Kristmas Wish Fulfilled for: woldyFrom:
A Wicked Watcher: rebecca_seleneTitle:
Parchment Wasn’t Meant For This, But We’re Doing It AnywayCharacters/Pairings:
dirty talk by Owl, infidelity (between Hermione/Ron), slight orgasm denial if you squintOther Warnings/Content:
cunnilingus, fingering, masturbationWord Count:
Luna goes for who she wants. Hermione never thought it would be her, but she can’t say she dislikes the idea.Author's Notes:
This was so much fun to write! I tried to include as many of the prompted kinks as possible. I hope you enjoy it!
The post arrived that morning just like every other morning. Hermione waited patiently for the Daily Prophet—she had re-subscribed now that the war had ended and Death Eaters no longer ran it. She didn’t expect, however, the bright orange and red envelope that arrived with it, her name scrawled untidily on the front in an unfamiliar script.
Curious, Hermione broke the seal, and a quick glance at the bottom of the letter inside revealed Luna’s name. Puzzled, Hermione looked over to the Ravenclaw table, wondering why the other girl had bothered to send a letter when she could just walk up to her, but Luna didn’t take her eyes off of the Quibbler as she spooned porridge into her mouth. Hermione looked back down to the letter.
I’ve been watching you. Not in a creepy way, of course, but in my way. I hope you don’t mind. In fact, I hope you want me to watch you, because I like what I see.
Let me know. I’ll stop if you don’t like it.
Hermione’s jaw dropped open. Luna? Looking at her? Whatever for?
“All right, Hermione?” Ron asked from across the table.
“Yes, fine,” she said hurriedly, unfolding the Daily Prophet
to make it look like she’d been reading it the whole time. “I just…can’t believe the rising price of the paper, you know?”
She buried her face in the print, still catching the look Ron and Harry exchanged. She had bigger problems, though. The letter had to be a joke. No person in their right mind would send such a letter to her…especially with her boyfriend right there at the table with her. But then again, Hermione mused as she stared blankly at a picture of an incarcerated Lucius Malfoy, Luna wasn’t exactly a right-minded kind of person…
Hermione glanced over at the Ravenclaw table, and her eyes locked with big grey ones. She blinked, startled, and smiled reflexively.
Luna stared back at her, sitting so still Hermione thought she’d been petrified. And then Luna smiled back and returned to her breakfast.Bollocks!
Hermione thought, looking away. Now she thinks I’m…I’m receptive!
Quickly stowing her newspaper and the wretched letter away, she practically flew out of the Great Hall, wondering how to tell her close friend she wasn’t interested.***
Hermione avoided Luna all day and still hadn’t figured out a solution by breakfast two mornings later. As she sat stewing, another envelope landed with her newspaper, this time blue and a frighteningly neon pink. Hermione grabbed it, but Ron noticed.
“You getting letters, Hermione? Who’s it from?”
“Oh, er,” Hermione stuttered, “my parents. Yeah. They, er, want to keep in touch with me more since…since Australia.” She felt bad lying about her parents, but she knew Ron would overreact about the truth of the letter.
“Oh, nice. Say ‘hi’ for me when you write back, mmkay?” Ron turned his attention back to his food before she could reply.
With shaking hands, Hermione opened the envelope.
I thought about your smile last night. It made me feel warm, like the sun. Or fresh biscuits. Only not as sweet. I don’t like them too sweet, but I like your smile.
Please give me something else to think about. Maybe even something to read?
Hermione swallowed. This had gone too far. She had to tell Luna she’d made a mistake, misinterpreted her smile. But how? Any letter to that effect would only upset Luna, and Hermione didn’t want that. Definitely not.
The day flew by while she remained preoccupied. She barely noticed everyone staring at her when she didn’t immediately raise her hand at Professor Slughorn’s first question. Judging by Malfoy’s smug grin for the rest of the class, he’d got the answer right, but she couldn’t recall what it was.
