A/N: Man, I suck at crossposting... Anyway! I wrote this for Femslash February and for Polyshipping Day and used it to mark off the "domesticity" square on my Fem Trope Bingo card. The idea struck me sort of out of nowhere, but I was immediately fond of it. Takes place in a future not compliant with the Epilogue where the girls are living in sin in an established relationship. Enjoy!

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"Excuse me, Hermione?"

Hermione startles but doesn't glance away from the document in front of her, humming a curt acknowledgement. The words on the page seem to ripple before her eyes as her concentration breaks, every syllable of the interruption like a pebble skipped over the surface of a pond. She blinks, squints, shakes her head and finally looks up when the letters refuse to realign. Has she really been at it so long?

In any case, she finds it far easier to focus on Luna, standing patient in the doorway with a smile like calm water.

"What is it, Luna?"

"I hoped that you'd help Ginny and I with a project," Luna says, "but I see you're still busy. In the meantime, might I borrow a quill and ink well?"

"A project?" Hermione murmurs, curiosity perking her out of a stoop she hadn't realized she was sitting in. "Well, I suppose so…"

She reaches into a drawer for the items requested, a bit put out that Luna gave up on persuading her to participate without even trying. Although, now that she thinks of it, Luna and Ginny both have tried to tempt her out of her office and into a break through most of the day, haven't they? Yes, Hermione decides as events fall into an orderly timeline under the careful watch of her mind's eye, it really is only fair that they should have a break of sorts themselves.

Luna takes the offered quill and ink with a grateful murmur, assuring their safe keep and seeming to glide out the door of Hermione's office like some banished specter of promise. Hermione spends longer than she ought to staring out the door after her as though to conjure her again with a thought. Giving up the ghost at last, she turns herself back to the task at hand.

Rather, she tries to turn herself back to the task at hand. Ink spreads and smudges beneath the tip of her quill where she's pressed it to the page to mark her progress. Across the page, her notations swim between the lines of the original script. She closes her eyes and breathes deep in an attempt to force herself to focus; by the time her eyes open again, she's caught on wondering what Ginny and Luna are up to.

A project, Luna had said, but that was all she said. Something to do with writing, evidently, or perhaps drawing, though Hermione wonders why they couldn't use their own supplies. She's always the best-prepared of the three, but they both ought to have their own. Have they used it up? Just how long have they been working on whatever it is?

Hermione huffs a breath and leans over her own work, eyes intent upon the parchment. If only she can finish these last few (thirty-five) pages (at no less than three feet each), she'll have the rest of the weekend to herself and her two lovers. Whatever this mystery project is, she can help them with it then, if they still need her help.

What would they need her help with, she finds herself wondering instead of working. She can hardly think of what they would be working on together, never mind what they would want her assistance with. Are they writing a book? Luna has often expressed an interest, but Ginny has just as often expressed disinterest. Perhaps Luna has talked her into it, though, or perhaps Ginny is only assisting. Working as an editor, maybe, or a research partner. Perhaps that's the assistance Hermione is wanted for. Books aren't something people just plop down to write one day with no prior notice (Hermione wracks her brain and indeed comes up with no prior notice), but if any two people would go ahead with it…

Hermione groans– half in irritation at her own wandering thoughts and half because she hadn't realized she was so stiff until she sat up. She wastes all of five seconds denying why she's sat up, then pushes away from her desk, groaning anew as she peels herself out of her chair. The long hours spent working weigh heavy on her neck and shoulders, bowing her back and reminding her in no kind means that she isn't a child anymore– or perhaps suggesting that she invest in a more comfortable chair.

She winces all the way across her office, forcing her expression smooth when she steps out the door. The air itself feels lighter outside the office, as though all the words that've been crowding her mind all day are trapped there behind her. She breathes deeply of the clearer air and puffs a laugh at the notion. She can still hear every one of those words buzzing in her ears, after all, like a cloud of gnats.

Sighing at the thought of all the words still waiting, she goes off in search of Ginny and Luna. They're not in either of their offices, but that's hardly a surprise. Despite the trouble they'd all gone to in order to find a house with office space for each of them, neither of them have ever made a secret of their dislike for offices. Ginny at least uses hers for storing and organizing her work things, but Luna's can be found throughout the house at a given time, so integrated into the decor that they're hardly noticeable until she comes through to retrieve them.

So, their lack of presence in either room isn't the least bit curious, even if it is inconvenient. What does strike Hermione as odd is that quills and ink wells are clearly visible on both of their desks. Luna's in particular looks like a photograph from a Muggle advertisement, perfectly set up, tidy and cold. It's enough to have Hermione double-checking her own stores just to make sure that she actually is missing a quill and ink well and the Luna of her memory wasn't a mere mirage. Finding that the items in question are indeed gone, she goes back to her search with a renewed sense of curiosity.

