FIC: "On the Mating Habits of Muggles & Naturalist Witches (OR Muggles in the Midst)" for didodikali
Recipient: didodikali (trickofthedark)
Author/Artist: ragdoll
Title: On the Mating Habits of Muggles & Naturalist Witches (OR Muggles in the Midst)
Rating: R/NC-17
Pairings: Dudley Dursley/Luna Lovegood
Word Count: ~6535
Warnings: none
Summary: Noted naturalist Luna Lovegood trails an elusive Muggle male in his native environment, seeking to gain his trust in an attempt to learn more about Muggle behaviour. Luna gets more than she bargained for, while Dudley Dursley gains more than he ever imagined.
Author's/Artist's Notes: This is for didodikali who asked for so many wonderful things including: humour and romance, unconventional beauty, strange girls, and sweet boys. Your requests just demanded this pairing to me. I really hope this was something close to what you were looking for.
My everlasting thanks to My Three Betas, coffee_n_cocoa, curia_regis and eeyore9990 and r_grayjoy without whose support I couldn't have gotten this finished, and of course, bethbethbeth for her patience.
***
From the Journal of Luna Lovegood: Day 1
Today is the day!
I will be endeavouring to go into the wilds of Muggle London to observe Muggles in their natural habitat. It seems to me that Muggle/Wizard relations are not as good as they ought to be because our people do not understand Muggles well enough, just as they have never comprehended any other sentient beings we've come into regular contact with such as goblins or centaurs. I believe it's time to make a change for the better and intend to do just that.
I am terribly grateful to have been schooled by both Harry Potter and Hermione Granger on what to wear and how to behave around the Muggle people so that I do not alert them to my presence. Hermione has helped me with my wardrobe and has even provided me with a manual on how basic Muggle tekrology works in order to aid me in my seamless integration into Muggle society without attracting their notice.
Daddy had suggested I let Mr. Arthur Weasley consult me on Muggle things as he is the foremost authority on them in Wizarding society, but I felt more comfortable talking to my peers, especially since both Harry and Hermione grew up amongst Muggles and might have better insight into their peculiarities and practices. Hopefully, Mr. Weasley will understand and not take this as a slight as none is intended.
I now have a bed-sit in a very nice home run by an elderly Muggle named Mrs. MacPherson who is lovely and kind. She has already provided me with much information about Muggles and the way they live. She has many stories to tell and I will try to record them all.
It will be difficult to live without magic for the length of this undertaking, but I am up to the task. This will be a most challenging adventure, but I am so very excited to get underway! I expect it to be more exhilarating than tracking Crumple-Horned Snorkacks in the Australian Outback or hunting for a rain of Moon Frogs off the coast of the Mediterranean!
*
From the Journal of Luna Lovegood: Day 10
I have been observing the Muggles for nearly a fortnight, trying to blend in as best I can. So far, I don't think any of them have been alerted to my presence.
I am amazed at how much they can get done without using magic and find their tekrology most impressive. I suppose some in Wizarding society would say that our methods are far superior to theirs, but I see it as a vast difference in our respective cultures rather than any indication that Wizards are more evolved beings.
There is an Alpha male here who has caught my attention. He is big, burly and blond, and rather good-looking in his own way. He is definitely a most revered member of his tribe of Londoners - he gives his followers food and drink in exchange for tributes of gold, silver and paper, and keeps them in line if they get too rambunctious.
I have been working on gaining his trust, and think I may have finally earned it. I will attempt contact tonight. I hope I am successful.
*
She was there again tonight, Dudley noted with interest. The small girl with the long, straggly, dirty blonde hair and the large, pale eyes. He wasn't quite sure why she stood out in the crowd of pub patrons, but she did. As if she was just a tad out of place somehow, not quite right in her surroundings, although he couldn't quite put his finger on the reason for it. She just seemed...off to him, looking around her constantly, seemingly observing everything, and then pulling a well-chewed Biro out from behind her ear to maniacally scribble things down into a crumpled notebook as if her life depended on it.
Yes, there was something decidedly odd about her.
At first, he thought she might be a journo or a critic come to review the pub, but she didn't seem to ever eat or drink while he was there, so that didn't make any sense at all. She might've been a health inspector, but the place was up to code as far as Dudley knew, and even if it wasn't, it wasn't any of his concern. Besides, he'd checked with some of his co-workers and she only showed up during his shift. Surely someone concerned with health and safety violations would be checking up at all hours and with all personnel, and not just the same old, same old every single night?
Perhaps she was a spy - maybe a member of MI-5 or MI-6 like James Bond, or those sexy birds on Spooks - but if she was, she certainly wasn't doing a very good job of staying unnoticed. He'd almost think she was one of his cousin Harry's weirdoes, but he couldn't imagine why one of them would bother to be at the Eagle & Dove when they could be in one of their own pubs instead. Assuming they had pubs, that is. You never knew with those kinds of people. For all Dudley knew, that lot only got together for the annual blood sacrifice and dinner dance and nothing more.
While his relationship with his cousin had thawed somewhat since Harry's departure from their house on Privet Drive, Dudley was still not a fan of those in the Wizarding World. The torture he'd suffered at the hands of Harry's friends: that ginormous bloke, Haggard, and those evil Ginger Westley Twins, was something that stuck with him to this day, leaving him permanently scarred at the base of his spine.
Just the other night, watching an episode of Dr Who featuring a pig flying a space ship into Big Ben had triggered a panic attack so strong that Dudley had put himself into contortions in front of a pair of mirrors for hours in order to reassure himself that that bloody tail hadn't somehow reappeared spontaneously. It hacked him off that he couldn't even watch a bit of mindless telly without being reminded of the utter humiliation and trauma those nutters had caused.
"Hello." The blonde girl's sing-song voice broke Dudley out of his reverie. "I'd like another drink, please." She leaned across the bar towards him, her chest resting against the edge, her shirt pulling downward to give Dudley a glimpse of her cleavage, the tops of her breasts small and round and white. He definitely liked what he saw.
"What's your pleasure?"
She blinked at him slowly as if not quite understanding the question, so he repeated it again.
"What would you like to drink?"
"Oh! Have you got any Butterbeer?" she asked.
"Butter beer?" he echoed. "Is that from Holland? We don't get much call for too many imported beers around here. There's loads of others though, all proper English ones."
"Oh." She sounded slightly disappointed, looking even more so as she cast her eyes down to scribble something else in her notebook. "Perhaps something pink then? I'm in the mood for pink."
Dudley frowned, considering her request. "Would you like a Cosmo? Those are pink." That was currently his mum's favourite cocktail, something she's picked up from an American television show about sex in New York City that she watched religiously. It was also quite popular with most of the women who came into the pub.
"Cosmos? I didn't know the cosmos were pink - we never learned that in Astronomy class, but what a lovely thought. I must remember to tell Professor Sinistra the next time I see her." The girl brightened up considerably. "Yes, please."
With a nod, Dudley turned away from the bar to gather the necessary ingredients. He liked being a barman; it was something he was good at and something he enjoyed. Despite his father's urging, Dudley had not wanted to work at Grunnings, selling drilling parts to obnoxious berks at other companies. Vernon Dursley was born to be a stellar salesman, it was his life's blood, but not Dudley's.
It had taken a while to suss out just want he wanted to do with his life. He had tried his hand at professional boxing, and while he'd won more often than not, his heart just hadn't been in it. Walking around town looking like the worst part of a Saturday night had lost its appeal after a year or two.
After that, he'd been taken on jobs as a club bouncer which had paid very well, but it hadn't taken long before realising that intimidating people - usually potential clientele or problem customers- wasn't nearly as much fun as when he was younger. His days of bullying anyone smaller and weaker than himself were clearly behind him. He suspected it had something to do with the attack by those terrible Dementors when he was fifteen. Dudley knew what it was like to be utterly and completely afraid; he had no wish to subject anyone else to it.
