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


Luna gave a luxurious stretch and rubbed her nose against Draco’s pelvic bone. The sun was just beginning to peek through her classroom windows, illuminating the aftermath of the previous night’s play. The sex swing hung crookedly, having become partially unstuck from the ceiling during a particularly wild moment, the throw pillows were covered in candlewax, and the air was redolent with a combination of sandalwood and peanut butter. It was time to plan out Draco’s day, as she had every morning since Monday. It was imperative to keep him away from Neville! “Time to rise and shine.”


He flinched at the ticklish touch. “Five more minutes?”


“Venus is ascending and the blibbering humdingers are trying to undermine everything we do, Draco.” She leaned low over his groin and smiled up at her drowsy lover. “You still have peanut butter on your cock. May I lick it off?”


That seemed to do the trick. He wiped the sleep from his eyes and propped himself up on his elbows. “Make sure you get it all.”


She spent the following five minutes devising several laborious tasks to keep him from gumming up Neville’s free time – Nev was supposed to be pursuing Hermione! Her mind was far away when Draco wound a hand through her hair and took control, and when he grunted in pleasure and shot his seed down her throat minutes later, she swallowed and licked her lips in satisfaction. She knew just how to keep him busy until dinner!


The rest of her day passed in a series of remarkable incidents, all of which pointed to the advent of things long-promised by her star charts. First, Miss Hipthripple broke her arm in a fall down the stairs to the Divination tower, and the resultant compound fracture was shaped just like the tip of the constellation Leo’s tail – and that was Neville’s birth sign! Second, her tealeaves during her fifth-year class were in the outline of Hermione’s profile. Third, she found an engagement ring hidden at the back of her and Draco’s shared closet.


In compliance with her astrological charts she arrived at the dinner table late, to find Neville and Hermione enveloped by a shared aura that ranged from a brilliant yellow at its outer edges to a deep, throbbing red at its core. And Minerva was being so cooperative! Never had Luna experienced such delight at the orderliness of the universe.


Her lover dragged himself to the table much later than usual, his handsome face etched with physical exhaustion and his robes smelling faintly of animal dung. Poor Draco! But Venus was even now preparing for her ascent, and there was no time to recalculate The Plan. Besides, he was strong. Luna gave his taut thigh a sympathetic rub under the cover of the tablecloth, smiling when he caught her hand in his and twined their fingers tenderly for the rest of the meal.



*          *          *


Draco woke to the feel of lips tickling his lower abdomen. Normally such a sensation would have cut through his slumber instantaneously, but the previous evening had been arduous and lasted well past sunrise. “Five more minutes,” he begged and began drifting back to sleep . . .


“May I lick it off?”


Draco was instantly wide-awake, and when he opened his eyes it was to find Luna smiling up at him, lips parted suggestively. Far be it from a Malfoy wizard ever to deny his witch anything she desired! A short while later he fell back into their makeshift bed of throw pillows and curtains, and there, with Luna sprawled on top of him, he received his marching orders for the day.


By dinnertime he was exhausted, having spent his free time climbing every staircase in the castle both forward and backward, brewing another batch of Luna’s mystery potion, and collecting a bushel of unicorn droppings from the Forbidden Forest. He’d needed the help of his last class to accomplish that one. He sat beside the witch he loved in contented silence, glad for the long tablecloth that allowed them to hold hands discreetly under the teacher’s table, and hopeful that her bout of madness would soon pass.


*          *          *


Neville woke earlier than usual. Hands folded beneath his head, he stared into the semi-darkness and thought about Hermione. The subtle changes in her manner recently indicated a shift of some kind; was it too outlandish to hope she’d heard Luna’s plan and decided to help? Had she really inquired about the Animagus yesterday?


He wondered if she’d remembered to request a visitor’s pass from Minerva. He’d better do it, just in case that small detail had slipped her mind. Not that he’d blame her if it had; since overhearing The Plan on Monday, he’d forgotten all kinds of things – for instance, restocking lotion in the storeroom of Greenhouse 6, which had resulted in a rather dry tug last night after dinner.


Come to think of it, he might as well take responsibility for the third element of Luna’s plan, the Madagascan coffee flower oil. It sounded like a specialty item; he could ask Tracey to order it. And while in town, he could pick up another bottle of lotion.


“I actually do carry that,” she told him later that afternoon, “but I’m fresh out.”


Neville, who’d flown at top speed from Hogwarts the moment the last bell of the day had sounded, pondered that for a moment. “I need it by Friday night; where else can I get it?”


“Salazar save us, you actually asked her out!” Tracey snickered and raised her eyebrows. “You’re moving a bit fast, don’t you think?”


“What do you mean?” He didn’t bother to correct the assumption. Luna’s plan guaranteed the same result, after all.


She straightened her smirk with a self-pitying sigh. “Nev, I know how adventurous you are, and maybe she is, too – but she’s the girl of your dreams; aren’t you going to woo her before something like that?”


