Harry Potter and Luna Lovegood spent the rest of their afternoon in his loft, reading together on the short mid-century leather sofa. Harry sat on the far end, next to a short stack of magical theory texts piled on the table beside him. Luna lay with her head in his lap, feet angled over the opposite arm, toes wiggling thoughtlessly as she turned the pages of Rumors of Fairie. A few minutes after they settled, Harry's eyes wandered from the volume in his hand.
As she lay beside him, he studied her body. Her tee had bunched up slightly, just exposing the soft curves of her torso, her navel, the midline of her abdomen. He was profoundly attracted to her. His pulse stirred as he shifted his gaze to the rise and fall of her chest. He traced the slope of her breasts with his eyes, noticed the textures of her thin lace bra subtly visible beneath her tee. He wondered at the shapes and textures beneath it. He harbored regret that it wasn't just a touch colder in his home.
Just then, Harry accidentally discovered that the climate at No. 4 ½ magically corresponded to his will, and it was suddenly chilly.
A few moments later, Luna shivered thoughtlessly, goosebumps rising on her arms. She nuzzled into the soft cushions of the sofa, reached for his unoccupied arm and laid it gently on her torso. Time slowed as Harry noticed a subtle shift in the shape of her, the slowly visible textured lift at the center of her breasts.
He stirred, acutely aware of the building pressure radiating through his waist, his thighs, his abdomen, after days of intense sexual tension. His eyes shifted to her waist, the clasp of her jeans. He traced the contours of her hips, the slope of her thighs. His lips parted, and he slowly exhaled.
It was chilly, bizarrely so. Luna stirred, sat up, and turned to sit cross legged, facing Harry. She shivered.
"Is it suddenly cold?" She asked, lacing her fingers through his unoccupied hand.
Just then she became aware of his unwavering attention. She flushed, her pulse quickened and she smiled vulnerably. She noticed his dilated eyes, his parted lips. She noticed his firm chest rising full, falling in a slow, steady rhythm. She noticed the way his eyes strayed to her chest, and she began to understand the sudden shift in temperature.
Luna bit her lip, steadied her gaze and watched him enjoy her. Smirking flirtatiously, she leaned, pulled back her shoulders, and stretched slowly, her fingertips lacing overhead with outstretched arms. She drew her hands behind her to tease out the twist in her hair. And as her hair fell, the contours of her body ushered his attention to her full, perfect breasts.
She watched Harry drink her in, utterly unable to speak. She relished the ability to capture him completely, render him speechless.
Luna shifted her weight forward, leaning closer to him. She whispered, "I like when you look at me, Harry Potter." And then she kissed him, softly, gently pressing her barely open lips on his.
And after a moment she pulled away, leaned her forehead against his, and fought every inclination to press further, because she never wanted this to end.
"I like it when you look at me, Harry Potter."
Something about the way she whispered in his ear sent chills through Harry's spine.
What had begun as a glance had changed fundamentally. She saw him watching her, and she invited his gaze. She enjoyed him enjoying her, and as she arched her back and stretched, as she played and she teased, Harry was altogether taken.
He hadn't known it was possible to be this into someone.
She leaned forward and he felt her lips softly pressed against his own, and he felt her breathe. And he fought every inclination to pull her closer, because he never wanted this to end.
Luna shifted her body into his, sitting directly beside him on the mid-century sofa and cuddling into his shoulder. She pulled his arm tight around her, laying his hand on her torso.
After a few more minutes of reading, she turned away from her book, looked up at him.
"Harry?"
Harry's attention broke, shifted to her with an affectionate smile. "Luna?"
She liked that, and smiled. "May I ask you a personal question?"
Harry laughed at this. "Um… Yeah, I mean, of course."
She steadied herself, her gaze distant and her voice melodic. "I understand that I make people uncomfortable sometimes, and I suppose it's because I don't have some of the same boundaries that other people have. And I suspect that the question I'd like to ask you trespasses one of those boundaries — one of the boundaries that everyone else has, but not me, I mean."
He adored her completely, because nothing felt more like Luna Lovegood than this, and he smiled with kind eyes. "Luna, you can ask me anything."
Her expression brightened, and she pulled his arm tighter around her waist. "Thank you, Harry Potter." She paused, arranging her thoughts. "I wanted to ask you how you handle the… physical tension that you must be experiencing." After noticing his vaguely confused look, she continued. "I've done quite a lot of reading on human sexuality. I find the topic fascinating." At this, she blushed for a moment, smiled bashfully. "I also find you fascinating, and those two things in tandem have worked against my long-term goals." She gathered herself, continued.
