Mad Snorkacks and Englishmen

A/N: You may notice that Harry tends to slip in between Muggle and Wizard forms of exclamation in reference to deities. This is wholly intentional. While Harry strikes me as completely non-religious, I do think he absorbs a lot of the culture on both sides and he uses these expression out of habit over any sort of belief.









Chapter 3: Feelin’ Alright





Luna half-heartedly listened to her roommates sluggishly drag their bodies about the room as they dressed for breakfast in the Great Hall. Classes had been suspended and the school year was at an abrupt end. One of the girls noisily spelled her dresser empty while the contents flew to her trunk, as many parents had already begun their descent upon the castle in their haste to bring their wards home. Hidden behind the lush blue curtains of her bed, the undisturbed witch wallowed in deep reverie as her mind replayed the night’s events which had culminated in such a powerfully emotional denouement. She had never actually fallen asleep once she’d made her way back to her quarters, but she felt as wide awake now as she’d ever been in her life and reveled in the tingling sensation still reverberating under her skin.





After Harry had properly clothed the two of them on the rooftop, they’d Alohomorad their way through the exit and proceeded to shuffle their way down the long staircase, both teens quiet and lost in their thoughts. Luna retained a steady throb in her center, and her limbs burned with the ache of torn muscles, but she couldn’t wipe the secret smile plastered to her face. She kept peeking sideways at the boy walking next to her, her buoyant steps ever lighter, the corners of her mouth rising higher. It was as if she’d sprung tentacles from her chest and they weaved and hovered about his compact form absorbing the very strength he emanated like rays of the sun. She was filled up and it felt really, really good. Luna tried to remember the last time she’d experienced this kind of giddiness and it seemed very long ago.





Perhaps it was a time when her mother was alive and her father was still well. They’d been a merry self-contained unit back then, her mum’s peals of laughter always ringing through their home. In moments of jocularity, the family of three would try to outdo each other with zany escapades in an attempt to bust up the other two. The little girl would give a valiant show, but she could never match her dad’s inspired lunacy. Luna recalled fondly her father dancing a madcap jig on top of the dining room table with a fishbowl of Plimpies floating atop his head, warbling a risqué little ditty out of tune all the while. Selene had rolled on the floor shrieking in her mirth at the absurd spectacle of her husband’s act. Sometimes, Luna thought their devotion to their work in theory and experimental spellwork was really an excuse for them to find ways to prank each other in an endless ping-pong of outrageously clever design. It had been a decidedly spontaneous and whimsical household.





Not so much now, she thought, though Merlin knew her father tried. As a naturally intuitive and hyper-aware child, Luna sensed even back then the dark layer of dread that descended whenever her father would retreat to his lab for extended periods. One time he stayed in there for a month, and Selene had spoken to her daughter in hushed whispers and tight smiles while they waited it out. But he always returned from that self-imposed exile more robust than ever. Then her mother had died, the lab had been boarded up, and the resulting depression had almost killed him. The girl shuddered for an instant, the slight ebb in her rapture translating to a chill across her back. Harry had suddenly noticed her again and wrapped his still warm Invisibility Cloak around her shoulders.





“You might as well wear this to your dorm room. At least I’m fully dressed, so if someone catches me this early in the common room, I can pretend I just woke up,” Harry reasoned.





Luna delighted in the way her body disappeared from sight when she crossed the material over her arms. With the cloak back to its original size, she could just make out her pink toes wiggling independent of their host on the floor below. She turned up her decapitated head to Harry and beamed in her joy. Harry grinned back in return and not for the first time the witch noted how much beauty he radiated in that smile. Although she had to admit to herself, even when his expression looked serious and grim, she found him lovely to look at.





“Just shrink it down and return it after dinner. I’ll meet up with you outside the Great Hall and we’ll talk, okay?” Harry gave her a guarded look before his hand reached up unexpectedly and stroked her hair back from her face. His expression turned sheepish and he appeared embarrassed by his action.





“Thank you, Harry. What time is it, anyway?” she wondered. “I left my wand by my bed.”





