Happy Birthday to my wonderful beta and Coven sis Ms Tempest E. Dashon.
May your true stars never fall.
May you always find your moon amidst the darkness.
May you know and keep love more vast than all the skies.
Vine
June 5th is but an ordinary day in the Granger household, albeit an unusually still one. Polaris is gone with her father for the week, leaving us to tend to our own entertainment.
We sit in our usual positions at the round oak table: My back to the bay window overlooking the rose garden, Hermione across from me skulking over her tea, Luna pouring another cup in the kitchen.
She floats over to us with effortless grace to take her standard seat to my left. The sky-blue satin nightdress complements her exquisitely, setting her eyes a touch more radiant over her bright cherry lips. Her long white lashes flutter like snowflakes to her flushed cheeks as her heavy lids rise and fall to whisk away the sleep.
Hermione while in her dishevelled and irritated morning condition is ravishing in her own right. The scowl inherent for her at this time of day unapologetically reveals her ferocity. The lean muscles of her exposed shoulders and arms bear evidence to her undying strength.
Her conglomeration of untamed curls is tucked away under a black silk fashioned at the nape of her neck. The missing halo of chaos pulls her chiselled bone structure into sharp focus; striking brows and high cheekbones presiding over a delectably hollow jaw. Her pleasantly full lips are a stunning paradox - shaped like two halves of an archer's bow, but the colour of dried rose petals, falling somewhere into the comfortable vaguery that is "mauve".
Her burgundy muggle top - if it can be reasonably called such - accentuates her delectable lips well, almost as sufficiently at it exposes the enticing valley of her breasts as her chest rises and falls methodically. The narrow straps and clinging fabric leave nothing to the imagination, even more so than the dastardly short black trousers. "Bike shorts", I believe she called them. I'm undoubtedly certain my cruel Fates have invented muggle fashion purely to torment me.
She stares at me above the rim of her garishly bright teacup, the smell of bergamot and citrus wafting towards me as she quickly looks away in a blush. This is a game I play often, to see how many times I can catch her doing it and how deliciously red I can make her skin. It's amusing to watch her train of thought gradually derail as she writhes in frustration, building until she inevitably snaps a sarcastic remark and slew of obscene muggle words as she storms away.
"You know," Luna muses, turning to Hermione "You should really either kiss him or stop thinking about it. All of that tension is going to wind up in your neck and shoulders if you keep holding it in."
Hermione, now conditioned to Luna's unabashed analyses admirably does not choke on her Earl Grey, instead sitting the cup tastefully down on the saucer.
She raises her silent gaze first to Luna, then to me. Luna continues -
"You glance at his lips almost as much as he stares at your bum when you walk away. You may as well both get it out of your systems before you end up with high blood pressure."
I don't flinch or so much as look away, for I too, have grown accustomed to such unsubtle admissions. I'm fond of them, actually. It helps speed up the pace of living which others so often leisurely take for granted.
Hermione's honey eyes absorb my every feature, raking me over as surely as the fathomless calculations she's contemplating.
"What do you think?" she asks tentatively.
"I live to please," I reply with what is hopefully closer to a coy smirk than an infuriating grin.
"Would you like me to leave you to it?" Luna asks, looking askance at both of us.
"No!.. No," Hermione stutters, her knuckles going white for a split second as she grips the handle of the cup a bit too tightly. "I want you here," she resolves with more conviction.
She's nervous. The Swot Par Excellence, Defender of the Light, Saviour of My Pitiful Existence is having anxiety over such a mundane experience as a kiss shared between friends.
"What's the matter, scared Granger?" I vex, my voice arriving to my ears less playfully goading than deep and raspy.
It must be the tiredness draining my resolve, definitely not the weeks spent lustfully gazing at the alluring roundness displayed gloriously through the muggle short trousers.
I'm surprisingly not met with her default reply of "sod off" but a much gentler, more vulnerable
"Yes,"
She bites her full bottom lip, cosying it up to her tongue to toy with it as she mulls over the offer.
"Yes?" I question, sliding from my seat to stand between her and the table.
Her earnestness causes a lurch somewhere deep in my heart. The heat that constantly emanates from her radiates through my bare chest as she evaluates me. Perhaps I should have this high blood pressure situation looked at.
"Yes," she repeats on a heavily breathed whisper.
"He does bite, but only if you ask nicely," Luna interjects, "and never if you don't like it, right kitten?"
"Mhmm…" I hum, taking my lips in my mouth as I dutifully watch my housemate debate with herself. "Always what you like, only what you wish."
