Fic: Dear Diary
Title: Dear Diary
(for
mrsquizzical, who stumped me and said, "Oh I'd do indecent things for more of your george/luna!" as a reward)
Summary: Luna's thoughts after her first kiss from George (in Love and Levity)
Rating: PG13
Pairing: George/Luna
Word count: 1075
Dear Diary,
Today, George Weasley kissed me. It was lovely, but I think there is something wrong with my stomach. It hasn’t quite been the same since.
I think I may have made a new friend, today, too. Or possibly two, if you count Verity. I don’t think she liked me all that much at first, but after a few hours, her smile actually reached her eyes. George hinted that she was going off to meet Lee Jordan and possibly do a bit of kissing with him, though, so perhaps that explains her change in attitude.
But Fred-I’m almost positive he likes me. His smiles were open and he looked me in the eye and even touched me once or twice. And more importantly, I saw the relief in George’s eyes when he looked from me to his brother.
But anyway, about George and kissing. Like I said, it was lovely. It was strange, too, because the first thing I felt was something like relief. I think I must have wanted it to happen more than I let myself admit, and for a while there, it looked as though he was going to let his fear stop him. I should have known better. George isn’t really afraid of anything, is he? And not just because he was sorted Gryffindor.
Once I got past the relief, I could take a moment and think about how it felt to have our mouths pressed together. His lips were much softer than I had expected. But maybe that could be explained by the fact that he was participating in the kiss-unlike Neville, who seemed to be shutting me out more than anything. George, on the other hand, seemed determined to get in. Of course, so was that Slytherin-the one who cornered me in the stacks and tried to stick his tongue in my mouth and his hand under my shirt. His lips were very hard--so hard that he wound up bruising my mouth a bit. (Then again, I imagine his bollocks were bruised for some time after that, so it only seems fair.)
Sorry, diary--back to George. His mouth was soft, as I said, and he used it to sort of get to know my mouth, rather than to brand it as his. His kiss made me want to learn more about him, (not that I didn’t already.) It was almost as though he managed to bind me to him, using some sort of spell I’ve never heard of, and when he ended the kiss, it was nearly painful. I hadn’t learned anywhere near as much as I wanted to. So I pulled him closer, and kissed him back. And I swear, when I heard him suck in a breath, when I felt his heart pounding, and his hands shaking, and his body stirring, I felt heady with power and weak at the knees. It didn’t make sense, but at the same time, felt as natural as breathing.
I wonder if this is how kisses normally make you feel? If so, I can understand why people like to do it so much. But then again, I wonder how one could break someone’s heart on purpose when they’ve made you feel such wonderful things. Perhaps the feeling diminishes with time. I’d ask Daddy, but somehow I don’t think he wants to remember those feelings now that Mum is gone.
It’s funny, though. Even an hour later, I can still feel him on me. I have his taste in my mouth, and it’s lovely, but not something you can describe by comparing him to a flavor. I doubt even Bertie Botts could get the essence of George right. I can still feel the bit of prickly hair on his upper lip and the way it scraped my skin. You’d think that would have been uncomfortable, wouldn’t you, but it was a lovely contrast to the satiny texture of the inside of his mouth. I can feel pressure where his arms circled me, and I remember how small the breadth of his shoulders made me feel. I can feel his hair under my fingertips-how it was short and scratchy at the nape of his neck, and like more like silk as I slid my hand up towards his crown. I can still see the look on his face just before he kissed me, how the laughter in his eyes-laughter that I helped to put there (heady power, indeed) turned into something else entirely, something dark and dangerous and thrilling.
I can feel the slide of his tongue against mine, and even now, I can’t understand how such an absurd way to express affection should have felt so perfectly natural-necessary, even.
And then there’s my stomach, which doesn’t seem to want to settle down. I wonder if that is normal, too? The only thing I can compare it to is that overwhelming feeling of dread you get when you know that something bad is about to happen. This has many of the same symptoms, but somehow I’m sure that it has something to do with something good happening, something beautiful, even.
And now that I think about it, these symptoms have been making themselves manifest from the day that I saw George in the bookstore. Actually, come to think of it, they first showed up the night that we danced at his brother’s wedding. Granted, the symptoms were much milder then, but they were similar.
This seems nothing like the crush I had on Ernie Macmillan three years ago, though I do recall a few butterflies inside while I watched him eat his breakfast. And I seem to remember a few stomach flutters when I came across Ronald unexpectedly two years ago, too. And I’ll admit that when Harry asked me to the party, my stomach did a bit of acrobatics too, at least before he uttered the words ‘as friends.’ So, yes, I am not completely unfamiliar with symptoms of desire, or lust, (or painful longing) or whatever you want to call it.
I’ve known for a while that I fancy George. That was never in question. And I suspected he might feel something for me too. Well, when pressed, George admitted it tonight, didn’t he? I knew kissing him would be pleasant. What I never imagined is that it would feel this…huge.
Well, perhaps that’s how it always is when you kiss someone you fancy like mad. I wouldn’t know.
