A/N: I'm a downer tonight. It's been a very traumatic week for a few people who are close to me; while no trauma has befallen me personally, it has been difficult to witness the suffering of those whom I cherish. I'm also disappointed that there were remarkably few reviews for Chapter 11, even from my beloved regulars. I'm not sure what to make of that; I guess you didn't like it? Oh well. Hope you're still reading anyway.
I know I promised a breakthrough with the mystery object in this chapter, but it didn't seem to fit, so I left it for Chapter 13. In its place, I offer lemons.
This chapter is dedicated to an IRL friend who does not read my work, but unwittingly gave me its alternate title; it is also dedicated to another, very dear IRL friend who does read and enjoy my work, but refuses to review on the lame-ass grounds that "reviews are hard". Countdown to text message: 3...2...1...*ding*
Chapter 12 – Ulterior Motives (Or, Positive Forward Motion)
There was no laughter within the dark walls of Azkaban prison. Soft moans, the sound of sobbing, and screams, yes, but never laughter. Not even the demented kind.
In the post-Voldemort magical world, the Dementors were considered to be cruel and unusual punishment; they were not required for one to go mad over the course of one's sentence. The ones that had been re-captured after the war were themselves confined to a dungeon, deep underground within the prison and well away from the human prisoners. The new guards were human; though less likely to suck out someone's soul indiscriminately, they were also somewhat more susceptible to bribery and corruption than their predecessors.
Lucius Malfoy, once a broad-shouldered and muscular man, had lost a considerable amount of weight in the four-odd years of his confinement. His diet lacked protein (as well as almost every other nutrient), and his formerly well-kept hair had lost its sheen. His dove-grey eyes, though sunken, still glittered intelligently over the sharp spectres of his cheekbones. He had held on to the shreds of his sanity over the years by conjugating Latin verbs in his head, reciting bits of poetry to himself, and by trying not to picture the faces of his wife and son. He was surprised as hell when one of the guards came to his cell with word that Jacob Nott wanted to see him. I'm not ready to die had been the first scattered thought that crossed his mind.
Nott's visit to his cell was brief and surprisingly pleasant, at least on its face. No mention was made of the Dark Lord, Lucius's incompetence as a servant, death, or what have you. Jacob was on the short side, given the stature of his son, and the stature of his presence in a room; in that respect, he towered over the tallest man. His ice-blue eyes both saw and judged a man's soul instantaneously, and invariably found him wanting. His head of tightly-curled hair, once brown, had gone white. Even in prison, both his hair and his short, white beard were perfectly manicured, immaculate. He did not deign to sit down, but merely stood in front of Malfoy with his hands clasped loosely in front of him. His posture was relaxed, his manner dangerously conciliatory. "Lucius."
"Jacob." The two old schoolmates greeted each other with a wary nod of the head. The shorter man's piercing blue eyes were faintly amused as he surveyed his former compatriot, ferreting out the changes in the once-elegant man sitting on the bed. Lucius could not help his cracks showing, but under Nott's unforgiving stare, he resented them. "To what do I owe the honour?"
"I heard that you are about to become a grandfather," Nott said smoothly. "I have come to offer my congratulations."
That's unlikely, Malfoy thought. "Thank you."
"Rumour has it the girl is a Pureblood, but a blood traitor. Odd choice, don't you think?" One corner of Nott's mouth twitched, hiding a grin of pleasure. "I understand Draco turned down the more prestigious arrangement you had made for him. Pity - the Greengrass girls are quite lovely, and excellent Pureblood stock. My son is involved with the elder daughter, you understand. I have been encouraging him to make the union permanent for some time."
"Best of luck," the blond man replied wryly. "Why don't you tell me why you're really here?"
"Come now, Lucius," Nott pouted. "It isn't polite to cast aspersions on the motivations of one's guests."
Lucius merely flicked an eyebrow and said nothing, a look of imperious disbelief etched on his Patrician features.
