Our Own Special Place

Our Own Special Place

Chapter 1

Dear Gin,

Hi there, gosh what a busy summer I am having! I am so busy with homework that I have not stopped working since I got home for break! Sorry I haven't written as much as I should, I've been working so hard. Mum last night said that she has barely seen me! Well, she was happy when I got my OWLs back! I got an O on every single one!

So anyway, I thought I might make up for ignoring so many of your owls by asking you to stay with me for a week. Mum and Dad are off to a dentist's conference in Paris, and they want me to look after the house. They say I am old enough to look after myself now, but they would feel better if I had some company. Would you like to come live as a Muggle with me? It'll be fun. Send an owl back with your answer soon!

Bye!

Love,

Mione

Dear Mione,

I'd love to come over for a week! I told you I've always wanted to spend some time in a muggle house! Dad wants me to take notes, though, sorry. He says that if I don't come back with at least 4 rolls of parchment I'll be on punishment. You gotta help me with that OK? I'll come by floo powder; Dad'll have your fire added for the day.

This is going to be so much fun! I have to tell you what my family has been up to with the you know what. And I have to tell you about Dean and me, wow there's a long one!

Well, we can talk when I get there, send me an owl letting me know what day and I'll be there!

Love ya!

Gin

The day that Ginny was to arrive at Hermione's house was hectic, even by wizarding standards, which are always a bit faster paced than Muggle standards. Mrs. Granger had insisted upon a deep cleaning of the fireplace, and then another.

"Well, dear, don't you think it would be rude to make our guest come to our house in a filthy old fireplace? Must be polite, Hermione!"

It took Hermione 20 minutes to wash the soot out of her bushy brown hair. Her mother had insisted upon setting up a camp bed in her room, and Hermione didn't argue. Ginny had shared a bed with her at the Quidditch World Cup and at Grimmauld Place, but they were older now, maybe Ginny wouldn't want to any more. At the least they could laugh about Hermione's mum if Ginny thought it silly to sleep on the camp bed.

Ginny was to arrive at noon, and the Granger's flight to Paris was at 2 PM from Heathrow. It would be quite a car ride, so they had to leave just as soon as Ginny got there. Hermione worried about this because Weasleys were usually late, even though they could travel great distances almost instantly with flu powder. If her parents missed their flight they would be a bit miffed at both Hermione and Ginny.

When the fire roared emerald green it was quarter till 12, and all of the Grangers, especially Hermione jumped and spilt their tea. Ginny rushed out of the flames carrying a tattered suitcase and wrapped her arms around Hermione's neck. This proved awkward, as Hermione was still holding her dripping teacup.

"Mione!" The little red head squealed. "Sorry, I know I'm early, but I couldn't wait any longer! I've been packed for two days already!"

Hermione giggled and hugged her best friend hard before releasing her. As the fire blazed again Hermione spluttered, "That's fine! I was dying to see you, I'm so glad you are here!"

Molly Weasley was patting the hand of Mrs. Granger, and Mr. Weasley had just emerged from the fireplace dusting himself off.

"I say," Prattled Mrs. Weasley happily. "That must be the cleanest fireplace I have ever traveled in! Arthur, dear, wasn't that fire clean. Not a bit of ash went up my nose! What a darling house you have here Mrs. Granger!"

Arthur shook Mr. Granger's hand like an old friend, though the latter looked a bit shaken and apprehensive. The adults continued gabbling on as Ginny whispered, "Come on, Mione, let's go. They'll talk for hours."

As the pair turned to go Mr. and Mrs. Weasley shouted, "Have fun Ginny dear. Wonderful to see you, Hermione!"

"Now, Mr. Granger, I understand that, as a deniss you use quite a few drills."

"That's dentist, and yes...."

"So what do you call this again, Mione?"

"Shiraz. It is an Australian wine. Do you like it?"

Ginny giggled and slipped off the side of the bed. Both the girls roared with laughter.

"I guess that's a yes, then Gin," Hermione giggled through her glass.

It was near midnight and the girls had been talking since Hermione's parents had left telling them, "You know girls, those nice American dentists who were here last month sent us a box of that wine you liked so much Hermione. You are welcome to it, just don't spill it on the new carpet."

After a few hours of discussion about the Order, Hermione had found that not a lot was going on with Voldemort at the moment. Since the duel with Dumbledore, and the arrest of the Deatheaters, there was little activity. Then they talked about Ginny's break up with Dean via owls.

"He sent me an owl asking me to stay, and then he said his parents weren't leaving after all, so I couldn't come over. Turns out he didn't want his mum to know about me, and then turns out he wanted a lot of things that I didn't, so I broke up with him."