I lean back against the cold wood of the table, gripping my hands over the ledge to steady myself. The immodest charcoal grey silk pyjama bottoms do me no favours in concealing my interest, so the most genteel action I can choose is to grant her enormous brain a reasonable amount of space to consider me. If questioned, I would never admit to using the advantageous position to deliberately tighten my abdominal muscles mere centimetres from her face.
She rises to stand eye level with my collarbone, placing her trembling hands on my hips as she gathers what's left of her valiant Gryffindor soul to look up at me. I sense the hesitation catching on her feeble breaths, feel the uncertainty shake her resolve as she digs the strong pads of her fingers into my bones. This won't do. There is only room for unquestioned confidence if she is to make this decision.
"You don't have to," I goad her, moving back impossibly closer to the edge of the table "You could continue pining in misery… excuse me, mystery. What's one fact the most incorrigible swot in existence doesn't know?"
This is enough to spur her movement. She lowers her brows until the tiny crease, the one she gets when she's overthinking a problem, appears between them. She takes one of my nipples into her mouth, taunting with the tip of her tongue as she sucks. My fingers bite fiercely against the smooth oak as I bid them hold steady.
"I was deciding where to kiss you, prat," she responds into my chest, immediately taking the other in her mouth.
Luna walks alongside her, placing a hand on her waist.
"Right here; he likes this," she instructs gently, taking my pulse against her tactful lips and precise tongue to apply the steadily increasing pressure that would undo my resolve in years past.
Now, my constitution waits patiently in the tension of my wrists, building a thrumming rhythm that will allow all three of us an afternoon of blissful desecration.
"This?" Hermione asks against my neck, mirroring my lovely's ministrations on the opposite side.
"What… Whatever you like, gorgeous," is the inebriated reply that passes my lips, but 'Yes, gods yes,' is a more accurate representation of my thoughts.
Hermione leans closer, moaning into my neck while pushing my arse into the table. She spreads her stance slightly, placing my thigh between hers as she greedily glides her scalding hot hand up my side. Through the thin black fabric, her pulsing heat drips in desire for me already.
"Whatever I like? Anything? That's a tall order, ferret." she chastises, rolling her hips in an effort to relieve a bit of her barely controlled need.
Luna works her mouth down my chest, setting all of my nerves alight as I try to remember to sound outraged in my response.
"Oh, I assure you Granger, I never fail to deliver."
"Touch me," she commands against my lips.
I extend one finger to lift her chin to stare at her through the lids that have gradually grown heavier.
"One condition to grant that plea, gorgeous."
She looks at me curiously as I languidly run my hands up her arms. She shivers deliciously under my touch. I slip my hands under the black silk scarf, working tactfully back to the knot holding it in place. I unwind it expertly, not catching one curl beneath my fingers as I release her hair. It's taken the trial and error of what seems like a lifetime to do this with such ease. She seems to appreciate my dedication to the pursuit, her dripping cunt soaking into my leg as I relieve her of the confines.
I do as I'm told, claiming her with ferocity as Luna slips into the silken pyjamas to grip me. I dig both hands into Hermione's curls as I mark her rose petal lips, suckling and biting as she wraps her arms around my waist. She sinks into me, generously exploring the caress of my tongue with hers.
The deep, earthy taste of black tea is accentuated perfectly by the bright notes of lime and bergamot. I'm carried away to somewhere warm and tranquil as the coconut and sunshine aroma of her hair surrounds me. She pushes her warm palms into my back as Luna pumps me in tune to the rhythm of our kiss, joining the dance flawlessly as she invents a step for three.
Her finely tuned fingers strum every nerve expertly, coaxing underneath me as the smooth silk slips along the upper portions. She glides one finger over a bead at my tip, running across my slit as my back arches unwillingly. My chest is pressed into Hermione's, her soft, full breasts growing taut at the sensation.
"More," she whines, begging for me.
I give one last strong suckle on her plump lower lip to tease it with my tongue before letting go to pull her flush against me.
"As you wish." I breathe in her ear. "Tell me when to stop,"
That satisfying shiver returns as I slide my hands down to grip the pillow-soft flesh of her round arse.
"Never," she whispers in return.
Luna releases me to stand behind Hermione, muttering something in her other ear I can't quite catch over the ringing of my pulse. Hermione shuts her eyes and nods, letting her head fall back in open-mouthed splendour as my lovely runs her hands underneath the wine coloured muggle shirt to knead her supple breasts. The sight is exquisite, perfect. I tighten my grip as I run my tongue along the edge of her ear. The whimper that escapes her plump lips is swallowed as she bites it down.
