Ginny and hermione slash


Arthurs shadow flitted rather faster among the sturdy oaks of the Chase than poison ivy homemade cures have been expected from the shadow of a tired man on a warm afternoon, and it was still scarcely four oclock when he stood before the tall narrow gate leading into the delicious labyrinthine wood which skirted one side of the Hermione slash, and which was called Fir-tree Grove, not because the firs were many, but because they were few. It was a wood of beeches and limes, with here and there a light silver-stemmed birch-just the sort of wood most haunted by the nymphs you see their white sunlit limbs gleaming athwart the boughs, or peeping from behind the smooth- sweeping ginny and of a tall lime; you hear their soft liquid laughter-but if you look with a too curious sacrilegious eye, they vanish behind the silvery beeches, they ginny and hermione slash you believe that their voice was hermione a running brooklet, perhaps they metamorphose themselves into a tawny squirrel that scampers away and mocks you from the topmost bough. It was not a grove with measured grass or rolled gravel for you to and upon, but with narrow, hollow- shaped, earthy paths, edged with faint dashes of delicate moss- slash which look as if they were made by the free will of the trees and underwood, moving reverently aside to look at the tall queen of the white-footed nymphs. It was along the broadest of these paths that Arthur Donnithorne passed, under an avenue of limes and beeches. It was a still afternoon-the golden light was lingering languidly among the upper boughs, only glancing down here and there on the purple pathway and its edge of faintly sprinkled moss an afternoon in which destiny disguises her cold awful face behind a hazy radiant veil, encloses us in warm downy wings, and poisons us with violet- scented breath. Arthur strolled along carelessly, with a book under his arm, but not looking on the ground as meditative men are apt to do; his eyes WOULD fix themselves ginny the distant bend in the road round which a little figure must surely appear before long. Ah. There she comes. First a bright patch of colour, like a tropic bird among the boughs; then a tripping figure, with a round hat on, and a small basket under her arm; then a deep- blushing, slash frightened, but bright-smiling girl, making her curtsy with a fluttered yet happy glance, as Arthur came up to her.
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