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Ginny never thought a lot of Millicent Bulstrode. At school Millicent would surround herself with knobs like Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy and spent most of her time looking surly about one thing or another. All things considered, it’s pretty bloody annoying when her friends start talking about Millicent—Millie—as if she’s the best thing since Madam Puddifoot’s toasted teacakes.
“She’s quite decent,” Hermione says. “I think you might like her if you gave her a chance.”
“I doubt it.” Ginny takes an irritated spoonful of her chocolate sundae. “It’s bad enough having to spend time with Malfoy, the last thing I want is to go for a beer with Bulstrode.”
Hermione winces. “Actually…”
“You invited her tonight, didn’t you?” Ginny glares at Hermione. “What the bollocks did you do that for?”
“I don’t think she has many friends.” Hermione shrugs and has a sip of her tea. “I don’t like seeing people left out and she’s been ever so helpful with my formal attire for Ministry functions, even though I’m not her typical kind of client.”
“What’s typical?” Ginny snorts. “Pureblood Slytherins, I bet. There might be a reason she doesn’t have many friends.”
“Don’t be like that.” Hermione frowns at Ginny. “She primarily deals with witches looking for bespoke tailoring, that’s all.”
Ginny doesn’t care for bespoke tailoring and she certainly doesn’t want to spend her hard-earned money on a suit. She’s more comfortable in baggy jeans and battered canvas trainers, or a cosy tracksuit with a hooded jumper with deep pockets or long sleeves she can push her hands inside to keep them warm. Bill and Fleur’s wedding was the last time she wore anything remotely smart; a dress that sat all wrong. She had to keep yanking at the hem when it rode up and it felt weird, itchy and left her bare legs sticking to the chair whenever she sat down.
“It doesn’t sound like anything I’d be interested in.”
“No?” Hermione arches an eyebrow at Ginny. “Have you decided on an outfit for the wedding, yet?”
Buggering bollocks. Hermione and Ron’s wedding is less than a month away and the only thing that Ginny has in her wardrobe that's appropriate for a wedding with a Muggle dress code is the itchy wedding dress from hell. Ginny is a big believer in only buying clothes she can wear flying.
“I’m sure I can find something in Topshop,” Ginny mutters. She sees Hermione’s put-out expression and sighs. “Fine. I’ll speak to her, if you like.” She points her spoon at Hermione. “But you’ve only got yourself to blame if I end up casting a Bat-Bogey Hex at her.”
“I doubt that’s going to happen.” Hermione looks pleased, no doubt thrilled to have coerced Ginny into dressing up for the wedding. “I told her to come to the Leaky for seven. You can meet her properly then.”
“Oh good.” Ginny rolls her eyes. “I can’t wait.”
She attacks her sundae again and wonders what Hermione’s smirking about.
*
Millicent is not at all what Ginny expected. She hardly even recognises her when she arrives at the pub, until Hermione elbows Ginny in the side and makes her go and say something. Reluctantly, Ginny approaches Millicent and taps her on her shoulder.
“Oh. Hello.” Millicent grins at Ginny and extends her hand, after sweeping her cropped black hair back from her forehead. “How are you?”
“Fine.” Ginny’s throat gets dry at the sight of Millicent and she’s suddenly at a loss for words. Millicent is really nothing like Ginny expected, based on hazy school memories. She’s cheerful, for a start. Her broad smile is almost as distracting as her outfit, which is nothing short of dashing. Ginny chews on her thumbnail and wishes she had spent a little more time getting changed instead of just chucking on her favourite woolly jumper and ripped jeans.
Millicent is stocky and smartly dressed, wearing highly polished burgundy brogues which immediately catch Ginny's eye because there's something very Gryffindor-ish about them. Her tweed blazer fits her curves perfectly, the shirt underneath open at the collar to reveal the smallest expanse of milky flesh. A blue silk handkerchief pokes jauntily from her blazer pocket and a colourful rainbow pin adorns the lapel. She’s handsome, Ginny’s mind unhelpfully supplies. Dapper, certainly. Where Millicent seemed all brute force and surly temperament at school, she now looks confident and happy. Her thick-set jaw, once mean and angry looking, now seems perfectly suited to her, complimented by cropped hair which is thick and inky, swooping almost quiff-like at the front. Ginny swallows and shakes Millicent’s hand quickly before she notices the sudden clamminess of Ginny’s palms.
