The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story.
Beta cred: Palmetto Blue
“So you’ll help?” Luna popped open another button of her starched white shirt, smiling as her wizard’s eyes glazed over. Breasts really were quite useful when dealing with men. “With Neville and Hermione?”
Eyes locked on her breasts, he shrugged out of his long, black teaching robes. Luna liked those robes immensely; they’d starred in several role-playing games in which he was the Potions professor and she the schoolgirl. Of course, it helped that he actually was the Potions professor, and therefore had access to that classroom. The thought sent her brain floating along another path for a brief moment, in which she decided it was high time to make use of her teaching space. The Divination tower would be the perfect setting for some light bondage and wax play . . . But that would have to wait.
“I have it all planned out. We’ll set it in motion this week, endgame set for Friday evening.” She decided to toy further with him, enjoying his torment, and so she hopped up on the edge of the giant planter behind her and slowly dragged her skirts high. “Are you paying attention, Draco? This is very important.”
She could tell the moment he caught sight of his surname charmed onto the skin of her inner thigh; his eyes crinkled and his lips quirked in a happy smile as he stepped between her legs. “Luna, you know I’ll do anything you want, but I’m going to fuck you first.”
His reaction confirmed her suspicions of his future intentions, and she beamed. “Excellent. They’re meant to be together, you know, but the blibbering humdingers keep interfering! This week, though, the stars have aligned. We’ll just need to find a mature Venomous Tentacula, an Animagus that transforms into a pug, and a pint of Madagascan coffee flower oil.” She raised her hands to her breasts and gave them a soft squeeze expressly for Draco’s benefit as she whispered her plan.
“Uh-huh.” He struggled with his belt, eyes never leaving her breasts. “Arms over your head and around that tree trunk, and keep them there.”
“Yes, Draco,” she sighed. “Please hurry; you know how complicated plots always turn me on!” She made a noise of pure pleasure, enjoying this perfect scenario so accurately predicted in her astrology charts. The players were all assembled and the details delivered; now all that was left to do was keep the blibbering humdingers from spoiling it all.
Draco kissed her forehead tenderly as he gathered her close and positioned their bodies for union. “Try to be quiet, love; we don’t want Neville kicking us out again.”
Luna smiled against Draco’s well-muscled shoulder. He hadn’t comprehended a word she’d said. She hoped she was around when he realized what he’d agreed to do.
* * *
Draco watched with drool pooling in his mouth as his girlfriend slowly exposed yet another inch of mouth-watering cleavage to the late afternoon light.
“So you’ll help with Neville and Hermione?”
He knew that breathy tone; Luna was laying the vulnerable act on thick and playing to his greatest weakness: his willingness to please her. He grinned. Oh, he’d let her seduce him for just about any price, including searching out her various nonexistent critters. The truth was, Luna wasn’t a vulnerable witch in the least. She could be terrifying, in fact, especially when her star charts supported her desires. The moment of clarity passed as his attention returned to her lovely body.
He tried unsuccessfully to look away from the lush, creamy flesh as he began shucking off his teaching robes. Elsewhere the pale winter sun might have little to no effect, but here in Greenhouse 6 its rays were amplified by glass panels and magic, and the result was near-tropical warmth. “Huh.”
She hopped up onto the ledge of the massive planter behind her and leaned against the trunk of its huge potted palm, hitching her long skirts to her waist and spreading her legs in invitation even as she continued talking. “Are you paying attention, Draco? This is very important.”
He sighed. It had been a very long Monday, and he wanted nothing more than to have his witch here and now, but Luna would play her games. And her games were usually quite enjoyable; why, just last night they’d- Merlin’s left nut. She’d charmed his surname onto the very top of her inner right thigh. The sight did strange, wonderful things to him. Now she was looking at him expectantly, and he tried to remember what it was they were talking about. Finally he answered, “Luna, you know I’ll do anything you want, but I’m going to fuck you first.”
She beamed as if he’d just hung the moon in her sky, prattling on as she palmed her gorgeous breasts.
“Uh-huh.” He paid no attention whatsoever to anything she said after that, so focused was he on wrestling with his belt and watching Luna tweak her nipples. “Arms over your head and around that tree trunk, and keep them there.”
She gave an adorable little yelp that made his heart squeeze tight in a warm, funny way. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, heart still recovering from its emotion-induced seizure. “Try to be quiet, love; we don’t want Neville kicking us out again.” And then his trousers were finally out of the way, and he forgot everything but the bliss found only in the heavenly body of his sweet, kooky witch.