"We've been together a lot in the last few days, and we've kissed many times. And I've pressed my body against yours many times. And I've sat on your lap on one occasion."
She faltered for a moment, steeled herself. "And I've also noticed your… excitement in many of those moments."
Harry turned a deep crimson. Luna caught his embarrassment and smiled broadly.
"Harry Potter, I like that you like me." At this she grabbed his hand, drew it to her lips, and kissed his fingers affectionately.
After a moment she pressed on, unhindered. "From what I've read, a series of pleasant interactions like ours can foster a building tension in men, a tension that can even become uncomfortable and can inhibit clear, rational thought."
Harry, still blushing a bit, nodded with an awkward smile. "That's pretty spot on."
Luna was encouraged at this, shifted to face him, seated on her knees.
"So what do you do?"
Harry flushed. "Luna, are you asking what I do to relieve sexual tension?"
She smiled playfully. "Yes. I want to know, Harry Potter."
Harry stumbled. "I mean, uh… well, until recently I haven't had much need to, honestly."
She waited.
"I mean to say that this sort of interaction — the kissing, I mean, and the other stuff (all of which I really enjoy, by the way) — is new to me. So the tension is, uh, pretty new to me as well."
She bit her lip, pressing further. "So, in the past, you haven't…" She left the sentence unfinished, and she looked at him meaningfully.
He laughed, relinquishing any hope to dodge the true nature of the conversation. "No, not a lot. I've explored that avenue on a few occasions just to discover. And sometimes I wake and it's just happened. But no, not a lot."
Her expression shifted, her piercing gaze steadied on his eyes. She drew closer to him, her voice noticeably softer. "And since we met? Since we've kissed?"
His pulse quickened. "I've thought about it." He blushed again. "I do feel that tension, Luna. Sometimes you're all I can think about. And every kiss, every touch radiates. Part of me wants to relieve that tension, and another part of me relishes it." He looked directly into her eyes. "I truly enjoy that my every thought revolves around you, that my body throbs when I see you, think about you. You are intoxicating, and since we met I haven't really wanted to be sober."
She exhaled slowly, shifted closer. "What does it feel like, Harry Potter?"
He looked away, thought for a moment. "It's like hunger, in one sense, but without pain. When you're near me, it's sometimes like waves crashing over me, again and again and again. It's like Odysseus, tied to his ship's mast because he wanted to hear the irresistible call of the Siren. I feel in those moments as if nothing matters except you, except the shape of you and the attention of you and the pleasure of your touch."
He paused. "Physically it's like a pressure— a pleasant, pulsing pressure." He hesitated. "Sometimes it feels like throbbing. Sometimes it's a tension, in my abdomen, radiating through my thighs."
Harry noticed that her face had relaxed, her lips had parted, and that she was slowly, softly breathing. Her hand absentmindedly began to gently massage his right knee.
"When we kiss, when you press yourself into me, all of that turns into something like a heightened awareness. I can feel everything — every breath you take, every shape and texture of your body, every movement you make. I feel everything viscerally."
Her hand shifted, closer now to his hip than his knee. She held his gaze unwaveringly.
"That heightened awareness, that radiating pleasure, it drives, compounds the building tension. So every moment we're together I long for more… and I also long for release."
As he spoke she leaned nearer to him still, her left hand rhythmically massaging his thigh. Her fingers loosely dragging, her expression completely relaxed. "You… long for release?"
He leaned his forehead into hers. "I long for you, Luna."
She exhaled slowly, her hand rhythmically pressing, now firmly, now softly, into his thigh, her fingers tracing the inside seam of his jeans. She began to lean further, flushed, drawn to him at every breath.
And just then, in a moment, the enchantment broke. Her expression brightened, and with a flirtatious smile she leaned back.
"Fascinating. I think I've just thought of a solution."
Harry laughed at the sudden shift, totally confused. "A solution, Luna?"
"Leave it to me, Harry Potter. I know just the thing." At this she stood, grabbed his hand, and led him downstairs. "I'm afraid I'll need a few hours of privacy, Harry Potter. Would you mind walking me home?"
As they walked to the far hedge of the primary school, Luna skipped beside Harry, bubbling with excitement, her fingers laced between his. He laughed, enjoying her playful attention.
She picked up the rusty tin can, punctured, with a string of loose thread attached.
"Luna?"
She turned to him with a broad, mischievous smile.
He smiled. "I really like you."
She giggled, kissed his nose. "I know."
"Home."