“I hear you’re a tailor now,” Ginny says.
“That’s right.” Millicent beams. “Hermione said you’re after a suit for the wedding. If you want to come to the shop, I’ll happily take your measurements.”
“Um. Thanks.” Ginny fights back the heat rising in her cheeks at the thought of Millicent taking her measurements. What the bloody hell is wrong with her? Ginny hasn’t felt like this since Harry and she liked Harry. Fancied him, more accurately. She can’t fancy Millicent Bulstrode. It must be the cider. She should have stuck with her usual, not the new extra-strong brew.
“It’s no bother. When suits?” Millicent rummages around in her jacket pocket, looking for something.
“Are you free tomorrow?”
Millicent extracts a smart leather notebook from her blazer pocket and Ginny tries not to stare at her neatly cut fingernails and strong fingers as she flicks through the pages. Millicent has very nice hands.
“Yep. Anytime after three. I’m all yours.”
“Brilliant,” Ginny says, faintly. “Thanks, Millicent.”
Millicent winces. “Millie. Nobody calls me Millicent.”
“Okay. Same. With Ginevra, I mean.” Ginny’s lips and brain don’t seem to be connected anymore, and Merlin she needs to get another a drink.
She mumbles something about going to the bar and orders another pint, taking a steadying sip. When she feels more composed Ginny takes a seat at Harry and Draco’s table, mainly to annoy them.
She tries not to make eye-contact with Millie for the rest of the evening, but every time she sneaks a glance in her general direction Millie is looking right back.
*
Millie is very professional when she’s at work, which is more than can be said for Ginny, whose thoughts aren’t professional in the slightest. Every press of Millie’s fingers against her body have Ginny biting on her bottom lip, trying not to groan. She has a moment of relief when Millie steps back, pushing her pencil behind her ear and eyeing Ginny critically.
“I think blue velvet might be nice. Is it a bit much? I don’t want you to feel like a dickhead.”
Ginny already feels like a dickhead, but it has nothing to do with blue velvet. Her mind is still full of the very explicit dream she had last night which involved Millie in tweed, kneeling in between Ginny’s legs. Ginny’s naked legs. Her stomach has been in knots since she arrived at Millicent’s little shop with its dark mahogany walls, rows of suits, bow ties and well-starched shirts. Her gaze flicks towards the section marked magical binders and she looks away quickly, heat flaring in her cheeks.
She turns to look at herself in the mirror, pulling her hair to one side and trying to imagine herself in velvet. She meets Millie’s eyes in the mirror. “I’m not very flashy. Velvet sounds like something Malfoy might wear.”
Millie laughs, low in her throat. “I don’t think so. Draco’s all about the paisley these days.” She puts a gentle hand on Ginny’s shoulder turning her back around. She puts her pencil in her mouth and concentrates on taking a couple of additional measurements, before sliding the pencil back behind her ear again. She straightens to an upright position. “I’d wager he’s not your favourite person.”
Ginny pulls a face. “Not really.”
“Does what happened with Potter bother you?” Millie shakes her head incredulously. “I’m still not sure how that happened.”
“I don’t care really.” Ginny shrugs. “It was over between me and Harry before Malfoy came on the scene.” A fierce, protective ball takes up residence in her chest. “I just think Harry could do better.”
“I see.”
Ginny winces as Millie gives her a sharp look. “I’m sorry, I know Malfoy’s a friend of yours.”
Millicent sighs. “He is now. He wasn’t.” She jots down a couple of notes and reaches for another tape measure, her back to Ginny. “He wasn’t exactly kind to me either at school. Draco’s got a bit of a bob on himself, but it’s mostly all for show these days. He’s changed a lot since school. We all have.”
“I can tell,” Ginny says, honestly. “I’m not sure I have, much.” Guilt at her uncharitable response to Hermione’s suggestion that Millie be invited for a drink with them worms through her. “We all have prejudices, I suppose.”