Dudley also noticed that the bartenders in such places seemed to do much better and people seemed to like them, something which held far more appeal than he could ever have admitted to anyone. It had recently dawned on him that he'd much rather have people like him than fear him. So he'd taken a few courses in bartending to learn the tricks of the trade and found himself a brand new vocation.
Of course, his parents had been mortified. His father railed at Dudley's choice to mingle with riff-raff, and his mother had been unable to grasp why he would waste his obvious genius pouring drinks and serving pub grub when he could be a top flight executive like his dad. But Dudley liked being his own man and making his own hours, and so he continued to pursue it. The laid back atmosphere of pubs seemed a better choice than posh nightclubs or trendy bars which was how he'd found himself at The Eagle & Dove several nights a week serving a friendly and soon familiar crowd of regulars.
It had been a good feeling.
"What's in this?" the strange girl asked, eyeing the martini glass as Dudley slid it over the bar to her.
"Vodka and cranberry with lime juice. And a splash of triple sec." He was very proud of himself for having mastered the recipe. At least his mother had approved.
She raised the glass, the pointed tip of her tongue jutting out to lap at the drink as if she were a cat. "It's delicious. Very pink," she said, then took a proper sip. "Are you certain there's no Dirigible plum cordial in there? They taste very similar, you know." With that she made another notation in her book, as if to remind herself of the fact.
"Erm, no." Dudley replied with a shake of his head. He had no idea what a Dirigible plum was, but reckoned it was some exotic tropical fruit that cost 100 quid a piece at Fortnum & Mason. "Quite sure."
"Oh. Well, I like it anyway." The girl leaned in closer, giving him an even better view down her top. He could now see the lace of her bra and the hint of nipple pushing through her shirt.
Dudley had a fleeting thought that she might be flirting with him, but he pushed it away just as quickly as it had formed in his head. Women just did not chat him up, at least not if they were sober, and he refused to take advantage of the drunk ones. He knew he was big and buff, but not particularly clever or good-looking, and most of the women who crossed his path didn't seem interested in someone like that. He seemed to frighten anyone he did fancy - although not on purpose - and lacked the social and conversational skills to be a charmer like some of the blokes who frequented the pub.
At 26, Dudley was still a virgin, and unable to suss out how to deal with girls. He knew his father worried he was gay, although that might've been because his best mate, Piers Polkiss, had come out several years back (and was now happily living with his boyfriend in a bungalow in Esher). Their other friends had all managed to settle down, so it wasn't as if Dudley had mates to go out on the prowl with, or to even set him up with someone nice.
He decided he was sadly mistaken about the strange girl's intentions. Women didn't chat him up, even the weird ones. She was probably just angling for free drinks or doing it on a dare.
A loud crash yanked him out of his thoughts; he looked across the room to see two blokes grappling as they shouted obscenities at one another. They were both clearly pissed and antagonistic. With a sigh, Dudley shuffled out from behind the bar, intent on breaking up the row before it turned too ugly. By the time things had been sorted and both participants chucked out of the pub into the night, the strange girl had gone, her empty martini glass and a ten bob note the only signs that she'd ever been there at all.
To his surprise, Dudley felt an odd pang of regret that she hadn't even said goodbye.
*
From the Journal of Luna Lovegood: Day 11
My attempts to win the Muggle Alpha over seem to have failed. I'm not sure what I did wrong though. Ronald Weasley assured me that Muggle Males could be attracted easily, that all I had to do was "flash my tits at them" and they'd be won over. (At first, I thought he meant I should shoot lightning out of them, but Hermione set me straight before I did any unsuspecting Muggle any harm.) So, I did just that, and yet the Alpha did not respond at all. I have seen him interacting with other Muggle Females in what seems to be flirtatious, mating behaviour, so I don't believe him to be interested only in other males.
I suppose I should have asked Harry in more depth, but he seemed reluctant and embarrassed to talk about it. Or perhaps the Muggle Alpha does not trust me yet, or he is not interested in breasts, despite Ronald's assurance that all men, Muggle or Wizard, adore them. I'm beginning to think he might have been wrong about Muggle mating rituals after all.
The Alpha did put on quite a masterful display of superiority tonight, and proved he was quite capable of maintaining order of his tribe. Two males were fighting for dominance until the Alpha just waded in and stopped them both in their tracks, banishing them from the territory with ease. No wonder he's in charge of this group of Muggles. Given his strength and leadership abilities, I'm just surprised he has no mates to call his own. He ought to have a harem.
I wonder if he's lonely.
I clearly will have to find another strategy in order to be successful in winning him over. This will require more research on my part to discover where I went wrong.
*
From the Journal of Luna Lovegood: Day 15
Enlightenment has arrived in the way of Mrs MacPherson's tally-frission box. A programme on the Bee Bee Sea about mating behaviour and rituals in the wild has provided me with the answers I need. Tally is one of the most brilliant things the Muggles have created, and I am at a loss as to why we haven't got anything like it in our world. I will have to ask Daddy about this when I return home. Perhaps we can invent something like it for Wizards.
Meanwhile, I have been doing further research and am nearly ready to put my plan into action. It only requires a few finishing touches and then I will implement it.
I have every faith that this will prove to be the key to unlocking the complex puzzle that is this Alpha Muggle.
*
It was a few more days before Dudley saw the girl again; he found himself looking for her during his shift, glancing over at the door every few minutes as if he expected her to come strolling in right away. It worried him that she'd disappeared - he didn't know her name or where she lived or have any way to contact her, so it wasn't as if he could ring her up and see if she was okay. She'd just suddenly shown up one day as if out of nowhere, and now seemed to have vanished just as quickly without a trace.
He'd even had a brief, albeit utterly stupid idea that maybe she was an alien or a time traveller like on Doctor Who or Primeval. But that seemed too farfetched, even for someone whose cousin was a Wizard and who had experienced the things he had. For all Dudley knew, the girl had just been visiting London for a fortnight and had since returned home to whatever bizarre place she'd originally come from.
He wasn't sure why he cared, but he did.
Dudley had his back turned away from the bar, busy trying to pull another assortment of flavoured crisps out of a packing box, when he heard the commotion. He shot up from the floor, glancing around the room, expecting to see more pissed troublemakers.
Instead, his gaze fell upon the slim form of the odd girl, a flood of relief rushing through him as he realised she was all right. She was wearing a shiny, red patent leather mac over her clothes, and her face lit up into a huge smile as she caught sight of him. She yanked off the mac, tossing it to the floor behind her. Underneath, she had on an assortment of clashing and mismatched garments, things in traffic cone orange, neon green, electric blue, metallic gold, silver and spangles, and a pair of hot pink suede cowboy boots on her feet. It looked to Dudley like the disco and 80s clothing sections of a variety of charity shops had exploded, then landed on her in some haphazard manner.
Striding up to the bar, she placed a selection of Cadbury Dairy Milk bars in several different flavours in front of him, piling them like a tribute, then cleared her throat, looking as though she was preparing for something. She drew in a deep breath, flung her long, pale, stringy hair back off her face, then raised her arms over her head.
The next thing Dudley knew, she was warbling a song in a high pitched voice. The singing was accompanied by flailing, jumping and shimmying in what Dudley could only hope was her version of dancing and not some sort of fit.
It took him a few moments to realise what she was singing, the words not quite audible at first.
"You're beautiful. You're beautiful.
You're beautiful, it's true.
I saw your face in a crowded place,
And I don't know what to do,
'Cause I'll never be with you..."