"Let it out, it's okay." Luna placates, circling her thumbs gingerly across the taut nipples in her care.
The breathless whine that sings from Hermione's throat reverberates deep in my core to resonate on the strings of my heart.
"Very good," Luna encourages, rewarding our lover with an open-mouthed kiss against the hollow of her neck.
"Wand, I need my wand," Hermione pants, immediately breaking us apart to frantically scan for the instrument.
"Fuck it," she recants, stripping the feeble muggle garment over her head in one movement.
I stare into her eyes with unbridled carnality as I slip the black cotton leisurely past her round hips.
"Fuck it, hm?" I growl into her lips.
"Fuck me, please," she demands and begs in one breath.
The smile crosses slowly over my face, the same pace with which Luna slides the pyjamas down to pool at my feet.
"So crass, Granger," I taunt her, placing my hand on the small of her back to press my weeping cock against the firm muscles of her stomach. "Filthy," I growl into her mouth.
"You like filthy, Granger," she returns with a smirk.
"Mmm. Brightest Witch of Her Age," I reply.
My lovely runs her whisper-soft hand up the back of my thigh to bid me to sit on the table. I oblige, lifting one hip to slide across the smooth surface. The grey silk rains down into a shining puddle on the floor.
"Do you still want me here, Hermione?" she asks with a feather-light touch against the other woman's neck.
She is answered with a hand buried roughly in the golden silk of her hair and a vivacious conquering of her mouth as I situate myself on the table.
"Take this off," Hermione implores, drawing the thin blue straps down her porcelain shoulders.
Luna lets the nightdress fall into a pool on the floor, exposing her strikingly red nipples, her perfectly firm breasts, all of the delicate lines down her stomach and across her ribs that I've traced into my memory. Hermione groans at the sight as my ache grows unbearable.
"Like this?" she asks, questing her meticulous hands between my lovely's thighs, stroking a rhythm that has them falling into each other as Luna rests her head against her shoulder.
"Just like that," she breathes, gripping her lover's wrist to bid her to stop. "You first though."
Until this moment, I had thought looks of reverence so poignant were only reserved for deities. The respect and longing Hermione grants her has me too dissolved to wait a moment longer. I grasp the same wrist Luna still holds in her palm, guiding her hand gently to my mouth to drink the honeysuckle nectar off her fingers.
"She's patient," I explain, "I'm not."
Hermione scoffs playfully, a minuscule, breathless laugh lighting her blushed cheeks and sparkling honey eyes. My lovely places her hands against the glowing skin of her back, guiding her to turn around. She slides her perfectly firm arse between my legs, using the chair's arms to lift her hips enough to allow me entrance.
The heat is almost unbearable as I slide into her. Her hot liquids flow down me as she sings her approval with an unrepentant moan. She rolls her hips in perfect fluidity, the twist of her petite waist giving all the more allure to the wide spread of her hips and glorious, perfect arse. I lean back on my elbows to grant her more sensation as I get lost in the visual splendour.
Luna lifts one of Hermione's legs high, a groan of satisfaction permeating my being as I leak into her. She places a chaste kiss to the inside of her arch as she regrettably places it back onto the arm of the chair. I'm not disappointed for long. The constriction is relentless as her legs are spread wide for me and my bride.
"Don't be shy," I hear my angel's voice trill "You're beautiful. She's beautiful."
xoXOXox
It's quite convenient that I'm the patient sort of person. Good things come to those who wait. Unexpected things. Beautiful things.
Hermione's legs tense as she hums and dances above Draco. I part her gently, encouraging her as I always do.
I want her to believe that she's perfect - not just for him or for me, but in every facet of her being. Everything she is, every decision, every mistake. I wish for it to be her instinct to understand that every second chance she's given the world is an accomplishment to be proud of, and the scars that mark her are only evidence of her victory over a world that failed to kill her soul.
It does help my cause that it's subjectively true; I find her beautiful in every way. The cute pout she gets after losing a verbal spar with Draco. The indignant outrage when she's proven wrong. The way she takes so much upon herself that it ruins her good intentions.
And her. Just her. She's splendid.
She's the color of wine, a juicy black cherry in contrast to mine and Draco's brightness. There's more depth to it with the layers of light brown transposed over the flush we have created.
