FIC: "A Different Sort of Pest Control" for berenicepotter
Title: A Different Sort of Pest Control
Author/Artist: ???
Recipient's name: berenicepotter
Characters/Pairings: Hermione/Luna, implied Harry/Ron, references to past Hermione/Ron.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: There's only one way to get rid of an infestation of Sniffering Snortwigs, and Luna knows just how to do it.
Warnings: Mentions of toys.
Notes: Thank you to E for the beta, even though she (supposedly) dislikes femmeslash! Berenicepotter, you said you wanted something lighter, so I hope you enjoy!
::
Hermione knew that living with Luna would be interesting when she moved in.
Maybe not quite this interesting.
"Why can't I use the toaster, again?"
"Sniffering Snortwigs. Natural habitat."
"Snortwigs. Oh." Hermione sighs and pulls an errant curl off her neck, twisting her sleep-warmed hair into a messy bun. It's six a.m. Too early for this. She supposes she should be thankful it's just the toaster, and not the electric kettle. Yet. "But it's a Muggle appliance, Luna. How can it be their natural habitat?"
Luna gives her a wide-eyed, level look and sips her tea calmly. "They're very resourceful, you know."
"I see," says Hermione calmly, even though she doesn't, and it's the third day in a row there's no toast for breakfast.
::
"They're in the Hoover," Luna informs her absently two days later.
"The Hoover." Hermione nods, and hides a smile in her hair. "I should think they'd be sneezing, then. It's rather dusty in there."
"They're amazing creatures. Very adaptable." Luna nods solemnly.
"Right."
Hermione silently wonders if maybe it's just because it's Luna's day to hoover, but she keeps her mouth shut.
::
Luna shows up, sometimes, when Hermione's working late at the Ministry, bringing with her take-away and tea. She always just appears in front of her desk somehow, and with anyone else it might be startling. But it isn't, because it's Luna.
Hermione has never asked how she gets past Security, and Luna has never offered. She thinks perhaps it's best she doesn't know.
"I brought curry," Luna states, and curls up in the uncomfortable chair in front of Hermione's desk.
Hermione nods thankfully. She's starving. Luna somehow always knows when she's forgotten to eat. She shoves a pile of parchments to the side to take the greasy paper bag from Luna's outstretched hand.
Luna's hair is lank and dripping from the rain, chopsticks pulling it back into a messy bun. One chopstick is almost falling out of the pale, twisted strands, and Hermione opens her mouth to tell her at the exact same moment that Luna reaches up and fixes it. She settles for a murmured "Ta," and pulls out the curry.
Luna waits until she's unpacked the food, then reaches over the desk and hands her the cup of tea she's brought. Her fingers brush Hermione's briefly as they close over the steaming paper cup, and Hermione feels the tingle that always runs through her when Luna touches her, which is rather often, lately, and yet not quite often enough.
She takes a hurried gulp of the tea the minute she takes her first bite of the curry. It's brutally spicy. Luna's food always is. She can feel her sinuses clearing and eyes starting to water.
Luna's playing absently with the stuffed phoenix Ron bought Hermione to celebrate when she got the job. It sits on her desk and looks vaguely like Fawkes, in a fluffy, self-deprecating way. Hermione finds it vaguely creepy, but the minute she moved it away Ron noticed, so for now it sits on the corner of her desk, looking forlorn as only fuzzy inanimate animals can.
Luna strokes its mangled feathers gently, then says "You don't masturbate enough."
Hermione chokes on her curry. "What?"
"It's the Snortwigs."
"No-what you said-Before-"
"Masturbating."
"That. I-What?"
"Keeps them away. It's why we have an infestation. I mean, it's not me. I do it enough." Luna looks dreamily at her, still petting the pathetic stuffed bird. It looks solemnly at her with glassy eyes and Hermione has to look away from its accusing stare. "I hear you sometimes. You sound nice. You should do it more often."
"Luna!?"
"What?"
"I'm-don't. I'm at work. At the Ministry. Don't talk about-about that here. People might be listening." Hermione shoots a nervous look at her open door. She's in an up-and-coming department. There's certain to be other people still working late, like Richard in Acquisitions or Penelope, the undersecretary in Magical Law Enforcement.
"Oh. Sorry."
Luna doesn't really look sorry at all.
::
"You know that thing I'm not supposed to talk about?"
"Yes. Well, maybe. Which one?" Hermione has almost her entire body shoved in the bottom part of the cool oven, marinating the roast. When she answers, her voice rings in the small space.
"The masturbating one."
Hermione jerks, and almost hits her head on the top of the oven.
"Oh. That."
"There are Snortwigs in the icebox, you know. Saw three this morning."
"Don't they get cold?"
"I think they're breeding."
"Oh. What does that have to do with--"
"Hermione." Hermione pulls her body out of the oven to give her a Look, basting brush in hand. Luna shoots her back an appraising look of her own, peering at her over her ever-present cup of tea. Hermione has no idea what's in it. The bag labeled "tea" in Luna's messy handwriting in the cupboard is full of dried plants she's never seen, and smells funny. Hermione sticks to her own Twinings and doesn't ask. "I told you," she says mildly. "You need to masturbate more."
"Right. You know, Luna, perhaps you should know I don't normally--"
"Oh."
"Yes."
"Well, that's the problem then. Want some help?"
Yes, Hermione thinks to herself. "No," she answers. "That's quite alright. I'm." Hermione can feel her face burning, and it's not just the heat coming from the oven that she's just turned on.
"Well. Just ask, if you need some help."
I won't. "I will."
Hermione wonders if Luna really knows what she's saying. She pokes the roast experimentally with the tip of her fork, watching the marinade begin to bubble in the heat.
