Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1114406.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/F
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Millicent_Bulstrode/Hermione_Granger
  Additional Tags:
      Fingerfucking, Cunnilingus, Rimming
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-02-18 Words: 2417
****** Orchids ******
by lq_traintracks_(lumosed_quill), traintracks
Summary
     Millicent doesn't know what boys do -- what they do with girls, that
     is. Her sexual education has been glimpses of messy snogging,
     Lavender Brown's tongue plunging into that Weasley's mouth, for
     instance. She's also tried ordering from Muggle book shops for
     romance novels in which men's 'members' thrust mightily in between
     women's legs, and there's moaning and some sorts of explosions of
     stars and such.
     Something's always been missing, though
Millicent doesn't know what boys do -- what they do with girls, that is. Her
sexual education has been glimpses of messy snogging, Lavender Brown's tongue
plunging into that Weasley's mouth, for instance. She's also tried ordering
from Muggle book shops for romance novels in which men's 'members' thrust
mightily in between women's legs, and there's moaning and some sorts of
explosions of stars and such.
Something's always been missing, though.
No one boy, not even Slytherin boys, ever asks Millicent out. Not Crabbe or
Goyle or any of them. As if she's hopelessly beneath everyone. She's gone to
dances alone or not at all. She pretends it doesn't hurt. She pretends her
ambitions are purely magic-related, and she's become the best witch she can,
which isn't the best. To her dismay, her best marks come from Ancient Runes.
Not Potions or Defense or even Transfiguration, but Runes. For some reason, she
has a gift for reading them, interpreting them, finding meaning in the slip of
the stones through her fingers, feeling them warm in her palm.
She feels connected to their earthy weight, their slippery information.
It's through runes that Granger first speaks to her in anything other than
snide passing.
"You dropped this," she says one day, holding out Millicent's naudiz stone.
Before she can think to do otherwise, Millicent mutters, "Thank you."
Granger blinks at her and drops the stone into her palm. Then she smirks. "I
just thought you might need it."
As she walks away, Millicent stares down at the stone. Naudiz. Need. It means
need. "I get it!" she calls suddenly, but when Granger turns and gives her a
small smile, Millicent clamps her lips together, turns bright red, and drops
her gaze to the floor.
*
Millicent starts running into Granger in the library by accident. She finds
herself staring over at the Gryffindor table at meals. She's lost her appetite.
All she can think about is Granger dropping a warm rune into her palm,
Granger's body writhing against her own during Dueling that one time. All she
remembers is orchid perfume and the brush of Granger's breast against her arm
in her struggle.
Granger starts talking to her; Millicent has all but made a nuisance of herself
in the library after all. She even dropped her runes again on the off chance
Granger would help her out once more.
When they start to talk, it's about Runes and OWLS and teachers. It's
tentative. Granger expects Millicent to turn on her any minute. Millicent hates
the way that feels. So she's extra careful. She listens a lot rather than
talking. She suffers the sneers of Malfoy and Zabini and Parkinson. She and
Granger start seeking out private places to talk and work with the runes
together so as to avoid Slytherin glares and Gryffindor scoffing.
It takes her a month to suggest the Room of Requirement. "You know...to study
in," she says. She's terrified, but Granger goes for it.
"Tonight? Eight o'clock?"
Millicent gulps. "Yeah."
*
They go there once a week at first.
Then it's three times a week.
Then it's most nights.
They've graduated from talking strictly Runes to other subjects. Other
subjects, to their lives. Granger trusts her now. She tells Millicent about the
house elf thing. Millicent tells Granger about her life. She's never told
anyone about her life before.
One night, Millicent brings one of her books, one of the romantic ones. She
feels clammy and nervous, and she's sure it's a mistake, but then Granger
laughs and says, "I've read a couple of these before! I just hate how simpering
the women are, but who doesn't like to read about shagging," she confides.
Millicent's blood goes warm again with relief. "I've read a few with strong
women," she says. "In this one, she saves his arse as a matter of fact."
"Really?" Granger takes the book from her hands, grazing Millicent's knuckles
with soft, sure fingers.
"Yeah, she's more like you."
Granger darts a look up at her, and all Millicent can do is flush and stare
hard at the floor between them.
"How's she like me?" Granger asks, her voice low and quiet.
Millicent clears her throat. The fluffy pillows the room conjured for their
comfort now feel lumpy and lopsided under her. "Um...well, she's...brave,"
Millicent starts. "She says what she means. She's smart. Really smart. And she,
uh, she's beautiful."
