Redbeargrl's Cave

Damaged Goods (Hermione/Ginny PG)

redbeargrl@gmail.com — Wed, 29 Aug 2007 03:51:33 GMT

Title: Damaged Goods
Author:</a></a>redbeargrl</strong>
Pairing: Hermione/Ginny
Rating: PG for language
Word Count: 2014
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns them. I just abuse them...And love them.
Summary: Hermione returns to London after an extended absence. Why has she come back now after all of these years?
Notes: I'm not sure where this came from but it's probably a one shot.

Comments are nice...

Damaged Goods
By
Redbeargrl

The cheap Muggle whiskey burned like flaming barbed wire going down her throat, but it was what she wanted right now, what she needed. She could have afforded better of course, but she wanted to remember the pain of the cheap stuff she used to drink so many years ago. The bar was dark and comfortable like an oak lined womb and the whiskey was the life giving blood that kept her alive. After living for seven years in France she had developed a taste for wine, but tonight she drank whiskey so that she could forget, or was it so that she could remember? She wasn’t sure any more.

She sat at the bar nursing her second drink and trying to look inconspicuous. Perhaps she should go over to one of the dark booths along the walls, but she reckoned that they were too far from the bar for her liking tonight. She had no idea why she had returned to London now, after all of these years, but something had compelled her. It was probably the dreams; the dreams of her.

She had stopped by St. Mungo’s of course, to see him. Despite the Healers claims, Harry hadn’t changed any. He looked at her with those sunken vacant green eyes and asked if she knew him. She said no, she was just passing through the ward to see a relative. It was a lie of course. After the War almost nobody had any relatives left.

She had visited Diagon Alley to see the reconstruction and was surprised by the number of shops still boarded up or moved out. Considering the last time she was there she shouldn’t have been too surprised; it was still mostly a smoking pit then. The War had taken its horrible toll on more than just the participants. She had walked through the Alley trying to, and trying not to, remember the days she had spent here with her. The happy times when they had still both been at Hogwarts together. The times before the war and her fears had torn them apart. It was then that she had gone looking for this particular bar. The pain in her gut was too much to bear without the mind numbing effect of the booze to help. Why had she come back anyway?

As the bartender poured her a third drink she lit another cigarette from the stub of another still smoldering in the ashtray, ignoring the No Smoking signs on the walls. Everybody ignored them now anyway. She had to laugh at herself. There had been a time in her life when she would have rather died that break the Rules. She studied her reflection in the mirror behind the bar and grimaced. Her long brown hair with its streaks of grey was pulled back into a tight bun on the back of her neck and most of her face was obscured by the heavy dark glasses she still wore despite the low light level inside the bar. Her face was puffy from the years of drinking and there were dark circles under her deep brown eyes. Coming to this bar was a mistake she thought as she pulled her gaze from the mirror. This had been their place a lifetime ago. Back when the four of them went out to party on weekends before the war killed one of them and reduced another to a vegetable. And her, she thought, to a cowardly drunk. She reckoned the only good thing was that it all happened before any of them had walked down the wedding aisle. But they had been so close to that when it all fell apart.

Two more drinks gave her the resolve to go and visit Ron’s grave. She owed him that much she thought. She tried to remember loving him but the memories were too far buried under the years of drinking, the countless faceless lovers and the intervening years of living in a foreign country. That was the last time she saw her she remembered. They had stood together at the gravesite, arms wrapped around each other in their grief with tears running down their faces in the rain. They stood there for hours after everybody else had left, trying to come to grips with Ron’s death and Harry’s condition.

That was one memory she couldn’t get rid of no matter how much she drank. It was then that she had told her that she loved her and always had. She remembered the sharp sting of the slap that Ginny had given her before she ran off crying, into the gloom and pouring rain. She saw herself chasing after her in the muddy graveyard only to find her slim body curled up in the mud behind a headstone sobbing and screaming her name to the uncaring winds.

No, it would take more than strong drink to make her forget that night. The hours they spent together huddled in the rain while she held her tightly, stroking the younger girl’s flaming hair and trying to apologize for her insensitivity before finding out that she felt the same. She couldn’t forget that first kiss or the night they spent together in her bed making love and promising that they would always be together. It was after Ginny had left her apartment the next morning that she packed her bags and ran. Why she had run she really didn’t know. She had tried to rationalize it a thousand times but she always came up with the same stupid answer. She ran because of her fear that Ginny would come to her senses and leave her. She ran because she was afraid of losing the only person that she had ever truly and completely loved.