She decides she probably does.
::
"I bought you something." Luna hands her a box and goes to set down her groceries on the kitchen table. Hermione eyes it warily.
"What is it?" Hermione still has a scar on her left hand from the last time Luna bought her something. The box isn't moving this time, though, so she decides it's probably safe to peer inside without protective equipment.
She looks, then snaps it shut again. Quickly.
"Luna, what--"
"You need it. I have one already. They're lovely."
"I don't-"
"I'll help you," she offers for the second time, smiling angelically. "It's not very hard. You just wave your wand and say Vibrato, and then it starts vibrating and then you-"
"Stop!" Hermione holds up a hand, forestalling the next few words. "I know how they work, Luna." She winces. "In theory, anyway."
"Oh! So you should be fine, then." Luna looks positively delighted. Hermione tries not think about how lovely she looks when she smiles like that. "I'll put away the groceries, if you want to go try it out."
"No!" Luna's eyes open wide, and Hermione realizes that she's shouting at her. She clears her throat awkwardly before continuing in a more normal voice. "No. I can't-I don't think I'd be able to. Um. With you here. Listening."
"Aaah." Luna nods sanguinely, drawing the syllable out into a word. "Well, I have to go meet Neville this afternoon. He needs help with his mandrakes. They're particularly feisty this season. I'll be gone until suppertime." Luna gives her a knowing look, and goes to grab her jumper from the hall closet.
Hermione wonders, not for the first time, how anyone can think Luna is really as clueless as she acts.
She doesn't fool Hermione.
::
Hermione stares at the box at the end of her bed as if she could will it to disappear. Or burst into flames. Transform into a kitten. Something.
The box sits there mildly and doesn't move.
She sighs.
It was worth a shot, anyway.
She pulls the box to her lap and takes out the thing inside. It's long and thick and rather terrifying. She thinks about the time she walked in on Ron in the shower at the Burrow, accidentally, and then quickly banishes the thought. She doesn't need Ron here-mentally, anyway. He's distracting. Her brain already feels crowded enough with her and Luna and the vibrator. There's no room for one more.
She imagines the vibrator is looking at her accusingly. It's not, but she imagines it anyway.
She glares back at it. "Fine," she says, tugging off her jumper and kicking her shoes off. "Fine."
She's naked, suddenly, and the room in the air is chilly. She raises her wand and casts a warming charm, careful not to point it anywhere near the thing in her hand. She's not ready for it to move on its own quite yet.
It's intimidating enough just sitting there.
::
Twenty minutes later, she's still cold, still naked, and it's still sitting on the end of her bed.
Hermione mutters angrily to herself and reaches for her jumper.
Fine, then. She'll do something else. Housework. Something. Anything to take her mind off of it.
And she's not telling Luna, either.
::
Luna figures it out anyway.
"Luna-what are you--?"
"I'm helping."
"Oh." Hermione is on the couch in one of Harry's old t-shirts, watching telly and sipping tea and she suddenly has a lapful of Luna. Who is kissing her. Or was, before she opened her big mouth to ask why. Her hair is in Hermione's face, getting caught on her eyelashes, and between the two of them they have enough hair to keep a third-world country warm. Luna's eyes are slightly greenish this close up. Hermione's never noticed before.
"And helping me involves-"
"Kissing you. Yes." She kisses Hermione again. She tastes like the spicy curry they'd made for dinner again, but it's less unpleasant on Luna's tongue then it was on her own. Hermione kisses her back, completely unsure of what to do. Luna's soft and small on her lap, small enough for Hermione to wind her arms around, and she does so. It's nice.
Luna's a better kisser than Ron was. Is. Most likely, will ever be
She pulls away, settling back into Hermione's lap and reaches for the remote. One of her hands is still tangled in Hermione's hair. Hermione leaves it there.
"That's it?" Hermione asks, feeling vaguely disappointed.
Luna just smiles enigmatically at her and changes the channel to Animal Planet.
::
Three days later. Hermione has called in the back-up troops. Such as they are.
"So she keeps kissing you?" Ron stares into his pint, eyeing it critically. "There's not enough beer in this, you know. Bloody bartenders in training. Too much head, and not enough beer. Think they'll give me another one?"
Hermione swats at him. "Pay attention. I'm telling the story, and you're going to miss it."
Harry just nods, and sips his whiskey on the rocks. He's never liked beer. "So you're dating, then?"
Hermione shakes her head. "No. It’s-she's 'helping', she says." She makes the quotation marks in the air with her fingers.
"Helping who?"
"Me. I think. And the Snortwigs."
"Snortwigs?"
"The Snortwigs. We have an infestation."
"And kissing you helps that?"
"Lunasaysthey'reinfestingbecauseIdon'tmasturbate." It comes out in a rush, and Hermione blushes and stares into the bottom of her drink. Harry and Ron both make a face. "Sorry," she says. "It just sort of slipped out."
Harry won't meet her eyes as he blushes back and mumbles, "Well. Can't you just…take care of that, then? By…yourself?"
"Yeah." Ron grins at her and makes a lewd gesture with his hand. "S'not that hard." He snickers, nudging Harry with his shoulder. Harry gives him a small smile and raises an eyebrow in her direction, silently seconding Ron's question.
"I'm a girl. It's more complicated than- than that." She wrinkles her nose at Ron's gesture and suppresses the urge to say besides, it's not like you ever got the hang of me, either.
Harry nods, shrugging. "I suppose so. I wouldn't know."
"No, I know you wouldn't. Either of you." Hermione sighs. "I just don't know what to do about it."
"Who says you have to do anything?" Ron puts in, draining his glass. "So she keeps kissing you. So let her."