“Some with more reason than others,” Millie says. “Whether you care about Potter snogging Malfoy or not it’s never nice breaking up, is it? I wouldn’t blame you for disliking him, even just because of that.”
“Me and Harry never really got started to be honest. It seems unfair to blame Malfoy for losing something I’m not sure I wanted in the first place.” It’s true, when Ginny looks back on it. There were a few lacklustre kisses and awkward fumbles before everything went spectacularly to shit. She always felt peculiar about their distinct lack of physical chemistry. Harry’s been fairly clear about his attraction to witches as well as wizards and it makes Ginny feel as though something must have been wrong with her, to keep avoiding any opportunities for intimacy. It's not as though she doesn’t enjoy sex, either. She just mainly enjoys it with herself. As soon as any boys wanted to get involved, it was a bit like taking a cold shower.
“Did I hear you were seeing Dean Thomas now?” Millicent sounds casual, flicking through the pages of her little book and making a note, still not looking at Ginny.
Ginny snorts. “If you did, it’s not true. I wish Skeeter would stop making up bollocks. Dean has a girlfriend.”
Millie finally turns back to Ginny. She looks her up and down for a minute, tapping a pencil to her lip before speaking. “What do you like, then?”
“Sorry?” Ginny’s cheeks heat, images of Millie slowly taking her apart filling her mind. Surely the fact Ginny rather likes Millie isn’t that transparent?
Millie waves her hand in an up and down motion over Ginny’s body. “What do you like to wear normally? It might help me come up with something you’ll feel comfortable in at the wedding.”
“Oh.” Ginny is both relieved and disappointed that they’ve moved from romance back to fashion, or Ginny’s distinct lack of it. “Tracksuits?”
Millie laughs. “This isn’t JJB Sports, love.”
Ginny grins at Millie, the tension in the room easing. “I like what you’re wearing.”
“You do?” Millicent looks pleased. She glances down at her shirt and smart black jeans. Her shirt sleeves are rolled up to the elbow and she has a cool tattoo on her right arm. She looks back up at Ginny. “I like what you’re wearing, too.”
“This?” Ginny scuffs the toe of her trainer against the carpet. “It’s just casual.”
“Still.” Millicent makes a couple of additional notes on a piece of parchment, chewing on the end of her pencil as she thinks. “It’s pretty.”
“Pretty what?” Ginny holds her breath, waiting for Millicent to continue.
Millicent looks up and smiles, shaking her head. “Just pretty. That’s it.”
Ginny swallows and turns back to the mirror, lifting her hair off her neck. She doesn’t feel pretty at all. Scruffy, more like. Her pale skin is lightly flushed and her heart beats more rapidly in her chest as she imagines Millie moving behind her and planting a soft kiss on the nape of her neck, sliding her hands onto Ginny’s hips, pulling her back and—
Ginny gulps, letting her hair fall in loose waves around her shoulders again and turning back to Millie. “I want the blue velvet. If you think it would look nice.”
“I do.” Millicent moves closer to Ginny and extracts the tape measure, taking another couple of details down on her parchment. She’s so close, Ginny can smell the scent of what she can only assume is cologne. It mingles with the musky, soapy scent of her hair. Ginny holds her breath to avoid being known as the creepy client sniffing Millie. “I think it would look very nice.”
Ginny closes her eyes and tries to think of flobberworm guts and snogging Professor Binns in the hope that Millicent won’t pick up on her laboured breathing and the thud, thud of her heart which seems so loud in the quiet shop.
Mercifully, if Millie does notice she doesn’t say a word, and Ginny leaves with the promise of a freshly tailored suit, already racking her brains for a reason to return.
*
Ginny Apparates home so quickly she almost splinches herself. She says hello to her kneazle—Harpy—then goes into her bedroom, shutting the door tight. With a groan she throws herself on the bed, blinking at the ceiling. She trails her hand down her chest, her cheeks flushing with heat even as she does so. She slowly slides her hand beneath the waistband of her jeans and into her knickers, letting out an mmm of contentment when she finally reaches her destination.