How the mighty have fallen, she thought as she sipped her whisky. She remembered the final battle with Voldemort when she and Ron and Ginny had fought side by side to keep the Death Eaters away from Harry as he battled the Dark Lord. She had not been a coward on that night. But now, she didn’t know what to think any more. She had run away to southern France as much for distance as trying to find a place that was as much unlike London as she could. She found employment with an old eccentric Wizard who wanted his huge library cataloged and had paid her lavishly to do it.

And then there were the nights when she couldn’t stand to be alone and she went out to find a warm body to comfort her. She didn’t care much what they looked like as long as they had red hair and fair skin. Male and female both were fair game to her but she preferred the women to the men. With a woman it was easier to pretend that she was with the one she still loved so deeply.

She had followed Ginny’s meteoric career as the Seeker for the Holyhead Harpies with interest; rejoicing in her victories and grieving at her losses. She read about her drunken brawls with the other teams and her numerous suspensions for being too rough on opposing players. Ginny had earned the distinction of being the only player in Quidditch history to have been red-carded in six consecutive games for excessive violence. Her crowning glory was being chosen to play for England on the National Team for the Quidditch World Cup. It was after this final victory that she had read about Ginny’s retirement from the game. She wondered what Ginny would do now with the rest of her life after Quidditch and continued to scan the papers for any mention of her. All she ever found were reports of more brawling and her drunken parties that attracted the most beautiful and famous people in the Wizarding world due to their lavish excesses.

She found that the whisky was doing its job and she felt the comforting numbness settle in around her. She signaled for a refill when she noticed the quiet bar beginning to fill up with noisy patrons. She did her best to ignore the distraction and reached for her pack of cigarettes only to find it empty. She cursed under her breath and opened her bag to find the fresh pack that she knew was in there. She found it and opened it with practiced ease as she noticed that it was getting extremely crowded at the bar. People jostled her on either side as they ordered and reached over and around her for their drinks. Some of the kinder ones even offered apologies as they rubbed up against her.

She looked on the bar for her lighter but somebody had evidently walked off with it and she cursed a little louder. She sat there with the unlit fag hanging from her mouth as she searched in her bag for a match or another lighter when a slim bare arm reached around her with a blazing lighter.

“Get that for ya Dearie?” asked a sultry female voice from behind her.

Hermione nodded and leaned forward to light her cigarette but the jostling crowd at the bar kept moving the light out of her reach. She reached out and held on to the slim hand, steadying it, as she deeply inhaled. She saw the tattoos on the woman’s hand and paused for a second to admire them.

“Like those huh?” asked the same voice. “I’ve got a lot more if you’re interested. And some of them are in very interesting places.”

Hermione froze in her chair still holding the woman’s hand in her own. On the back of her hand she saw two initials tattooed there. HG they read, although they looked more like they had been carved into the skin than tattooed.

“Old lover,” said the same voice but this time it had a hard edge to it. “At least I thought she was. Bitch bailed out on me years ago. May I buy you a drink Honey? You kind of remind me of her from the back here.”

Hermione felt panic welling up through the numbness of the booze. It can’t be, she thought. She tried to see the face behind her in the mirror and gasped when she saw the petite form with the flaming red hair.

She summoned up any and all remaining courage before she answered the question. “Sure you can buy me a drink but you have to answer one question first. And answer honestly. Deal?”

“Don’t worry Sweetie, I’m not married if that’s what you want to know. And yes, I like women if that is what you were going to ask.”

“No,” said Hermione in a low voice. “My question is this. The woman, who hurt you, the one you have carved into the back of your hand. How do you feel about her now?”

She felt the woman yank her hand from her grasp and pick up a drink on the bar. “Sorry baby, you just asked the wrong question. Forget I asked about the drink okay?”

Hermione pulled her dark glasses off and swung around to stare at Ginny straight in the eye. “Please Gin. Answer me. I have to know!” Hermione suddenly knew why she had returned to London.

The sound of the falling glass from Ginny’s hand crashing on the floor seemed louder than a canon shot in the noisy bar. In an instant the bar became deathly quiet.

Hermione never saw the punch coming but she felt it connect flush on her jaw. She dropped to the floor, dazed and in pain. Her stomach rebelled and she felt herself retching up all of the liquor she had drunk that night. There was a buzzing in her ears, her jaw hurt terribly and she found that she couldn’t focus her eyes. But through all of this she could hear Ginny screaming. “You fucking Bitch! You broke my fucking heart!”

Hermione’s world began to spin crazily but just before she passed out she felt a strong pair of tiny hands lift her effortlessly from the floor. She started to feel the squeezing sensation of Apparition but then the blackness closed in around her and she felt nothing more.