I kiss my lovers where they're connected, their taste a rich glass of Merlot to pair with a crisp autumn day. I hum my satisfaction as they both moan to accompany me, creating a harmonious chord of our shared pleasure.
I melt into them, kissing her slow and methodically while my hands work to sate his soft places. I hear Draco use his favourite swear word under his breath as he thrusts deeper within her. In seconds she's pulsing in my mouth, he's sitting bolt upright, and they're both crying out desperately for me and each other.
I carefully place one last lick against her pounding pulse, cupping him gently as I trail my finger up and through the streams of their shared release. I look up to them, his eyes pools of molten silver as hers are melted gold. They are blushed from face to chest in a beautiful arrangement of crimson and rose, not to mention my favorite shade of pink.
"Satisfactory?" I ask, as Hermione places her feet beside me on the chair to remove herself from Draco.
She moans as his cum pours down her thighs.
"You next," she growls.
xoXOXox
I did not know sex like this existed. This wasn't in any of the books. There was no diagram detailing the elaborate responses that could be elicited from a glance at his lips or a wandering of her hands. I never would have known being treated like an ornament feels better, something that's wanted not for it's utility, but it's attractiveness. No one ever told me being held in the arms of my friends could be infinitely more satisfying than my partner, my co-parent.
Now that I've tasted satisfaction, I am beginning to understand the hunger behind it. At this point I'm starving. Ravenous as though I'll never get my fill.
I lift up Luna - light and ginger Luna - to wrap her legs around my waist. Her hair smells like citrus and bluebells, like a meadow in the spring. I try to be careful as I place her onto the large, round table, but I think I may have let her fall a little too hard in the rush. She just shows me a forgiving smile, pulling me in by the waist to kiss me again.
I don't know if I can do what she did, get eye level with her most secluded place and just accept it, call it beautiful. Maybe not today, but certainly one day soon. I'm determined to study this perspective to try to see things the way she does. For now, I slide my fingers inside her again, simulating all of the sensitive nerves until she melts beneath my touch.
"Gods… yes… just like that," she whimpers, taking two fistsfuls of her hair in her hands.
I don't want her to touch herself like that, to let out the tension on her own. I want her to take it out on me.
I use my unencumbered hand to place one of hers on my back, and soon the other follows suit, gliding her short nails down my skin in a shimmer of light.
Fuck, why does she have to be so gentle with me? How can she possibly stay soft and delicate after all the hard blows life has hit her with?
It's horribly disconcerting that at her core, she's tight and firm, all strong muscles clenching around my fingers. She's not all rushing rivers and swift monsoons like me, but a trickling stream; slow and steady and patient.
Gods I wish I was a legilimens. I'd pay to have a glimpse at more, to feel her the way Draco does, to sink into her, be surrounded in someone who can be so solid and so tender all at once.
She looks up at me with her starlit eyes, so painfully unbothered, intrinsically amused.
"What is it you want, Hermione? Ask me. I'll give it to you," she says with a caress of my cheek.
"I can't have what I want I'm afraid," I tell her. No use in getting my hopes up for things that can't exist.
"Try me," she says.
I recklessly pour out my heart, giving in fully to what Draco calls my "Gryffindor brashness." She laughs. Laughs. That infuriating smile on her strawberry lips tells me I'm about to learn something I thought I already knew.
She summons her wand as I release her. She casts a little spell over us and bids me to try again.
This time, when I slip my fingers into her it takes my breath away. My clit pulses like I'm inside her tight passage, being held in the unobscuring safety of her protective walls.
"You like it, beautiful?" she asks needlessly.
It takes every modicum of my resolve to remember to pay attention to her needs and hit all the places she enjoys to reach her climax. I place my palm against her clit as I speed up the pace, letting my mouth gape open like an idiot. I comb over the spot that makes her whine for me again and again, feeling the pressure build exponentially at the sound of her voice as I near my own release.
She digs her hands into my curls, pushing my breasts flush against hers. We kiss with abandon, our tongues and teeth searching out every space of each other to quell the burning need.
"Circe you're good… so good, Hermione…" she breathes incoherently, taking a luxurious bite of my ear.
Her skin is so soft and cool against mine, like being tangled in fresh cotton, or lying stark in a field of new clover.
She clenches around me as she sighs my name into the wind, and then it's over. Rivers of liquids rush down my legs as my mind explodes into heaven, every dull ache deadened by the buzzing warmth of relief.
She strokes my face, smiling off into a distance I can't yet see.
A/N: There will be much more to come for this ship. I'm kind of obsessed now.
Happy Birthday Dash!