"But-it's so-"
"Unplanned? Confusing? Frustrating because you're not in control of the situation?" Harry gives her a knowing smile.
"I-Yes." She winces. You're too in control of everything, they always tell her. Too obsessive. You need to relax. They don't get that it's just not that easy. Maybe for them it is, but it isn't for her.
Harry nods and just smirks at her, sipping his drink. She knows he knows exactly what she's thinking.
"Oh, shut up," she growls irritably at him, and drains her drink all in one go.
::
"I'm drunk."
"Are you?" Luna's sitting on the couch in her underwear, flipping through channels and looking mildly surprised when Hermione finally stumbles in through the door at nearly half two, knocking her shins against the side of frame and making a face. She drops to the ground just inside the door and rubs at her abused skin.
"Ow."
"Don't leave the door open, Hermione."
"Why not?" The ground is strangely uneven. Hermione hasn't been drunk since she moved in. The topography of the apartment is different than she remembers it. At least, it is from this angle, down on the floor. Hermione really wishes it would stop spinning around. It makes it hard to stand up.
"Don't want to let the Snortwigs out. They might infest the entire building."
"Only if the entire building is as defective as I am," Hermione mutters back, quietly.
Luna hears her anyway. "I don't think you're defective."
No, you wouldn't, Hermione thinks.
"Luna. I'm. A little help, over here?" The ground keeps moving.
Luna hops over the couch, reaching down to where Hermione's leaning against the door frame.
"Luna! You're not…"
"What?" Luna looks down at herself with a puzzled expression. "Oh. Right. Sorry." It's not the first time Luna's wandered around in just her underwear, especially in this heat, but it's the first time Hermione's had to touch her when she's not wearing any clothes. Hermione licks her lips unconsciously and thinks this is not a good idea.
Luna grabs both of her arms and gently tugs. "Up."
"Uh-uh. Staying here." Hermione hiccups. Her limbs don't seem to want to move.
"I'm closing the door, then." Luna pushes it shut and sits down next to Hermione on the floor. Then, "You should take off those clothes. It's hot."
"I should?"
"Yes."
"And why is that?"
"Because it's hot. And you're drunk, and I'm already not wearing clothing."
Hermione thinks it's perhaps the best thing Luna has ever said to her.
::
They tumble onto the bed in a heap of sweaty skin. Luna's breasts are soft against her back, and her hips are wide. Hermione likes them.
"Ooof." Hermione grabs onto the bed covers and silently tells the room to stop spinning. It doesn't listen. She frowns.
Luna's arse is waving merrily as she searches under Hermione's bed for something. She comes back up with a familiar box, and Hermione shrinks to the corner of the bed. "Oh no. That box is scary."
"I said I'd help you."
"But I don't think -" Luna is kissing her again, and she smells like yesterday's rain and something apple-scented. Hermione opens her mouth to say I really don't think I can do this, you're too much of everything, and I'm not pretty enough and Luna slips her tongue in, delicately licking and sucking on hers.
Hermione gives up, letting Luna draw one hand around to the small of her naked back, her shirt sweaty and shoved up against her damp skin. Luna is little and tiny and Hermione really isn't, and she's gotten round in all the wrong places since Hogwarts and she has no idea why Luna wants to be doing this with her, of all people. Ron calls her "curvy," and she's always just heard "fat," but Luna doesn't seem to mind.
"I think you're beautiful," Luna says, and pulls away to kiss her neck. Hermione wonders when Luna became psychic.
"I'm not," Hermione says, and gasps a little bit when Luna uses her teeth.
"But you are. You just need to learn how your body works. You're not comfortable enough in your own skin."
"And that scary box is going to show me how?" her voice is a little more breathy than she can ever remember it being. Especially with Ron. Her skin is tingling, and maybe it's just all the alcohol, but maybe it's Luna and the soft slide of skin against her stomach and gentle fingers and pressure in all the right spots.
She hopes it's Luna.
"No, I'm going to show you how, silly," Luna whispers against her mouth. "What's in the box just helps."
"Oh. Okay." Hermione thinks the box might not be quite so scary after all. After all, she's drunk and Luna's here. To protect her. And there are fingers smoothing over her skin, dancing over her curves, and maybe Luna's right, maybe her curves aren't a bad thing, if Luna's going to keep smoothing her tiny hands over them like that.
Luna slips her hands around Hermione's back and unhooks her bra. Hermione fights the urge to run and hide. Luna gazes at her.
"Oh," Luna breathes, softly. "Oh."
"Oh?"
Luna bends to kiss her chest, gently running her tongue over a nipple, licking and nibbling, smoothing her thumbs over the pale flesh. "Oh," says Hermione, understanding. And then, "Mmmmm."
Luna's skin is soft under her hands, now that she's finally gotten up the courage to touch it. She's almost flat-chested, thin and gamine except for those hips, and Hermione doesn't care one bit. Even as thin as she is, she's wonderful and soft in a way that Ron never was. Ron and Harry are all hard angles and lines, and they're fine for each other, but, Hermione thinks, not for her. Luna has three freckles on her left shoulder that are just begging to be kissed, and so Hermione does, relishing the feel of warm skin under her tongue. Luna smiles and hums into her collarbone and Hermione's a little wet between her legs and she hasn't felt this wonderful in a long, long time.