“Er, yeah, I noticed,” he muttered before pulling free his own and striking a Tempus in the air watching the clockface shimmer forth. “It’s already 5:30. We won’t get much of a chance to sleep, I’m afraid, before everyone’s up and about.”





“That’s alright, I couldn’t close my eyes if I tried,” she enthused.





Harry had watched her again, his eyes gleaming, while he escorted Luna the rest of the way to Ravenclaw tower. When they had arrived at the spiral staircase that headed up to the dormitories entrance, Harry had pulled her aside into a shadowy doorway, bending down for a passionate kiss. It had taken several attempts for him to part from her lips and then he’d flipped the cloak up over her head and was gone. She had floated up to the door and just barely riddled her way in before slipping inside the Common room to glide toward her own, feeling for all the world as swift and silent as a Jobberknoll in flight.





Once she was back in the haven of her shrouded bed, she had tied the cloak around her legs, leaned back against her pillows, then pulled out her journal to jot down her impressions for an hour. This was an exercise she’d been doing since she was eight. Luna would close her eyes and breathe deeply making sure to clear her mind before letting quill hit paper to begin its scrawl across the page. She would let the ink fill the off-white space with whatever flowed out of her, no fixed thought in her head. In this way, Luna would feel assured that she could never lie to herself, the contents that spilled forth always an impetus for reflection. When the bright-eyed witch had ceased her writing for the hour, she ran her eyes over the page briefly and then tucked the bound pages away. She still managed to catch several references to ‘beautiful boy’ and ‘glittering green fire’ in her scan. The ebullience from earlier enveloped her again and she hugged herself tight to keep the feeling from releasing through her pores. Then she pulled out another parchment of loose paper and began to write to her father.





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The bespectacled boy with the unruly black hair ghosted into the Hall with the rest of the somnambulant horde. It was evident that most of the throng of students had not slept soundly after the horrific news had spread through the castle. The empty seat at the staff table loomed large like a lit throne on a dais calling attention to the loss of its king. Heads turned to the spot in a weary acknowledgment, while others stood transfixed by the space, as if poised for the arrival of their beloved Headmaster clearing up the matter of his absence as nothing more than a misunderstanding.





Harry had headed down to the congregation with his friends and girlfriend in tow. Ron had awakened the drained teen from his sprawled slumber on the divan of the Common room a few hours after he’d crashed. His mate had regarded him curiously at his choice of resting spot, but made no further comment other than to suggest a good, hearty meal might be in order. Harry had to agree; he was famished. However, he made sure to shower and change before embarking for the Hall with the rest of his team. Under the steaming hot water, Harry rinsed the grime and sweat of his trauma away, as well as the musty odor of sex from his skin. After slipping into fresh clothes and his scuffed trainers, he felt like a new man, albeit one who was fairly numb.





He had expected to be buried under a mountain of guilt once he’d laid eyes on Ginny, but aside from a twinge after they settled on her wistful face, he felt strangely devoid of anything. It was if he’d boxed Luna and their fevered coupling into an area of his brain that had nothing to do with the rest of his life, although he was willing to concede it was not that simple. Yet he maintained that empowered charge from last night throughout the morning and continued to draw from it like a battery. Ginny slid her warm hand around his as they clomped down the steps together and the serene smile he gave her was genuine and heartfelt.





Sitting at the Gryffindor table, the foursome plotted their day around the sunny weather while they ate. Harry theorized that if there was some sort of heaven, certainly the gorgeous day was given in thanks after having one of its brightest angels returned. The boy knew there was still anger for the professor harbored deep in his heart, but for all of Dumbledore’s maddening idiosyncrasies he trusted that the wizard was a great man. Part of him could appreciate just how lucky he was to have had the Headmaster as a benefactor and that they’d been able to share the relationship they did. Nevertheless, his rebellious other half refused to surrender the notion that Dumbledore had chosen to keep him in the dark too long, had kept too many secrets from him no matter if it was under the guise of protection. Even after witnessing his terrible demise, that niggling doubt persisted, a resolute belief that the Headmaster had never truly come clean, that something momentous was waiting in the wings. He could feel it in his bones, more lies and secrets abounded. He expected that before this chartered course of expedition for Horcruxes ended, Harry would uncover more truth than he could stand.