Now the last of the bottle of wine was in their glasses, and they were both rather tipsy. Ginny was attempting to pull herself to her feet using the mattress as support, and clutching tightly to a half full wineglass. She lost her footing and slipped back down with a roar of laughter. When she had controlled herself, she slid her hand between the mattresses for full support, and was halfway to her feet when she stopped with a quizzical look on her face.

"What is it? You didn't break your bum did you?" giggled Hermione through a sip of the dark, sweet wine.

Ginny sat down a bit harder than she had intended and pulled a tattered paperback from between the mattresses. The cover showed a muscular, not particularly dashing man with a tattered white shirt ripped open to reveal a shelf of thick muscles. Dark hair cascaded down his shoulders on to his bulging pecks, and his left arm was wrapped around the waist of a meek and frightened blonde. The woman's right hand rested on his chest, just under the tips of his hair, and her bussom swelled to astronomical proportions under a tight and quite revealing top. In the background a fierce naval battle raged, a pirate flag flew taunt on the mast of one ship, the union jack blazed angrily on the other.

Ginny studied the book for a moment quizzically and then looked up at Hermione, one eyebrow raised, "The Conquest at Sea?"

Hermione flushed the same shade as the younger girl's hair, "It... well.. er... it's it's my mother's. I, well, I...er.. nicked it a while back. I forgot it was under there." She sputtered unconvincingly.

A naughty, wicked grin spread across Ginny's face as she saw that several pages had been dog-eared. She flipped the book open to one of them. The spine of the book was well worn, especially in this one spot. Ginny felt sure that, had she left it fall open of it's own accord, it would have opened to this page.

Ginny read a few lines, the smile widening on her face as she read. Hermione was shaking with embarrassment.

"Gee, I wonder if that is physically possible," Ginny said as she turned the book at an angle and spread a look of mock concentration on her face.

"Gimme that," Hermione squealed as she grabbed the book from Ginny's hand and stuffed it under her pillow.

"Ahh, come on, Mione. You know that stuff is rubbish anyway. It doesn't really feel like it says in the books."

"What? How do you know? I mean... who? What? I thought that you hadn't.... I mean. Who with?" Hermione sputtered, barely able to contain her excitement and odd disappointment.

Ginny grinned, "No, Mione, not with a guy," She too was slightly embarrassed by the subject, but she plunged on. "I mean with myself. Haven't you ever.... You know. Tried yourself out?"

Hermione blushed again and looked down at her duvet. She really should replace this one. Finally, she murmured, "Well... I have tried, but it doesn't...that is... well, it's, umm, not worked." She finished lamely.

Ginny's eyes widened in surprised. She had always seen Hermione as the older, wiser one. Granted, Mione was only one year older than herself, but that meant a lot, and she was surprised that her friend had been unable to, well, match her own success in that area.

She though of how to state this delicately, but the wine had had it's say on her brain and what came out was probably a bit confusing, "You know, Mione, I could give you a, well, a few, umm... pointers." She grinned stupidly because of the wine, was it the wine? Had she really meant to say it like that?

Hermione's eyes widened until they were roughly the size of tea saucers. She sat bolt upright and her stomach did a funny little hop that aggravated the alcohol, "You... I mean, I didn't realize that you...well thought of me like....well, I mean I appreciate the offer, but I... well, do you really feel like..."

Ginny's face was a strange mixture of emotions. One was definitely surprise, one was hard to place, anxiety? Joy? Excitement? And one was definitely shock, "I didn't mean it like that! I meant I could tell you, not show you!"

Hermione's face had never been so red. Her stomach felt like it had been tied to a rock and dropped from a high rise. Her eyes blazed and her heart experienced a sharp, violent pang. Suddenly she stood and went to the opposite wall from Ginny. She looked out the window at the night. The house next door was quiet, but the one after was bright and shining. They were having another party. She could see smiling faces through the dark. Wine glasses and beer bottles rising to lips and dropping to sides again. Couples and soon to be couples pressed close to one another in conversation as the music blared and voices created a din. A tear slid down Hermione's face. Sadness? No, it couldn't be. It must be embarrassment. She had been rejected, but she hadn't wanted to be accepted, had she?

"Mione?" came a timid voice behind her. Ginny was standing, but not walking toward her. What did she thing Hermione would attack her or something.

"I didn't mean that I wanted to... I just thought maybe you did," Hermione said softly to the night.