She tries to think of the usual things that fill her mind at this point. The pictures of Oliver Wood looking fit and muscular in Quidditch Quarterly or that new Muggle film star that’s on all of the posters in London. It’s useless, though. Oliver Wood is a prat, and nobody wants to get themselves off to someone’s face on the side of a bus. She closes her eyes and gives in to the fantasy that's really getting her hot and bothered, letting the warmth of Millie’s shop fill her mind. She imagines what it might be like to be thoroughly measured, the thought of Millie’s fingers doing to Ginny what she’s currently doing to herself driving her mad. She can’t quite believe how warm and wet she is, throbbing and tingling, just from standing close to Millicent Bulstrode for an hour or two.
With a groan, Ginny brings herself swiftly to a bone-shaking orgasm and slides her fingers from her knickers, opening her eyes and staring at the ceiling. She has to admit that the fantasy of being with another woman brought her to climax more rapidly than anything else before it, even if twenty-four hours ago, Ginny would have called herself straight.
Fuck.
“I think I’m gay,” she whispers to the quiet room. “I think I’m gay,” she says again, louder this time.
It’s like the sunrise after staying awake all night. There’s a whoosh in the pit of her stomach and nervous energy that pulses through her as her mind races with kaleidoscope images from the past. Showers after Quidditch. Thinking how lovely it would be to kiss that girl in the year below with the spiky white-blonde hair. The flat, dull kisses with boys that seemed like the thing to do at the time because everyone else was doing it. Harry. Beautiful, lovely, messy-haired Harry, who was the hero of her heart for such a long time she didn’t even think it might not be right, forcing herself to love him in all the ways she felt he deserved, even when she never really loved him like that.
Ginny’s hands shake and she goes to shower, sliding her hands through her hair and tipping her head up to the water. She feels like she should have known, somehow. That she should have recognised the signs when they were all there for such a long time. She just didn’t know how to see them properly before a girl in a sharp suit with the widest, loveliest smile helped her take the blinkers off.
Ginny dries herself and curls up with Harpy on the bed, burrowing her face into his soft, grey fur.
“I’m gay, Harpy,” she says. He mewls and paws at her t-shirt and she kisses his head, stroking his ears. “It’s going to be okay, isn’t it?”
He mewls again and snuggles into a ball on her belly and Ginny decides to take that as his promise that it’s all going to be fine.
*
When Ginny decides her wardrobe requires another blazer, she has to admit that her newly discovered admiration for a well-cut jacket is less to do with a sudden interest in fashion, and more to do with the person cutting said jacket. Even though the wedding blazer, crisp white dress shirt and formal black trousers were a perfect fit—blue velvet was an inspired choice for the jacket—she can’t resist returning to Millie’s shop the following week under the pretence of acquiring something else. At this rate she’s going to be broke by Christmas.
“Back again?” Millie looks up from the till in surprise, pushing her hair back from her forehead as the shop’s bell announces Ginny’s arrival. “Is there something wrong with the outfit?” She checks the magical clock with a frown as its cogs whir and spin. “I won’t have time to do any alterations today. I was just closing up.”
“The outfit’s perfect,” Ginny says. The idea of pretending to be after something new flies out of the window, and she decides to be bold. “I was just in the area. I thought I’d say hello.”
“Oh?” Millie raises her eyebrows, giving Ginny a surprised smile. She brushes the lapel of her blazer and clears her throat, gruffly. “Well. Hello, then.”
“Hi.” Ginny’s palms are clammy and she almost giggles, even though she’s fairly certain she hasn’t done that since the nineties. There’s something about Millie that makes her feel off-kilter, nervous and confused. She licks her lips, her mouth dry. “Thank you again for the clothes.”
Millie waves her hand as if to say it’s fine. She seems at a bit of a loss, looking at the clock again. “Did the shirt fit?”
“Like a glove.”
“And the blue velvet?”
“It looks brilliant, just like you said.”
“Good.” Millicent looks chuffed to bits. “I knew it would.” She gestures to Ginny’s hair. “With the red.”
Ginny wanders over to the section of magical binders, letting her fingers trail over one of the instruction leaflets.
“Are you interested in those?” Millie sounds surprised.