The End

The Magic of Ice Cream (Hermione/Ginny soft R)

redbeargrl@gmail.com — Tue, 14 Aug 2007 01:53:21 GMT

Title: The Magic of Ice Cream
Author: </a></strong></a>redbeargrl
Pairing: Hermione/Ginny
Rating: Soft R
Summary: Sometimes ice cream can cool you off. Other times it doesn't.. Depends...
Notes: humor (well, to me anyway) and a bit of girl sex
Warnings: real sugar and real cream
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns them, I just bring them out to play for a bit, wash them off and put them back.

Comments are shiny things...

The Magic of Ice Cream
By
Redbeargrl

“That’s the difference;” said Hermione, “in being brought up Muggle born as opposed to Wizard born. I know about some things you don’t and vice-versa.”

“But bananas with ice cream?” whispered Ginny from across the table. She had the cutest little scrunched up nose expression on her face that made Hermione just want to kiss her right in front of everybody.

“Just you wait,” pronounced Hermione, “you are going to love this!”

It was the end of a very warm summer day in London and both girls had exhausted themselves being “tourists” as Hermione had put it. It would only be a few more days until they started their new jobs and both girls decided they needed a stress break. Hermione had suggested that she take Ginny to a few spots she had loved visiting as a child with her parents before her entrance into the Wizarding world and Ginny had readily agreed.

As she led Ginny around London she was enchanted by the fact that Ginny knew so little of the Muggle world. Hermione took her to see all of the tourist spots, Buckingham Palace, the Tower, Westminster Abbey and finally a quick turn through a very small portion of the British Museum. Hermione’s only regret was that the Ravens at the Tower were no longer allowed to roam freely. She had always done a little bow to them in the past to pay them their rightful respect.

By now the day was late and the heat seemed to just keep building. They were both tired and hot and their feet hurt. It had been Ginny that first remarked that it was a pity that Diagon Alley was so far away because she really fancied going for ice cream at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. Hermione’s face lit up as she explained that Muggles did indeed also have ice cream and she was going to take Ginny to her favorite childhood place.

So here they were, in the middle of Soho at Baskin ‘n Snoggin Ice Cream Parlor, waiting for their orders to arrive. The owners of the parlor were an American couple who had come to Britain many years ago for a visit and never left. They quickly built a huge following because of the quality and huge portions of their offerings. It was often said that the decadence of an Americans’ approach to ice cream could only be surpassed by the hi-jinks in the court of Katherine the Great, with or without the horses. Ice cream here was an art form and possibly, a religion.

When the waiter had approached their table Hermione immediately ordered two Banana Splits. She wasn’t surprised that Ginny had never had this treat because she had never seen it offered at Fortescue's. Ginny had asked her what in the world was a Banana Split. Hermione explained that it was three flavors of ice cream surrounded by a halved banana and covered with mounds of whipped cream and further garnished with shaved chocolate, chocolate sauce, strawberry preserves, nuts, bits of candy covered chocolate and topped with a cherry. Ginny hadn’t looked totally convinced until after her first taste.

Hermione couldn’t help but giggle at the look on her lover’s face with that first bite. She knew that Ginny had slipped into sweet tooth heaven. It was one of those little special moments in a relationship where a simple little restaurant, or in this case an ice cream parlor, forever became their own special place.

As Ginny worked her way through the treat a vague thought somewhere in the back of her mind noted something familiar about the shape of the construction, but it escaped her as she affirmed that ice cream and bananas are a very good thing.

After they had finished and Hermione had paid the bill in Muggle money they found a quiet back alley and apparated directly back to the Burrow and, to their dismay, they found the temperature hotter here than it had been in central London.

Dinner that night was a late affair because Molly said it was just too hot to eat anything heavy. It was just Molly and Arthur and the girls for dinner, which consisted mostly of a garden salad with cold cuts on Molly’s wonderful home-baked bread. They all engaged in family small talk for a bit but, eventually, they all went off to their rooms for the night.

Even though Ginny had left the window wide open in their bedroom it hadn’t done any good. The room was as hot as a hob and there was no breeze at all coming through the window. The girls quickly stripped off their clothes and went for a cool bath. The cool water revived them to a point where they lingered for quite a while washing each other and playing little lover’s games. It was just too warm for serious love making so they collapsed on the bed naked and amused each other by trying various cooling spells on the room, none of which seemed to have any affect at all on the oppressive temperature.

They tried to sleep but it was just too hot. After about an hour Ginny announced to the ceiling, “I really fancy another of those Banana Splits!”