"They're all beautiful," Granger says, and though Millicent hasn't dared look
up, she can tell the other girl has moved closer.
"Not like you," she says in a whisper.
That's when Granger's fingers touch her thigh -- light and gentle.
That's when Millicent holds her breath, looks up, and sees Granger smiling at
her.
That's when they kiss.
*
It takes Milllicent three weeks to get up enough courage to do more than snog
Granger. Snogging has nearly been enough. Snogging Granger is like eating a
strawberry slowly. It's like being on Love Potion night and day. It's a
building heat in her chest, between her legs. It's not at all like it is in the
books. And it's exactly like that.
When they stop and go back to their common rooms, it's always with flirtatious
little looks, the glance of hands touching.
Millicent stares at her face in the mirror in the loo, and she's smiling.
The first time Millicent touches Granger's body, Granger sighs her name, and
Millicent almost comes spontaneously from the sound. Her hand inches up
Granger's stomach, under her jumper, onto skin, up trembling ribs. They're
snogging still, but Granger breaks off to sigh her name, and Millicent slips
her hand up a little more, onto Granger's breast outside the rough lace of her
bra. Granger's nipple fits in the web of skin between Millicent's thumb and
finger. Granger shudders violently. Millicent, for the first time in her life,
feels victorious.
*
Runes are all but forgotten for a few weeks; they're there for illicit sex now.
Millicent's heart hammers as she lays Granger down on the bedding on the floor,
as she smooths a palm up her skirt (Granger wore a skirt.), as her fingers
enter Granger's wetness easily.
Granger moves on her, and it's nothing Millicent has prepared for: a woman
escalating to orgasm because of her. There has been no instruction on this.
Millicent just does what her heart and needy body command. She parts Granger's
blouse, opens her bra, laves over one nipple for ten minutes before she simply
must bite it a little. Granger arches into her mouth on a long groan. It
doesn't sound like the women in the books are made to sound. It is harsh and
low and undignified but powerful. It makes Millicent's cunt gush hot with
pungent slick.
Millicent works her mouth down Granger's half-naked body. Granger raises her
arms over her head, letting her, and this makes Millicent feel strong and
desired. She pushes Granger's thighs apart -- they ease open with a wet sound -
- and she buries her face there, tasting it for the first time.
This part is always the precursor to 'members' in books. But Millicent doesn't
think it should be. She could stay here with Granger all day. She makes her
come like this. She makes her come again. And then again. Millicent had no idea
of what she, herself, could do with just her mouth.
And Granger tastes hot and sharp like they say wine does, although Millicent
has never drunk wine. She hopes it's like this.
Granger lifts her disheveled head, her eyes glazed, and licks her lips.
"Fuck..." she pants.
Millicent lifts her mouth to smile. She has made Hermione Granger say 'fuck'.
Hermione.
Such a wonderful word, Hermione.
"Turn over," Millicent requests.
"Mmm," Hermione purrs, languidly rolling, pillowing her head on her arms.
Millicent nuzzles her arse, and Hermione parts her legs a little. An inch. A
demure asking for something neither one of them understands.
Millicent drags Hermione's body where she wants it, where she must have it, up
on the knees, arse up. Hermione chokes on a soft sound. Millicent swallows, her
heart going hard, and then she licks over Hermione's arsehole.
"Oh my God!" Hermione calls, voice muffled in her arm.
Millicent licks again. She can't believe she wants to do this. This isn't in
the books. She just...wants to. And Hermione tastes almost sweet. The tight
pucker of her is so soft, and Millicent loves how it feels on her tongue.
Hermione shakes, and Millicent prods at her, wanting more. She grunts a little,
immediately tensing. Girls aren't supposed to grunt. But Hermione widens her
knees, and the little bud opens, relaxing. Millicent grips Hermione's bum in
her hands, and works her tongue inside.
Then Hermione's rocking on it, and Millicent practically flies as she moves her
face against Hermione's arse, fucking her tongue in and then licking, kissing
it, fucking again. Hermione's hand descends between her own legs, and soon
she's quivering again, coming hard on her knees, Millicent's mouth working her
through.
*
Millicent gets an Outstanding in Runes, and the year's almost over.
They haven't been able to get away in the last two weeks, what with mad
studying, peer pressure, and such. She finds Granger's eyes across the Great
Hall once or twice and regrets that she succumbs to a renewed drop in
confidence. She just wants to walk over and talk to Granger. She wants to go
back to the Room of Requirement. Millicent doesn't know what she'll do if she
has to go all Summer without seeing her, talking to her, touching her.