"You wound me," Nott told him. His sharp eyes twinkled with an unholy light as he savoured his sparring match with the Malfoy patriarch. "I come to offer an opportunity to you, Lucius."
"An opportunity," Malfoy repeated drily.
"Yes, quite a valuable opportunity, in fact. I can offer the finest Pureblood education for your grandchild, beginning as soon as he or she is two years of age. You see, several like-minded gentlemen and I are starting a boarding school, much like Hogwarts, for Pureblood families who wish to have a viable alternative within the United Kingdom. I understand that you yourself wished to send your son to Durmstrang, but your wife objected due to its great distance from home." Nott spoke the word "wife" the way one might say "feces".
Predictably, Malfoy stiffened at the implied insult. This demented little wretch could not possibly understand the passion I have carried for Narcissa for more than thirty-five years, he thought disgustedly. Nott's offer held little appeal for him, but he could not resist the opportunity to uncover the man's weak spot. "What is it you wish in return?"
"So businesslike and direct," Nott chuckled. "I admire you, Lucius, truly." He finally decided to take a seat in the only chair available, a rickety thing that sat in front of the crumbling desk. He turned it around, sitting with his knees almost touching Malfoy's. "You're up for parole soon."
"My hearing is in December," Malfoy admitted warily. "What of it?"
"I ask only that once you leave this place, you assist me in locating a relative of mine. As a family man, I'm sure you can appreciate the importance of my plea. The woman I seek is a Pureblood by birth, although she does not know it, and long lost to me." Nott leaned forward, his icy eyes peering into Malfoy's cool grey ones. "My daughter."
XoXoXoXoXoX
"Ooh, Luna, look at these!" Daphne came bursting into the private dressing room of Twilfitt's with an armload of wedding gowns. A saleswoman bobbed in her wake, loaded down with several more selections. "I found one I think would look smashing on you!"
"Then why do you have six dresses in your arms, Daphne?" Astoria couldn't resist asking.
Her elder sister stuck her tongue out in a thoroughly non-Pureblooded manner and flounced over to Luna. "Because you never know," she replied.
If it keeps Daphne cheerful for an afternoon, I'll try on a thousand gowns, Luna thought. She stood up and held out her arms. "All right, give me your favourite first."
"Have you ever tried on a wedding gown before?" the saleswoman queried, taking the hanger before Luna could.
"No."
"You'll need help," she informed Luna shortly. "I should come in with you."
"Erm..." Luna looked mildly embarrassed. She was thinking of her scar, and hoping that the woman would not make some off-handed remark about it.
"Nothing I haven't seen before, love. Step in here." The woman held open the door to a tiny changing cubicle; it didn't seem large enough to hold Luna, the saleswoman, and the gown. Once inside, the woman began removing the gown from the hanger and undoing the fastenings, while Luna stripped down to her bra and knickers. She was oddly relieved by the woman's bored and vacant expression. "Bra too, love. You won't be wearing an everyday bra in a gown like this." Luna's cheeks pinked, but she removed her bra anyway. The woman produced a low-backed corset instead, which she held up for Luna to step into, and then fastened tightly at the back; the stiff undergarment made it difficult to breathe deeply, but Luna found she could not slouch, and it pushed her breasts up nicely. "Good," the woman said, holding the gown open. "Now, step in from the top."
Daphne's choice was an ivory peau-de-soie number, free of beading and embroidery, with a soft cowl neckline that hung gracefully between cap-sleeves. A similar cowl-drape in the back left Luna's skin bare to the level of her waist. No bra, indeed, she thought. The long skirt hugged her waist and hips tightly, flaring out below the knees in a classic mermaid-cut, with a sweep train behind. There was no mirror inside the cubicle, so Luna carefully stepped out into the dressing room for her first peek at herself in a wedding gown.
Daphne shrieked and flapped her hands, making Astoria roll her eyes. "Oh my gods, Luna, it's beautiful!"