Hermione reaches up a hand hesitantly, stroking along the small curve of Luna's still clothed breast. Luna grins down at her and gets the message, reaching around with one hand to unclasp her bra, letting it fall carelessly to the bed. She lays on her side, letting Hermione's tentative, feather-light touches smooth across her skin. Hermione cups one breast in her palm-it's barely a handful, soft and warm-and strokes the nipple with the pad of her thumb. The only thing she can think about is how much she wants to feel that soft skin against her tongue, to see what Luna tastes like, to make her arch and moan. So she dips her head, letting the flat of her tongue glide across the peaked skin. Luna's back arches and she lets out a pleased noise, somewhere between an "ah" and an "oh" and Hermione thinks it doesn't really matter what syllable she's moaning as long as she keeps arching her back and moving her hips in those tiny circles against Hermione's thigh. Hermione trails her mouth down her stomach, feeling the muscles in her abdomen move under her lips, clenching and rolling. Luna has a tiny roll of baby fat, just around her stomach, and Hermione grins, loving the feeling of soft skin on her cheek as she nibbles at it. Luna bucks up underneath her, pulling Hermione back up to lick at her lips, panting a bit into her open mouth before leaning in again to kiss her properly.
Luna flips them over, running her long fingers over Hermione's hips and licking at the sides of her neck. Luna kisses her collarbone, using her body to press Hermione up and back into the mattress. Hermione's half-sitting, almost, and there's skin and the smell of Luna's hair. Hermione looks down and worries for a minute about the way her stomach bunches a bit (Luna had called her beautiful, she had, so maybe it's alright) but then there are fingers, there, underneath and inside and she gasps. Luna is stroking her, circling one finger up and around, dipping it inside and god, Hermione wants it, wants more, wants Luna inside her, somehow, although she's not sure that's even possible. She reaches up, trailing a hand along Luna's spine and Luna grins mischievously and ducks down, fingers still circling around her entrance, pulling her panties out and away and down in one swift motion.
Hermione opens her mouth to protest, because no one's ever put their mouth there, except for that one haphazard attempt with Ron that left her feeling unnatural and unsatisfied. Except Luna's doing something with her tongue that makes her gasp loudly, and there are circles and fiery points of pressure shooting up her spine. Luna licks her with every indication that she's enjoying it, eyes closed and mouth curved, tongue seeking something and when she finds it, it's all Hermione can do to keep from shaking. Her thighs are tense, trembling, and it's pressurepressurepressure-oh god-oh Merlin-right there. And Hermione can feel muscles tensing that she didn't know she had, and Luna is just making little circles with her tongue, fingers hidden inside her and pressing on something amazing. Hermione is canting her hips up, wanting more, moaning desperately, and all thoughts of insecurity are gone because Hermione can barely breathe, much less worry about how she looks right now. Luna sucks, hard, still swirling around that little nub of flesh (who knew it was so sensitive? Who?) with the point of her tongue and then presses up inside her, and Hermione is coming, throwing her head back and thrusting her hips, and the shuddering wave that runs out through her legs and spine and back makes it hard for her to even remember how to breathe, much less actually draw air into her panting lungs.
God.
Luna leans up to kiss her, messily, tongue searching and face covered in wet (and it's from her, Hermione realizes, from her, and that makes something twinge inside, makes something burn) and she tastes musky and overripe and wonderful. Luna leans down, breathing heavily, shoving a hand into her own panties (she's still wearing them Hermione realizes, and with one hand slides them off, feeling the slickness in her palm, damp fabric against her skin) and arches her own back, and Hermione is too far gone to believe she's doing this, that she's just getting herself off on top of her, and Luna's eyes are wide and dilated and her fingers are busy and it's the hottest thing Hermione has ever seen.
She reaches up, kissing anything she can reach, stroking her hands along Luna's back and thighs, knowing somehow that this is something (perhaps one of the only things) she doesn't know how to do, that she's out of her element and Luna will have to teach her how. But she tries anyway, sliding her tongue into Luna's open mouth and feeling her shudder above her, feeling the wetness on her thighs and stomach as Luna twitches and tenses and comes.
They flop down on the bed, breathing heavy. Hermione's body is tired, satiated, but she's still on edge somehow, still ready for more, and she tells Luna this through open-mouthed kisses and slowly rubbing thighs.
Luna nods. "I told you, that's what the present I bought you is for."
"The present?" Hermione raises her head, eyeing the box now perched precariously on the edge of the mattress, about to fall. Luna grabs it and brings it over, waving her wand with a practiced motion and murmuring a quiet Vibrato. She presses the tip of it against Hermione's finger with a small smile. "See? It's not so scary. It's just a little extra pressure. You don't have to put it inside, or anything. It's just-it feels nice."
"Nice." Hermione repeats the word, nodding and tracing the tip of the toy with a finger. It buzzes merrily. Luna shows her how to wave her wand to turn it on and off. Then she smiles, wider this time, and slides a questing hand down between Hermione's thighs. She's still wet, and she opens her legs a little, biting her lip a bit at the shock of this-of spreading her legs so wantonly, even after what she's just done, but Luna just gives her an adoring look, a look so full of Luna, of quiet understanding and odd half-sentences and mysterious teas and imaginary animals, that Hermione's chest sort of fills up and she blushes. She spreads her legs wider and Luna raises a gentle eyebrow.
"Want to try it out on me first? Might be less scary that way."
Hermione licks her lips and grins.
::
The next morning, they are at breakfast. Luna sits across the table, munching on toast. She can't quite seem to make eye contact.
"There are no such things as Sniffering Snortwigs, you know." Luna sips her tea and wraps a strand of blonde hair around her finger. "I thought you should know." She looks vaguely remorseful.
Hermione scoops more sugar into her coffee and smiles. "I know. Oh believe me, I know the apartment doesn't have any Snortwigs."
She leans over the table, kissing Luna on the lips, hiding her delighted squeak of surprise in her mouth. Hermione smiles devilishly.
