Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its contents, and I'm not making any money off this.
A/N: This isn't properly British.
As soon as Professor Snape closes the door, Draco dons a wide smirk. That was too easy. He glances over at Luna with an arched eyebrow, expecting praise.
Luna is already humming to herself and scrawling out lines, in a very curly typeface that isn't her usual choice. When he clears his throat, she looks up, asking, "Oh?"
"We've got forty-five minutes alone together." He wiggles his eyebrows once, finding himself exceedingly clever.
Luna croons, "I'm sorry that Jagelporaus got under your foot before I could warn you—please don't feel bad about getting us detention, though; I know it wasn't your fault."
"What?" Draco's face screws up with confusion, until he remembers who he's dating again. Oh, right. She never makes any sense. He brushes it off with some effort but knows better than to correct her. All the spilt potion's been cleaned up anyway, and regardless of how or why, they are alone together. Draco slides off his seat to walk over to her, placing two hands on her shoulders. She looks up at him as he leans down to purr, "Well, the point is, I'm glad we're here." He places a soft kiss on her cheek and is inordinately subtle about how he uses the opportunity to glance down her shirt.
Luna smiles brightly, musing, "You want to have sex in detention?"
Draco grins at her bluntness. It's been too long to still be shocked by the inappropriate phrasing. He simply drawls, "Yes," and goes in for another kiss. This time, she twists to meet him—her lips are wonderfully soft against his. Slipping his arm down her body to shift her all the way around, Draco leans in to deepen it, tongue slipping inside. Luna's smaller arms encircle his shoulders, and he picks her easily up by the waist—she's wonderfully light against him, lithe and curvaceous and perfect. He leans her back against the table, fingers already slipping up her skirt.
When they break the kiss, Luna asks dreamily, "Will you tie me up?"
Draco blinks and forces himself to keep his face completely neutral, despite the overwhelming urge to split his face with a grin. How he got so lucky, he'll never know. Because he's a brat, he tries his best to make it sound like a chore when he drawls, "I suppose."
She smiles appreciatively, leaning in to place a quick peck on the tip of his nose. Her turquoise-painted nails move to undo his tie—he kisses any remaining sense out of her.