Luna peered at herself in the three-way mirror with her mouth agape, but did not say a word. She twisted a little to see the back view – her waist was bound into the gown with a set of laces, and a row of tiny, decorative buttons ran from just beneath the laces to the edge of the train. "I – wow," she finally murmured.
"Daphne was right, Luna. It is smashing. Do you like it?" Astoria asked, rising from her seat and coming over to inspect the gown. "It makes your bum look fantastic," she declared.
Luna tilted her head to the side, her silver-blue eyes wide. "I've never worn anything like this. I don't know. Is it...you know...me?
"I think so," Daphne breathed. "Oh, Luna, you have no idea how lovely you look."
"I like it," Luna admitted, "but I can't separate my thighs very far."
"You usually take the dress off for that part," Astoria quipped.
"Yes, but walking is hard."
"Worth it," Astoria and Daphne declared at the same time.
"I suggest you try on a few styles, so you know what feels best," the saleswoman advised. Luna thought that was good advice, so she minced off to the cubicle to try on another dress, her assistant in tow.
The next dress was the one that Luna had picked out from a magazine. It was much more princess-y, with a voluminous tulle skirt and a fitted, strapless, boned bodice, embroidered in pink and silver roses. When she stepped out and glimpsed herself in the mirror, Luna frowned. "Oh, no. No, I don't think so," she said, shaking her head. "It looked good on paper, but..."
"I agree," Astoria responded immediately. "It's not you. Pretty dress, but it doesn't say 'Luna'."
"Next!" Daphne prompted.
A flurry of ivory and white followed – ball gowns, sheaths, even one sassy, short number – but there was nothing that Luna liked so much as the gown Daphne had chosen for her. As time wore on and her skin began to chafe from trying on so many stiff, unfamiliar dresses, she began to think that a little trouble walking might indeed be worth it. She put the first dress on again, and asked the saleswoman to bring out some veils to try with it.
"This is the one, Luna," Daphne proclaimed when she walked out again. "It looks amazing. It's just perfectly you."
The saleswoman placed an ivory lace mantilla on Luna's head. "You can wear your hair any way you like with this veil," she said. "I think it would be an appropriate choice with this gown."
Daphne's eyes filled with tears and pride as she took in the sight of her best friend in full bridal regalia. She pressed her hands to her mouth. "You look so beautiful," she whispered behind her fingers.
Astoria had gone quiet, but her dark eyes were shining, too. "It's perfect, Luna," she admitted gruffly. "I don't think you could do any better."
Ten minutes later, they left Twilfitt & Tatting's with the gown and veil securely wrapped, carried tenderly in Luna's arms. She had also purchased a corset, which Astoria had teased her about endlessly, although the dark pixie swore she recognized the grave importance of a support garment. The three friends decided to have a drink at the Cauldron before parting ways for the day. They each stopped at the bar to grab a Butterbeer, taking their drinks to the same booth that Harry and Daphne had used after ring shopping.
"Well, that was easy," Astoria commented, sliding in next to her sister. Luna sat on the other side with her packages parked next to her. "Although, I've heard it's not unusual to buy the first dress you try."
"Probably because everybody goes for their dream dress first," Daphne remarked wistfully.
"Is this hard for you, Daphne?" Luna asked gently.
"A little," she admitted, "but I'd much rather be your maid of honour and be a bit envious, than not be involved in your wedding because I'm going through a breakup." Her eyes were still a little red-rimmed from the tears she'd shed in the shop, but she smiled wickedly. "Besides, if I get lonely, I think Lee will keep me company."
Across the pub, hidden away in another booth out of the women's sight, Theo sat gloomily staring into a glass of Firewhiskey. Blaise sat across from him, sipping the same and looking perplexed.
"Mate, she's right over there. I don't understand why you don't just go over and ask to speak with her privately. I don't think she'll rip your head off. It's not like you were screaming insults at each other the last time you spoke."
