your bed to start throbbing.

Her voice startled you as the bathroom door slammed behind her. She looked at you for a moment, chewing her lip nervously and looking very much like she wasn't in the bathroom to use the bathroom. "Hermione..?" She asked, eyes darting between your face and the floor.

She's got her hands under your bra, your shirt laying abandoned beside your bed and you're wondering if maybe she can feel how all the hairs on your arms are standing on end; the way your breath catches just the tiniest bit in your throat every time you try to breathe out.

You're wishing that she didn't mean a thing to you, because you're realizing you probably don't mean a thing to her. She must do this all the time, you're realizing. She does this all the time and you're the one she picked tonight because you're gay and she was horny and she must have horny-dar better than you used to think your gaydar was or something and that's why she followed you.

It's a shitty realization, but you're still horny and you still have a hottie on top of you with her hands in your bra.

The first time you ever kissed Ginny Weasley was under the tree by the lake in your fourth year while she was studying for some Herbology test, her head leaning against your shoulder and your eyes drifting closed every few seconds, until she broke the silence with the simple question, "So, are you really into girls?"

You remember feeling your stomach sinking and wondering if you say yes, will she take her head off your shoulder? You sat there for a minute, and then finally mumbled what sounded like "Yeah.." but if it hadn't been a yes or no question she would've had no idea what you'd just said.

"Have you ever kissed a girl?" You've always liked her voice. It was high and sweet and girlish but not in an annoying, "Hi I'm the stupidest girl you'll ever meet" kind of way, because you knew full well that she was quite smart. It was the kind of voice that made your head start to get cloudy and whenever you had to listen to her talk for too long you ended up thinking about nothing but what you wanted to do to her and what her voice must sound like when she's moaning your name.

"No?" You remember how stupid you felt, sitting there and admitting that.



And then she's grinning and kissing your lips and she's got your hair curling around her index finger, textbook in her lap and you can't help but think about how that was one of the few parts of your life that could've been filmed and put into a movie.

"It's nice, isn't it?"

You're kissing her again now, but it's not soft and sweet and simple and there isn't a woodpecker 20 feet above your heads in a tree. Her tongue's in your mouth and you're sucking on it the way that always drove Katie bell on the quidditch team crazy and your bra's laying somewhere near your shirt and her's across the room.

You've got your hands around her neck and she's pulling away from your lips and sucking on your neck, and for a moment you can't help but wonder if maybe she can read your mind, because how else would she know how much that turns you on?

It must come from every other girl she must've done this with.

You're wishing that you could just turn your mind off and have sex with her because she's hot and she's horny, but nothing's ever really that easy and all you can think of while she wraps her lips around your nipple is how long you've wanted this to happen and how much you wish it meant half what it means to you to her. You're wishing your head would just shut up and you're wishing that you could live without it, because if you could you probably would've blown it off by now. You're wishing that she would just stop for a minute and tell you that she loves you.

Shut up. You're biting your lip until she's got her lips against yours again, her hands pinning your arms by your wrists above your head. Shut up shut up shut up. This is hot and she's really really fucking good and you're supposed to enjoy this.

It's weird, though, because something about this feels so much more right than all the times that you hooked up with Katie Bell in the locker room or behind the greenhouse or god knows where else. Because then you knew that neither of you were particularly emotionally invested and neither of you wanted anything other than sex (even though you only really did that once) and it made you feel kind of shitty that you couldn't even get a real girlfriend, so you settled for hooking up with some girl you thought was kind of hot to make yourself feel like somebody needed you.

When did you start being such an emotional wreck over something as stupid and unemotional as having a girl shove her tongue down your throat, anyway?

Her hand's down your pants and you're pretty sure those are going to be joining your shirts and bras pretty soon but you can't do anything about it because she's still got one hand pinning your wrists to the bed, which is actually really, really hot and you're wondering why you never realized that you liked that before now.

You're feeling your chest rising and falling faster, and yes, you are wet as fuck, and yes, this does feel more right than anything you ever did with Katie did, but you still feel like something's wrong as you gasp and moan her name softly, hoping that you're not being too loud and hoping that nobody sees you, but you're sure that this is the kind of thing that roommates just don't mention ever seeing, because you've woken up in the middle of the night to the sound of the bed next to you creaking more than once and you've seen empty condom wrappers and you've heard girls going at it by themselves and you're sure you're not the only one.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit. You're biting your lip hard and you're still moaning through your lips and you didn't even realize that her lips had left your nipple but they're on your clit now and she's sucking on it and you can't help but think that she's better than Katie because fine, maybe you were a little too emotionally invested in what you knew was nothing more than stupid hook ups and you can't help but compare because she's still on your mind sometimes even though she was just a distraction from Ginny.

Jesus fucking christ, how the fucking hell did she get so good? She's supposed to be younger than you and she is (supposed to? What the hell is she doing to your head?) but jesus christ.


Just stop thinking.


Uhmm.. I'm awful at updating stories that aren't oneshots, so this isn't gonna be very long.. Dx But I've already got most of the second chapter done already.

Err.. I've never written anything Harry Potter before, so.. uhm.. I hope it wasn't too bad! :3