"At least, not anymore."
-fin-
Author/Artist: ???
Recipient's name: berenicepotter
Characters/Pairings: Hermione/Luna, implied Harry/Ron, references to past Hermione/Ron.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: There's only one way to get rid of an infestation of Sniffering Snortwigs, and Luna knows just how to do it.
Warnings: Mentions of toys.
Notes: Thank you to E for the beta, even though she (supposedly) dislikes femmeslash! Berenicepotter, you said you wanted something lighter, so I hope you enjoy!
::
Hermione knew that living with Luna would be interesting when she moved in.
Maybe not quite this interesting.
"Why can't I use the toaster, again?"
"Sniffering Snortwigs. Natural habitat."
"Snortwigs. Oh." Hermione sighs and pulls an errant curl off her neck, twisting her sleep-warmed hair into a messy bun. It's six a.m. Too early for this. She supposes she should be thankful it's just the toaster, and not the electric kettle. Yet. "But it's a Muggle appliance, Luna. How can it be their natural habitat?"
Luna gives her a wide-eyed, level look and sips her tea calmly. "They're very resourceful, you know."
"I see," says Hermione calmly, even though she doesn't, and it's the third day in a row there's no toast for breakfast.
::
"They're in the Hoover," Luna informs her absently two days later.
"The Hoover." Hermione nods, and hides a smile in her hair. "I should think they'd be sneezing, then. It's rather dusty in there."
"They're amazing creatures. Very adaptable." Luna nods solemnly.
"Right."
Hermione silently wonders if maybe it's just because it's Luna's day to hoover, but she keeps her mouth shut.
::
Luna shows up, sometimes, when Hermione's working late at the Ministry, bringing with her take-away and tea. She always just appears in front of her desk somehow, and with anyone else it might be startling. But it isn't, because it's Luna.
Hermione has never asked how she gets past Security, and Luna has never offered. She thinks perhaps it's best she doesn't know.
"I brought curry," Luna states, and curls up in the uncomfortable chair in front of Hermione's desk.
Hermione nods thankfully. She's starving. Luna somehow always knows when she's forgotten to eat. She shoves a pile of parchments to the side to take the greasy paper bag from Luna's outstretched hand.
Luna's hair is lank and dripping from the rain, chopsticks pulling it back into a messy bun. One chopstick is almost falling out of the pale, twisted strands, and Hermione opens her mouth to tell her at the exact same moment that Luna reaches up and fixes it. She settles for a murmured "Ta," and pulls out the curry.
Luna waits until she's unpacked the food, then reaches over the desk and hands her the cup of tea she's brought. Her fingers brush Hermione's briefly as they close over the steaming paper cup, and Hermione feels the tingle that always runs through her when Luna touches her, which is rather often, lately, and yet not quite often enough.
She takes a hurried gulp of the tea the minute she takes her first bite of the curry. It's brutally spicy. Luna's food always is. She can feel her sinuses clearing and eyes starting to water.
Luna's playing absently with the stuffed phoenix Ron bought Hermione to celebrate when she got the job. It sits on her desk and looks vaguely like Fawkes, in a fluffy, self-deprecating way. Hermione finds it vaguely creepy, but the minute she moved it away Ron noticed, so for now it sits on the corner of her desk, looking forlorn as only fuzzy inanimate animals can.
Luna strokes its mangled feathers gently, then says "You don't masturbate enough."
Hermione chokes on her curry. "What?"
"It's the Snortwigs."
"No-what you said-Before-"
"Masturbating."
"That. I-What?"
"Keeps them away. It's why we have an infestation. I mean, it's not me. I do it enough." Luna looks dreamily at her, still petting the pathetic stuffed bird. It looks solemnly at her with glassy eyes and Hermione has to look away from its accusing stare. "I hear you sometimes. You sound nice. You should do it more often."
"Luna!?"
"What?"
"I'm-don't. I'm at work. At the Ministry. Don't talk about-about that here. People might be listening." Hermione shoots a nervous look at her open door. She's in an up-and-coming department. There's certain to be other people still working late, like Richard in Acquisitions or Penelope, the undersecretary in Magical Law Enforcement.
"Oh. Sorry."
Luna doesn't really look sorry at all.
::
"You know that thing I'm not supposed to talk about?"
"Yes. Well, maybe. Which one?" Hermione has almost her entire body shoved in the bottom part of the cool oven, marinating the roast. When she answers, her voice rings in the small space.
"The masturbating one."
Hermione jerks, and almost hits her head on the top of the oven.
"Oh. That."
"There are Snortwigs in the icebox, you know. Saw three this morning."
"Don't they get cold?"
"I think they're breeding."
"Oh. What does that have to do with--"
"Hermione." Hermione pulls her body out of the oven to give her a Look, basting brush in hand. Luna shoots her back an appraising look of her own, peering at her over her ever-present cup of tea. Hermione has no idea what's in it. The bag labeled "tea" in Luna's messy handwriting in the cupboard is full of dried plants she's never seen, and smells funny. Hermione sticks to her own Twinings and doesn't ask. "I told you," she says mildly. "You need to masturbate more."
"Right. You know, Luna, perhaps you should know I don't normally--"
"Oh."
"Yes."
"Well, that's the problem then. Want some help?"
Yes, Hermione thinks to herself. "No," she answers. "That's quite alright. I'm." Hermione can feel her face burning, and it's not just the heat coming from the oven that she's just turned on.
"Well. Just ask, if you need some help."
I won't. "I will."
Hermione wonders if Luna really knows what she's saying. She pokes the roast experimentally with the tip of her fork, watching the marinade begin to bubble in the heat.