“Are you ready to go visit Neville and Bill in the infirmary?” Hermione inquired of Harry directly. At the mention of Neville’s sickbed, the young wizard looked up to glance over the Ravenclaw table’s occupants. His eyes zeroed in on that tumbling, straggly blonde mane almost immediately. He assessed Luna’s back as if he could ascertain her mood from behind. He momentarily wondered what it would be like to brush those tangled tresses until they gleamed. The tip of Harry’s tongue peeked out to swipe across his bottom lip. It was starting to occur to the teen that he might just have the beginnings of a hair fetish, as strands of Cho’s raven, Ginny’s fiery red, and Luna’s pale yellow locks flowed over his imaginary fingers. He carded his own to break up the thought before it got him into trouble once his visions highlighted some other places those long silky hairs could fall.





“Yeah, I’m ready. Why don’t we head to the lake after, then?” he posed.





“I thought we might get a bit of studying done in the library before we can’t use it as a resource anymore, Harry. You know,” her voice quieted down to a hushed tone, “after the information you gave me, there’s a lot to research.” Hermione had that determined look on her face at the prospect of deep immersion into a table full of books for the day. She and Ron had been filled in on the letter in the locket right after Harry had dressed. He had pulled them up to the boys’ room and told them briefly what he could about the cave and RAB’s deception. He would save the rest for later.





The Ministry’s ordained Chosen One felt sure in his decision to take up the path laid out for him and knew what he needed to do, but for today, he wanted to pretend he was a carefree boy just a little bit longer. There was already that knowledge tapping in the back of his brain that he would have to separate Ginny from the equation, that he couldn’t have her marked for danger by association. It sickened him that he couldn’t even be allowed a proper girlfriend, so mired in Voldemort’s perverted reach for power was he, but it’s not as if he could claim his life had ever been proper.





“Bloody hell, Hermione, fuck the library and let’s have fuck all to do with studying for now. We can work on that later.” He demanded.





Hermione and Ginny both raised their eyebrows high, Ginny’s mouth in a perfect ‘o’ of surprise, while Ron tried to disguise his grin behind a cupped hand. “Honestly, Harry, there’s no need for such vulgar talk. When did you start feeling the need to use profanity all the time,” she scolded.





“When I realized we live in profane times, ‘Mione,” he exhorted. He leaned over the table, looking deep into her miffed stare and intoned a litany of swear words designed to make her blush. “Arse, shit, wanker, fucking cocksucker, bollocks, bloody cunt, bitch, cack-licking bastard, bugger, fuck fucking fucker.” He then gave her a satisfied smirk. “There you are, luv, you can have a go at me all in one sitting and then we can move on, okay?”





Harry began to pull his stuff together to leave, pushing his empty plate away and purposely ignoring his best friend’s apoplectic stuttering while Ron openly barked his laughter in admiration. A few students at their table gave sharp looks as if offended by their good spirits in such a time of mourning. A quick glance to the faculty table caught McGonagall’s glare as she honed shrewdly in their direction. He didn’t mean to be such a nasty git, but Hermione had to learn that now was not the time to be concerned with propriety. Ginny, meanwhile, had turned bright red while her lips tucked inwards trying to contain the mirth fighting for expulsion. Her eyes were a little dazed sweeping over Harry’s insouciant pose as he stood waiting for them to follow.





Hermione still batted at his bicep with a muttered “prat” as they headed towards the large doors. The young man was unfazed. He had abstained from saying what he really felt: that watching dead husks of souls crawl out of a black lake, or watching an act of murder for the third time in as many years, or feeling your heart tatter in shreds as the strongest wizard you’d ever known fell apart in your arms had left him hard and cold in the way he saw the world. For all of Hermione’s brilliance, she still wore the idealism of youth like a talisman around her neck, whereas he’d outgrown that ability sometime around the Department of Mysteries fiasco. After the triple whammy of last night’s life-changing ordeals, he felt like the adult in their set, but not in a manner of condescension. He simply understood better than they what it meant to face evil and come out of the other side. It had marked him as profoundly as Voldemort’s curse. A certain morbid pragmatism had altered his perceptions, just nigh of fatalistic. The boy wished he could protect them from such a harsh place like a parent would, wanted to let them enjoy the last lingering remnants of their childhood worrying about Quidditch tryouts and NEWT scores, but he still needed them selfishly to keep alive his hope. Harry couldn’t indulge in nostalgia, but neither could he move forward without the support of his constant companions.





