Draco's pride bristles, but he isn't in the position to turn down an invitation to a stuffed animal tea party, much less a-menage a trois. It's been longer than Draco's willing to admit since he's had a satisfying proposition, and even longer since the courter knew who was behind the polyjuice potion. Draco considers his options: he could spend next Friday night rewatching episodes of Mob Boss and crying into tequila, or, he could hang out with two former classmates he hasn't spoken more than a cumulative sentence to since sixth year.
The door swings open after two knocks and Draco is left with his hand hovering awkwardly in the air.
"Malfoy," Neville says flatly, like his name isn't written in perfect black script on the front of the invitation.
"Expecting someone else?" Draco asks dryly. He only hesitates for half a second before brushing his way past Neville and into a darkened room.
Luna enters from the stairwell in a short, springy dress and illuminates the space, earrings glittering under the glow from her wand. It's the only light source in the entire room. She's different than she was at Hogwarts: older and prettier, but with the same sharp light in her eyes.
"Draco," she says, beaming.
She takes his hand to press a kiss to his knuckles and smiles when Draco pulls away to look affronted. He retrieves his wand from his pocket and casts lumos. A dreadful floral loveseat fit for no more than two and a half people invades his peripheral vision. There's an end table beside it with curled feet that looks to be at least a hundred years old but inexpensive.
"Sorry about the lights," Luna says without missing a beat. "Garden gnomes chewed through the circuitry again."
Neville shrugs and directs his attention to the parcel in Draco's hands. When Draco hands over the aged wine he tries not to be a noticeable prat about the thin layer of dust on the furniture. There's a big muggle device across from the hobbled coffee table that Draco can't remember the name of. A radio or a speaker system, maybe.
"We didn't want to cancel last minute," Luna says. "Can you help Neville in the kitchen?"
Draco doesn't have the faintest idea what she means by that but he follows Neville through the doorway just to have something to do with his feet. There's a pickle on the table charmed to glow in the dark but Draco doesn't see Neville until he knocks into him and the ladle clatters to the floor.
Neville apologizes before Draco can work up the energy to be mad about it. "My fault," he says, bracing his hands on Draco's shoulders as he steps by. "Be careful, mate."
The casual contact makes Draco tense. When his eyes adjust to the darkness he can see Neville beside him at the stove. He isn't stirring stew at all, but a murky potion in a cauldron, and rather poorly at that. It bubbles and froths over before Neville can pull his hand away. He runs the burn under the spigot with only a tinge of embarrassment.
"Just like back at hogwarts," Neville admits easily.
The concoction is too thick to be a spermicidal draught, and stamina solution doesn't have a green shimmer under soft light. Luna serves the unidentifiable potion in the sitting room with cream and sugar. Draco stirs his own teacup out of social propriety and glowers over the rim. Neville laughs when he catches Draco sniffing it.
"It'll help take the edge off," Luna advises.
Against his better judgement he takes a sip, and forty-five minutes later they're up to their necks in alcohol and intersectional wizarding politics. Neville and Luna maintain unsurprisingly liberal positions, but Draco isn't half as conservative as he could be, especially for a Malfoy. The alcohol does its job so well Draco doesn't notice they're making their way into the bedroom until Luna quietly closes the door.
"You've done this before then?" Neville asks.
Draco begins compulsively unbuttoning his vest. His vision sways and goes a little spotty as the blood rushes to his head. Luna smiles and Neville politely turns away.
"Of course I have." Draco sneers. He hasn't. "Loads."
In fact, the only time Draco has ever been in the room with more than one person naked was showers after quidditch at Hogwarts. Astoria rarely entertained fantasies outside of their master bedroom.
"We're new to all of this ourselves," Luna confesses.
She clasps her hands together and when she pulls them apart there's a string of plastic squares ribboned between her fingers. For a split second he thinks they're biscuits in remarkably unconventional packaging, but upon closer inspection they're labeled.
"Condoms?" Draco reads aloud, with some difficulty.