Leaving dinner early despite Ron’s attempts to take her walking on the castle grounds, Hermione went back to her dormitory, picked up some parchment and a quill, and sat with the feather in her mouth for a long while.
Finally, she wrote:
I’m sorry, and I’m flattered, really, but I think I may have given you the wrong idea. I wish I could give you a reason to smile, but I don’t think this letter will be one. I’m sorry.
Hermione dithered about, unsure about what she’d written. She hated it. Reading it again, she felt like it was so…unfriendly. Cold. She didn’t want Luna to be cold. They were friends, after all, and she wanted to remain that way.
She sighed, crumpled up the parchment, and started again.
I’m flattered by your letters. Really. But I’m with Ron now, and I’d really like to remain friends with you. I don’t think this is really what you want to read, and I’m sorry. I can only hope you’ll find another way to be warm.
There. Still not perfect, but probably the best she could do. Hermione folded the parchment and went down to the Owlery to send it.
When she returned, she found Ron in the Common Room, parchment and Transfiguration book in front of him.
“Starting your essay on animating inanimate objects early?” Hermione asked, pulling a chair up to him and leaning against his shoulder.
Ron grunted. “No, starting the essay on Circe’s contributions to Transfiguration.”
Hermione straightened up, horrified. “But it’s due tomorrow!”
“Yeah, I know. Trying to get it done,” he said pointedly, an edge to his voice.
Hermione stared at his frowning profile. “Do I ever make you smile?” she asked suddenly.
“What?” Ron blinked and looked at her. “Of course. Just, not right now, okay? I can’t deal with you right now.”
“Deal with me?” Hermione repeated, stung. She stood up and turned to walk away.
Ron grabbed her hand. “Hermione, I’m sorry. I’m just stressed, okay?”
Hermione pulled away. “I know. I’ll leave you to it.” She climbed the stairs to bed, Ron’s apology ringing in her ears. Belatedly, she realized the words meant nothing when the hearer wanted more.***
Hermione watched Luna’s reactions as the post arrived the next day. She couldn’t read her friend’s expression, though, and Luna didn’t open the letter at the table. Hermione kept an eye on her, but Luna tucked the letter away and left the Great Hall, presumably saving it for later. Hermione imagined Luna’s crestfallen face as she read the words, and guilt swept over her.
“Hermione, what’s wrong?” Harry’s voice interrupted her thoughts.
“Nothing. Just…thinking about my Transfigurations essay.” She set down her spoon and gathered her bag.
Harry frowned. “That’s not your essay-thinking face.”
Hermione looked at him oddly. “I only have one face.”
Ron laughed awkwardly. “We, er, just had a bit of a tiff last night after you went to bed, mate. Nothing too bad, right?” He looked at Hermione expectantly.
“Oh. Er, right.” She tried to smile broadly, and apparently it was convincing enough, because Ron grinned, stood up, and held her bag as they walked to class.***
Hermione carefully watched Luna at lunch and dinner, but the Ravenclaw didn’t seem to have read the letter—or if she did, it hadn’t bothered her. Hermione knew she herself would have died of curiosity already, so she could only assume Luna had read it.
Inexplicably, she found Luna’s blasé attitude upsetting. Why had Luna bothered in the first place, Hermione thought, stabbing her potato with her fork, if she didn’t care? And then Hermione stopped her thoughts, because she should be happy that the whole thing was over. She tamped down on her disappointment and let the evening of homework and the distraction of Ron take her away.
All her fears returned, though, when she saw, as she had predicted, Luna’s downcast expression the next day. She nearly ran over to the Ravenclaw table to wipe that frown away, but Ron pulled her down next to him and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
She let him hold her for a minute before extricating herself and starting on her breakfast. When the post arrived, she ripped open the letter that came with it—black and white, she noted sombrely—and read:
It’s okay. Just try to smile more. All right? I haven’t seen you do that in a few days.
Hermione sighed. Smile? With her friend so obviously sad, all because of her? Not likely.