“Like what?”


“Don’t play dumb with me. Erotic massage.”


He stared at her blankly. “I have no idea . . .”


“The oil, Nev. We both know that’s what it’s used for.”


“Holy hell.” His mind flooded with mental images of a very nude, well-oiled Hermione laid out over his bed. What the hell had Luna’s star charts foreseen for Friday night? “Holy shit.” He drew his robes shut to hide the pole suddenly lodged in his trousers. “I had no idea.”


“Of course not.” Tracy rolled her eyes. “You just wanted an entire pint of it because it smells so good.”


“Huh.” He was still very much caught up in the fantasy of rubbing and stroking Hermione in every possible way when he was rudely interrupted by a sharp flick to his ear. “Ouch! What was that for?”


“I’d pretend to be offended that you’re thinking about another witch while you’re talking to me, but it’s a bit of a turn-on, frankly. Are you, uh,” she glanced down to where he held his robes shut, “able to take care of that bad boy yourself, or do you need some help?”


Neville took a careful step back. “Thanks, I’m good.” He turned toward the door. “I really need that oil, though. Any idea where I can find it?”


Tracey gave him a mysterious smile. “I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you, Nev.”


“What’s that supposed to mean?” He regarded her warily. Tracey was, first and foremost, a Slytherin. She regarded life as a game of strategy, believed in concealed weapons, and ate grown wizards for breakfast. Well, of course she did, but he would never fault a witch for preferring to begin her day with a hearty suck-and-swallow . . . He shook himself from the image of Hermione doing just that.


“It means Gryffindor’s princess bought my last pint of Madagascan coffee flower oil.”


Neville’s jaw nearly hit the floor at the revelation, and his return trip to Hogwarts required two separate stops for emergency wanks.


Dinner that night was an agonizing blend of wild blazing hope and complete clusterfuckery. Minerva was once again in rare form. “What’s happening on Friday?” she asked loudly and to no one in particular. “I received two requests for visitor passes today! Is something secret going on at this school I supposedly oversee?”


Neville, who was helping himself to a second serving of asparagus, turned his head and looked directly at Hermione for the first time since he’d sat down. She returned his gaze with shining eyes, blushing adorably and biting her bottom lip in what looked to be an attempt to stop smiling.


Something secret going on at Hogwarts? Nope. No Animagus, or illegal plants, or costly oil. He grinned and turned back to Minerva. “No idea.”




He wanted to punch his fist into the air and give a victory shout. Hermione liked him! They were working together on The Plan! Friday it would all work out, and he would carry finally the witch of his dreams off into the sunset! He’d never have to keep extra lotion on hand again!


Confidence buoyed by such proof of her interest, Neville managed to communicate with her twice more during dinner.


*          *          *


Hermione was rudely awoken from a pleasant dream involving a scruff-faced Neville and the upper crease of her left thigh when her alarm went off. She slapped at it furiously, finally throwing it against the wall with an angry growl. Dream Neville hadn’t gotten quite as far as she’d have liked! She rolled out of bed and stomped to the shower, where she performed her daily ritual of tossing off to the fantasy of a nude, randy Neville laving her body in a rather aggressive manner.


Later that morning, she put in a request for a visitor’s pass for the Animagus. Assuming Neville’s trip to Dogweed & Deathcap had been for the venomous Tentacula, all that was left now was the purchase of that oil! She could run to Hogsmeade after her last teaching period of the day and- Damn, it was probably special order, since she’d never heard of it. Well, she could try the Herbology shop. The proprietress had been a schoolmate; surely that should count for something in terms of customer service. Tracey somethingorother . . .


Dogweed & Deathcap had what she needed! She’d dismissed her last class ten minutes before the last bell of the day had rung and borrowed a nice, safe Bluebottle from the faculty broom closet, then gone straight to that shop. Tracey Whatsername turned out to be quite helpful, though Hermione couldn’t help but wonder why the businesslike witch scrutinized her like a puzzle that needed solving.


She paid for the expensive oil with the money she’d been saving for a new winter cloak, and on impulse asked Tracy to wrap it with a ribbon. Whatever its purpose, Hermione wanted it to be opened like the gift it was. And then there it was, in her hand – the last thing needed to bring her and Neville together! She raced back to Hogwarts, hid the package in her room, and managed to slide into her seat at the teacher’s table right on time.


He wore deep green, well-cut robes that evening, and despite the fact that they set off his eyes and masculine build, Hermione managed to navigate dinner without embarrassing herself once. Even when Minerva’s prying unearthed the fact that Neville had also requested a visitor pass for the Animagus! Her face had burned with a deep blush, but one exchange of hopeful smiles with the handsome wizard to her left and she knew: he liked her! And in two short days, The Plan would bring them together. She really hoped he didn’t shave before then.



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