She decides she probably does.
::
"I bought you something." Luna hands her a box and goes to set down her groceries on the kitchen table. Hermione eyes it warily.
"What is it?" Hermione still has a scar on her left hand from the last time Luna bought her something. The box isn't moving this time, though, so she decides it's probably safe to peer inside without protective equipment.
She looks, then snaps it shut again. Quickly.
"Luna, what--"
"You need it. I have one already. They're lovely."
"I don't-"
"I'll help you," she offers for the second time, smiling angelically. "It's not very hard. You just wave your wand and say Vibrato, and then it starts vibrating and then you-"
"Stop!" Hermione holds up a hand, forestalling the next few words. "I know how they work, Luna." She winces. "In theory, anyway."
"Oh! So you should be fine, then." Luna looks positively delighted. Hermione tries not think about how lovely she looks when she smiles like that. "I'll put away the groceries, if you want to go try it out."
"No!" Luna's eyes open wide, and Hermione realizes that she's shouting at her. She clears her throat awkwardly before continuing in a more normal voice. "No. I can't-I don't think I'd be able to. Um. With you here. Listening."
"Aaah." Luna nods sanguinely, drawing the syllable out into a word. "Well, I have to go meet Neville this afternoon. He needs help with his mandrakes. They're particularly feisty this season. I'll be gone until suppertime." Luna gives her a knowing look, and goes to grab her jumper from the hall closet.
Hermione wonders, not for the first time, how anyone can think Luna is really as clueless as she acts.
She doesn't fool Hermione.
::
Hermione stares at the box at the end of her bed as if she could will it to disappear. Or burst into flames. Transform into a kitten. Something.
The box sits there mildly and doesn't move.
She sighs.
It was worth a shot, anyway.
She pulls the box to her lap and takes out the thing inside. It's long and thick and rather terrifying. She thinks about the time she walked in on Ron in the shower at the Burrow, accidentally, and then quickly banishes the thought. She doesn't need Ron here-mentally, anyway. He's distracting. Her brain already feels crowded enough with her and Luna and the vibrator. There's no room for one more.
She imagines the vibrator is looking at her accusingly. It's not, but she imagines it anyway.
She glares back at it. "Fine," she says, tugging off her jumper and kicking her shoes off. "Fine."
She's naked, suddenly, and the room in the air is chilly. She raises her wand and casts a warming charm, careful not to point it anywhere near the thing in her hand. She's not ready for it to move on its own quite yet.
It's intimidating enough just sitting there.
::
Twenty minutes later, she's still cold, still naked, and it's still sitting on the end of her bed.
Hermione mutters angrily to herself and reaches for her jumper.
Fine, then. She'll do something else. Housework. Something. Anything to take her mind off of it.
And she's not telling Luna, either.
::
Luna figures it out anyway.
"Luna-what are you--?"
"I'm helping."
"Oh." Hermione is on the couch in one of Harry's old t-shirts, watching telly and sipping tea and she suddenly has a lapful of Luna. Who is kissing her. Or was, before she opened her big mouth to ask why. Her hair is in Hermione's face, getting caught on her eyelashes, and between the two of them they have enough hair to keep a third-world country warm. Luna's eyes are slightly greenish this close up. Hermione's never noticed before.
"And helping me involves-"
"Kissing you. Yes." She kisses Hermione again. She tastes like the spicy curry they'd made for dinner again, but it's less unpleasant on Luna's tongue then it was on her own. Hermione kisses her back, completely unsure of what to do. Luna's soft and small on her lap, small enough for Hermione to wind her arms around, and she does so. It's nice.
Luna's a better kisser than Ron was. Is. Most likely, will ever be
She pulls away, settling back into Hermione's lap and reaches for the remote. One of her hands is still tangled in Hermione's hair. Hermione leaves it there.
"That's it?" Hermione asks, feeling vaguely disappointed.
Luna just smiles enigmatically at her and changes the channel to Animal Planet.
::
Three days later. Hermione has called in the back-up troops. Such as they are.
"So she keeps kissing you?" Ron stares into his pint, eyeing it critically. "There's not enough beer in this, you know. Bloody bartenders in training. Too much head, and not enough beer. Think they'll give me another one?"
Hermione swats at him. "Pay attention. I'm telling the story, and you're going to miss it."
Harry just nods, and sips his whiskey on the rocks. He's never liked beer. "So you're dating, then?"
Hermione shakes her head. "No. It’s-she's 'helping', she says." She makes the quotation marks in the air with her fingers.
"Helping who?"
"Me. I think. And the Snortwigs."
"Snortwigs?"
"The Snortwigs. We have an infestation."
"And kissing you helps that?"
"Lunasaysthey'reinfestingbecauseIdon'tmasturbate." It comes out in a rush, and Hermione blushes and stares into the bottom of her drink. Harry and Ron both make a face. "Sorry," she says. "It just sort of slipped out."
Harry won't meet her eyes as he blushes back and mumbles, "Well. Can't you just…take care of that, then? By…yourself?"
"Yeah." Ron grins at her and makes a lewd gesture with his hand. "S'not that hard." He snickers, nudging Harry with his shoulder. Harry gives him a small smile and raises an eyebrow in her direction, silently seconding Ron's question.
"I'm a girl. It's more complicated than- than that." She wrinkles her nose at Ron's gesture and suppresses the urge to say besides, it's not like you ever got the hang of me, either.
Harry nods, shrugging. "I suppose so. I wouldn't know."
"No, I know you wouldn't. Either of you." Hermione sighs. "I just don't know what to do about it."
"Who says you have to do anything?" Ron puts in, draining his glass. "So she keeps kissing you. So let her."