There was a rustle, a strange silence, "Who said I didn't? I mean, I don't... I don't think I do. I just..." Her voice trailed off.

Hermione's stomach was feeling odd again. Did Ginny want her? Did she want Ginny? She hadn't thought about it before. What was going on with her stomach? Maybe they should have had dinner to go along with the bottle of wine. The bottle of wine. Hermione looked down at her nearly full glass. She heard a chink of glass on teeth from behind her, and she brought the glass to her lips, turned the bottom to the ceiling, and let the liquid slide down her throat in a rush.

The wine was warm, the perfect temperature for a Shiraz. It was dry and very rich, slightly sweeter than other reds. The texture was velvety, seductive, like liquid silk. The slight scent of rosemary and citrus pervaded her nostrils as the last of the thick liquid slipped past her lips. Her mouth and throat were full, and a trickle ran past the corner of her mouth onto her cheek.

Silently a finger rose to her soft skin and wiped away the trickle of wine. It started at her jawline and traced the path of the wine up her cheek. A bolt of electricity ran from Ginny's slightly sweaty fingertip to Hermione's skin. No one that se could remember had touched her face so softly. There is a passage about that in page 125 of the book Ginny had found.

As the fingertip made it to the corner of Hermione's mouth it slowly lifted to avoid her mouth. The arch of her fingertip was not precise, however, and Ginny's index finger brushed ever so slightly on Hermione's prominent lower lip. Warmth passed through her body starting at her lips, and coursing through her blood. She felt it slam into her scalp, making her lightheaded, and into her own fingertips, which had the sudden desire to utilize her sense of touch. The feeling was so strong that her arm jerked slightly toward the girl in front of her, but stopped almost as soon as it had started. Hermione desperately hoped Ginny had not seen the spasm. The warmth made it's way down her body and created a sensation that Hermione had never once felt in her life. Suddenly her eyes saw a wider range of colors, her ears could hear the slightest buzz of an insect, and her taste buds continually reanalyzed the aftertaste of the expensive wine on her tongue. Words sprang into her mind, seemingly from nowhere. Rose petals, candles, strawberry, sensual, touch, desire, need, NEED.

And then the fingertip was gone and Hermione was staring into Ginny's eyes, which were fixed upon her own. Ginny's eyes. Had she never noticed them before or had her newly heightened sense of sight detect colors that Hermione had not seen there before. Ginny's eyes were brown, but not too dark. The color of milk chocolate, and surrounded by a corona of the deepest, purest green. Like a blade of fresh summer grass or the moss of Scottish hills. There were streaks of darker brown that went through the green and the brown that gave her eyes a color that could not really be described. With all of her studying, Hermione could not describe what she saw when she looked into Ginny's eyes.

For a moment Hermione thought of the old saying about eyes being the windows to the soul. For a moment Hermione thought that she could read Ginny's mind through her eyes. Sensual, touch, desire, nee....

Ginny blinked and looked away. She slowly turned as Hermione blinked and realized that she had been staring with her mouth slightly open. She brought her hand slowly to the place where Ginny's finger had been. A heat radiated from the spot. Then the spell was broken, and everything was strange and awkward again.

Ginny spoke first, "Hey, Mione," she said with a desperate attempt at flippancy. "Want some more wine? Looks like we are out."

Hermione looked up to see Ginny smiling weakly and swinging her empty wine glass, her answer was throatier, more gravely than her normal voice, "Yeah.. uhhum..yeah, sounds good."

Ginny giggled awkwardly and reached out to hand Hermione her empty glass. Their fingertips brushed each other. Hermione drew away sharply. She came very close to dropping the glass, but Ginny hadn't noticed. Ginny had turned her back and reached for the empty bottle. Hermione suddenly realized that her lips were dry, and she licked them as she stared at Ginny's back.

Ginny's arm was stretched out, handing the bottle to Hermione. Hermione reached for it, but Ginny released the bottle before the brunette had a good grip on it. Hermione dropped to her knees to catch the bottle. Ginny's reflexes, born of her Quidditch training, were much better than Hermione's. Her hand was wrapped around the bottle in the exact spot where Hermione grabbed a second later. Their hands were touching, resting on each other. Hermione's eyes shot from their entwined fingers to Ginny's eyes. They were looking at each other again, staring. There was longing in Ginny's eyes, Hermione thought. Hermione broke eye contact and grabbed the bottle by its neck. She was blushing.

"I'll go get another bottle," Hermione sputtered and ran from the room. She stayed in the kitchen for a long time, trying to compose herself.

When she finally returned, Ginny had fallen asleep on the camp bed.