Maybe there was something to this love thing after all, Harry wondered, because he knew that he loved Hermione and Ron without question, and he couldn’t lie to them the way he felt he had been shied from the truth. They would discuss everything at the Burrow. He just needed this little space in time before he put away the last of his childhood things, before he would send Ginny away. Instead of casting his eyes in the red-head’s direction, however, the thought caused Harry to swing a glance back toward Luna when a brief flash of her breast invaded the pictures in his head. The preoccupied girl still faced away from him.





Harry clapped his hand around Ron’s shoulder, inserting the suggestion of a little flying in the sun into the trio’s banter as they headed for the Hospital wing.





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Later that evening, as Harry had detached himself from the group with the promise to meet them in the Common room after taking care of some errands, he loitered about the hallways waiting for Luna to exit from her supper. He hadn’t held eye contact with her since he’d left her in the early morning, although he’d seen her at various points throughout the day, ambling across the grounds lost in daydreams with seemingly no particular destination in mind. He’d briefly considered calling her over to their group a few times, but the idea seemed awkward and disparate. He preferred to think of time spent with Luna as his alone, and the thought gave him a nervous energy around his friends as jitters hit his midsection.





The witch floated out of the Great Hall a few minutes later, those protuberant eyes roving over the students mingling outside the doors as she searched for a face. With classes cancelled, robes and uniforms had been ditched in favor of casual dress, but Luna still managed to stand out amongst her peers in her outfit of choice. She wore a peasant blouse of loose cotton, but instead of a scooped neckline, the material bunched just off her shoulder and cast a straight line across her collarbone. A bright red cross-stitched design on the front panel looked like tulips or some kind of flower and the shirt cinched snug at the waist before descending over her hips. The skirt underneath was voluminous and bright aquamarine and it fell to her shins with a bit of petticoat showing under the trim, but the fait accompli were the flaming orange high-top trainers she wore on her petite feet with checkered strings tied across the tongues. Harry also noticed her butterbeer cork necklace was back, but the radish earrings appeared to have been switched to some new shape he couldn’t make out. He decided that overall, it was quite a good look for her. He liked the fact that she never looked like anyone else, nor seemed to care whether she conformed or not. The off-shoulder top exposed just enough skin to give Luna her own brand of sexiness, he thought. He waved her over with a soft call of her name.





Once Luna’s gaze locked onto his, she seemed to only have eyes for Harry as she made her graceful glide over to where he was standing. Harry felt a bit off-balance staring into those silver irises and he dropped his own eyes to course over her body. Up close, her breasts looked absolutely fabulous in that blouse, he couldn’t help noticing. The realization stirred definite movement down below his waist.





“Harry,” she spoke soothingly, “I have your Cloak in my bag. Do you want me to hand it over here?” Luna kept her voice to a minimum.





“Uh, let’s do it elsewhere,” he suggested as he looked around, his cheeks tingeing pink at the double meaning. He grabbed her hand and pulled in the opposite direction of the swarming students as they gathered in cliques for gossip and comfort. Most would be making their way back to their dormitories to prepare for their departures the next day, right after the funeral. Harry took the girl away from the marble staircase and headed towards the first floor’s west wing. He had decided it best to take advantage of an empty classroom for their transfer and “chat” if he wanted a bit of privacy. He avoided Firenze’s bucolic room, but grabbed the handle of the door next to it and cast the spell to let them inside. The room was unrecognizable to him, but it looked similar to the Potions layout in that instead of desks there were benches and long tables. He pulled Luna inside and firmly shut the door, waving a locking charm over it before turning to the girl. Flames flickered in their sconces, casting a low light around the room.