Theo's shoulders were hunched up to his ears. He scowled into his drink as though it could tell him what to do, if he could only intimidate it hard enough. "She's with her sister. Astoria will eat me alive."
"What's she going to do, make you cry?" Blaise taunted. "Don't you think Daphne's worth the risk?"
Theo sucked in a breath and put his drink down. "Yeah, you're right." Straightening his jumper, he slid out of the booth and made his way over to the table where the three witches sat. He heard Daphne laugh at something Luna said, making his gut swoop nervously. "Erm. Hi, Daphne."
All three women turned to look at him, their laughter abruptly ceasing. "Theo," Daphne replied neutrally.
"Erm. C-could I – could I talk to you for a minute? In p-private?" he stuttered. Astoria's glare was making him feel sick. Luna was silent, but undoubtedly on Daphne's side, as well. He felt about a foot tall.
The three women exchanged a glance. Astoria went so far as to shake her head slightly at Daphne, but after a moment, the tall, curvy blonde motioned for her sister to let her out of the booth. Astoria acquiesced, but made sure to stand on Theo's foot in the process.
He led Daphne to a dark corner near the door, where the comings and goings would muffle their conversation, should anyone be eavesdropping. She looked beautiful as always, in an emerald-green turtleneck and simple black slacks, but her expression was unwelcomingly bland, her arms crossed over her chest. Theo stood an appropriate distance away, unused to being this far out in her personal space.
"Hey." His voice was low and husky. She looked up at him, weakening his knees with her huge brown eyes. How did I forget about her eyes? "How've you been?"
"Holding up, I suppose." Her voice wavered slightly, but she lifted her chin defiantly and pressed on. "You?"
"I can't sleep without you," he blurted. "Daphne, I miss you so much."
"You're going to miss me for awhile, Theo," she said quietly. "It will take time to get used to living without each other."
Theo's heart broke. "Is that really all you can say to me?"
"What were you hoping I would say? That I can't live without you? Hate to tell you this, Theo, but I'm discovering I can." Her arms tightened across her chest, her expression moving from one of reserve to one of barely-suppressed anger. "I'm sorry if you're finding it harder than I am, but I gave you the choice to stay with me forever, or move on, and this is what you chose."
"I was wrong," he muttered brokenly, his head bent. "There's got to be a way we can work this out. Please?"
"No." She was resolute. "Theo, I'm not really what you want. If I were, we'd be planning our own wedding. You're just scared right now, and you're convinced that giving in would be easier than moving on."
"That's not true! What, you think it's easy for me to come crawling back to you in front of everyone? Look, I'm sorry! I made a big mistake, but I love you! Why can't you forgive me? Don't I deserve your forgiveness?"
"At the moment? No." She was faintly triumphant now. "You haven't done anything to earn it. All you've done is bitch that you're lonely and state the obvious: that you made a big fucking mistake." She cocked her head to the side; what came out of her mouth next was not completely true, but was designed to wound as deeply as possible. "I've already had an offer for a date, you know. I've been thinking of saying yes."
Theo crumpled visibly. "My gods, Daphne, am I that replaceable?"
"No. I'll never replace you, but I have to move on." Daphne's voice no longer wavered. "Let me go, Theo," she bade, turning and walking away.
"No! I'm not going to give up on you, Daphne," he called after her. Several people turned to stare, but he didn't care. "I love you!"
"Oh, shut up," she muttered under her breath as she slid back into place next to Astoria, ignoring her sister's raised eyebrows and Luna's wide-eyed look of shock. "Who's up for another round, then?"
Across the pub, Blaise shook his head, also muttering to himself under his breath. "For fuck's sake, Theo."
XoXoXoXoXoX
The three women spent longer than they meant to at The Leaky Cauldron. When they went their separate ways – Daphne and Luna back to The Rook, and Astoria out into Wizarding London – the shops in Diagon Alley were beginning to close up. Astoria passed by Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes just as George was flipping the sign to "closed" and locking the front doors. He seemed to be closing alone; seized by the desire for another game of cat and mouse, she walked up to the doors and knocked lightly.