“No, I don’t think so.” Ginny waves a rueful hand over her chest. “There’s not much to bind, in any event.” She glances at Millie’s outfit—the crisp, starched shirt with little flamingos on it, a jaunty bowtie and braces, with neatly pressed trousers. “Are you?”
“It’s my shop,” Millie replies, amused. “I’m interested in most things here.”
“Are most of the women that come here gay?” Ginny blurts out.
Millie gives Ginny a quizzical look. “Some, not all. It’s not only women that like this shop, either. Trans men, non-binary people, even Draco’s been in before when they cocked up his suit at Saville Row. Does it bother you?”
“Does what bother me?”
“The customers.” Millie takes a breath. “Or the fact that I’m a lesbian.”
Ginny’s cheeks heat and she gives Millie a smile. “It doesn’t bother me. I didn’t even know.”
“Really?” Millie raises her eyebrows and points to the rainbow pin which is currently attached to her braces and a button that says ‘Butch is Beautiful.’
“I might have had an inkling.” Ginny laughs. “I didn’t want to assume.”
“Sensible.” Millie grins at Ginny.
“I think I am too,” Ginny says, quietly. “Gay, I mean. I don’t know. Definitely more interested in women than men.”
“Oh.” Millie stares at Ginny. “Is that…new?”
“Very.” Ginny stares at her hands, trying not to think too closely about what she was doing with them when the light bulb finally went on. “I, umm, worked it out. Pretty recently.”
“Have you told anyone?” Millie’s voice is quiet.
“The people that matter. A couple of friends, mum and dad. Harry.” Ginny meets Millie’s eyes. “Hermione wasn’t surprised. She said I should talk to you.” Now that she comes to think of it, Ginny has the distinct impression Hermione was trying to set her up with Millie.
“Hermione’s pretty perceptive.” Millie’s neck gets pink and she clears her throat. “Coming out can be difficult, I’m glad it’s not been like that for you.”
“Harry’s already done it, that helped probably.” Ginny holds Millie’s gaze. “Was it difficult for you?”
Millie nods, but doesn’t elaborate. “My parents, mainly.”
“I’m sorry,” Ginny says.
“It’s okay. They’re getting used to it.” Millie shrugs. She runs a hand through her hair and looks at the window. “It’s raining out.”
“Is it?” Ginny sucks in a breath and moves closer to Millie. “I hadn’t really noticed,” she says, boldly.
“Oh.” Millie shifts closer to Ginny, touching her hair lightly and looking at her lips. “Oh.”
“Yeah.” Ginny leans in to Millie’s hand in her hair. “Should we wait here for the storm to pass?” It’s so obviously a line but it’s marginally less forward than do you want to come back and see my bedroom so Ginny pushes aside any embarrassment at being so brazen.
“If you like.” Millie stuffs her hands into her pockets. “There’s a cutting room in the back. I’ve got a kettle.”
“I like tea,” Ginny says.
She follows Millie through the darkening shop, her heart thrumming in her chest as the rain patters on the roof, the windows and the streets outside.
*
When they get to the cosy back room, Ginny moves into the circle of Millie’s arms and kisses her eagerly, all thoughts of making a cup of tea forgotten. Her stomach flips with excitement as Millie’s lips touch her own, arousal tugging at her belly and making her warm all over. It’s more heightened and intense than it’s ever been with anyone else and Ginny can’t believe how right it feels. She slides her hands over Millie’s curves, relishing the gorgeous, solid shape of her. She strokes a hand through Millie's cropped hair and runs her fingers over the nape of her neck to feel the close shave of it just at the base. Millie isn’t soft, gentle and sweet. She kisses Ginny with force and skill, one hand tangled in Ginny’s hair and the other sliding down her back to pull her closer.
“Will you touch me?” Ginny breathes out the question into the still room, her voice husky as she presses her damp lips to Millie’s cheek.
“Mmm.” Millie answers with a groan of pleasure and a quick nod of acquiescence. She moves them towards the sofa, before sliding her hand under Ginny’s jumper. “Take this off.”
Ginny doesn’t hesitate, pulling her jumper over her head and dropping it on the floor, unhooking her bra and letting that drop to the floor too. She unbuttons her jeans and kicks them off, stretching out on the sofa in just her knickers. Millie stays standing, watching Ginny as if she can’t quite believe it.
