Your imprint,
Your marks,
Your impact,
All on me to savour.
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So much tension between two girls, so much things to unfold between them, so much to explore within them.
This story contains mature content.
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"Is this right, Mione?" asked Harry from beside her, showing her his Potions essay. The girl read, and she honestly didn't know, she didn't even start writing her own. "Blimey, me doing homework before you? Why don't you ask (Y/N) to help you out? She's a dab at potions, isn't she?"
Hermione's lips curled down to a small frown at the mention of (Y/N). She had spent the entire week trying to keep her mind off the girl. She'd steal glances at her every once in a while, always seeing the girl laughing while conversing with her friends. But sometimes, when (Y/N) thinks no one's looking at her, her smile would quickly fade, her eyes glued to the floor looking like a lost pup.
Biting down on her bottom lip, the Gryffindor tried to reason with her own self, she decided that she needed to answer (Y/N)'s question at the very least. She didn't want the girl to think that she was actually using her for sex. Maybe one more interaction wouldn't hurt— she just had to reach their conclusion and that'd be it.
But fighting off her feelings was like a losing battle, cause here she is next to a tree by the lake, on top of (Y/N)'s lap, her fingers buried in the latter's soft hair, their lips fitting into eachother like a perfect puzzle.
"I can't resist you," admitted Hermione breathlessly as she pulled away ever so slightly, resting her forehead against (Y/N)'s. She wanted to remain here, in the girl's hold, the latter's hands gripping her waist, her minty breath fanning against the Gryffindor's lips.
The two rested against each other in a comforting silence, but Hermione wanted an answer, she wanted to know if (Y/N) felt the same. She fluttered her eyes close and pressed her lips lightly against the plump ones that she loved, no rush, no movement, just a peck.
"I can't either," breathed out (Y/N), fluttering her eyes close as she allowed Hermione to play with her hair, recieving a peck on her face every once in a while. "But— I can't do this yet."
The fingers in her hair were retracted, and the air between them felt heavy. Was Hermione getting rejected?
"I don't do relationships, Hermione." explained (Y/N) with a sigh. "You were right when you called me a fuckgirl."
Silence.
"I did like alot of girls for their looks, but the way you cared for me, Hermione—" she rambled, laughing a bit as she talked about her feelings. "It's something else. I never talked about myself, feelings or past to anyone. Just fuck and dash. That's all they expected from me, anyway. They never asked me questions, I would've welcomed them if they did."
"I want to do this right," she went on as the Gryffindor eyed her curiously. "I want to take it slow so I can do it right, because I want to love you right. So what I'm asking right now is for a bit of patience." she explained softly, nuzzling her nose on the latters, earning her a tiny giggle.
Hermione pulled back to take in the girl's features. She couldn't fight back her smile when she saw the way (Y/N) looked at her, she never saw this look in Ron's eyes, she never felt appreciated like this. She knew that it'd be so wrong, so against her morals to accept (Y/N)'s request.