After eating and responding to Harry and Ron’s jokes monotonously, she left the Great Hall and went to the Owlery before class.
Maybe she shouldn’t do this. It would only encourage Luna. But then again, the Ravenclaw had only asked for a letter. What harm could come from one letter?
I’ll try, but I’d like to see you smile as well. Why do you like mine so much, anyway?
She sent it before she could change her mind. Luna would probably receive it that night, since Hermione had sent it so early. She hoped she’d have a response by tomorrow morning.***
For you, I can definitely smile. You just make me warm and…tingly. And not like a blanket, but hotter. It’s nice.
Hermione looked across the Great Hall and was relieved to see Luna grin back at her. In what seemed an unconscious motion, she tapped her finger against one radish earring, bouncing it gently back and forth and somehow making the action seem less than innocent. Hermione looked away quickly, her cheeks flaming.***
Oh, well, thank you? It’s nice to see you smile again. And maybe I can admit that you make me warm too. Just happy warm, not…other warm.
Can I tell you something? I dreamt about your smile last night. Only you weren’t in the Great Hall or in class. You were with me while I slept, and your smile kept me warm. I woke up and realized the window was open. So, thanks for not letting me freeze to death.
You’re welcome, I think. All I had to do was lay there, and I kept you warm? I didn’t realize I’d inherited Crookshanks’ fur.
Well, not exactly. But I don’t think you want to know the details.
When Hermione read that letter, her brain simultaneously shut down and went into overdrive. What could Luna mean? The possibilities seemed endless, and Hermione scolded herself for entertaining some of the more…imaginative ones. She spent all morning thinking about how to respond, and finally, before lunch, she simply wrote:
Her heart pounded in anticipation all night, so loudly she was sure it would wake all of Gryffindor Tower. It didn’t, though, and when dawn finally arrived with agonizing slowness, she got dressed and went down to the Great Hall, almost one of the first ones there.
She’d long finished her meal when Ron and Harry came down along with a steady tide of other students. She couldn’t see Luna among them, though.
“You’re here early,” Harry greeted as he sat down.
“Couldn’t sleep,” Hermione replied.
“You could always come to my room if you can’t sleep,” Ron said with a mischievous grin.
Harry threw a bit of toast at him. “No way, Ron!”
Hermione laughed along with the other Gryffindors, but inwardly she half-agreed with Harry. Since when had sleeping with Ron become an unpleasant thought?
She was saved from deliberation by the post. A bright rainbow envelope—thicker than usual—landed in her lap, and she tore it open without hesitation, heart in her throat.
I’ve never met someone with such hot skin as your dream self. You lay next to me, naked and beautiful, just as I know the real you must be. I only had to look at you, and already the chill in the room faded. But then you traced a finger down my cheek.
I shivered, even though I wasn’t cold—isn’t it strange when people shiver from the exact opposite of cold? But you just laughed and said you had one of your brilliant ideas. You said that Muggles in emergencies have to get naked and cuddle or they’d freeze to death. That’s what you are to me; beauty and brilliance all in one.
I knew I wasn’t near dying, at least not of cold. I wanted you so badly, so I agreed. You pushed up against me, wrapping your arms around me, your legs between mine. Your breasts pressed against mine, so soft and warm and erotic. I wanted to put my mouth on them, lick around them and suck your nipples until you screamed my name. But we were too close for me to move my head down that way.
I thought my heart would explode with how close you were, and then you had another idea. I knew you did, the way dreamers know things, but you didn’t tell me it. You just grinned seductively at me, took my hand in yours, and ran it down your body. I touched you everywhere I could reach, and it wasn’t enough.
You pushed my hand between your legs, and you were so wet, Hermione. For me. I knew what you wanted, and I looked into those beautiful brown eyes as I pushed two fingers inside you. You said they were cold, but you liked the feel of them inside you. You said it was perfect.