"But-it's so-"
"Unplanned? Confusing? Frustrating because you're not in control of the situation?" Harry gives her a knowing smile.
"I-Yes." She winces. You're too in control of everything, they always tell her. Too obsessive. You need to relax. They don't get that it's just not that easy. Maybe for them it is, but it isn't for her.
Harry nods and just smirks at her, sipping his drink. She knows he knows exactly what she's thinking.
"Oh, shut up," she growls irritably at him, and drains her drink all in one go.
::
"I'm drunk."
"Are you?" Luna's sitting on the couch in her underwear, flipping through channels and looking mildly surprised when Hermione finally stumbles in through the door at nearly half two, knocking her shins against the side of frame and making a face. She drops to the ground just inside the door and rubs at her abused skin.
"Ow."
"Don't leave the door open, Hermione."
"Why not?" The ground is strangely uneven. Hermione hasn't been drunk since she moved in. The topography of the apartment is different than she remembers it. At least, it is from this angle, down on the floor. Hermione really wishes it would stop spinning around. It makes it hard to stand up.
"Don't want to let the Snortwigs out. They might infest the entire building."
"Only if the entire building is as defective as I am," Hermione mutters back, quietly.
Luna hears her anyway. "I don't think you're defective."
No, you wouldn't, Hermione thinks.
"Luna. I'm. A little help, over here?" The ground keeps moving.
Luna hops over the couch, reaching down to where Hermione's leaning against the door frame.
"Luna! You're not…"
"What?" Luna looks down at herself with a puzzled expression. "Oh. Right. Sorry." It's not the first time Luna's wandered around in just her underwear, especially in this heat, but it's the first time Hermione's had to touch her when she's not wearing any clothes. Hermione licks her lips unconsciously and thinks this is not a good idea.
Luna grabs both of her arms and gently tugs. "Up."
"Uh-uh. Staying here." Hermione hiccups. Her limbs don't seem to want to move.
"I'm closing the door, then." Luna pushes it shut and sits down next to Hermione on the floor. Then, "You should take off those clothes. It's hot."
"I should?"
"Yes."
"And why is that?"
"Because it's hot. And you're drunk, and I'm already not wearing clothing."
Hermione thinks it's perhaps the best thing Luna has ever said to her.
::
They tumble onto the bed in a heap of sweaty skin. Luna's breasts are soft against her back, and her hips are wide. Hermione likes them.
"Ooof." Hermione grabs onto the bed covers and silently tells the room to stop spinning. It doesn't listen. She frowns.
Luna's arse is waving merrily as she searches under Hermione's bed for something. She comes back up with a familiar box, and Hermione shrinks to the corner of the bed. "Oh no. That box is scary."
"I said I'd help you."
"But I don't think -" Luna is kissing her again, and she smells like yesterday's rain and something apple-scented. Hermione opens her mouth to say I really don't think I can do this, you're too much of everything, and I'm not pretty enough and Luna slips her tongue in, delicately licking and sucking on hers.
Hermione gives up, letting Luna draw one hand around to the small of her naked back, her shirt sweaty and shoved up against her damp skin. Luna is little and tiny and Hermione really isn't, and she's gotten round in all the wrong places since Hogwarts and she has no idea why Luna wants to be doing this with her, of all people. Ron calls her "curvy," and she's always just heard "fat," but Luna doesn't seem to mind.
"I think you're beautiful," Luna says, and pulls away to kiss her neck. Hermione wonders when Luna became psychic.
"I'm not," Hermione says, and gasps a little bit when Luna uses her teeth.
"But you are. You just need to learn how your body works. You're not comfortable enough in your own skin."
"And that scary box is going to show me how?" her voice is a little more breathy than she can ever remember it being. Especially with Ron. Her skin is tingling, and maybe it's just all the alcohol, but maybe it's Luna and the soft slide of skin against her stomach and gentle fingers and pressure in all the right spots.
She hopes it's Luna.
"No, I'm going to show you how, silly," Luna whispers against her mouth. "What's in the box just helps."
"Oh. Okay." Hermione thinks the box might not be quite so scary after all. After all, she's drunk and Luna's here. To protect her. And there are fingers smoothing over her skin, dancing over her curves, and maybe Luna's right, maybe her curves aren't a bad thing, if Luna's going to keep smoothing her tiny hands over them like that.
Luna slips her hands around Hermione's back and unhooks her bra. Hermione fights the urge to run and hide. Luna gazes at her.
"Oh," Luna breathes, softly. "Oh."
"Oh?"
Luna bends to kiss her chest, gently running her tongue over a nipple, licking and nibbling, smoothing her thumbs over the pale flesh. "Oh," says Hermione, understanding. And then, "Mmmmm."
Luna's skin is soft under her hands, now that she's finally gotten up the courage to touch it. She's almost flat-chested, thin and gamine except for those hips, and Hermione doesn't care one bit. Even as thin as she is, she's wonderful and soft in a way that Ron never was. Ron and Harry are all hard angles and lines, and they're fine for each other, but, Hermione thinks, not for her. Luna has three freckles on her left shoulder that are just begging to be kissed, and so Hermione does, relishing the feel of warm skin under her tongue. Luna smiles and hums into her collarbone and Hermione's a little wet between her legs and she hasn't felt this wonderful in a long, long time.