"We're closed," George called from behind the till, without looking up. Astoria rolled her eyes impatiently and knocked again, louder and slower this time. George finally glanced up crossly, his expression changing when he saw who was knocking. He strolled over to the door, appearing in no hurry to unlock it, a mocking grin plastered across his face. "I'm sorry, Ms. Greengrass, but you'll have to wait until tomorrow to buy your love potions," he yelled through the glass, pointing exaggeratedly at the "closed" sign.
Undeterred, Astoria raised a fist and knocked again, extra-slowly and pointedly, on the glass between George's eyes. His grin widened as he slid the deadbolt back and swung the door inward. "Finally," she remarked, stepping inside the shop. "I knew you'd cotton on eventually."
"My lady. Welcome to my humble establishment." George bowed with a flourish. "Wonders to boggle the mind and delight the senses await thee – at reasonable prices, naturally."
Astoria rolled her eyes. When George straightened up, she gestured at the chained-off staircase marked "employees only". "What's up there?"
"That staircase leads from my humble establishment to my humble abode," George explained.
"You don't say." Before he could protest, she jumped the chain and dashed up the stairs, leaving him to chase her. She had expected a door that would lead to a messy flat if she opened it, but the loft that met her eyes was surprisingly neat and orderly. "Do you live by yourself?" she asked curiously, sitting down on the top stair. She would neither truly invade his privacy, nor enter his living space until and unless he extended an invitation.
"I do now," George replied quietly, taking a seat next to her. "My twin brother lived here with me before...erm, before." A sad look crossed his face momentarily. He rarely spoke of the war, other than to express the hope that it would never happen again.
With perfect understanding, Astoria reached over and touched the left side of his face, where his ear was missing, turning his face toward her. He flinched, but allowed it. "You've been through a lot," she said softly. Her dark eyes had gone from mischievous to soft, pulling him into their depths.
"Me and everybody else." George was unimpressed by his own bravery, which made it all the more impressive. Astoria was really starting to like him, in spite of herself. For George's part, the sudden change in her attitude toward him was making him dizzy – or maybe that was just the woman herself; he didn't know. She was wearing a black hooded sweatshirt and jeans, which made her look somehow tough and sweet at the same time. He longed to unzip the hoodie and see what she wore underneath.
In that moment, Astoria leaned in and brushed her lips gently over his scar in a feathery kiss, making him shiver. A moment later, her mouth descended on his in a passionate, fiery embrace. When they broke apart a few moments later, her expressive eyes glittered exultantly. "I'm too young for you."
"There's only four years' difference. We're both adults."
Their lips and tongues tangled again briefly. "You don't really expect me to be that easy, do you?"
"Easy? You? Never." George's hand slid up Astoria's thigh. She playfully pretended to slap him across the face. "Ouch!"
"Naughty boy," she crooned. "A gentleman buys a lady dinner first."
He squeezed her long, muscular leg gently. "I don't see any gentlemen around here, do you?" he whispered in her ear.
"Lecher."
"I knew you'd cotton on eventually."
She laughed and kissed him again, but her insistence on having dinner with him was quite firm, as was George's determination to lure her back to his loft afterward. As he retrieved a jacket from his closet while she waited in the hallway, George reflected that he didn't know what had made her come knocking on his door. He was glad she had done so.
XoXoXoXoXoX
When Luna and Daphne returned to The Rook, they took Luna's dress upstairs straightaway. The bride removed her gown and veil from the packaging and hung them up gingerly inside a garment bag that she had waiting inside her wardrobe. The corset was placed in a little-used drawer.
"You don't think Harry will peek at your dress?" Daphne wondered.