"Muggle invention," Neville supplies unhelpfully as he strips down to his briefs.
Luna sits down on the patchwork duvet and spreads them out in rainbow formation. "I wasn't sure which flavour you preferred, so I got one of everything."
"Flavour?" Draco mutters, still trying to shimmy out of his pants in the dim room.
"No matter," she says. "We don't need one just yet."
Luna approaches him topless before Draco can slip out of his shirt. He's still blaming this on the dirty leaf water they served him an hour before when Luna kisses him. He draws back to find that Neville is watching them intently from the bed. He's more fit than Draco ever would have pictured him. He stands up and crosses the room while Luna unbuttons Draco's trousers. Strong hands slip below Draco's waist to grab him from behind. When Draco jumps Neville releases him and steps away.
"Did I give you a fright?" Neville teases.
Draco presses their lips together just to prove a point. Neville's timid mouth is easily tamed by the tongue tapping impatiently at the entryway. Luna slips her hands between them and strokes them both through the front of their underwear. When she releases them to pull off her panties Draco watches beside Neville; mesmerized.
Luna cuddles close when he reaches the bed, their nakedness conducting heat like lava. "Draco, aren't you going to touch me too?"
"Yes," Draco says as he settles in above her. "Right."
It doesn't feel right. Draco hasn't been with a woman since his divorce. When Neville catches Draco's gaze he feels like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Neville smiles kindly and Draco turns away to cover the uncertainty in his chest. Luna redirects his attention with her mouth along his collarbone. Her skin is milk-white moonshine with nipples like pink roses.
"She likes it like this," Neville instructs, moving his fingers in a circle between her legs.
Draco nuzzles her breast, wrist bumping Neville's when he reaches for her snatch. She has a bit of hair below her navel almost as light as Draco's. Her clit is impossibly tiny, hidden in the folds of her slit until Neville spreads her open. Their fingers slide together when Draco sticks one inside and Luna trembles with anticipation.
"Why don't you touch yourself?"
Neville draws his attention beside them and Draco jerks away. "Why would I want to-"
Luna's voice is undemanding. "It feels really nice."
"Fine," Draco mutters. He pulls back the waistband of his briefs to release his prick. He pumps himself once, perfunctory, half-scared he'll go soft.
"Let me help you with that," Neville offers shamelessly, fingers dancing along Draco's thigh.
Draco stiffens and fails to swallow his own vulnerability. "I don't need help wanking," he snaps. "I'm not daft."
When neither of them respond Draco realizes he may have overreacted. He focuses on the floral sheets to hide his embarrassment, two touches from bolting for the bathroom. He glances to Luna and she meets Draco's eyes gently. It's an incredible feat when she touches his shoulder and he doesn't draw back.
"Are you okay, Draco?"
If her voice gets any lighter she might float away. Neville inches insistently closer, like he can sense her about to drift. Draco allows himself the first full look at Neville's prick, fat and heavy in Luna's graceful grip. They stare at each other and then at Draco, who is both delighted and terrified at the prospect of their combined attention.
"Are you ready to pick?"
When Draco falters Luna chooses instead, plucking a pink condom from the bedspread and tearing it open. She kicks the rest to the floor and stretches out to rest her hand on Draco's knee. He watches without blinking as she throws her hair over her shoulder and leans down to suck him off. When Luna pulls back his prick is throbbing behind a layer of tight pink latex.
"Non-magical contraception," Neville clarifies, which doesn't ease Draco's nerves the slightest.
"Strawberry," Luna murmurs into his lap.
Neville and Luna find his cock together, more like snogging than an actual blowjob. They take turns jerking him off until Luna straddles him, nudging her clit against his prick with every roll of her hips. Neville holds her by the waist as he kisses her silly. For Draco, sex has never been less serious.
"Switch with me," Luna says breathlessly. Draco quirks a brow. She looks incredibly excited. "Ready?"