She stood there expectantly, but made no move to retrieve the item meant for exchange. Harry took a few seconds to ponder what he might say to her now that he had her alone. He felt suddenly like he was outgrowing his skin, a prickling itch running from behind his neck to a patch in the small of his back. He scratched under his hair and cleared his throat.





“Well, I suppose we both have a few things to say about last night. Did you want to start?” Harry asked hopefully.





Luna just gave him her secret smile again. He supposed he could see why some people might write off that blissed-out expression she so often wore as representing a disturbingly vacuous presence, but they’d obviously not taken notice of the shining intelligence in her eyes that always accompanied her composed demeanor. Having been privy to the variations of nuance that mouth could conduct, Harry thought he could now detect subtle gradations in her eyes and lips that suggested volumes about her inner thoughts. The girl was an enigma, plain and simple, but he was finding her a fascinating study. And he was starting to think of her ‘weirdness’, her ‘otherness’, as a big turn-on judging by his hardening prick. He tried to steer his mind away from her sex as she spoke.





“Whatever you did with your mouth on my womanly parts was exceedingly pleasurable,” she opined bluntly, and that mention alone got Harry going again.





“Er, that’s not exactly what I meant, but thank you, I enjoyed it, too,” he gushed. He attempted to get serious with her and cleared his throat.





“Luna, I can’t even begin to express how much you, well, you really helped me last night. And I don’t just mean because of the…the sex,” his hand dithered in the air in front of him while he grappled with the words. “I felt totally out of my mind when you found me. You’re right, I was angry, but I was terrified, too. It was really rough going, like a nightmare that I couldn’t wake up from.” He looked up to her glowing face again while the girl silently bade him to continue.





“But---that was absolutely no reason for me to take it out on you like I did. I said some things that were right foul. I-I was shocked by what you told me, but please don’t think I was judging you. I was mad at those arseholes because you don’t deserve to be treated like that.” He let the words rush out in a tumble as he felt that missing guilt suddenly rise in return. He’d been as bad as them, taking over her body so violently as if she was simply there for his use.





“And then I went and got all—um, I was a complete prat and a loathsome pig. I shouldn’t have been so rough with you. Honestly, Luna, I’m terribly sorry. I hope—well, please tell me I didn’t hurt you?” By the time he’d finished, he had made his way across to her and was now reaching for her bare shoulders. He made sure to touch her gently as his fingers landed on her soft skin, all the while beseeching her to assuage his conscious.





He’d been completely earnest in his appeal, but then Luna snorted in response and dispelled the sober mood.





“Harry, you could never hurt me, you’re my friend. I trust you completely. You just had some things you needed to get out of your system. Daddy says that you have to let your demons out every now and again if you ever hope to slay them,” she finished sagely.





“He says that, does he? And has your father slain a lot of demons?” The boy added with some chagrin. Considering the stories her father published, and considering how his daughter adored him, Harry imagined the man as a doting, loving figure; harmless and eccentric, maybe, but certainly not one potentially dangerous the way he’d felt recently.





“Some. He’s had his fair share,” she offered, but then left it at that. Harry seemed surprised, but then remembered that the man had suffered the loss of his wife.





“But you’re okay?” Harry sought her assurance once more.





“Yes, of course, Harry. I’m more than okay,” she purred in such an uncharacteristically sexy voice, that Harry visibly jolted. He looked at her again in amazement. Was…was Luna flirting with him? The very idea of it was making his head swim.





“Would you like to feel even better?” he suggested huskily. Merlin, he did NOT just say that! However, there was no missing her distinct ‘come hither’ expression at his offer.