"Not if I put a Notice-Me-Not Charm on it," Luna tittered, waving her wand over the garment bag. It immediately seemed to blend in unremarkably with the other clothing hanging in the wardrobe.
"Ah, hiding in plain sight." Daphne nodded approvingly. "I still say you've got some Slytherin in you."
"I don't know about that, but I do get some Gryffindor in me several times a week," Luna tittered.
Daphne threw her head back and laughed. They were both silent for a few moments, contemplating the day. "You know, I think I'm ready to go home," she mused. "I can laugh again. Seeing Theo today was – I don't know, liberating somehow. I was scared that when I saw him again, I'd just start crying and beg him to come back. That didn't happen."
"No, it didn't. If anything, that's what Theo did." Luna smiled briefly. "He made quite an arse out of himself, actually."
Daphne laughed shortly. "He's been getting lots of practice at that lately."
"That's not your problem anymore. You're moving on, Daphne," Luna reminded her.
"To where, though?" Daphne wondered.
"It doesn't matter right now. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other. Positive forward motion will get you where you're going."
Daphne smiled at her ethereal friend. "Positive forward motion? I like that." She reached behind her and pulled her champagne-coloured hair over her shoulder, holding the strands in front of her eyes to check for split ends. "I've been thinking about getting a breakup haircut."
"Couldn't hurt," Luna said cheerfully.
XoXoXoXoXoX
Blaise frowned at Theo, who was practically climbing the walls of Nott Manor. "Good gods, man, you're going to leave fingernail marks in the wallpaper. You need to calm the fuck down."
"I can't calm down, Blaise!" Theo yelled, pulling at his curly brown hair in agitation. "Merlin, she's getting roses and offers for dates already? What the fuck am I gonna do? I tried to apologize, and she didn't even care!"
"Theo, listen to me very carefully," Blaise said. He was sitting on Theo's bed, watching his best friend erupt. "If that was your idea of an apology, you might as well just forget about ever having a decent relationship with any woman, never mind getting Daphne back."
"Oh, sage advice from the guy who isn't the king of healthy relationships," Theo growled. "First you were clueless, and suddenly now you know all the secrets of woman-taming? Fuck you."
Blaise laughed. "Theo, listen to you. You're losing it."
"No, I'm losing Daphne!" Theo wailed. His ebony-skinned friend only laughed harder, wiping tears of mirth from his almond-shaped eyes. "You're a fucking arsehole for laughing, by the way."
"I can't help it. You're a joke," Blaise snickered. "Honestly, mate, if you want to get Daphne back, you're going to have to really get her attention. Do something big."
"But what?"
"That's what we have to figure out."
"We?" Theo looked skeptical. "You're going to help me?"
"Well, you obviously can't do it on your own," Blaise pointed out. His blue-eyed friend scowled at him, but could not refute the truth.
XoXoXoXoXoX
Luna woke up Sunday morning lying prone next to Harry with an idea that she could not shake. She felt as though she had hardly seen him lately; he'd been so busy at work, and she'd been so busy the rest of the time, that they had not had a chance to just talk and do nothing. Now that they had privacy again, and their schedules were free for a day, she decided the time was ripe to show Harry just how much she appreciated his support during a crazy time. In retrospect, it had been a subtle test of their relationship; in Luna's estimation, they had passed with all O's.
Harry was lying on his stomach as well, with his face turned to one side, blissfully peaceful. She dove under the covers, grateful that her fiancé slept naked, and knelt astride his thighs, beginning her massage on his lower back.
"Huh?" He jerked awake, glancing over his shoulder sleepily at the witch straddling him. She was wearing one of his tee shirts and nothing else; combined with her sleep-mussed hair, she was adorably dishevelled. "Oh. Ooh. Hmmm." He dropped his forehead to the pillow.
"Feel good?" She ran her hands up the column of his back, eliciting a groan.
"Mmm-hmmm." He sighed deeply. She swept her hands down again, this time running the heel of her hand down each buttock in turn. Harry let out a pain-tinged groan of contentment. "Oh my gods. Do that again," he prompted.
