: Sweet KissesAuthor
: soft R (and believe me, I had to work really damn hard for it even to be that)Warnings
: EWEThemes/kinks chosen
Kinky Kristmas Extravaganza 2008kabal42
Character/Pairing: Luna/any female character
Holiday item or location: Christmas punch/egg-nog
Tone: fluffy or kinkyWord Count
: Ginny and Luna are friends. There's never been a hint of anything more, before today.Author's notes
: I am almost ashamed to post something so very undeviant. Apologies if anyone feels as if they have eaten too many sweets and want to puke because of the saccharine nature of this story. I appear to have mislaid my inner dark, depressing cynic.
“What is this?” Ginny looked suspiciously at the pale, milky liquid which was pouring steam out of the large mug Luna had given her.
“Eggnog,” Luna explained, pulling a cushion off the sofa and sitting on the floor, her own mug clasped in a long fingered grasp.
Ginny had been on the point of lifting the drink to her mouth, but she lowered it again. “It sounds revolting,” she said bluntly. “Anyway, how many amber winged flutewhistlers do you have to boil up to make it? Or crumple horned snorkacks, or whatever?”
Luna laughed. “I will have to take you out one morning and look for flutewhistlers. They really are beautiful, especially at dawn.”
“Much as I love you, my dear, I am not going out to look for non-existent birdy-things.”
There was a far away look in Luna's eyes as she said, “That reminds me – how is Harry?”
“Fine.” Ginny paused. “He's coming to Christmas dinner at The Burrow. I don't suppose you want to come? Hermione'll be there, too.”
Luna smiled. “I'll be fine. Everyone has been very kind to me since father died, but I don't need to impose on your celebrations.”
Ginny put her untasted drink down with a thump that spilt a little onto the table. “You wouldn't be imposing,” she scolded. “I've already told you that Harry and Hermione are going to be there; and George is bringing Angelina. It's not just family.”
“That's precisely what it is, though, isn't it?” said Luna, sipping some eggnog.
“Seriously, Luna, what's in that stuff?” Ginny asked, changing the subject and indicating the drink.
“It's a perfectly normal beverage,” Luna assured her. “They drink it in America – although they've lost the original roots of it and drink it cold. Sometimes they don't even add alcohol, which is practically sacrilege according to my father.”
“It's alcoholic?” Ginny brightened immeasurably and picked up the mug. She took a mouthful and brightened further. “That's nice,
“There's no need to sound so surprised. Do you usually come here and loathe my food?”
“Um...” said Ginny, embarrassed; and they both laughed as their eyes met. “Well, it's definitely... different. You combine such peculiar things. I mean, it's usually okay, but I still haven't recovered from the cheese and kiwi fruit sandwiches.”
“An acquired taste,” Luna admitted.
“A bit like you, honey.” Ginny slurped some more of her drink and found the world going pleasantly fuzzy around her. “How much alcohol is there in this?”
“Enough. Have you heard from Neville lately?” Luna asked. “I had an owl from him last week and his training in herbology is going well. He sounds happy.”
“I think he is. I'm glad you still keep in touch. We thought at one point that you and he might...”
“It would have been convenient,” said Luna, her protuberent eyes on Ginny. “With Ron and Hermione and you and Harry, Neville and I were thrown together. But I don't think he ever thought that way, and I know I didn't. I was too...” She searched for a word to describe herself. “...unconventional,” she finished. “Despite everything, Neville's grandmother's training holds true. I scandalise him, you know.”
“Living as a Muggle tends to have that effect on the Wizarding community,” Ginny pointed out, looking around at the artwork for which Luna was becoming renowned not only in Britain but across the world. “And anyway...” She blushed a little. “Harry is... Well, I am... Well, he and I are...”
“Engaged?” Luna asked with interest, getting to her feet and giving Ginny a hug. “But congratulations! I'll wear yellow at your wedding.” She kissed her friend with fervour, spilling the eggnog over the sofa and Ginny in equal measures. Ginny squawked with pain as the hot liquid scalded her leg. “Sorry,” Luna said. “You mustn't stay in those damp robes, though – come upstairs.”
Ginny followed with alacrity: although she had visited Luna any number of times in her London attic dwelling, she had never been invited up the spiral staircase to Luna's private sanctum, and was fascinated by what she might find there. When she reached the top and opened the wooden door, she gasped.
“Wow. Oh, Luna.”
For the room was beautiful. Ginny was not sure the words yet existed to describe Luna's room, and all at once she comprehended why Luna Lovegood was already talked about as possibly the greatest living artist, even at the age of twenty-two. There was... something about the shimmering, shining colours that flickered as if produced by magic, but it was a magic born solely of creativity, of Luna's mind. Her paintings were Muggle paintings, and she clearly saw her room as her biggest canvas. Standing in the doorway, Ginny – usually a woman with no bad opinion of herself – felt almost crushed by the incredible talent of her friend.
“Take your robes off before the eggnog soaks through,” said Luna, unexpectedly practical.
Ginny, silent still from wonder, shrugged her way out, so that she stood only in her pale blue knickers and bra. She felt, rather than saw, the moment when Luna's direct gaze flicked from her to a tiny canvas very different from the bold, sweeping colours of the rest of the room. She followed the direction of Luna's eyes and saw a miniature of a naked woman, arms in the air, clearly celebrating with a wild ecstasy. Wandering closer, she saw the woman had red hair, brown eyes, freckled skin...
“But...” Ginny's eyes sought out Luna's. “That's...”
“You,” Luna said quietly. “Yes.” Then with usual Luna straightforwardness, “Do you mind?”
“It's not been shown. It's not part of my catalogue,” she said. “I just...”