Dudley groaned; he positively hated that song. It was played in pubs and clubs and shops and bus shelters. Practically everywhere. He couldn't go to the toilet without hearing it played somewhere. Why she was singing it here and now and behaving so weirdly was completely beyond anything he could fathom. Perhaps she was some sort of demented singing telegram girl? Had someone hired her to do this? It wasn't his birthday or any holiday he could think of.
After what seemed like an eternity, she executed one final cartwheel, then fell to her knees, panting with exertion. She looked up at him expectantly, a hopeful smile on her lips. There was polite applause from some of the other pub patrons, although the majority of them seemed baffled by the performance.
He stared at her in confusion. "Are you feeling all right, Miss-?"
"Luna," she managed. "My name is Luna." The girl - Luna - struggled to her feet, grasping the back of a chair for support.
"All you all right? You haven't hurt yourself, have you? Do you want a drink or do you need to take some sort of medication? Would you like me to take you to hospital?" Dudley realised he was wittering on just a bit, but he'd never experienced anything like this before and felt completely out of his league.
"Why would I need a hospital?" Luna blinked at him like an owl. "Is that where Mu-people go to mate?"
"What?" Dudley spluttered.
She studied him with her over-large eyes; he suddenly noticed they were so grey they were practically silver. Unless it was just the reflection from the shiny bits of her clothing. "Have I failed to make an impression on you?"
Now she was the one who was clearly babbling. "Did you hit your head or something?," he blurted, "You're not making any sense."
Luna pursed her lips, then sighed in what sounded to Dudley like dismay. "No, I haven't hit my head, and I think I'm making perfect sense. You're the one who isn't."
"I can call 999 if you need-"
Grabbing up her mac from the floor, Luna shook her head. "I don't need anything, thank you." Before Dudley could stop her, she dashed out of the pub and into the night. By the time he'd managed to get out from behind the bar, through the crowd of customers and onto the street to look for her, she'd already disappeared.
*
From the Journal of Luna Lovegood: Day 16
I am at a loss. The Alpha Muggle did not respond as expected to the stimuli I provided him, which was a very great disappointment. I had expected him to be all over me like the Giant Squid, but instead he turned me down. I am not certain why - I thought my mating dance was impeccable and my mating song was one that seems to be quite popular with Muggles as I've heard it on their wireless constantly. I even gave him tributes of chocolate which I thought would sway him.
I thought he would appreciate the dance or find the song arousing, but instead, he just looked like someone had cast a Confundus spell on him. I am sure I was the only witch in the room and that no one had. However, as I am not an authority on Muggle Mating Rituals, I can only assume that something was not quite right. Did I get his customs wrong?
Still, he did not reject me completely. He could have flung the chocolates back at me, or driven me off his territory, but he did not exhibit any aggressive behaviour. In fact, he seemed genuinely concerned for my welfare. So perhaps I am not completely off the mark, just going about it the wrong way. I am not used to failure, nor will I accept it. A successful encounter will clearly require some further thought.
*
"Where've you been?" The words left Dudley's mouth as soon as he'd opened his front door and saw Luna standing there. He had been trying to locate her for the past three days, but no one had known how or where to find her.
She was dressed normally tonight, perhaps even a bit sombrely, in a form-fitting blue t-shirt, matching skirt which skimmed the top of her knees, and a pair of white trainers, so if any of his neighbours had seen her, he wouldn't have to explain why he was entertaining loonies.
"I had research to do," she replied matter-of-factly, entering his flat before he'd even had a chance to invite her in. "Very important work."
"What is it you do exactly?" he asked, closing the door behind her. Thankfully, the flat was as neat as a pin; his mum came around at least once a week to clean for him and to do his shopping, insistent that only she was capable of taking care of him in that way.
"I'm a naturalist." Luna walked over to the mantelpiece of Dudley's electric fireplace, peering at the family photos he had on display.
"You mean one of them people who doesn't wear clothes most of the time?" He'd seen a documentary on telly about them one night. A vision of Luna naked popped into his head, unbidden, making him realise he wouldn't mind seeing her that way in person. It was quite a distracting thought.
"No. I wear clothes most of the time. Except when I'm in the bath. And swimming, sometimes." She turned to him, pale brows knitted in confusion. "I study things in nature. Animals, birds, insects, and sometimes people."
"Oh, like David Attenborough, then?"
Her response was a blank stare. "Is he a friend of yours? Can I meet him?"
"Well, no. He's a scientist bloke. You know, on the telly." Dudley canted his head towards the big screen television sitting in the corner of the room. There was still no hint of recognition of the name. "So, erm, how did you find me?"
Luna's expression brightened considerably. "I went round to the pub, but you weren't there. I was worried that I'd driven you off."
"Today's just my day off."
"I know that now. One of the other barmen - Nigel, I think? He told me that, then gave me your address. He said you'd been trying to find me, too."
Dudley felt his face heating up. "I wanted to make sure you were all right after what happened the other night. You seemed upset, and I didn't want you to be."
"I was only upset because I wanted to have sexual relations with you, and you turned me down," Luna stated.
"You what?"
"I wanted to have sexual relations with you. And I wanted to know - what I did get wrong, Dudley? Have I completely misunderstood your mating rituals?"
"Mating rituals? Was that what that palaver in the pub was all about?"
"You see, this is why I'm trying the direct approach now," Luna said earnestly, then locked her eyes onto his. "I want to sleep with you, Dudley Dursley. What do I have to do to make that happen?"
He froze in place, unable to look away, while his tongue suddenly felt thick and unmovable, his entire mouth dry. He was incapable of do anything more than gape at her like a fish out of water.
"Dudley?" She waved her hand in front of his eyes. "Have I said something wrong?"
"You. Want to have sex. With me?" he finally croaked.
"Well, yes. Couldn't you tell?"
"Erm, no. Not really." Dudley's limited experience with women had never involved anything like the bizarre display she'd put on in the pub, but he was pretty sure that it wasn't normal by any stretch of the imagination. Still... "You want to have sex with me?" he repeated.
"I said yes," Luna replied calmly. "Why wouldn't I?"
"I don't know. I just didn't realise. Besides, we hardly know each other, and you don't look like the tarty sort who'd get off with anybody."
"I'm not trying to get off with anybody. I'm interested in you. I'll tell you anything you want to know if that will increase our chances of having sex though." She beamed at him. "My name is Luna Lovegood, I'm from Ottery St Catchpole, my Daddy is the editor of The Quibbler magazine, and I'm nearly twenty-five. What else do you need to know?"
Dudley had never heard of The Quibbler, but he wasn't much of a reader, and it sounded like some sort of girly thing they sold in the cosmetic section of Boots. Ottery St Catchpole, on the other hand, was a name he reckoned he ought to know, although he wasn't sure why. Then he remembered, seeing the return address written in a neat hand in the upper left corner of an envelope nearly completely covered in stamps in his mind's eye. He felt all the blood drain from his face as the realisation hit him; he could barely breathe. "You! You're one of them!"
"One of what?" Luna asked blithely.
"One of my cousin's weirdo friends! You're one of those Wensleys!" He lurched back, pressing his back and buttocks against the wall in an involuntary defensive measure.
"Do you mean the 'Weasleys'?" She pulled at a strand of her hair, scrunching her face up in concern as she studied it. "No, I'm not. They're our neighbours though. Why would you think I'm related to them? I haven't gone all ginger, have I?"
"No! But you are one of those...those wizards," he spat the word out like a curse, "aren't you?"
Luna sighed, and then nodded. "Yes, I am a witch. I suppose I haven't done a very good job of camouflaging myself, although I've been very careful not to use magic around anyone or talk about things that happen at home. But, why are you so frightened, Dudley? I don't want to hurt you. I just want to have sex with you!"