Yet, while his inner dialogue groaned, Harry became cognizant of his heavy breathing and his tongue’s sudden insistence to be buried deep down Luna’s throat. Before his mind could register what he was doing, his body had her up against the wall and was kissing that luscious mouth. He wanted to eat that Cheshire smile of hers, it was driving him mad. He could hear himself grunt as he pushed her form flat against the stone with his own, his arms gripping those small wrists and pinning them up over her head. His hips were already snapping in motion, winding into her pelvis with desperation; that frenzied flapping in his gut driving him up to a dizzying arousal once more. Stop! You can’t go off on her like that again, his mind tried to caution, and with some difficulty the boy peeled his body back away from hers. He inspected her face for signs of distress, but only saw his surging desire mirrored there. Good Lord, she looked infinitely fuckable like that.





Without even checking behind him, Harry backed up to a bench with his grip still fast around her wrists. When the wood hit the backs of his knees, he sat down with a thump then proceeded to slide his hands up under her skirts as he pulled apart her thighs to straddle him. She scooted into his lap as her legs adjusted around him, the shins folded flat on the bench while her feet rested against his knees. The teen was officially randy now and he pushed out all other voices in his head while he concentrated on her form.





Harry felt greedy all of a sudden. He wanted to put his hands everywhere on her at once, but he only had two of them and one mouth. Best to spread them out, he decided. First off, let’s get things out in the open, he thought practically, and pulled at the elasticated ruffle atop her blouse, his fingers like pincers as he dragged it down. Hu-llo, what’s this, then, randy voice marveled, as Luna’s bare breasts were revealed in the dim, flickering glow of the lamps, no dainty bra in his way. Even as he had adored those peaked globes of soft glory last night with his hands and mouth, the boy didn’t think he had fully appreciated just how perfectly shaped and symmetrical they were until seeing them like this in tableaux. Although he had nothing much to compare them to, the young wizard didn’t need the visual cues in order to recognize what an exemplary pair he was about to take hold of. He encircled them with nimble fingers, kneading gently while gauging the pleasure of their heft and silky texture against his palms. Luna coaxed him on with a pliant moan.





Right.





He stopped to pull her arms free of their sleeves, pushing the blouse all the way down till it tucked around her waist. She looked good like that, he noted, like a water nymph surrounded by petals. He pulled her head down to him by long swatches of her hair so that he might occupy that mouth again as his left hand pinched and played with her nipple. Her breathy ‘ahhs’ in between his lips were like biscuits offered to an obedient dog. He snatched them up even as his addled brain seized on the idea of obedience and how much he liked that word in conjunction with Luna and what he wanted to do to the girl. His hands moved to a new breast and another place of refuge. While one kept busy inflicting more punishment to her right tit, the sneaky left traveled down to the hem of her skirts and tucked underneath, groping for that nexus of nectar, that rosy crucifixion. When he finally reached that core under layers of petticoat, his hand stroked skin and nothing else.





“You have got to be kidding me,” he groaned into her lips.





But there it was. It was one thing to be pantyless under pajamas in the dead of night, but this had been going on all day surrounded by daylight and people. This girl had floated over to him with every intention of meeting him in secret. She was plum naked under her clothes and Harry knew, absolutely knew without a doubt that she’d done it for him. His intense emerald gaze burned deep into hers while a fire licked his innards, and he conveyed his understanding of her gift through the darkest points of his pupils, the black pinpricks widening from his rapaciousness as though they’d been exposed to the night.





Luna responded to his message by leaning her body back as her head tilted towards the ceiling, then gyrated her cunt into his hand with a long whine. The pure wanton display affected Harry like nothing he’d ever encountered. His whole frame lit up as he lost the last of his reserve. He only hoped he could get out of his pants in time.





The fevered boy gripped her behind her back and twisted around in one go, throwing her down to the worktable in a heap as all concern for tenderness flew from his tenuous hold onto reason. One hand held her delicate wrist against the grain while the other fumbled hard to get the buttons open down the strip of denim in his cousin’s hand-me-down jeans. It was a tricky endeavor, but as soon as he could get free he was herding the material to his knees in a savage haste. Meanwhile, he growled his demands to his partner-in-lust.