“Are you going to undress too?”
“Bloody hell, yes.” Ginny’s words seem to shake Millie from her thoughts and she pulls off her clothes, murmuring a spell to loosen her magical binder and sighing with pleasure. “I need to work on the magic for these. It’s better than the Muggle ones, but it’s not there yet.”
Millie moves over Ginny on the sofa and kisses her soundly. The kisses shift between light, biting teases to hard, wet, urgent things which leave Ginny breathless. She gives herself over to the pleasure of it, sliding her fingers over Millie’s soft, warm back and into her hair. She grinds herself up into Millie, wrapping a leg around her and pulling her nearer as their hot bodies connect just enough to cause a light, teasing friction with only the thin material of their knickers separating them. It’s exquisite, moving like this with Millie, the kisses getting hotter and deeper, as arousal floods between Ginny’s legs and her body aches and tingles with anticipation.
Millie slides a hand up Ginny’s arm, encouraging her to put her hands above her head. When Ginny’s hands are in place, she slides her hand down the length of Ginny’s arm, leaning back to watch the path of her fingers as she runs them over the small slope of Ginny’s breast. With a low murmur of pleasure, Millie cups Ginny’s breast and leans in to tease her nipple with her tongue. The gentle graze of her teeth makes Ginny hiss with pleasure as she squirms beneath Millie.
“I want to touch you too,” Ginny whispers.
“You can. Let me enjoy you first.” Millie gives Ginny a slow kiss, before pulling back, her breath hot and minty on Ginny’s lips. “I like doing this. I love doing this. I prefer doing it to having it done to me, most of the time.”
Satisfied that Millie is telling the truth, Ginny decides to lie back and enjoy it, rather than worrying about whether Millie will think Ginny is too inexperienced, or selfish, to do this with again. Millie licks, nips and teases her nipples, her fingers brushing Ginny’s damp knickers without slipping inside, sending another flood of desire between Ginny’s legs. As Millie kisses Ginny, she cups Ginny’s mound and presses the heel of her palm against it just enough that it makes Ginny want to rub and grind shamelessly into Millie's hand. Her clit is throbbing with the need to be touched and she knows her cotton knickers must be damp against Millie’s skin. Millie slides her fingers softly over the outline of Ginny’s folds, moving over her slit where the cotton barrier between them is almost too much. As if she knows exactly how much she’s driving Ginny mental—which she probably does—Millie runs her fingers over the hot skin on Ginny’s inner thighs, over the place her belly clenches and flexes under Millie’s touch and back down again to run lightly over the spot where all the heat in Ginny’s body seems to have collected.
“Are you trying to make me beg, is that it?” Ginny laughs, even though it’s shaky and broken. She tugs Millie into a fierce kiss before letting her respond.
Millie looks thoughtful, then she shakes her head, giving Ginny a wicked smile. “Not today, love. But another time, if you think you’d like that.”
Fuck yes, Ginny would like that. She imagines being bound by one of Millie’s pretty silk ties or stretched out on a bed with her legs spread. Not for the first time this fortnight, Millie ignites desires in Ginny for things she didn’t even know she wanted.
“You should tie me up next time.” Ginny sucks in a breath as Millie raises an eyebrow and dips the tips of her fingers underneath the elasticated band of Ginny’s knickers.
“I should?” Millie slips her hand further inside, her voice breathless. She runs her fingers lightly over Ginny’s folds which must be so hot and slick to the touch by now. It takes all of Ginny’s discipline not to reach down and push Millie’s maddening fingers inside her, so she twines her hands together and groans as Millie lightly parts her folds then returns to moving her fingers too lightly to do anything significant but close enough to the core of her pleasure to leave Ginny practically shaking with need.
“You should.” Ginny bites back a moan, her voice breathless.
“You’re so wet.” Millie breathes against Ginny’s lips, kissing her then pulling back just a little. “So fucking lovely.”
“Please.” Ginny wriggles against Millie’s fingers, hitching her legs up. “I want you so much.”