It wasn’t until much, much later that he realized exactly what he’d agreed to do.
* * *
Neville popped his head out of the storeroom at the sound of voices and listened intently. The first part of Draco and Luna’s conversation traveled through the air in perfect clarity, thanks to the incredible acoustics produced by all the magically enhanced glass. As he eavesdropped, his face lit up with anticipation that quickly morphed into a look of panic when the talking ceased. Would they wander over for a chat?
Greenhouse 6, forbidden as it was to students during its renovation, had become an after-school haven for his colleagues. Most days he could count on Draco to drop by for a visit after classes, and Luna and Hermione often brought work to the warm, sunny place. Even the few remaining staff members from his own time at Hogwarts occasionally availed themselves of its peace.
But this – this was not the time for a chat. He’d been spying on Hermione for the past hour, where she curled high above him on the maintenance scaffolding on the opposite side of the enormous room. She’d shed her heavy teaching robes in the greenhouse heat and Transfigured her prim dress into shorts and a camisole; now she sprawled in a mouthwatering display of long, bare legs and small, round breasts straining against thin cotton knit.
Hermione. She’d grown even more beautiful since their Hogwarts days, and her once strident personality had softened to a quiet, feminine poise. Five long years he’d dreamed of meeting up with her again, of sweeping her off her feet and carrying her off into the sunset, and now here she was: the newest addition to the Hogwarts faculty. Her arrival had him tripping over his words and stumbling over his feet; it was fourth-year all over again, despite the fact he’d left the baby fat far behind. She’d been friendly but nothing more, and so he retreated and watched her from a distance. Like a randy hawk.
Of course, she was too far for him to see in such detail, and her perch of choice was partially obscured by a treetop. It was why he’d employed the use of Omnioculars, which in turn explained his current hiding spot – it was the only place secure enough for a covert wank. It was the one shortcoming of Greenhouse 6: no privacy. One fateful utterance of her name, groaned in any place other than the storeroom, and everyone would know exactly what he was doing.
Judging by the explicit noises now coming from the potted palms, Neville decided he was safe for the moment. He closed the door tight, cast an Imperturbable charm, and came in his hand seven glorious minutes later to the new fantasy provided by Luna’s vague idea. Oh yes, he’d do whatever he could to make it happen, even if it meant acquiring a highly dangerous – not to mention illegal – plant.
It would be a very, very long time before it occurred to him that Hermione could just as easily have heard the plan.
* * *
Hermione paused in her parchment-grading to give a contented, cat-like stretch. Surely there was no cozier perch in all of Hogwarts than her hideaway in Greenhouse 6, tucked behind a treetop up on the scaffolding. At some point over the past six months, she’d brought a few throw pillows and a lap desk and told Neville he’d just have to work around ‘her’ space.
Neville. She looked down at his recently quitted drafting table, spread with schematics for something undoubtedly brilliant. Who’d have thought Neville Longbottom would wind up as the wizarding world’s preeminent designer of magical greenhouses! Never mind that, who’d have thought he’d wind up so handsome and charming! She certainly hadn’t. He’d spent the past five summers traveling all over the world, returning to Hogwarts each fall to teach, and somewhere along the line he’d . . . well, he’d changed.
Not that Hermione was aware of that until she’d accepted the Transfigurations post this year, and the initial shock of his transformation had relegated her to a blushing, stuttering schoolgirl with soggy knickers and hormone-driven dreams. Eventually, she began avoiding him as a means of self-preservation and, since he’d never shown any interest beyond quiet, friendly courtesy, took to clandestine Neville-ogling in Greenhouse 6.
She wondered where he’d wandered off to . . . The big storeroom, probably; he seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time in there. Her musing was interrupted by voices coming from the far end of the greenhouse. Peering through the foliage of her cover, Hermione spotted Draco and Luna.
“So you’ll help with Neville and Hermione?”
Those simple words arrested her attention, and for the next few seconds Hermione barely breathed. By the time articulate communication gave way to grunts and moans far across the vast open space, she was lost in her thoughts once more. The plan was a bit nebulous – it was more of a list of items – but it was a plan, damnit! And how providential she was aware of it, because she was remarkably suited to the task of hunting down a registered Animagus! She returned to her parchment grading, a small, secret smile on her face.
Much, much later, her prodigious brain would supply the helpful detail that the storeroom door had been partially open during the private conversation she’d overheard.