You made noises like I’ve never heard before. I can’t even describe them. Your eyes closed, and you moaned like nothing else in the world existed but my fingers in you. And then your hand reached between my legs. You touched my clit, and it felt so good, Hermione. You put two of your fingers in me, just like I did for you, and we were inside each other at the same time.
I don’t know how long we pushed into each other—or how long I dreamed it, really—but I woke up with my fingers inside me. I thought about you in my dream, and my body exploded with pleasure. It was the best I’ve ever felt, and it was all because of you. I stayed warm for a long, long time.
By the time Hermione finished reading, her entire body felt overheated. Her cheeks burned, and her head felt cloudy. And when she shifted in her seat, she felt a distinct moisture between her legs.
Ron had never made her feel like that, and Luna hadn’t even touched her.
Hermione lifted her head towards the Ravenclaw table, and her eyes snapped to Luna’s immediately. Apparently Hermione’s expression was clear, because she saw Luna gasp and lift a hand to her throat, her mouth dropping slightly open. Hermione felt the tension between them like a tangible object.
“Another letter from your parents?”
Hermione jumped at Ron’s voice and snatched Luna’s letter from his grabby hands. “Yes, and it’s for me
,” she growled, stuffing it away and getting up to leave.
She paused at Ron’s hurt expression. “I’m sorry.” She sighed. “I’m just…not feeling too well. I’m going to lie down for a while. Try to catch up on sleep, okay?”
“‘Kay, Hermione.” Ron stood up to give her a kiss on the forehead before letting her go.
Hermione glanced at Luna and nearly stumbled from the intensity of the other girl’s gaze. She felt like a scolded child, for being kissed by her own boyfriend, of all things. And yet, as she walked out of the Great Hall, feeling Luna’s eyes on her every step of the way, she realized she wanted
Luna to look at her like that.
And if she had to get touchy-feely with Ron, well, that would work.
Hermione hurried through the halls, thanking Merlin it was Saturday and not a class day, until she reached Gryffindor Tower and her bed. Closing the curtains and casting a Silencing spell, she finally released the moan she’d been holding in since reading Luna’s letter. She lay back and, after a moment’s hesitation, pulled down her trousers.
She ran a hand down her chest and belly, imagining it was Luna’s, just as Luna had described. Hermione had touched herself before, of course, but never with such a vivid fantasy to guide her. Her fingers brushed the top of her knickers, and she moaned again.
She could practically hear Luna whispering to her: “You like that, don’t you? You want more, yes? Can you take it?” Hermione let her fingertips graze over the fabric above her clit, and her hips jerked.
Two fingers of her left hand made their way into her mouth, and she continued to rub her clit. She thought of Luna; of her smile, her voice, her fingers against her, her hair on her breasts. Hermione dropped her left hand, slipped it under her knickers, and pushed the saliva-soaked fingers inside her.
She groaned, pumping her hands in an increasingly erratic rhythm. Her breath came out in pants, and she was so close.
Experimentally, she stuck a third finger inside, and she bucked at the sense of fullness she felt. “Luna,” she whispered, and when her fantasy-Luna took a nipple in her mouth, Hermione came with a cry, massaging her clit until she lay utterly spent.
She stayed still until her breathing evened out, her fingers still inside her, until she finally pulled them out, grabbed her wand, and cast cleaning charms on herself. She lay back down, not bothering to replace her trousers, and fell asleep with a smile on her face.***
That afternoon, when she woke up, she considered writing to Luna every detail of what she’d done. Instead, she only wrote:
After some experimentation, I’ve discovered that you were wrong. It takes three fingers.
She smirked and headed to the Owlery.***
Luna’s face the next morning was priceless. Her cheeks turned red, and she looked like a house-elf with her comically wide eyes. Hermione laughed out loud, causing Harry to look at her strangely. “Sorry,” she muttered, turning her face down into her porridge to hide her smile.