“Luna, lift up your skirt and spread open your legs. Oh fuck, do it now.” His need flecked his throaty issues in a keening rise. Luna quickly followed his heed like a horse with a bit being directed by reins. Harry wasted no time guiding his prick inside her moist slit, but stilled himself on top of her a moment to let his heart rate slow down. His face burrowed into her neck as he breathed hard puffs of air, the thumping in his chest echoing in space. When he was able to get himself back under control, he slid the subdued girl’s remaining arm above her head as well and then leaned his own across them both, grinding them into the table as he pushed his hips up to start moving inside her. He looked back into her eyes again as he fucked her slowly, the gushy sounds from their joining that crept into his ears providing a soundtrack to their sex.





It felt as good as last night, but it was different. Different in a good way, though, in that he felt in charge of his emotions, in that he could sense a reciprocal flow between them like two magnets drawn to mate. There was an implicit surrender in the way Luna opened herself to him, as much as in a spiritual sense as the physical. In that moment, Harry thought he could ask anything of this glowing girl, his special friend, and she would grant it unequivocally. This unspoken agreement wrapped Harry in swaddle, safe and protected as a babe in the womb. So he urged his thrusts deeper as he gained momentum, that unreachable, unnamable spot in her body calling to him like sirens at sea. Her moans only heightened his yearning and he started to speed up his pounding into her core. He felt as if he was coming undone.





“Ohgodohgodohhhhhhhhhhhh……Bloody….fuuuuck.” The girl’s body shuddered against him as her cunt closed tight around his cock and he came hard in a series of shocks to his balls as they emptied their seed. It felt like his body was cumming for a long time, and he lost touch with the planes of reality for a moment as the tension spewed out with his spunk. The two teens lay heavy and panting in the aftermath, Luna’s suddenly free limbs creeping around him in a hug.





“I’m glad you wanted to talk to me, Harry,” she said in an exhale. The boy looked at her with hopeless affection. He was going to have a hard time parting with this, with her, after tomorrow. It was like his stress had evaporated. He wished he had known before what a calming influence sex had on the body. Although he sincerely doubted he would have been able to get Ginny to consent.





Oh. Bugger that..





Ginny was waiting up in the Common room for him. He broke away from Luna’s embrace as he started to worry over the time. Just how long had they been in here? He moved his focus to getting out of there quickly. His friends might start to worry. Or get suspicious.





“Er, Luna, we’d better get going. I wasn’t supposed to…uh, never mind. Let’s get that cloak before you need to use it again,” he warned.





Luna sat up and put her clothes back to rights, their wrinkled folds giving her a sloppy air. Her hair was a mess. Merlin, he must look a fright, too, and he reached up to slick his wild tufts back so he might appear somewhat decent again. He ran his palms down his shirt in a straightening motion. A small, glittering suggestion of a square was handed to him like a kerchief and he took hold of it to tuck in his back pocket alongside his wand. Then he froze. Those swinging earrings that he hadn’t been able to describe earlier were now clearly in his sight. They were miniature gold snitches. He goggled at her again slightly confounded. How was she doing this to him? What the bloody hell was he doing with her? And how would he keep her just for him? The questions whirred around his head like canaries as he mentally attempted to bat them away.





“Uh, right, thanks. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow at the funeral?” Luna nodded her assent absentmindedly as she pulled a black hair from her front. He tried to get together the right words to approach his next question delicately.





“Luna, this is…well, you understand this is just between us, right?” he asked guardedly.





“Well, of course it is, there isn’t anyone else here,” she pointed out.





Harry blushed. Shit, let’s try this again. “No, I mean, after we leave this room, we’ll keep it to ourselves, er, what’s been happening with us.”





She stared at him plainly. “If that’s what you wish, Harry, I won’t say anything to anyone about the fact that we keep having sex.” The teen wasn’t sure how to interpret that, but he ran with it.





“That’s what I wish, Luna. This is ours. No one else has to know. Do you understand me?” A forceful tone had surged in his words. He added a bit more softly, “I don’t quite think our friends would understand, least of all, Ginny. Okay?”





“Yes, Harry.”





“Good.” He sighed as he unlocked the door and shepherded them out into the quiet hallway. Now if he could just get through tomorrow.







All comments are welcomed and I appreciate any constructive criticism.