“Why did you paint me?” asked Ginny quietly, reaching out to touch with careful fingers the small portait of herself. “Why me?” Then, almost regretfully, “I'm not as beautiful as this.”
“To me you are.” Luna reached a hand out and stroked it over Ginny's face, her shoulder, with the same gentleness Ginny was showing to the picture. “To me you are,” she said again.
Luna turned away, opening what Ginny had mistaken for a patch of wall and demonstrating that it was a wardrobe. “Choose anything. I don't have any favourites.”
“Luna,” Ginny said again; and this time it was her turn to touch the other woman. “I do. Favourites, I mean.”
Luna turned to face her, and Ginny raised her head to kiss the taller girl. Luna was soft to touch, generous and giving in her kisses. Ginny nestled in against her robes, and found that she fitted perfectly in against Luna's shoulder as they shared the embrace. Then Luna broke away, staring out of the window at the roofs of the houses nearby.
“I'm glad to have done that,” she said. “Glad to have kissed you. I've wanted to for years.”
“You have?” Ginny realised how bound up she had been in family and, truth be known, Harry for the past few years. “I never knew.”
“No.” Luna turned round and smiled at her friend.
“But now I do...” Ginny began hesitantly.
Luna shrugged. “Now you do, nothing has changed. Nothing will change, I promise. Will you bring Harry here?”
“Do you want me to?”
“I want you to come. If I promise not to kiss you again?”
“Oh, don't do that;” Ginny's voice had laughter in it. “When I've just discovered you.” With Luna's absence, Ginny realised that she was getting cold, and sat on Luna's bed, wrapping the patchwork quilt around her. “Come here,” she invited. “Please?”
“I know I shouldn't.”
“I know you should.”
“No one but you, Ginny,” Luna murmured, slipping down onto the mattress beside her friend. “For no one but you. But this once – is it too wrong to have this one time?”
“Kiss me again.”
Ginny pulled Luna close and raised her mouth to Luna's. But Luna showered kisses like snowflakes over Ginny's face and neck, moving down and sucking gently on the blue material of Ginny's bra, encouraging her nipple to peak and strain against the fabric.
“Beautiful,” Luna said, her hands reaching behind Ginny to unclip the superfluous bra.
“May I see you?” Ginny asked, humbled by her friend's delicate love, her fingers reaching for the buttons on Luna's robes.
“Later, perhaps.” Luna patted Ginny's hands away, pulled the bra straps down so that only Ginny's panties protected her modesty. “For now, I want...”
And Luna showed Ginny just what she wanted, pushing her onto her front on the bed and tracing kisses down her spine, each vertebrae loved by Luna's mouth and tongue, as her fingers combed through Ginny's hair, then moved to massage her shoulders with a warm, firm touch. As Luna came to her lower back, Ginny was aware that the other girl had taken her panties between her teeth and was removing them, her hands still painting invisible pictures on Ginny's back. Then her tongue was plundering inside Ginny's most secret crevices, licking, kissing, nibbling with a cautious gentleness which was almost unbearable in its sensation. Ginny moaned and wriggled, turning onto her back in order that she could reach out her hands to Luna. And Luna slid up against her, her fingers diving inside Ginny as her mouth fused back onto the other girl's, and Ginny was kissing and crying and moaning, all at once, not wanting to lose any single touch that Luna might give her. Then she came, her toes clenching and unclenching as her head fell back, her eyes flickering shut as the spasms overwhelmed her senses. Luna held her through it all, so close that Ginny could feel her warm breath against her cheek.
When Ginny came to earth again, Luna kissed her once more, and tucked her down under the patchwork quilt before standing and walking to the window, leaning against the sill.
“Thank you,” Luna said quietly; and Ginny thought that surely no one but Luna would give such heartfelt thanks for giving pleasure.
“But you...” Ginny began, warmth curling inside her.
“I shouldn't have done it. I know. When are you getting married?” Luna asked abruptly.
“I don't know.”
“You haven't decided yet?”
Ginny smiled. “I haven't even asked her yet.”
“What do you mean?”
“You heard. But I will, I hope, some day. How can I know when we'll marry, darling, when I've only just realised I love you?”
Luna's fingers clenched and unclenched. Ginny realised with dismay that her friend was hurting; that she was responsible.
“I'm sorry.” She got up, trailing the quilt behind her. “I'm sorry. I move too fast. Forgive me?” She reached a hand out and laid it on Luna's shoulder.
“Please don't joke.” Luna's eyes were bright with tears. “It's not kind, Ginny.” She turned back and stared through the glass once more, though Ginny suspected that she couldn't see anything. “They...” Luna breathed deeply. “Used to at school. Pretend. Laugh. Offer friendship and then... It hurts.”
“Luna!” Ginny realised that her own eyes were watering, and she dashed away the tears angrily. “That was cruel.”
“Thoughtless. They didn't think I knew how to mind.”
The phrase 'knew how to mind' was curiously Luna-esque, Ginny thought absently. It said so much in so few words. “I wasn't much better,” she said with a flash of guilt. “I never thought...”
“I know. I know,” Luna said again. “But it reminded me.”
“There's one difference this time, though,” Ginny said, pulling Luna round to face her once more. “I meant it.” She laughed at the expression on Luna's face – a fearful hope. “Harry's found someone he likes better, my dear. And as it turns out, so have I.”
“You're not engaged?” Luna asked.
“Not yet.” Ginny entwined her arms around Luna's neck until Luna and she were almost one person. “Someday, I hope.”
“I'll still wear yellow at your wedding, Ginny,” Luna said softly. “It brings luck. And I'll dance.”
“You'll wear whatever colour you like to my wedding, so long as you'll be my bride,” Ginny replied, and kissed her future wife.