After a few moments, she glanced over at the Ravenclaw table again and saw Luna’s blonde hair bent over something on the table. She shifted, and a quill and parchment came into view. As if sensing eyes on her, Luna looked up and grinned wickedly. Slowly, she passed the feather across her lips, her gaze locked with Hermione’s.
Hermione’s breath hitched, and warmth pooled in her gut. Luna finished scribbling her note, rose, and to Hermione’s horror and delight, walked over to her.
“I believe this is yours,” Luna said, handing over the parchment.
“Oh.” Hermione’s voice cracked. “Thanks.”
“You’re ever so welcome,” Luna said, drawing out the words and resuming her seat.
Harry and Ron, who by now had dragged himself out of bed to join them, looked at Hermione curiously, but she just shrugged as if she didn’t know anything. When they’d turned away to fight over a piece of sausage, Hermione looked down at the parchment.
Read everything here. And look at me after every sentence.
Hermione pulled her head up and saw Luna watching her intently.
I love your eyes, your lips, your hair, and I just want to tug it and feel it on my body.
The end of a sentence. Hermione watched Luna run a hand through her hair, a dreamy look on her face. Hermione’s heart sped up.
It would flow over my breasts and tickle me while your lips brushed my neck, my chest, my belly…lower.
Luna ran a hand down from her neck to her belly and down below the table.
Hermione went back to the letter like a compulsion. She was completely enraptured.
I’d grab your hair with your head between my legs, and your fingers would slowly enter me, one by one, and I’d gasp with pleasure each time.
Luna’s eyes locked with hers, and her jaw clenched as if trying not to let out a sound.
No. It couldn’t be. Not in the middle of the Great Hall. But then Luna’s elbow twitched, and she knew it had to be true. She nearly groaned and looked back to the letter.
You’d finger me, in and out, in and out—two fingers—and your tongue would touch my clit, lick it, suck, it, while your other hand held my writhing body down.
Luna’s eyes had closed, and her head bent down, no doubt trying to hide her reaction. Hermione forgot to breath.
And then I’d look at you, and you’d look up at me from between my legs, your fingers in me and your tongue on me, and I’d say your name and come.
Luna locked eyes with Hermione, mouthed her name, and then closed her eyes and shuddered.
A small sound escaped Hermione’s throat, but she couldn’t tell if anyone had heard. Her focus lay entirely on the flushed Luna.
Desire twisted in Hermione’s spine, and she crossed her legs, trying to ease the pressure. Luna opened her eyes again and smiled lazily, and a shiver passed over Hermione. She swallowed, only now realizing how dry her mouth was.
She covered her glazed expression by taking a sip of pumpkin juice. Ron and Harry were still absorbed over their food—had only a minute or two passed since she began the letter? It felt like she’d got into a fight with a time turner.
She must have missed Luna’s movement, because suddenly the Ravenclaw stood next to her.
“Nargles made me forget this one,” she said, handing Hermione a smaller piece of parchment than the one before.
Hermione nearly spit out her juice, but she recovered enough to say, “Don’t blame the poor Nargles.”
Luna laughed, the tinkling sound trickling down Hermione’s spine like rain. As she walked away, Hermione read the note.
No more “experiments.” You’re only mine now.
The space between her legs burning for release she couldn’t give herself now, Hermione didn’t bother stifling her groan this time.***
Hermione didn’t know what kind of letter to write after Luna’s last one—no way could she top it, so she didn’t bother. Instead, she spent the next two days in various stages of horniness, all her downtime devoted to heated thoughts of Luna. She swore the girl had it in for her. Everything about the Ravenclaw became obscene. Forks and spoons received special tongue treatment. Everything Luna ate must have turned into ambrosia, because Luna’s face turned rapturous with every bite. Even on the random occasion that they passed in a hallway, Luna had a liquorice wand in her mouth.
Hermione snapped at quite a few people during this time, especially at Ron.
Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. After a row with Ron that ended with spilled ink and them both stomping to their respective dormitories, Hermione grabbed a quill and parchment.