It turns out hardly to be a search at all. She spots them the second she steps into the drawing room. What takes a moment longer is making sense of what she's seeing: Ginny is on her back, sprawled across Luna's lap and propped up by a cushion and the arm rest. Luna is bent over her, one hand on the arm rest to steady herself. Her other hand is beside Ginny's face; Hermione watches as she leans down to whisper a kiss over her cheek and then reaches her hand in as if for a caress.

That much, Hermione understands. What she doesn't understand is why Ginny's face is dotted with ink from the well set on the tabletop beside them, or why Luna's lips, now puckered to blow over the latest mark left by the quill in her hand, are speckled to match.

"What in the world are you doing?" she blurts, tact still asleep among the persistence of pins and needles.

Ginny and Luna turn to look at her, smiling and unphased.

"Oh, Hermione," Luna says, looking positively delighted. "You decided to take a break after all."

Ginny's smile twitches into a grin and out again so quickly that Hermione doubts her own eyes. Hermione's brow furrows, setting the gears in her mind to turning. Luna looks oblivious to all of this, though there's really no telling with her.

"I wondered what you were up to," Hermione says, and this time she's sure she sees Ginny grin. "I'm afraid I'm still not sure."

"Just a little personal project," Ginny says; she may be hiding the grin from her lips, but it's bright in her tone.

Luna nods and adds, "Yes, you see, we were cuddling up and I got to kissing Ginny's freckles. Then, as I went along, I found myself wondering whether I could kiss all of them before time for supper."

"I… see," Hermione says, and she actually does see at least that far. She's not the most romantic person by nature, but she's occasionally played with the thought of kissing every freckle on Ginny's face (and elsewhere) herself. "And the ink?"

"To keep track, of course," Ginny says as though it's the most obvious thing– and, honestly, once she says it, it does make sense.

"She's got an awful lot of freckles," Luna puts in as though it isn't just as obvious. "It's quite difficult to keep track, especially with the way they overlap. I thought it might be fun to find constellations once I've finished, but I'm afraid it's all too smeared to make that kind of sense of it."

"Pity that," Ginny says; her words still carry a grin but her smile is genuinely soft, eyes casting gentle light upon Luna. "I don't know that I'd have liked holding still that long anyway, though."

Luna hums agreement and Hermione finds herself nodding along with the sentiment, though they all three know Ginny would have held still as long as Luna asked her to and enjoyed it as long as she had Luna's attention on her.

Without entirely meaning to, Hermione finds herself moving across the room to their side. She can't help, after most of a day spent dismissing their attention and concern, feeling as though she's intruding. But then they both smile up at her, Ginny reaches out to give her hand a quick squeeze and Luna offers her the quill, and Hermione sinks to her knees soothed by the recollection that she was invited.

Making herself comfortable on the floor beside the couch and positioning the ink well to the most convenient location relative to her, Hermione reassures herself that she can afford a break, that she's more than halfway to being finished and has three days more to work with. Every kiss Luna drops upon Ginny's face sweeps lingering concern further into a dark corner of Hermione's mind; dutifully marking each freckle off as it's passed over feels enough like work to toss a rug over it. It's still there, of course, but out of sight and so very nearly out of mind.

Time stretches out alongside them like a contented cat as they go about their project. If Luna is following any particular pattern of freckles, it's one evident only to her. Hermione goes through every constellation she can think of trying to make sense of the path Luna trails across Ginny's face and even Ginny's brow furrows from time to time when Luna hops from one cheek to another or from forehead to chin. Hermione and Ginny share a fond look between them whenever Hermione leans in to mark a freckle as kissed. If Luna notices their looks or realizes what they mean, as she likely does, she says nothing.

"One thing I still don't understand," Hermione murmurs, quiet so as not to rattle the peace between them. "I saw when I came looking for you that you have your own writing supplies in your offices. What did you need my quill and ink for?"

This time, it's Ginny and Luna who share a look. It's fond, as Hermione and Ginny's have been, but there's a secret in it. Ginny finally can't contain the grin tugging at her lips; Luna's own shines in her eyes, bright through the depths. Neither of them try to hide it and Hermione feels the pieces come together in her mind.

She tries to huff an annoyed breath, but the laugh hiding under it rather spoils the effect. Ginny bubbles a laugh outright and Luna looks for a moment like she might choke on one of her exuberant guffaws. Hermione shakes her head and elbows at both of them as if in retribution, but she thinks it's probably obvious that she rolls her eyes away because the sight of them makes her want to grin in turn– particularly when she does risk a glance back and finds herself caught up in their laughter.

Once they've all caught their breath, they pick up again from where they left off.