Our Own Special Place

Our Own Special Place

Chapter 2

Hermione was walking through a forest. It was a very strange forest. There was no underbrush; there was no grass. The ground was brown with leaves that made no noise as she walked over them. The lack of grass and bushes was not scary, nor was the dark brown of her surroundings. The trees were tall, with no branches for at least 10 feet off the ground. They seemed to be uniformly shaped and spaced throughout the forest. The forest was bright with daylight, and she heard the gurgle of a stream ahead. She noticed that the brown forest with the green treetops looked exactly like Ginny's eyes. Ginny...

Hermione reached the stream. The stream seemed very odd, too. The forest floor did not slope down to meet the water gracefully. The banks were high, and the stream seemed to simply cut through the forest with no notice to the earth around. Like someone just reached down and drew their finger through the soft earth, leaving a track that was completely alien and unnatural.

Hermione was suddenly very thirsty. She knelt at the bank and dipped her lips in to the cool, crisp water. She sucked greedily at the water that was cold and refreshing yet had the slight scent of rosemary and citrus. It had a rich and thick texture, like the wine. The bottle of wine.

Hermione began to follow the river through the forest; somehow she knew that it would lead her to something important. She walked and drank in the beauty of the forest and the light around her. She lost track of time as she walked, but she did not tire. Suddenly the forest stopped. It did not thin to smaller trees as grass grew thick. It simply stopped at the edge of a magnificent meadow. The meadow was thick with grass and small red flowers. The exact shade of Ginny's hair. Ginny's hair.

Hermione stopped walking and followed the course of the winding stream through the meadow with her eyes. Physics were simply not to be had in this strange place. The stream cut through the meadow and then curved sharply up a rock cliff. The water seemed to be able to follow its course, though it had to climb nearly directly up to the clear blue sky. Then the cliff leveled out and the stream cascaded down its face with the force of a mighty river, where it collected in a pool that fed back into the stream. The stream then recycled itself up the cliff and down the waterfall again.

Hermione vaguely thought of spells that could cause water to defy the laws of gravity. Her gaze wandered to the side of the pool. There was a mighty weeping willow on the bank of the pool; it's long limbs dipping right into the pool of gravity defying water. The pool nourished the tree, and the mist from the cascading waterfall covered the tree with an opaque glow. Hermione thought of the Whomping Willow, but this tree was definitely harmless. In fact, she was strangely drawn to it. She though of the stories told in the old days by European muggles, of witches in medieval times stripping naked in a secluded spot and dancing rituals to pagan gods. A wicked smile crossed her face. She must go to this tree.

As she began to walk across the meadow she discarded pieces of clothing. She would dance in the spray of the waterfall to the pagan gods of love. By the time she reached the tree she was naked and warmed to the core by the sun. Beads of sweat had risen on her naked face and chest. The air tasted of freedom and ecstasy. Her footfalls began to take on a rhythm of their own. Her feet were dancing without consulting her brain. She walked into the shade of willow and found a person was bathing in the pool in the shadow of the willow. Thick red hair was flattened by the water to an alabaster back. The woman was waist deep in the water.

Ginny's head turned slowly to look over her left shoulder, "Wash."

Hermione did as she was commanded she walked into the water to find that it was not cold, it was the perfect temperature for a bath. Ginny stood on the far edge of the shadow, at least 10 feet away. Hermione started to walk towards her, but Ginny shook her head and repeated, "Wash."

Hermione did as she was told. She swam deep into the center of the pool and tread water as she washed herself. Ginny had turned so that Hermione could not see her naked breasts, as was Hermione's plan. The disappointment did not last long. Ginny turned and smiled at her. Hermione's grin was rather sheepish.

"Good," Ginny said, and walked to the shore. Hermione watched as Ginny's bottom broke the surface of the water. It was round, full and plump, making a graceful, but noticeable curve before meeting the top of her thighs. Hermione glimpsed a bit of hair in the space between Ginny's thighs. The warmth of the night before returned to her body. The warmth. Hermione swam quickly to shore.

Ginny was lying on an emerald, velvet blanket spread on the lush grass. She lay on her side, with her head propped in her right hand. She was breathtaking. Her skin was like milk, soft and creamy colored, with the slightest twinge of pink. Freckles covered her nose and cascaded down to her chest where they dotted her perfect skin. Her arms were sleek and muscular. She was such a fine Quidditch player, an athletic body.

Then Hermione saw her breasts, they were perfect as well, and not like Hermione's which were largish and slightly sagged with their own weight. Ginny's were the picture of the perfect breast. Not very large, and perky. Nipples the size of pencil erasers, and the same color. They stuck out slightly, hard from the cool breeze. A graceful curve swung under the breast to attach the nipple to her chest. Her stomach was mostly flat, but there was a slight curve where it met her pubic hair. She didn't have a tummy; it just had a bit of a sag, declaring a body in shape, but not regimented to a workout routine. She knew somehow that the stomach would be soft, not hard and muscular, and the thought sent another wave of warmth through her body.