Luna, please. I’m going mad for you. I want everything. The touches, the hair, the tongues. I shouldn’t be jealous of bloody silverware! I want your hands on me, I want my lips on every inch of your skin. Please, I need you. Say yes.
She sent the letter, making sure Ron wasn’t in the Common Room before crossing it, and flopped back onto her bed, eventually falling into a restless sleep.***
Hermione practically snatched the owl from mid-air at breakfast the next day. She ignored its indignant hoot and ripped open the gold and blue envelope.
Yes. Astronomy Tower. Tonight. 9pm.
Hermione’s heart skipped a beat. She felt her face heat, and she quickly stuck the letter into her bag and sighed in relief.
“Hermione?” Harry asked, and she jumped. “Are you all right?”
“What? Oh, yes, I’m fine. Really,” she added at Harry’s sceptical expression. Ron chose that moment to appear, scooting in beside her.
“I’m starved,” he said as he grabbed some juice and porridge, pointedly ignoring her.
Hermione glared at her boyfriend and then unconsciously turned towards the Ravenclaw table. Luna was just wiping her mouth daintily with a napkin and caught her eye. She smiled, got up, and walked over.
As if trapped under the Imperius curse, Hermione watched Luna approach. The Ravenclaw leaned in close, raised her hand, and brushed something from Hermione’s lips. “You had something here,” she whispered, and then she left.
“Strange girl, Luna,” Ron said before returning to his meal.
“Yeah,” Hermione agreed absently, staring at Luna’s hips swaying as the girl walked out of the Great Hall. Fire pooled in her belly as she remembered the promise in Luna’s last note.
“Astronomy Tower. Tonight. 9pm.”
A piece of toast fell from Ron’s mouth, and Hermione turned away, disgusted. She’d be there at 8:50, just to be safe.***
Hermione stepped into the Astronomy Tower at 8:45 and found Luna already waiting. Moonlight filtered in to outline the Ravenclaw’s frame in the window. They stared at each other for a moment, Hermione’s blood racing as images from Luna’s letters spoke promises in her mind.
“I take it you like what I’ve written?” Luna asked quietly, beginning to walk towards her.
“Yes,” Hermione replied breathily. As Luna drew ever closer, Hermione’s senses filled with the other girl: the sight of her round eyes and golden hair; the smell of ocean and salt; the sound of her feet scraping the floor, her breathing…the feel of her cold hands on Hermione’s neck…the sweet taste of her lips as they met Hermione’s…
“I’m cold,” whispered Luna against Hermione’s cheek. “Warm me, Hermione.”
Hermione shivered, laid a hand over Luna’s cold one on her neck, and did just that.
Hermione’s other hand weaved into Luna’s hair, drawing her closer. Their lips met again, not so tentative this time, and their tongues clashed wet and wonderful. Hermione pressed her body against Luna’s softness and moaned.
Luna’s hands flew over Hermione’s body, palms on her shoulder blades, spine, arse, hips, shoulders. Hermione caressed Luna’s cheeks, arms, sides, and pulled away slightly.
Luna’s dreamy gaze settled on her, and Hermione lifted trembling fingers to Luna’s collar. “Isn’t this what you wanted?” she said, and she brushed her hands down Luna’s body with deliberate slowness, palming Luna’s breasts for a moment before continuing down her blouse to her belly, pelvis, and—Hermione got down on her knees—thighs.
Luna opened her mouth as if to speak, but no sound came out. Hermione took that as a good sign and slipped her hands up Luna’s blouse, spreading her fingers over heated skin and tracing the line of Luna’s bra. She rested her head against Luna’s belly while she reached back to unhook the bra, and after lifting the cups from Luna’s breasts, sucked one pointed nipple through the fabric of her blouse.