Dudley fought for breath, suddenly finding himself hyperventilating. "Do you know what they did to me? Do you know what they're like?"
She shook her head in dissent. "No, tell me."
Despite his inability to breathe, the words came tumbling out: all the humiliation and torment he'd experienced at the hands of the giant man, the terrible twins, and of course, the horrible, horrible Dementors who still haunted his nightmares. Luna listened patiently, her mouth forming a moue of sympathy as he explained it all. Over the years, Dudley had come to the understanding that he might've deserved some of the abuse from Hagrid (Luna corrected him when he called him "Hangar") and the twins - they were friends and protectors of Harry's, and at twenty-six, Dudley had a much better, much clearer picture of how poorly his parents, and Dudley himself, had treated his cousin, and why someone might have wanted a bit of retaliation. It didn't make it any easier, of course.
"Well," Luna said finally, as Dudley finished, still panting and gasping for breath. "There are bad wizards, although not nearly as many since the War ended. Harry's done a very good job of getting rid of most of them. Hagrid means well, of course, and the Twins-" To Dudley's surprise, Luna's eyes welled up, and she sniffled. "Fred's gone, and George is, well, he's not right in the head anymore. So you needn't worry about them."
"What do you mean he's 'gone'?" Dudley glanced around as if he expected Fred Weasley to suddenly appear in the middle of the parlour. "And they were never right in the head, neither of them."
"Fred died, and George went spare with grief."
"Oh." Dudley suddenly felt half his massive size. "Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't know."
"I suppose Harry doesn't tell you much then, does he?"
"No, not much at all. We exchange Christmas cards and a note now and then but - oi! How do you know I know Harry?"
Luna cast him a guilty look, twisting the ends of her hair around her fingers. "We-ell, Harry's a dear friend of mine. He might have had one of your cards lying about with your name on it. And a matchbook with the name of your pub. I-well, I wanted to learn more about Muggles, and I thought that someone related to Harry might be easier to get to know."
"And Harry didn't talk you out of it?"
She paused for a moment, as if gathering her thoughts. "I didn't quite tell him about that. It seemed rude. If I hadn't found you an interesting specimen, then I'd have moved on to someone else."
"Specimen?" Dudley frowned. "So, you see me as some sort of animal or something? Did Harry tell you I was dim?"
"What? No! Harry's actually rather fond of you," Luna insisted. "And I don't think you're an animal at all. You're different because you're a Muggle, but I rather like you." She put a hand on his arm; her touch was feather light as her fingers brushed along his forearm. "I did say I wanted to have sex with you, didn't I?"
"But, why?" He knew he sounded petulant now, but he didn't care. Luna was confusing him beyond all reason.
"Why not? I find you attractive. I find you different." Her face fell, her gaze sweeping to her toes. "You don't like me much, do you?"
"I like you fine," he found himself admitting, "I just - I'm not used to women saying stuff like that to me." He shrugged, and then raised an eyebrow. "If you're a witch and so keen on having it off with me, why didn't you just put some kind of spell on me? Or give me a love potion? You lot can do that sort of thing, can't you?"
"Of course we can! But it's not considered very good manners to do so. Dark wizards give people compulsions and make them do things against their will, which isn't very nice. Giving someone a love potion is very bad form," Luna explained. "Loads of young witches do it because they haven't got much confidence in boys, I suppose, but I never would. Besides, I wanted to study Muggles and Muggle behaviour, so doing anything like that would be cheating."
"Why would it matter if sleeping with me was just some sort of experiment?"
"At first, I thought of it just that way, but now-" Luna brushed his arm with her fingertips again. "I said I liked you, Dudley, and I meant it. I never would tell that to someone if I didn't. And you like me, so can't we-?"
The touch of her hand on his arm felt good, sending prickles of electricity up his spine, and he could feel his cock starting to stir. "I don't know if we should-" Before he could say anything else, Luna launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck, dragging his head down and kissing him very soundly. Any argument Dudley might have had to dissuade her, including what his mother would say about the situation, completely disappeared.
He felt Luna's tongue flitter against his lower lip, warm and soft and wet. Taking that as an indication she wanted more, Dudley parted his lips, savouring the sensation of her tongue twisting and darting against his own. He hadn't much experience with snogging girls, but this wasn't the time to point that out to her. Plus she seemed to be enjoying herself, so he wasn't about to spoil the mood, or the opportunity.
They kissed and kissed and kissed some more, until Luna pulled back, breathing hard. She grinned up at him, then took his large hand in her much smaller one. "Which way to your bedroom, Dudley?"
Without a word, Dudley pointed in the proper direction, allowing her to lead him in as if he were a small child.
Luna hummed to herself; he recognised it as the same awful tune she'd sung the other night in the pub, although it didn't seem quite so bad today. Especially when she was unbuttoning his shirt and pushing it back off his broad shoulders, her lips skimming across his bared skin, her breath warm and moist.
Dudley had a momentary jolt of nerves. The only woman who had ever seen him naked was his mother, and that hadn't been for over a decade. There had been a time when he'd been quite fit, rock solid and buff, but now he'd gotten softer and squishier, though hardly the fatty he'd been as a child. His job had kept him from working out as often as he'd liked, and since he'd quit boxing, he hadn't bothered to keep himself in prime fighting condition.
However, Luna didn't seem to mind at all. She continued to graze his skin with her lips and tongue, little noises of delight escaping from her throat as she did. Dudley didn't protest as her kisses ranged over his stomach to the band of his trousers, her hands already deftly undoing the fastener and working the zip downward.
He groaned as she ran her palm over the outline of his erection, pressing lightly. His cock was already at full mast, more than visible inside his pants, and aching like it had never ached before. She pushed him flat against the mattress, bunched up her skirt and threw one leg over his hips to straddle him.
Squirming and giggling, Luna rocked against him, the crotch of her knickers damp and warm as it rubbed against him.
Dudley pressed his hips up, wanting more contact. Luna grabbed his hands and brought them up to her breasts, her nipples hard and jutting through the thin fabric of her shirt. Instinctively, he began to knead and caress her, brushing his thumbs over the hard, taut nubs. She let out an enthusiastic squeal and wriggled some more, the friction of fabric against fabric, skin against skin driving him mad.
Before Dudley could stop himself, he was bucking up against her; once, twice, three times, and then he gave a shudder as he came. "Oh god," he moaned.
Luna gazed down at him with a puzzled expression, comprehension dawning as the warm, sticky sensation began to spread inside his pants and presumably, against her bare thighs. "Don't worry, Dudley," she said sympathetically. "It happens to wizards too."
"I've never-" he started.
She leaned down and kissed him in reassurance. "It doesn't matter. You are now." The corner of her mouth tugged up into a knowing smile. "And we've got all night to do it properly, so let's get naked so we can start."
*
From the Journal of Luna Lovegood: Day 26
Success!
My objective has been achieved!
The first occurrence was actually a week ago, but I'd been unable to find time to record all my findings until now. As it is, I've barely been able to find time to eat or drink or sleep. I have been in the Alpha Muggle's warren for all that time. Except for the day we had to move location to a hotel in order to avoid an altercation with the dominant female known as "Petunia".
It has been a great and eye-opening experience learning from him and having him learn from me in return. At some point, I suppose I shall have to let him go back to his job, but am intent on getting everything I can out of him first.
Initially, he was surprisingly shy. I did not expect a male of his size and stature to be so sensitive, but he was. However, he's now quite enthusiastic, bordering on insatiable.
I have also discovered that Muggle sexual relations are very much like our own: varied, complex and quite enjoyable. I will definitely be needing to extend my research to discover all the myriad ways in which Muggles, or at least my Muggle, likes to do it.