“I want you too,” Millie says, her voice husky. She tugs down Ginny’s pants, dropping them on the floor and moves down Ginny’s body. She pushes her hands under Ginny, squeezing her backside in a way that makes Ginny wonder if every nerve ending in her body is attuned to respond to Millie’s fingers, no matter where they are. She follows Millie’s direction, letting her legs fall open and running her heel down Millie’s back.
The first slide of Millie’s tongue against Ginny’s clit is electric and she throws an arm over her head, dropping her head back and arching up into Millie’s mouth. Millie seems to know what she’s doing, but she also seems to want to know if Ginny likes what she’s doing, using her tongue to flick over Ginny’s clit, flattening it down, tasting every inch of Ginny and sucking lightly over the most sensitive parts of Ginny’s body to see what generates the best reaction. When she slides a finger slowly inside Ginny and uses her mouth and tongue again, Ginny cries out sharply. Everything is so hot and wet, need pulsing through her body, her cunt clenching as she aches for more of Millie’s clever touch.
Millie withdraws her wet fingers and uses them to circle Ginny’s clit before returning to using her mouth as she pushes two fingers into Ginny’s body, which clenches in response. It doesn’t take long for Millie’s tongue and fingers to bring Ginny to climax, and she clutches onto the cushions of the sofa as she bites back a loud cry, her legs wobbling in the aftermath of her orgasm. When Millie moves back, the cool air in the room ghosts over Ginny’s hot thighs which are sticky and damp, her body still hyper sensitive and craving something more, even as she still rides on the waves of her climax.
Millie slides her fingers out of Ginny slowly and dips her head down to run her tongue lightly over Ginny’s opening, as if to taste her pleasure. She rubs the back of her hand briefly over her mouth before moving up to kiss Ginny slowly. Her own scent and tangy sweetness on Millie’s lips makes Ginny’s head spin. She sighs with pleasure when Millie moves down Ginny’s body again, this time focusing on her hard, sensitive nipples, as she slips her fingers back inside Ginny, taking her to a place of new intensity. She’s been thinking about Millie’s fingers inside her from the first moment she got out that little notebook of hers, and the fantasies take her over with wild, primal abandonment, as Millie fucks her fingers deep inside Ginny’s body. Even though she came only moments before, she’s desperate for Millie to take her there again, in a rougher, filthier way. She shamelessly writhes on Millie’s fingers, turning her head to the side and letting out an ungh of pleasure. It’s almost too good, and Ginny isn’t sure she can stand the deep, urgent pressure of Millie’s fingers. She feels almost embarrassed by her moans and whimpers, but Millie responds with hums of pleasure or murmurs about how good Ginny is, how lovely she is. Ginny bucks and squirms, and Millie holds her in place, pushing her down on the sofa with her free hand. She returns her mouth to Ginny’s clit and holds her in place, fingering her until Ginny thinks she’s going to explode. When her second orgasm of the afternoon comes, it takes over her with unexpected force and intensity. Ginny drops back onto the sofa after arching into Millie's talented fingers, her body so hot and every part of her trembling.
Ginny is so turned on, she barely registers when Millie moves up next to her, brushing damp strands of hair from Ginny’s face. Millie’s hands smell like sex and Ginny, and it reminds her that she has done absolutely nothing to Millie in return. She presses against Millie, enjoying the slide of Millie’s hand over her backside and throwing a leg over Millie’s side, pulling her in.
“What do you like?” She nuzzles Millie’s neck, a contented sigh leaving her. “Fuck, you make me feel so good. I’m still shaking.”
It’s true. Ginny’s body hasn’t quite stopped trembling and she wonders if she’s going to be insatiable because even after two orgasms in quick succession including the most intense climax of her life, she reckons she could go again.
“What do you want to do?” Millie presses a kiss to Ginny’s lips, their mouths parting and their tongues sliding together, slow and sure.
“I don’t know.” Ginny pulls back from the kiss eventually, rubbing her thumb against the hard nub of Millie’s nipple, the weight of her breast pleasing in Ginny's hand. “I want to taste you. I want to make you feel good. Show me what you like.”
Millie rubs her eyes and her cheeks flush pink. “I like making you come. That makes me feel good. It’s complicated.”