Their arms lock together and Luna tightens her hands around his shoulders so they can reverse positions. Without Neville to stop them they might have rolled off the bed. Luna runs her hands through Draco's thinning hair and knocks their foreheads together. This close, Draco can't enter her properly. He tries to curb his reaction when Neville squeezes his rear but his eyebrows shoot to the top of his forehead anyway.
"No worries," Luna reminds him. "Lots of people haven't explored anal."
Draco gapes, and remembers that he's in a threesome. "I've done anal! Just never from...this perspective."
"You top then?" Neville asks casually.
Draco's tone rises a notch. "I didn't say that."
"Alright," Neville says with a chuckle. "Just the same."
Draco lines himself up between Luna's legs and slips forward over her clit. The second time Neville helps him hold steady, nudging her apart with Draco's prick. Luna paws at Draco's bum and Neville pushes a slick finger inside. The muscles in his body seize and freeze over. No wizard he's ever encountered has actually stuck a finger in his arse.
"Use a charm!" Draco shrieks.
"Sorry," Neville mutters. "I didn't know there was a charm."
"No matter," Luna says, like it's any consolation. "Muggles don't use charms."
Neville's fingers twitch. "We aren't muggles!" Draco reminds them.
"Do you want us to stop?" Luna asks.
"I can use a charm," Neville offers, retracting his hand.
The tears forming in Draco's eyes are as unwelcome as they are unexpected. He wipes his face with the side of his arm before anyone notices. "Forget it."
Luna tightens up around him and Draco shivers. "Of course not." She brings a hand to his face, too tender to stomach. "You're our guest. We want to show you a good time."
Draco is overwhelmed by their kindness. "So you offer this to any bloke who comes over for tea?"
Neville composes a perfect poker face and worms a second finger alongside the first. Draco squeaks. "We just had Harry and Ginny over last week."
"Can you imagine?" Luna laughs at the mere suggestion. "You're our first," she assures him.
Luna curls her body around him in the silence that follows, until their parts draw together like magnets and he sinks inside. He's still adjusting to the overwhelming heat when Neville begins working lube in his arse. Draco stutters to a halt while Luna licks the inside of his mouth.
"Draco," Neville says roughly. He shoves the blunt head of his prick between his cheeks. The latex feels funny against his skin. "Can I?"
He feels like he's back in a broom closet at Hogwarts. He hopes they can't see his face turn red in the poor light. "Get on with it," Draco mutters, but he tightens like a bowstring before Neville can even move.
"Not to worry," Luna says sweetly. She smiles against his cheek and lowers her voice to a whisper. "For a Gryffindor, he's an incredibly good finder."
Luna is true to her word, and Neville pulls through with hardworking candor. From the first thrust, Draco is hooked, rolling his pelvis forward and then back until Neville sticks that place that makes him see stars. He tries to focus on Luna but ends up lost in the storm of her eyes. Neville is still too careful with him, fucking Draco in slow, powerful movements that leave him starving for more.
"Faster," Draco complains, as the heat pooling in his stomach begins its ascent. For someone with a cock crammed up his arse, he's incredibly confrontational. "If you were going any slower, you'd be going backwards."
Luna giggles when Draco's mouth finds her nipple. He knows she isn't close, but Draco is ready to blow like a bad potion. He sobs into Luna's chest while Neville plows him from behind. His own prick is soaked, sealed up tight in Luna's pale cunt. It inches deeper each time Neville snaps his hips.
Orgasm is an informal affair, too sudden for an announcement. It swallows Draco in a white hot current that erupts like lightning from his prick and leaves him stunned. Neville pulls out and ties off the condom while Draco rolls off his wife. The ceiling blurs like a panoramic photograph when the comforter sails above him and then drops.
Sleep comes quickly.
In the morning, Draco leaves by floo, and finds an undersized owl with one eye waiting on the windowsill when he returns home. The letter is small and neatly tied, handwritten in purple ink. Next time, Luna assures him, she'll keep the lights on.
Draco wonders he ought to RSVP.