I believe I am up for the task. I certainly know my Alpha is.
***
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Author/Artist: ragdoll
Title: On the Mating Habits of Muggles & Naturalist Witches (OR Muggles in the Midst)
Rating: R/NC-17
Pairings: Dudley Dursley/Luna Lovegood
Word Count: ~6535
Warnings: none
Summary: Noted naturalist Luna Lovegood trails an elusive Muggle male in his native environment, seeking to gain his trust in an attempt to learn more about Muggle behaviour. Luna gets more than she bargained for, while Dudley Dursley gains more than he ever imagined.
Author's/Artist's Notes: This is for didodikali who asked for so many wonderful things including: humour and romance, unconventional beauty, strange girls, and sweet boys. Your requests just demanded this pairing to me. I really hope this was something close to what you were looking for.
My everlasting thanks to My Three Betas, coffee_n_cocoa, curia_regis and eeyore9990 and r_grayjoy without whose support I couldn't have gotten this finished, and of course, bethbethbeth for her patience.
***
From the Journal of Luna Lovegood: Day 1
Today is the day!
I will be endeavouring to go into the wilds of Muggle London to observe Muggles in their natural habitat. It seems to me that Muggle/Wizard relations are not as good as they ought to be because our people do not understand Muggles well enough, just as they have never comprehended any other sentient beings we've come into regular contact with such as goblins or centaurs. I believe it's time to make a change for the better and intend to do just that.
I am terribly grateful to have been schooled by both Harry Potter and Hermione Granger on what to wear and how to behave around the Muggle people so that I do not alert them to my presence. Hermione has helped me with my wardrobe and has even provided me with a manual on how basic Muggle tekrology works in order to aid me in my seamless integration into Muggle society without attracting their notice.
Daddy had suggested I let Mr. Arthur Weasley consult me on Muggle things as he is the foremost authority on them in Wizarding society, but I felt more comfortable talking to my peers, especially since both Harry and Hermione grew up amongst Muggles and might have better insight into their peculiarities and practices. Hopefully, Mr. Weasley will understand and not take this as a slight as none is intended.
I now have a bed-sit in a very nice home run by an elderly Muggle named Mrs. MacPherson who is lovely and kind. She has already provided me with much information about Muggles and the way they live. She has many stories to tell and I will try to record them all.
It will be difficult to live without magic for the length of this undertaking, but I am up to the task. This will be a most challenging adventure, but I am so very excited to get underway! I expect it to be more exhilarating than tracking Crumple-Horned Snorkacks in the Australian Outback or hunting for a rain of Moon Frogs off the coast of the Mediterranean!
*
From the Journal of Luna Lovegood: Day 10
I have been observing the Muggles for nearly a fortnight, trying to blend in as best I can. So far, I don't think any of them have been alerted to my presence.
I am amazed at how much they can get done without using magic and find their tekrology most impressive. I suppose some in Wizarding society would say that our methods are far superior to theirs, but I see it as a vast difference in our respective cultures rather than any indication that Wizards are more evolved beings.
There is an Alpha male here who has caught my attention. He is big, burly and blond, and rather good-looking in his own way. He is definitely a most revered member of his tribe of Londoners - he gives his followers food and drink in exchange for tributes of gold, silver and paper, and keeps them in line if they get too rambunctious.
I have been working on gaining his trust, and think I may have finally earned it. I will attempt contact tonight. I hope I am successful.
*
She was there again tonight, Dudley noted with interest. The small girl with the long, straggly, dirty blonde hair and the large, pale eyes. He wasn't quite sure why she stood out in the crowd of pub patrons, but she did. As if she was just a tad out of place somehow, not quite right in her surroundings, although he couldn't quite put his finger on the reason for it. She just seemed...off to him, looking around her constantly, seemingly observing everything, and then pulling a well-chewed Biro out from behind her ear to maniacally scribble things down into a crumpled notebook as if her life depended on it.
Yes, there was something decidedly odd about her.
At first, he thought she might be a journo or a critic come to review the pub, but she didn't seem to ever eat or drink while he was there, so that didn't make any sense at all. She might've been a health inspector, but the place was up to code as far as Dudley knew, and even if it wasn't, it wasn't any of his concern. Besides, he'd checked with some of his co-workers and she only showed up during his shift. Surely someone concerned with health and safety violations would be checking up at all hours and with all personnel, and not just the same old, same old every single night?
Perhaps she was a spy - maybe a member of MI-5 or MI-6 like James Bond, or those sexy birds on Spooks - but if she was, she certainly wasn't doing a very good job of staying unnoticed. He'd almost think she was one of his cousin Harry's weirdoes, but he couldn't imagine why one of them would bother to be at the Eagle & Dove when they could be in one of their own pubs instead. Assuming they had pubs, that is. You never knew with those kinds of people. For all Dudley knew, that lot only got together for the annual blood sacrifice and dinner dance and nothing more.
While his relationship with his cousin had thawed somewhat since Harry's departure from their house on Privet Drive, Dudley was still not a fan of those in the Wizarding World. The torture he'd suffered at the hands of Harry's friends: that ginormous bloke, Haggard, and those evil Ginger Westley Twins, was something that stuck with him to this day, leaving him permanently scarred at the base of his spine.
Just the other night, watching an episode of Dr Who featuring a pig flying a space ship into Big Ben had triggered a panic attack so strong that Dudley had put himself into contortions in front of a pair of mirrors for hours in order to reassure himself that that bloody tail hadn't somehow reappeared spontaneously. It hacked him off that he couldn't even watch a bit of mindless telly without being reminded of the utter humiliation and trauma those nutters had caused.
"Hello." The blonde girl's sing-song voice broke Dudley out of his reverie. "I'd like another drink, please." She leaned across the bar towards him, her chest resting against the edge, her shirt pulling downward to give Dudley a glimpse of her cleavage, the tops of her breasts small and round and white. He definitely liked what he saw.
"What's your pleasure?"
She blinked at him slowly as if not quite understanding the question, so he repeated it again.
"What would you like to drink?"
"Oh! Have you got any Butterbeer?" she asked.
"Butter beer?" he echoed. "Is that from Holland? We don't get much call for too many imported beers around here. There's loads of others though, all proper English ones."
"Oh." She sounded slightly disappointed, looking even more so as she cast her eyes down to scribble something else in her notebook. "Perhaps something pink then? I'm in the mood for pink."
Dudley frowned, considering her request. "Would you like a Cosmo? Those are pink." That was currently his mum's favourite cocktail, something she's picked up from an American television show about sex in New York City that she watched religiously. It was also quite popular with most of the women who came into the pub.
"Cosmos? I didn't know the cosmos were pink - we never learned that in Astronomy class, but what a lovely thought. I must remember to tell Professor Sinistra the next time I see her." The girl brightened up considerably. "Yes, please."
With a nod, Dudley turned away from the bar to gather the necessary ingredients. He liked being a barman; it was something he was good at and something he enjoyed. Despite his father's urging, Dudley had not wanted to work at Grunnings, selling drilling parts to obnoxious berks at other companies. Vernon Dursley was born to be a stellar salesman, it was his life's blood, but not Dudley's.
It had taken a while to suss out just want he wanted to do with his life. He had tried his hand at professional boxing, and while he'd won more often than not, his heart just hadn't been in it. Walking around town looking like the worst part of a Saturday night had lost its appeal after a year or two.
After that, he'd been taken on jobs as a club bouncer which had paid very well, but it hadn't taken long before realising that intimidating people - usually potential clientele or problem customers- wasn't nearly as much fun as when he was younger. His days of bullying anyone smaller and weaker than himself were clearly behind him. He suspected it had something to do with the attack by those terrible Dementors when he was fifteen. Dudley knew what it was like to be utterly and completely afraid; he had no wish to subject anyone else to it.