The day before they're supposed to go home, Granger corners her in the hallway.
"Tonight?" she says, a little breathless.
Millicent would give anything to kiss her right then, in front of everyone. She
just nods.
They meet late, and the wall has only just reformed behind them when Granger
turns to her and takes her hand. It's usually been Millicent who instigates
lately -- ever since that first touch of Granger's hand on her thigh.
"Millicent," Granger breathes. Then she draws her down onto the floor, on top
of her, and Millicent feels Granger's legs parting. She settles between, the
heat from Granger's pussy intoxicating against her own.
They kiss, opening blouses hurriedly and sliding hands up and down one
another's bodies.
But then Granger stops. "Will you say my name?"
"Gr-Granger?" Milllicent tries.
"The other one."
Millicent blinks. Then in a moment, Granger has rolled them over so that she's
on top. She touches her fingers to Milllicent's cheek, and it's out of
Millicent's stunned mouth before she's caught her breath: "Hermione..."
The pretty girl on top of her smiles. Then she kisses down Millicent's jaw, her
throat, her chest. She peels up Millicent's bra and begins teasing her nipples
with her sweet lips. Hermione sucks at one, and Millicent gasps, bucking
indelicately. Hermione takes her wrists and presses them over her head to the
pillows. She's stronger than she looks. She holds Millicent's wrists there with
one slender hand and lets the other glide slowly down Millicent's body until it
disappears between her legs, opens her trousers, enters her panties, two
fingers in between her folds.
Millicent breathes, staring at the high ceiling but not seeing, as Hermione
sucks on her tits and dips a long finger into her, thrusting.
She's never been touched like this.
She had thought no one would really want to.
Hermione moans around her nipple, licking it hard up against her top teeth, and
Millicent's eyes roll back. She starts to move on Hermione's hand.
Someone is fucking her. A beautiful girl wants to fuck her.
Millicent doesn't last. She writhes on the floor under Hermione and comes like
thunder, sudden and scary. It rolls through her, over her, over them both.
Hermione raises her mouth to whisper, "It's okay...it's okay...Millicent...oh,
Millicent..." her finger always moving in and out, provoking it, never letting
it end.
Minutes later when it does, when Millicent feels faint with it and her breasts
are red and wet from Hermione's mouth, her cunt still tiredly gripping every
ten seconds or so, Hermione sits up. She's crying. She's been crying.
"What is it? Did I do something wrong?" Millicent asks.
"No, Millicent," Hermione sniffs. "Don't you know?"
"Know what?"
"How much I'm going to miss you."
Millicent swallows, speechless.
"Will you owl me?"
"What?"
"Oh, for Merlin's sake -- you're just like they say boys are after they shag:
half-asleep and completely fuck-stupid. WILL YOU OWL ME?"
"If you want me to." Yes, yes, yes, yes, YES!
"I want you to," Hermione says. Then she lies down against Millicent, her head
on Millicent's shoulder, leg slung between Millicent's, arm over her chest.
"I want you to, too," Millicent admits.
She wants to ask, Are you my girlfriend? Have you told any of your friends
about me? Do you think you could love me? But she feels about a million miles
away from such things. She only feels close enough to reach up and stroke
through Hermione's thick hair. She only feels close enough to breathe for now.
*
When the train lets them off at King's Cross, Millicent's aunt is there to pick
her up, and Hermione's parents are there as well. Milllicent hardly hears with
Aunt Francis is saying to her -- something about not slouching and taking more
of an interest in her looks. Aunt Francis is dragging her away when Hermione
looks up from across the train station and gives her a wavering smile.
Millicent returns it, raising her hand in a little wave.
"Who are you waving at? I see no one from your House in the vicinity?" Aunt
Francis sniffs.
Millicent squares her shoulders. She stops slouching. "That's Hermione Granger.
She's a Gryffindor," she states defiantly.
"Well, I never," Aunt Francis gasps.
"No, you haven't," Millicent replies, feeling a courage and elation she's never
before felt filling her lungs, stiffening her jaw.
Aunt Francis seems at a loss to know what to say to that. Millicent smiles
bigger at Hermione, and Hermione waves back.
Millicent had thought she'd be sad, leaving like this. Maybe she's stronger
than she thought. Maybe it's the fact that she can still recall Granger's
orchid perfume, how it clung to her inner thighs. Maybe it's everything and
nothing at all.
Millicent follows her aunt out of the station, walking through the steam from
the train, dragging her trunk, and feeling beautiful for the first time in her
life.

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