The batch of neatly groomed hair beneath her stomach blazed crimson in the shaded daylight, and her legs stretched far beyond. Thin thighs to muscular calves ended in fragile, perfectly white toes. The picture of beauty. Suddenly Hermione felt very self-conscious. Her bottom was flat and drooped slightly, her breasts were not small and perky, they were not perfect like Ginny's, her stomach was not that tone, and her thighs were much wider than those presented before her. She tried to cover all of her flaws at once with her arms, which was, of course impossible with two arms. Maybe there was a spell that could add arms. She was sure there was a charm for that.

Ginny was grinning, "You are beautiful, Mione, don't hide your beauty from me."

Hermione was instantly proud of her slightly saggy form. If this specimen could find her beautiful, she must be. Ginny beckoned her to lie down, and she did. She lay on her back, unsure of herself again.

Ginny leaned over her; fiery red locks cascaded down her face and touched Hermione's face. Ginny's arm was by Hermione's face, supporting its owner's weight. Ginny slowly lowered herself to Hermione's lips. Velvet and silk, rose petals, wine, strawberries. Their lips touched and Hermione's body arched and came alive. She had to have her body against Ginny's. Desire, need, touch, sexual, NEED. Their bodies were almost touching. Her mouth was on fire as Ginny's tongue slid past her lips and met her own tongue. Her mouth was watering. Her lips were pressed so hard to Ginny's she thought she could escape into Ginny's body. She wanted to be inside her, to consume her, to possess her. She had to have this girl. Her breath caught in her throat. The kisses were passionate, intense, wet, slippery. Their bodies were almost touching. She could feel Ginny's nipples inches from her skin.

Ginny pulled away abruptly. An agonized squeal left Hermione's lips. Why had she stopped? What was wrong? Please, Ginny, please. She was saying these words out loud.

Ginny laughed throatily, "Anticipation makes it better."

An explosion had taken place in her abdomen. No lower. It was...it couldn't be. They hadn't touched. She felt wet and sticky. A tingle had begun at the tip of her lips and spread up to her chest and to her soul. She groaned.

Her eyes came slowly opened. She heard her own voice from far away, "Please, Ginny, please. Oh god, please, please, Ginny." The tingle was continuing through her. It had been a dream. She blinked. The wet she felt was not a dream. The tingle was definitely real.

Her eyes open again; they adjusted to the dark. It was quiet. Quiet and dark. She lay on her side, facing the inside of the bed. The party down the street had stopped. A hooting owl flew overhead, but it did not stop at her window. What time was it?

Ginny was looking at her. She must have joined Hermione in bed during the night. There was an odd smile on her face. Had she seen Hermione while she slept? Had she heard the whispered pleading as the orgasm had shocked through her body? Had she heard her friend call her name? Hermione felt her face flush.

"Was that what I think it was?" asked Ginny quietly.

Hermione could not unstick her throat. She nodded and felt the pillow move.

Ginny's smile widened, "I assume you have me to thank for that?"

Hermione was embarrassed. More embarrassed than she had ever been. Her best friend now knew that Hermione had just experienced her first wet dream. A wet dream about her no less. Hermione could die. Her life was over. But Ginny was still smiling. She was confused. Hermione nodded apprehensively.

Ginny had been somewhat shocked when she woke to hear her friend moaning and whispering her name.

"Please, Ginny, oh Ginny, please"

Ginny had been scared at first. Hermione's hands were tucked under her pillow, though. This was purely her friend's subconscious, not her design. Ginny watched for a few moments as Hermione moaned and whispered. There was something distinctly flattering about being the object of a sexual fantasy, and Ginny savored the moment. It had to be a really good one. The worst part of it was that Ginny had just woken from her own sexual fantasy. It wasn't the first fantasy about Hermione, but she didn't like to admit that.

Ginny could tell by her friend's breath catching in her throat and the way her body tensed and her eyelids flickered when the orgasm had taken her body. Ginny had imagined this event in her own dream just moments before, but this was the real thing. It was somehow more powerful than Ginny's fantasy. Ginny caught a whiff of a musky, sweet smell as Hermione's gentle thrashing moved the bedclothes. Ginny wondered vaguely what that smell would taste like.

Hermione's eyes flicked open in the height of her ecstasy, still calling, "Please Ginny, please, oh please.."

What an amazingly sensual woman this was. Her heart did a somersault as the unfocused eyes landed on her and blinked. Hermione's eyes focus on Ginny and her face flushed red. Ginny did not blush, however, and by the time her mouth opened, she had made up her mind.