“Tell me,” Ginny asks, softly.
“I like, um, using toys.” Millie’s cheeks get redder. “Fucking someone. That feels good.”
Ginny’s body heats at the thought and she curls into Millie with a groan, sliding her hands over her back. “Yes.”
“Sometimes I don’t like these much.” Millie gestures to her ample breasts with a sigh. “Sometimes I do, but there are times I don't feel like I'm in the right body and it makes it hard to get into things.” She gives Ginny a sheepish smile. “Not what you were expecting, probably. I bet you're wishing you'd picked up a nice, pretty witch from the Harpies.”
Ginny shakes her head. “Fuck the Harpies.” She kisses Millie fiercely. “I don’t know much about any of it.” She takes a breath and holds Millie’s gaze. “This is all new for me, I don’t care what you want, as long as it makes you feel good and if it turns out there’s something I do care about, I’ll let you know. I just want to try everything. Twice. Maybe even three times.”
Millie laughs, and she pulls Ginny into a kiss. She takes Ginny’s hand after the kiss ends and presses it to her lips, before sliding it down her body, her stomach clenching and her breath hitching. “I like this.”
Ginny rolls Millie back and kisses her slowly as she touches her fingers between Millie’s legs for the first time. She’s hot and wet, her folds slick and soft to the touch. It sends a rush of pleasure knowing that however one-sided everything might have seemed initially, Millie definitely feels like she enjoyed it. Ginny kisses Millie’s neck, finding a bit to suck on lightly that Millie seems to particularly like. Her fingers tremble as she runs them lightly over Millie, listening to her responses and seeking out the nub of her clit, stroking it in slow circles keeping her touch light. Millie presses her hand hard against Ginny's and murmurs breathless encouragement, helping Ginny work out how pleasuring Millie is different to touching herself. Before long, Millie comes with a gasp, pushing her fingers into Ginny’s hair and giving her a wet, filthy kiss. Ginny kisses her back with the same kind of urgency, undulating against Millie and biting down lightly on her neck when she touches Ginny again, where she’s wet, ready and eager as if she hasn’t already spent the last hour or so having delicious orgasms.
“Again?” Millie asks, her voice rough.
“Yes.” Ginny sinks back against the sofa, her heart leaping in her chest as another rush of heat floods between her legs. “Yes please.”
Millie pushes her fingers into Ginny and everything is dizzying, brilliant and hot all over again.
*
Millie laces up her highly polished brogues and straightens, adjusting her braces with a snap and checking herself in the mirror, patting her hair. Ginny’s lost all track of time but she knows it’s late and she presses against Millie’s back, meeting her eyes in the mirror.
“Fancy coming back to mine? I’ve got a kneazle that would love to meet you. I’ll make you breakfast.”
“Okay.” Millicent turns in the circle of Ginny’s arms and gives her a quick kiss. “Let me lock up then we can go.”
“Brilliant.” Ginny watches Millie cast a quick cleaning charm over the sofa and tidy up the shop, carefully locking the doors and windows with intricate spells and putting up wards. “Can you get me one of those buttons?”
“Butch is beautiful?” Millie turns and grins at Ginny.
“No.” Ginny kisses Millie quickly. “It is, but no. Maybe one for whatever I am.”
“You don’t have to be anything.” Millie shrugs and leans back against the counter, contemplating Ginny. “What do you reckon you are?”
“I don’t know,” Ginny says, honestly. “Very gay, I think.”
“That’ll do.” Millie laughs.
“Happy,” Ginny adds. “I’m also happy.”
“Me too.” Millie picks up the tweed blazer Ginny liked so much on that first night and shrugs it on. She rummages in a box full of buttons and pins, finally extracting a little rainbow pin which is just like the one she always wears. “Will this do?”
Ginny swallows and turns the little pin over in her hand. It’s such a small thing—barely the size of the tip of her finger—and yet somehow it feels enormous.
Ginny puts it carefully on her jumper and closes her eyes as she sinks into another kiss with Millie.
She's finally seeing the world in all the right colours, and they're bigger, bolder, brighter and more beautiful than she ever expected.