"I should really be doing this with oil," Luna remarked, complying with his request. "Sweet almond oil works nicely."
A messy black head popped up from the pillow. "Do you have any?"
"As it happens," Luna said, "I think I might." She crawled off of him to dig in her bedside table, producing a small glass bottle. "Ha! I use it on my cuticles sometimes in the winter." She poured a few drops into her palm and wordlessly Enlarged the puddle.
"So, how did you do that wordlessly?" Harry asked interestedly.
"I used a molecular-level impulse direction similar to Geminio," Luna replied.
"Okay."
She laughed. "Lie back down. You're supposed to be enjoying a massage, not a lecture on the physics of nonverbal magic."
Harry spent the next half-hour in ecstasy. He didn't like to think about how Luna might have acquired her massage skills, but he was enjoying said skills all the same. She dug out all of the tender spots in his neck and back, focusing with unmitigated glee on his arse – not that he complained. When she started massaging her way down his legs, he thought he might die of pleasure; as she worked her way back up to his shoulders, her ministrations became slower and more focused on caressing him than actually working out any kinks. Harry grinned. "Why do I get the feeling that you have an ulterior motive in offering me a massage?" he asked, his voice muffled by the pillow.
In answer to his question, Luna crawled back on top of him and removed her tee shirt, leaning over to press her naked breasts into his back. "You have good instincts," she purred. "Although, I don't know if I would call it an ulterior motive. I'm taking a multi-dimensional approach to saying 'I love you' today."
"I don't care what you call it," Harry groaned, luxuriating in the feel of her naked body pressed along his back. "It feels fantastic." She rolled next to him and reclined on her side, her skin glistening slightly with residual oil from the massage. He flipped over so they were facing each other and drew her close, enmeshing their bodies. "Come here," he said unnecessarily.
"Ooh!" She squeaked as he placed a warm hand on her glorious arse and squeezed gratuitously.
"Mmm." Harry rolled with her suddenly, so she was lying stretched out on top of him. Luna shifted so she was kneeling astride him once more, this time facing him. He relished the sight of her, rising above him in the bed with a faint shimmer to her skin and a look of wanton expectancy in her eyes. "Good morning, goddess."
"Who, me?"
"Yes, you." Harry couldn't resist reaching up to cup her rose-tipped breasts in his hands. "I love you."
"I love you, too." She bent to kiss him, heedless of morning breath. His hands moved up to cradle her face, thumbs stroking her cheeks gently. "Okay, let's fuck now."
"You're not in the mood for lovemaking?" Harry deadpanned.
"Nope. Lovemaking is great, but today, I require hardcore fucking."
There was something about the phrase "hardcore fucking" on Luna's lips that sent a filthy thrill through Harry, a thrill that drove him to throw her down on the bed and give her exactly what she asked for. "Well, in that case..." he rolled with her again, pinning her underneath him. Reaching down, he drew a finger almost casually through her soft folds, feeling the slick of moisture there. He drew in his breath with a hiss. "You're wet." Luna moaned in pleasure and thrust against his hand, encouraging him to continue touching her, which he did.
The sex was not tender, but it was satisfying. The steady, rhythmic slap of sweating skin on sweating skin became almost painful, but they both enjoyed the sensation, and added fingernails and teeth when the moment seemed to call for it. Feeling Luna's fingernails rake up his back as he came was one of the best feelings life had to offer, Harry decided. Afterward, they drifted off to sleep again, overwhelmed by blissful lassitude. For the first time in what seemed like a long time to Harry, everything was right with the world.
A/N: Attention dudes: yes, this really is the rigmarole that a woman must endure to try on a wedding dress, never mind actually wearing the damn thing for a day. Ultimate humiliation? You betcha!
Please leave me a review and let me know what you think of Jacob Nott. Also, did I get Lucius right?