Dudley also noticed that the bartenders in such places seemed to do much better and people seemed to like them, something which held far more appeal than he could ever have admitted to anyone. It had recently dawned on him that he'd much rather have people like him than fear him. So he'd taken a few courses in bartending to learn the tricks of the trade and found himself a brand new vocation.
Of course, his parents had been mortified. His father railed at Dudley's choice to mingle with riff-raff, and his mother had been unable to grasp why he would waste his obvious genius pouring drinks and serving pub grub when he could be a top flight executive like his dad. But Dudley liked being his own man and making his own hours, and so he continued to pursue it. The laid back atmosphere of pubs seemed a better choice than posh nightclubs or trendy bars which was how he'd found himself at The Eagle & Dove several nights a week serving a friendly and soon familiar crowd of regulars.
It had been a good feeling.
"What's in this?" the strange girl asked, eyeing the martini glass as Dudley slid it over the bar to her.
"Vodka and cranberry with lime juice. And a splash of triple sec." He was very proud of himself for having mastered the recipe. At least his mother had approved.
She raised the glass, the pointed tip of her tongue jutting out to lap at the drink as if she were a cat. "It's delicious. Very pink," she said, then took a proper sip. "Are you certain there's no Dirigible plum cordial in there? They taste very similar, you know." With that she made another notation in her book, as if to remind herself of the fact.
"Erm, no." Dudley replied with a shake of his head. He had no idea what a Dirigible plum was, but reckoned it was some exotic tropical fruit that cost 100 quid a piece at Fortnum & Mason. "Quite sure."
"Oh. Well, I like it anyway." The girl leaned in closer, giving him an even better view down her top. He could now see the lace of her bra and the hint of nipple pushing through her shirt.
Dudley had a fleeting thought that she might be flirting with him, but he pushed it away just as quickly as it had formed in his head. Women just did not chat him up, at least not if they were sober, and he refused to take advantage of the drunk ones. He knew he was big and buff, but not particularly clever or good-looking, and most of the women who crossed his path didn't seem interested in someone like that. He seemed to frighten anyone he did fancy - although not on purpose - and lacked the social and conversational skills to be a charmer like some of the blokes who frequented the pub.
At 26, Dudley was still a virgin, and unable to suss out how to deal with girls. He knew his father worried he was gay, although that might've been because his best mate, Piers Polkiss, had come out several years back (and was now happily living with his boyfriend in a bungalow in Esher). Their other friends had all managed to settle down, so it wasn't as if Dudley had mates to go out on the prowl with, or to even set him up with someone nice.
He decided he was sadly mistaken about the strange girl's intentions. Women didn't chat him up, even the weird ones. She was probably just angling for free drinks or doing it on a dare.
A loud crash yanked him out of his thoughts; he looked across the room to see two blokes grappling as they shouted obscenities at one another. They were both clearly pissed and antagonistic. With a sigh, Dudley shuffled out from behind the bar, intent on breaking up the row before it turned too ugly. By the time things had been sorted and both participants chucked out of the pub into the night, the strange girl had gone, her empty martini glass and a ten bob note the only signs that she'd ever been there at all.
To his surprise, Dudley felt an odd pang of regret that she hadn't even said goodbye.
*
From the Journal of Luna Lovegood: Day 11
My attempts to win the Muggle Alpha over seem to have failed. I'm not sure what I did wrong though. Ronald Weasley assured me that Muggle Males could be attracted easily, that all I had to do was "flash my tits at them" and they'd be won over. (At first, I thought he meant I should shoot lightning out of them, but Hermione set me straight before I did any unsuspecting Muggle any harm.) So, I did just that, and yet the Alpha did not respond at all. I have seen him interacting with other Muggle Females in what seems to be flirtatious, mating behaviour, so I don't believe him to be interested only in other males.
I suppose I should have asked Harry in more depth, but he seemed reluctant and embarrassed to talk about it. Or perhaps the Muggle Alpha does not trust me yet, or he is not interested in breasts, despite Ronald's assurance that all men, Muggle or Wizard, adore them. I'm beginning to think he might have been wrong about Muggle mating rituals after all.
The Alpha did put on quite a masterful display of superiority tonight, and proved he was quite capable of maintaining order of his tribe. Two males were fighting for dominance until the Alpha just waded in and stopped them both in their tracks, banishing them from the territory with ease. No wonder he's in charge of this group of Muggles. Given his strength and leadership abilities, I'm just surprised he has no mates to call his own. He ought to have a harem.
I wonder if he's lonely.
I clearly will have to find another strategy in order to be successful in winning him over. This will require more research on my part to discover where I went wrong.
*
From the Journal of Luna Lovegood: Day 15
Enlightenment has arrived in the way of Mrs MacPherson's tally-frission box. A programme on the Bee Bee Sea about mating behaviour and rituals in the wild has provided me with the answers I need. Tally is one of the most brilliant things the Muggles have created, and I am at a loss as to why we haven't got anything like it in our world. I will have to ask Daddy about this when I return home. Perhaps we can invent something like it for Wizards.
Meanwhile, I have been doing further research and am nearly ready to put my plan into action. It only requires a few finishing touches and then I will implement it.
I have every faith that this will prove to be the key to unlocking the complex puzzle that is this Alpha Muggle.
*
It was a few more days before Dudley saw the girl again; he found himself looking for her during his shift, glancing over at the door every few minutes as if he expected her to come strolling in right away. It worried him that she'd disappeared - he didn't know her name or where she lived or have any way to contact her, so it wasn't as if he could ring her up and see if she was okay. She'd just suddenly shown up one day as if out of nowhere, and now seemed to have vanished just as quickly without a trace.
He'd even had a brief, albeit utterly stupid idea that maybe she was an alien or a time traveller like on Doctor Who or Primeval. But that seemed too farfetched, even for someone whose cousin was a Wizard and who had experienced the things he had. For all Dudley knew, the girl had just been visiting London for a fortnight and had since returned home to whatever bizarre place she'd originally come from.
He wasn't sure why he cared, but he did.
Dudley had his back turned away from the bar, busy trying to pull another assortment of flavoured crisps out of a packing box, when he heard the commotion. He shot up from the floor, glancing around the room, expecting to see more pissed troublemakers.
Instead, his gaze fell upon the slim form of the odd girl, a flood of relief rushing through him as he realised she was all right. She was wearing a shiny, red patent leather mac over her clothes, and her face lit up into a huge smile as she caught sight of him. She yanked off the mac, tossing it to the floor behind her. Underneath, she had on an assortment of clashing and mismatched garments, things in traffic cone orange, neon green, electric blue, metallic gold, silver and spangles, and a pair of hot pink suede cowboy boots on her feet. It looked to Dudley like the disco and 80s clothing sections of a variety of charity shops had exploded, then landed on her in some haphazard manner.
Striding up to the bar, she placed a selection of Cadbury Dairy Milk bars in several different flavours in front of him, piling them like a tribute, then cleared her throat, looking as though she was preparing for something. She drew in a deep breath, flung her long, pale, stringy hair back off her face, then raised her arms over her head.
The next thing Dudley knew, she was warbling a song in a high pitched voice. The singing was accompanied by flailing, jumping and shimmying in what Dudley could only hope was her version of dancing and not some sort of fit.
It took him a few moments to realise what she was singing, the words not quite audible at first.
"You're beautiful. You're beautiful.
You're beautiful, it's true.
I saw your face in a crowded place,
And I don't know what to do,
'Cause I'll never be with you..."