But somehow, I doubt it.
(for
mrsquizzical, who stumped me and said, "Oh I'd do indecent things for more of your george/luna!" as a reward)
Summary: Luna's thoughts after her first kiss from George (in Love and Levity)
Rating: PG13
Pairing: George/Luna
Word count: 1075
Dear Diary,
Today, George Weasley kissed me. It was lovely, but I think there is something wrong with my stomach. It hasn’t quite been the same since.
I think I may have made a new friend, today, too. Or possibly two, if you count Verity. I don’t think she liked me all that much at first, but after a few hours, her smile actually reached her eyes. George hinted that she was going off to meet Lee Jordan and possibly do a bit of kissing with him, though, so perhaps that explains her change in attitude.
But Fred-I’m almost positive he likes me. His smiles were open and he looked me in the eye and even touched me once or twice. And more importantly, I saw the relief in George’s eyes when he looked from me to his brother.
But anyway, about George and kissing. Like I said, it was lovely. It was strange, too, because the first thing I felt was something like relief. I think I must have wanted it to happen more than I let myself admit, and for a while there, it looked as though he was going to let his fear stop him. I should have known better. George isn’t really afraid of anything, is he? And not just because he was sorted Gryffindor.
Once I got past the relief, I could take a moment and think about how it felt to have our mouths pressed together. His lips were much softer than I had expected. But maybe that could be explained by the fact that he was participating in the kiss-unlike Neville, who seemed to be shutting me out more than anything. George, on the other hand, seemed determined to get in. Of course, so was that Slytherin-the one who cornered me in the stacks and tried to stick his tongue in my mouth and his hand under my shirt. His lips were very hard--so hard that he wound up bruising my mouth a bit. (Then again, I imagine his bollocks were bruised for some time after that, so it only seems fair.)
Sorry, diary--back to George. His mouth was soft, as I said, and he used it to sort of get to know my mouth, rather than to brand it as his. His kiss made me want to learn more about him, (not that I didn’t already.) It was almost as though he managed to bind me to him, using some sort of spell I’ve never heard of, and when he ended the kiss, it was nearly painful. I hadn’t learned anywhere near as much as I wanted to. So I pulled him closer, and kissed him back. And I swear, when I heard him suck in a breath, when I felt his heart pounding, and his hands shaking, and his body stirring, I felt heady with power and weak at the knees. It didn’t make sense, but at the same time, felt as natural as breathing.
I wonder if this is how kisses normally make you feel? If so, I can understand why people like to do it so much. But then again, I wonder how one could break someone’s heart on purpose when they’ve made you feel such wonderful things. Perhaps the feeling diminishes with time. I’d ask Daddy, but somehow I don’t think he wants to remember those feelings now that Mum is gone.
It’s funny, though. Even an hour later, I can still feel him on me. I have his taste in my mouth, and it’s lovely, but not something you can describe by comparing him to a flavor. I doubt even Bertie Botts could get the essence of George right. I can still feel the bit of prickly hair on his upper lip and the way it scraped my skin. You’d think that would have been uncomfortable, wouldn’t you, but it was a lovely contrast to the satiny texture of the inside of his mouth. I can feel pressure where his arms circled me, and I remember how small the breadth of his shoulders made me feel. I can feel his hair under my fingertips-how it was short and scratchy at the nape of his neck, and like more like silk as I slid my hand up towards his crown. I can still see the look on his face just before he kissed me, how the laughter in his eyes-laughter that I helped to put there (heady power, indeed) turned into something else entirely, something dark and dangerous and thrilling.
I can feel the slide of his tongue against mine, and even now, I can’t understand how such an absurd way to express affection should have felt so perfectly natural-necessary, even.
And then there’s my stomach, which doesn’t seem to want to settle down. I wonder if that is normal, too? The only thing I can compare it to is that overwhelming feeling of dread you get when you know that something bad is about to happen. This has many of the same symptoms, but somehow I’m sure that it has something to do with something good happening, something beautiful, even.
And now that I think about it, these symptoms have been making themselves manifest from the day that I saw George in the bookstore. Actually, come to think of it, they first showed up the night that we danced at his brother’s wedding. Granted, the symptoms were much milder then, but they were similar.
This seems nothing like the crush I had on Ernie Macmillan three years ago, though I do recall a few butterflies inside while I watched him eat his breakfast. And I seem to remember a few stomach flutters when I came across Ronald unexpectedly two years ago, too. And I’ll admit that when Harry asked me to the party, my stomach did a bit of acrobatics too, at least before he uttered the words ‘as friends.’ So, yes, I am not completely unfamiliar with symptoms of desire, or lust, (or painful longing) or whatever you want to call it.
I’ve known for a while that I fancy George. That was never in question. And I suspected he might feel something for me too. Well, when pressed, George admitted it tonight, didn’t he? I knew kissing him would be pleasant. What I never imagined is that it would feel this…huge.
Well, perhaps that’s how it always is when you kiss someone you fancy like mad. I wouldn’t know.
But somehow, I doubt it.