Luna made a small sound in the back of her throat that sent a thrill through Hermione. As if a cue, Hermione abandoned her slow pace and pulled Luna’s blouse above her head, removing it and the bra at the same time. As she unbuttoned Luna’s trousers, Hermione licked a path from Luna’s ear to the dip between her collar bones, around one nipple, and down to her belly button. She pulled Luna’s trousers down, and Luna kicked them away, hands in Hermione’s hair.
Hermione continued her path to Luna’s knickers, and then, looking up to meet Luna’s gaze, dragged her tongue over the wet fabric.
Luna whimpered, gripping Hermione’s hair tightly, but Hermione didn’t care. She licked and sucked through Luna’s knickers, running her hands from thighs to breasts and back, until Luna pushed her away and practically attacked her with kisses. They rolled on the floor, limbs intertwining as if trying to meld together, and somehow in the tussle, Hermione lost every scrap of clothing.
She cried out when Luna’s lips latched on to her breast, electricity and pleasure firing along her nerves. And then she felt two fingers against her lips and allowed them entrance, sucking greedily. Luna moaned around her nipple. Hermione ran a hand through Luna’s hair, down her neck, as she writhed beneath Luna’s body.
And then Luna withdrew her fingers, wiping a trail of moisture down Hermione’s side until she reached her thighs. Luna teased Hermione’s slit, brushing her fingers over her folds and clit. When Hermione’s pants turned into groans, Luna slowly inched in one finger, and then a second, and then, after a pause as if she’d only just remembered, a third. Hermione managed a small smile before Luna started thrusting, and Hermione’s hips bucked.
The sense of fullness she’d felt when alone intensified a hundred times more with Luna’s fingers in her. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes as her body felt pleasure she’d never thought possible.
Luna’s other hand ghosted over Hermione’s belly and chest, and fingers gently pinched a nipple. Hermione bucked, threw her head back, and cried out Luna’s name as the wave of her orgasm spread throughout her body.
After a few moments, Luna withdrew her fingers, and Hermione’s now overly sensitive skin twitched. She was still trying to catch her breath, but one look at Luna’s hooded expression had Hermione on her knees and pushing Luna down while she kissed her.
She spread her body over Luna’s, pinning her down, and brought two of her fingers to her own lips. Holding Luna’s gaze, she sucked her fingers, pumping them in and out of her mouth.
“Hermione, please,” Luna whispered, and Hermione’s heart clenched at the raw need in Luna’s voice. She could do nothing but comply.
She shifted down Luna’s body and removed her knickers. Positioning herself between Luna’s legs, she licked a strip up Luna’s slit, ending with a soft suck on Luna’s clit. Luna cried out in pleasure, her back arching off the stone floor. Hermione thrust her wet fingers into Luna and continued to suck and lick Luna’s clit, holding down the Ravenclaw’s bucking body with her other hand as best she could.
And then Luna stilled, so suddenly that Hermione stopped her ministrations in surprise, but then she continued as Luna’s body clenched and released through her orgasm. Hermione gentled her touch and lips, but she didn’t pause.
Luna groaned, the sounds from the back of her throat encouraging Hermione to build Luna back up to another back-bending climax. When Luna collapsed back onto the tower’s floor, Hermione slowly withdrew her fingers from her body.
“Hermione,” Luna whispered, the word seeming almost unconscious. Hermione crawled up Luna’s body to kiss her soundly, both women’s movements weighted with satiation.
Moving away for only a moment, Hermione extracted her wand from where her trousers had landed across the room and cleaned them both up while Luna watched languidly. She then lay next to Luna, who pulled Hermione in close.
“Was it everything you fantasized?” Hermione asked with a smile.
Luna’s eyes crinkled. “Better.”***
At breakfast two days later, Hermione just smiled at the orange and yellow envelope that landed at her seat.
Perhaps you should let your boyfriend read over your shoulder. I’d be interested to see his reaction.
The letter continued on with details—and a list of toys Hermione never knew existed—that made Hermione’s eyes widen and her heart race. She looked up to meet Luna’s heated gaze across the Great Hall, smiled wickedly, and nodded in approval.