Dudley groaned; he positively hated that song. It was played in pubs and clubs and shops and bus shelters. Practically everywhere. He couldn't go to the toilet without hearing it played somewhere. Why she was singing it here and now and behaving so weirdly was completely beyond anything he could fathom. Perhaps she was some sort of demented singing telegram girl? Had someone hired her to do this? It wasn't his birthday or any holiday he could think of.
After what seemed like an eternity, she executed one final cartwheel, then fell to her knees, panting with exertion. She looked up at him expectantly, a hopeful smile on her lips. There was polite applause from some of the other pub patrons, although the majority of them seemed baffled by the performance.
He stared at her in confusion. "Are you feeling all right, Miss-?"
"Luna," she managed. "My name is Luna." The girl - Luna - struggled to her feet, grasping the back of a chair for support.
"All you all right? You haven't hurt yourself, have you? Do you want a drink or do you need to take some sort of medication? Would you like me to take you to hospital?" Dudley realised he was wittering on just a bit, but he'd never experienced anything like this before and felt completely out of his league.
"Why would I need a hospital?" Luna blinked at him like an owl. "Is that where Mu-people go to mate?"
"What?" Dudley spluttered.
She studied him with her over-large eyes; he suddenly noticed they were so grey they were practically silver. Unless it was just the reflection from the shiny bits of her clothing. "Have I failed to make an impression on you?"
Now she was the one who was clearly babbling. "Did you hit your head or something?," he blurted, "You're not making any sense."
Luna pursed her lips, then sighed in what sounded to Dudley like dismay. "No, I haven't hit my head, and I think I'm making perfect sense. You're the one who isn't."
"I can call 999 if you need-"
Grabbing up her mac from the floor, Luna shook her head. "I don't need anything, thank you." Before Dudley could stop her, she dashed out of the pub and into the night. By the time he'd managed to get out from behind the bar, through the crowd of customers and onto the street to look for her, she'd already disappeared.
*
From the Journal of Luna Lovegood: Day 16
I am at a loss. The Alpha Muggle did not respond as expected to the stimuli I provided him, which was a very great disappointment. I had expected him to be all over me like the Giant Squid, but instead he turned me down. I am not certain why - I thought my mating dance was impeccable and my mating song was one that seems to be quite popular with Muggles as I've heard it on their wireless constantly. I even gave him tributes of chocolate which I thought would sway him.
I thought he would appreciate the dance or find the song arousing, but instead, he just looked like someone had cast a Confundus spell on him. I am sure I was the only witch in the room and that no one had. However, as I am not an authority on Muggle Mating Rituals, I can only assume that something was not quite right. Did I get his customs wrong?
Still, he did not reject me completely. He could have flung the chocolates back at me, or driven me off his territory, but he did not exhibit any aggressive behaviour. In fact, he seemed genuinely concerned for my welfare. So perhaps I am not completely off the mark, just going about it the wrong way. I am not used to failure, nor will I accept it. A successful encounter will clearly require some further thought.
*
"Where've you been?" The words left Dudley's mouth as soon as he'd opened his front door and saw Luna standing there. He had been trying to locate her for the past three days, but no one had known how or where to find her.
She was dressed normally tonight, perhaps even a bit sombrely, in a form-fitting blue t-shirt, matching skirt which skimmed the top of her knees, and a pair of white trainers, so if any of his neighbours had seen her, he wouldn't have to explain why he was entertaining loonies.
"I had research to do," she replied matter-of-factly, entering his flat before he'd even had a chance to invite her in. "Very important work."
"What is it you do exactly?" he asked, closing the door behind her. Thankfully, the flat was as neat as a pin; his mum came around at least once a week to clean for him and to do his shopping, insistent that only she was capable of taking care of him in that way.
"I'm a naturalist." Luna walked over to the mantelpiece of Dudley's electric fireplace, peering at the family photos he had on display.
"You mean one of them people who doesn't wear clothes most of the time?" He'd seen a documentary on telly about them one night. A vision of Luna naked popped into his head, unbidden, making him realise he wouldn't mind seeing her that way in person. It was quite a distracting thought.
"No. I wear clothes most of the time. Except when I'm in the bath. And swimming, sometimes." She turned to him, pale brows knitted in confusion. "I study things in nature. Animals, birds, insects, and sometimes people."
"Oh, like David Attenborough, then?"
Her response was a blank stare. "Is he a friend of yours? Can I meet him?"
"Well, no. He's a scientist bloke. You know, on the telly." Dudley canted his head towards the big screen television sitting in the corner of the room. There was still no hint of recognition of the name. "So, erm, how did you find me?"
Luna's expression brightened considerably. "I went round to the pub, but you weren't there. I was worried that I'd driven you off."
"Today's just my day off."
"I know that now. One of the other barmen - Nigel, I think? He told me that, then gave me your address. He said you'd been trying to find me, too."
Dudley felt his face heating up. "I wanted to make sure you were all right after what happened the other night. You seemed upset, and I didn't want you to be."
"I was only upset because I wanted to have sexual relations with you, and you turned me down," Luna stated.
"You what?"
"I wanted to have sexual relations with you. And I wanted to know - what I did get wrong, Dudley? Have I completely misunderstood your mating rituals?"
"Mating rituals? Was that what that palaver in the pub was all about?"
"You see, this is why I'm trying the direct approach now," Luna said earnestly, then locked her eyes onto his. "I want to sleep with you, Dudley Dursley. What do I have to do to make that happen?"
He froze in place, unable to look away, while his tongue suddenly felt thick and unmovable, his entire mouth dry. He was incapable of do anything more than gape at her like a fish out of water.
"Dudley?" She waved her hand in front of his eyes. "Have I said something wrong?"
"You. Want to have sex. With me?" he finally croaked.
"Well, yes. Couldn't you tell?"
"Erm, no. Not really." Dudley's limited experience with women had never involved anything like the bizarre display she'd put on in the pub, but he was pretty sure that it wasn't normal by any stretch of the imagination. Still... "You want to have sex with me?" he repeated.
"I said yes," Luna replied calmly. "Why wouldn't I?"
"I don't know. I just didn't realise. Besides, we hardly know each other, and you don't look like the tarty sort who'd get off with anybody."
"I'm not trying to get off with anybody. I'm interested in you. I'll tell you anything you want to know if that will increase our chances of having sex though." She beamed at him. "My name is Luna Lovegood, I'm from Ottery St Catchpole, my Daddy is the editor of The Quibbler magazine, and I'm nearly twenty-five. What else do you need to know?"
Dudley had never heard of The Quibbler, but he wasn't much of a reader, and it sounded like some sort of girly thing they sold in the cosmetic section of Boots. Ottery St Catchpole, on the other hand, was a name he reckoned he ought to know, although he wasn't sure why. Then he remembered, seeing the return address written in a neat hand in the upper left corner of an envelope nearly completely covered in stamps in his mind's eye. He felt all the blood drain from his face as the realisation hit him; he could barely breathe. "You! You're one of them!"
"One of what?" Luna asked blithely.
"One of my cousin's weirdo friends! You're one of those Wensleys!" He lurched back, pressing his back and buttocks against the wall in an involuntary defensive measure.
"Do you mean the 'Weasleys'?" She pulled at a strand of her hair, scrunching her face up in concern as she studied it. "No, I'm not. They're our neighbours though. Why would you think I'm related to them? I haven't gone all ginger, have I?"
"No! But you are one of those...those wizards," he spat the word out like a curse, "aren't you?"
Luna sighed, and then nodded. "Yes, I am a witch. I suppose I haven't done a very good job of camouflaging myself, although I've been very careful not to use magic around anyone or talk about things that happen at home. But, why are you so frightened, Dudley? I don't want to hurt you. I just want to have sex with you!"