Hermione reaches up a hand hesitantly, stroking along the small curve of Luna's still clothed breast. Luna grins down at her and gets the message, reaching around with one hand to unclasp her bra, letting it fall carelessly to the bed. She lays on her side, letting Hermione's tentative, feather-light touches smooth across her skin. Hermione cups one breast in her palm-it's barely a handful, soft and warm-and strokes the nipple with the pad of her thumb. The only thing she can think about is how much she wants to feel that soft skin against her tongue, to see what Luna tastes like, to make her arch and moan. So she dips her head, letting the flat of her tongue glide across the peaked skin. Luna's back arches and she lets out a pleased noise, somewhere between an "ah" and an "oh" and Hermione thinks it doesn't really matter what syllable she's moaning as long as she keeps arching her back and moving her hips in those tiny circles against Hermione's thigh. Hermione trails her mouth down her stomach, feeling the muscles in her abdomen move under her lips, clenching and rolling. Luna has a tiny roll of baby fat, just around her stomach, and Hermione grins, loving the feeling of soft skin on her cheek as she nibbles at it. Luna bucks up underneath her, pulling Hermione back up to lick at her lips, panting a bit into her open mouth before leaning in again to kiss her properly.
Luna flips them over, running her long fingers over Hermione's hips and licking at the sides of her neck. Luna kisses her collarbone, using her body to press Hermione up and back into the mattress. Hermione's half-sitting, almost, and there's skin and the smell of Luna's hair. Hermione looks down and worries for a minute about the way her stomach bunches a bit (Luna had called her beautiful, she had, so maybe it's alright) but then there are fingers, there, underneath and inside and she gasps. Luna is stroking her, circling one finger up and around, dipping it inside and god, Hermione wants it, wants more, wants Luna inside her, somehow, although she's not sure that's even possible. She reaches up, trailing a hand along Luna's spine and Luna grins mischievously and ducks down, fingers still circling around her entrance, pulling her panties out and away and down in one swift motion.
Hermione opens her mouth to protest, because no one's ever put their mouth there, except for that one haphazard attempt with Ron that left her feeling unnatural and unsatisfied. Except Luna's doing something with her tongue that makes her gasp loudly, and there are circles and fiery points of pressure shooting up her spine. Luna licks her with every indication that she's enjoying it, eyes closed and mouth curved, tongue seeking something and when she finds it, it's all Hermione can do to keep from shaking. Her thighs are tense, trembling, and it's pressurepressurepressure-oh god-oh Merlin-right there. And Hermione can feel muscles tensing that she didn't know she had, and Luna is just making little circles with her tongue, fingers hidden inside her and pressing on something amazing. Hermione is canting her hips up, wanting more, moaning desperately, and all thoughts of insecurity are gone because Hermione can barely breathe, much less worry about how she looks right now. Luna sucks, hard, still swirling around that little nub of flesh (who knew it was so sensitive? Who?) with the point of her tongue and then presses up inside her, and Hermione is coming, throwing her head back and thrusting her hips, and the shuddering wave that runs out through her legs and spine and back makes it hard for her to even remember how to breathe, much less actually draw air into her panting lungs.
God.
Luna leans up to kiss her, messily, tongue searching and face covered in wet (and it's from her, Hermione realizes, from her, and that makes something twinge inside, makes something burn) and she tastes musky and overripe and wonderful. Luna leans down, breathing heavily, shoving a hand into her own panties (she's still wearing them Hermione realizes, and with one hand slides them off, feeling the slickness in her palm, damp fabric against her skin) and arches her own back, and Hermione is too far gone to believe she's doing this, that she's just getting herself off on top of her, and Luna's eyes are wide and dilated and her fingers are busy and it's the hottest thing Hermione has ever seen.
She reaches up, kissing anything she can reach, stroking her hands along Luna's back and thighs, knowing somehow that this is something (perhaps one of the only things) she doesn't know how to do, that she's out of her element and Luna will have to teach her how. But she tries anyway, sliding her tongue into Luna's open mouth and feeling her shudder above her, feeling the wetness on her thighs and stomach as Luna twitches and tenses and comes.
They flop down on the bed, breathing heavy. Hermione's body is tired, satiated, but she's still on edge somehow, still ready for more, and she tells Luna this through open-mouthed kisses and slowly rubbing thighs.
Luna nods. "I told you, that's what the present I bought you is for."
"The present?" Hermione raises her head, eyeing the box now perched precariously on the edge of the mattress, about to fall. Luna grabs it and brings it over, waving her wand with a practiced motion and murmuring a quiet Vibrato. She presses the tip of it against Hermione's finger with a small smile. "See? It's not so scary. It's just a little extra pressure. You don't have to put it inside, or anything. It's just-it feels nice."
"Nice." Hermione repeats the word, nodding and tracing the tip of the toy with a finger. It buzzes merrily. Luna shows her how to wave her wand to turn it on and off. Then she smiles, wider this time, and slides a questing hand down between Hermione's thighs. She's still wet, and she opens her legs a little, biting her lip a bit at the shock of this-of spreading her legs so wantonly, even after what she's just done, but Luna just gives her an adoring look, a look so full of Luna, of quiet understanding and odd half-sentences and mysterious teas and imaginary animals, that Hermione's chest sort of fills up and she blushes. She spreads her legs wider and Luna raises a gentle eyebrow.
"Want to try it out on me first? Might be less scary that way."
Hermione licks her lips and grins.
::
The next morning, they are at breakfast. Luna sits across the table, munching on toast. She can't quite seem to make eye contact.
"There are no such things as Sniffering Snortwigs, you know." Luna sips her tea and wraps a strand of blonde hair around her finger. "I thought you should know." She looks vaguely remorseful.
Hermione scoops more sugar into her coffee and smiles. "I know. Oh believe me, I know the apartment doesn't have any Snortwigs."
She leans over the table, kissing Luna on the lips, hiding her delighted squeak of surprise in her mouth. Hermione smiles devilishly.
"At least, not anymore."
-fin-