“Splendid idea,” said an equally awake Hermione and she started to get up from the bed. Ginny jumped up and said, ”I’ll get them love. I know my way around the kitchen better than you do. Why don’t you just stay here and light a few candles and I’ll be back before you know it.” With that she threw on her dressing gown and went off to the kitchen.

True to her word she returned minutes later with two huge bowls of whipped cream covered delight. She offered one bowl to Hermione who was sitting naked and cross-legged on the bed. Ginny couldn’t help but stare at her lover’s most secret place so wide open to her view. Ginny put down her bowl and shrugged out of her dressing gown all the while staring at her naked lover. Suddenly the thought that briefly crossed her mind in the ice cream parlor came to the fore. She picked up her bowl and moved some of the cream away from the construction beneath.

She looked up to see a droplet of chocolate sauce running down Hermione’s chin and drop to her breast and as much as she wanted to lick it from Hermione’s breast she concentrated on the task at hand. With the whipped cream moved away, she turned the bowl so that the chocolate ice cream was at the bottom, and the vanilla between it and then the strawberry. She took the cherry and gently pressed it into the strawberry and arranged the whipped cream to only be along the top and down each side. With the banana halves on each side she realized it looked remarkably like her lover’s “naughty bits”, as they liked to call them.

Hermione was totally absorbed in savoring the cold sweet goodness sliding down her throat and never noticed Ginny slide to her side of the bed and pick up her wand. She waved it over the bowl in her hand and said a silent incantation. Putting the wand down she raised the bowl to her lips and gave the cherry a loving lick. She was rewarded immediately by seeing Hermione’s eyes cross as she snorted most of a mouthful of ice cream and chocolate sauce out of her nose and down over her breasts and into her lap.

Ignoring the mess she had just made she turned to see Ginny plunge her tongue into the vanilla ice. Her mind was instantly flooded with the feeling that Ginny’s tongue had just penetrated her most protected spot and the sensation was incredibly delicious. The bowl almost slipped from her hands as she watched Ginny withdraw her tongue and replace it slowly with two fingers. Hermione felt Ginny’s fingers penetrate her moving slowly in and out and her eyes rolled back and her breathing became more pronounced.

Ginny sat there grinning like a Cheshire cat and slowly laved the cherry with her tongue. Hermione did drop the bowl at this point as she felt her lovers fingers and tongue caress and fill her. By now Hermione was flat on her back with her legs up and spread as wide as they would go. She lay there relishing the feeling of Ginny’s fingers inside of her when a new feeling invaded her consciousness. She turned to Ginny and with one open eye watched the young red head slide her third finger into the scoop of chocolate ice cream. She cried out as she felt Ginny’s finger go where nothing had ever penetrated her before this moment. Now both of her most secret places were being subjected to finger movements, which were gaining in rapidity and vigor. She gave into the feelings and lost any pretense of control when Ginny started sucking on the bright red cherry. Hermione’s head began to thrash back and forth and she started a rhythmic beating with her fists on the bed as Ginny’s fingers and tongue took her over the top. She screamed as her body went rigid as her release washed over her. She felt Ginny slowly withdraw from her and she lay there unmoving until she felt muscle control returning and her breathing begin to slow.

She watched Ginny through half closed eyes move her wand over the bowl to break the spell she had cast before she made her move. As soon as she saw Ginny release her wand Hermione grabbed up a great handful of half melted ice cream and sauce and lunged. She quickly pinned the smaller girl down on the bed she rubbed the gooey stuff all over Ginny’s laughing face, into her flaming hair and down over her firm breasts and belly. Ginny tried to retaliate but she was laughing too hard to move. Hermione grabbed another handful of the sticky goo and plunged her hand between the younger girls’ legs. Soon they were both laughing and rolling in the mess, both covered head to toe in chocolate sauce and whipped cream and liquid ice cream.

It didn’t take long for the laughter to be replaced by raspy heavy breathing and little whimpers of pain and joy. This time they both screamed together, as each brought the other the sweet release they both craved.

Outside, the heat broke and a cooling breeze blew up from the river. The breeze found them entwined about each other in the center of the sticky carnage that was their bed.

“I can’t believe,” whispered Hermione, “that you got me off with ice cream!”

“Well,” giggled Ginny from between Hermione’s chocolate covered breasts, “you once told me that next to sex with me it was your favorite guilty pleasure.”

“You are going to teach me that spell you used aren’t you?”

Ginny nodded sleepily but thought to herself, that for her own sake, it might be a while.

The End