Dudley fought for breath, suddenly finding himself hyperventilating. "Do you know what they did to me? Do you know what they're like?"
She shook her head in dissent. "No, tell me."
Despite his inability to breathe, the words came tumbling out: all the humiliation and torment he'd experienced at the hands of the giant man, the terrible twins, and of course, the horrible, horrible Dementors who still haunted his nightmares. Luna listened patiently, her mouth forming a moue of sympathy as he explained it all. Over the years, Dudley had come to the understanding that he might've deserved some of the abuse from Hagrid (Luna corrected him when he called him "Hangar") and the twins - they were friends and protectors of Harry's, and at twenty-six, Dudley had a much better, much clearer picture of how poorly his parents, and Dudley himself, had treated his cousin, and why someone might have wanted a bit of retaliation. It didn't make it any easier, of course.
"Well," Luna said finally, as Dudley finished, still panting and gasping for breath. "There are bad wizards, although not nearly as many since the War ended. Harry's done a very good job of getting rid of most of them. Hagrid means well, of course, and the Twins-" To Dudley's surprise, Luna's eyes welled up, and she sniffled. "Fred's gone, and George is, well, he's not right in the head anymore. So you needn't worry about them."
"What do you mean he's 'gone'?" Dudley glanced around as if he expected Fred Weasley to suddenly appear in the middle of the parlour. "And they were never right in the head, neither of them."
"Fred died, and George went spare with grief."
"Oh." Dudley suddenly felt half his massive size. "Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't know."
"I suppose Harry doesn't tell you much then, does he?"
"No, not much at all. We exchange Christmas cards and a note now and then but - oi! How do you know I know Harry?"
Luna cast him a guilty look, twisting the ends of her hair around her fingers. "We-ell, Harry's a dear friend of mine. He might have had one of your cards lying about with your name on it. And a matchbook with the name of your pub. I-well, I wanted to learn more about Muggles, and I thought that someone related to Harry might be easier to get to know."
"And Harry didn't talk you out of it?"
She paused for a moment, as if gathering her thoughts. "I didn't quite tell him about that. It seemed rude. If I hadn't found you an interesting specimen, then I'd have moved on to someone else."
"Specimen?" Dudley frowned. "So, you see me as some sort of animal or something? Did Harry tell you I was dim?"
"What? No! Harry's actually rather fond of you," Luna insisted. "And I don't think you're an animal at all. You're different because you're a Muggle, but I rather like you." She put a hand on his arm; her touch was feather light as her fingers brushed along his forearm. "I did say I wanted to have sex with you, didn't I?"
"But, why?" He knew he sounded petulant now, but he didn't care. Luna was confusing him beyond all reason.
"Why not? I find you attractive. I find you different." Her face fell, her gaze sweeping to her toes. "You don't like me much, do you?"
"I like you fine," he found himself admitting, "I just - I'm not used to women saying stuff like that to me." He shrugged, and then raised an eyebrow. "If you're a witch and so keen on having it off with me, why didn't you just put some kind of spell on me? Or give me a love potion? You lot can do that sort of thing, can't you?"
"Of course we can! But it's not considered very good manners to do so. Dark wizards give people compulsions and make them do things against their will, which isn't very nice. Giving someone a love potion is very bad form," Luna explained. "Loads of young witches do it because they haven't got much confidence in boys, I suppose, but I never would. Besides, I wanted to study Muggles and Muggle behaviour, so doing anything like that would be cheating."
"Why would it matter if sleeping with me was just some sort of experiment?"
"At first, I thought of it just that way, but now-" Luna brushed his arm with her fingertips again. "I said I liked you, Dudley, and I meant it. I never would tell that to someone if I didn't. And you like me, so can't we-?"
The touch of her hand on his arm felt good, sending prickles of electricity up his spine, and he could feel his cock starting to stir. "I don't know if we should-" Before he could say anything else, Luna launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck, dragging his head down and kissing him very soundly. Any argument Dudley might have had to dissuade her, including what his mother would say about the situation, completely disappeared.
He felt Luna's tongue flitter against his lower lip, warm and soft and wet. Taking that as an indication she wanted more, Dudley parted his lips, savouring the sensation of her tongue twisting and darting against his own. He hadn't much experience with snogging girls, but this wasn't the time to point that out to her. Plus she seemed to be enjoying herself, so he wasn't about to spoil the mood, or the opportunity.
They kissed and kissed and kissed some more, until Luna pulled back, breathing hard. She grinned up at him, then took his large hand in her much smaller one. "Which way to your bedroom, Dudley?"
Without a word, Dudley pointed in the proper direction, allowing her to lead him in as if he were a small child.
Luna hummed to herself; he recognised it as the same awful tune she'd sung the other night in the pub, although it didn't seem quite so bad today. Especially when she was unbuttoning his shirt and pushing it back off his broad shoulders, her lips skimming across his bared skin, her breath warm and moist.
Dudley had a momentary jolt of nerves. The only woman who had ever seen him naked was his mother, and that hadn't been for over a decade. There had been a time when he'd been quite fit, rock solid and buff, but now he'd gotten softer and squishier, though hardly the fatty he'd been as a child. His job had kept him from working out as often as he'd liked, and since he'd quit boxing, he hadn't bothered to keep himself in prime fighting condition.
However, Luna didn't seem to mind at all. She continued to graze his skin with her lips and tongue, little noises of delight escaping from her throat as she did. Dudley didn't protest as her kisses ranged over his stomach to the band of his trousers, her hands already deftly undoing the fastener and working the zip downward.
He groaned as she ran her palm over the outline of his erection, pressing lightly. His cock was already at full mast, more than visible inside his pants, and aching like it had never ached before. She pushed him flat against the mattress, bunched up her skirt and threw one leg over his hips to straddle him.
Squirming and giggling, Luna rocked against him, the crotch of her knickers damp and warm as it rubbed against him.
Dudley pressed his hips up, wanting more contact. Luna grabbed his hands and brought them up to her breasts, her nipples hard and jutting through the thin fabric of her shirt. Instinctively, he began to knead and caress her, brushing his thumbs over the hard, taut nubs. She let out an enthusiastic squeal and wriggled some more, the friction of fabric against fabric, skin against skin driving him mad.
Before Dudley could stop himself, he was bucking up against her; once, twice, three times, and then he gave a shudder as he came. "Oh god," he moaned.
Luna gazed down at him with a puzzled expression, comprehension dawning as the warm, sticky sensation began to spread inside his pants and presumably, against her bare thighs. "Don't worry, Dudley," she said sympathetically. "It happens to wizards too."
"I've never-" he started.
She leaned down and kissed him in reassurance. "It doesn't matter. You are now." The corner of her mouth tugged up into a knowing smile. "And we've got all night to do it properly, so let's get naked so we can start."
*
From the Journal of Luna Lovegood: Day 26
Success!
My objective has been achieved!
The first occurrence was actually a week ago, but I'd been unable to find time to record all my findings until now. As it is, I've barely been able to find time to eat or drink or sleep. I have been in the Alpha Muggle's warren for all that time. Except for the day we had to move location to a hotel in order to avoid an altercation with the dominant female known as "Petunia".
It has been a great and eye-opening experience learning from him and having him learn from me in return. At some point, I suppose I shall have to let him go back to his job, but am intent on getting everything I can out of him first.
Initially, he was surprisingly shy. I did not expect a male of his size and stature to be so sensitive, but he was. However, he's now quite enthusiastic, bordering on insatiable.
I have also discovered that Muggle sexual relations are very much like our own: varied, complex and quite enjoyable. I will definitely be needing to extend my research to discover all the myriad ways in which Muggles, or at least my Muggle, likes to do it.
I believe I am up for the task. I certainly know my Alpha is.
***
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