Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Harry Potter and the Emerald Coven
Chapter 18: The Path of Flowers, Fish, and Fractals
Nargles gargle everywhere
And nargles spit in turn
When nargles spit inside of you
Your brain will fuzz and turn
Nargles make you hate your friends
And nargles make you sad
When I see a nargle I
Wave my arms like mad
If a nargle did infect you
You must take a breath and try
to see things from another point
of view and you’ll know why
Cause when you see as the nargle does
Your path is straight and true
Cause one thing a nargle won’t ever do
Is try to lie to you
I’ve been thinking a lot about sex lately.
I’m supposed to be in History of Magic but I’ve already memorized the texts (so many inaccuracies, perhaps I’ll be given extra credit on my O.W.L. this year if I include the true answers as well. I tried once to only put the true answers, but I was given a poor mark. Most teachers seem to grade primarily based on one’s ability to memorize.) Instead of watching my class mates slowly fall asleep to Professor Binns, I am outside, near Greenhouse 2 watching bees fuck all the prettiest flowers.
I wonder what Hermione’s pistil- I mean vagina looks like?
Thinking about Hermione makes me think about Harry, and thinking about Harry makes me all warm and fuzzy feeling, low in my belly. He was the first boy to ever be nice to me. To call me friend. To make me feel included. He also has wonderful hair and lots of pretty muscles. How lucky is that? He also has oodles of other pretty girls who want to SHARE! HOW LUCKY IS THAT!?
I love my life.
This has not always been true. I wonder how long this will last, and I wonder what I can do to make sure it lasts as long as possible.
I wonder how big Harry’s cock is. I’ve heard big is supposed to be better, but I am a very small person, so I’m not sure.
Hehehehehe, stamen.
My laughter has produced odd looks from a boy and girl walking back from the forbidden forrest, also playing hooky. There’s not many people who can consistently make other laugh, but how unfunny does one need to be to not even be able to make themselves laugh, so much that they are made uncomfortable by someone by themselves laughing.
I shudder at the thought, and thank whomever is listening I am not like that.
I walk by Hagrid’s house, he is not home.
Wandering back to the castle I spy a small cat, probably someone’s pet. I follow it for a while. Cat’s are excellent at finding garden gnomes, which I am of course always on the lookout for. Their saliva has many magical properties.
The cat does not find any, and eventually disappears over a wall into the courtyard. By the time I walk around to the entrance the cat is gone, but I do spy a wisp of distinct purple smoke just visible over the wall on the other side of the courtyard.
Another quick journey and I see my quarry.
Daphne Greengrass.
She stands, leaning casually against the wall in her dark, green pipped Hogwarts robes. Her raven hair falls straight and shinning to her shoulders with sharp, even bangs across her eyes, which stare unseeing into the middle distance while she smokes what appears to be a muggle cigarette; though the smoke is purple, and rises in tight spirals. Her tie is gone, and her shirt is unbuttoned just enough to show a peak of a plain black bra. Her breasts are ample, and I cannot help but stare for a few moments before approaching her. The size of her chest and arse might have been bad on a shorter girl, but she is very tall, and much of that is her legs which she shows off with a skirt that is probably just long enough to be regulation. Her expression, as always, is calm and aloof, and belays a sense that she just doesn’t care about anything.
She is also an anomaly.
She is slytherin, and seems to glory in it as I have never not seen her wear at least some token green. She also seems to hold nothing but disdain for the rest of her house despite being the consummate pure-blood, with rich well known parents, known for playing in both the national political arena as well as the inter-house old guard societal politics. She is studious, but has never joined a study group, or any extra curricular. She does not play or watch Quidditch nor Gobstones nor Chess nor, well anything. She seems singularly uninterested in anything outside of an obvious yet understated friendship with Tracey Davis and school. She is near the top of the class, certainly the highest grade in Slytherin her year. She is popular in the way that many attractive girls are popular, in that everyone seems to know them, and most boys are interested, but no one actually wants to be her friend. She has never once said “yes” to a boy, nor gone on a date, and those that call me ‘Looney’ call her ‘Ice Queen’.
Boys like to joke that she’s never even smiled at a boy, and they call her things far worse than lesbian, but like most people, they don’t pay attention. I will admit, I have been long enamored with Miss Greengrass. She’s one of the people I enjoy starring at and I can confirm that to my knowledge she has never once smiled at a boy. She has however, smoldered.
In fact, she seems to enjoy starring at Harry as much as I do. She stares until her cheeks turn a little pink, licks her lips, then looks away. The whole thing doesn’t last three seconds. It’s not exclusive to Harry either. I’ve seen her do the same thing her friend when she’s not looking, and an older girl from Hufflepuff. Even so, I don’t understand why no one ever notices these things but me.
I think everyone rushes too much. Always scheduling and worrying about being places at certain times. Or maybe everyone is just too focused on themselves. Not always a bad thing, but too much of anything is bad for you.
I walk up to her, and stand right in front of her staring up into her eyes. She stares me back for a moment before raising a single elegant eyebrow at me.
“I just wanted to say,” I begin, “I’ve always thought you were quite beautiful.”
The second brow joins the first, and she takes a long drag on her purple cigarette, “Um… thanks?” she replies uncertainly, a large cloud of spiraling smoke rising from her mouth as she says it.
“Bye!” I say, smiling at her, with a wave. Then I walk away.
That went well.
I walk inside the castle heading towards the library. If I am lucky, I will get two things done while there.
There is an interesting portrait on the third floor, but you have to go a bit out of your way to find it, unless you’re heading to the library from Gabrielle’s room. It features a woman in a red dress seemingly being entertained by a large group of men all in suits and tails with top hats. One man, on his knees is kissing the hand of the woman, the rest crowd behind him, all reaching towards the woman as if to say they are next in line.
The woman in red plays coy, she she keeps shooting knowing glances at all the men, and blowing them kisses with her free hand, and if you go late at night, the one kissing her hand is doing far more lascivious things.
What anyone who hasn’t read Hogwarts a History doesn’t know, was that this portrait depicts one of the last legal Covens formed in Europe, and that the woman in red was Headmistress of Hogwarts from 1222 to 1263, and the men were her staff. During their time they used their Coven to add a number of protective spells to Hogwarts ground and castle that simply cannot be outdone by a single caster.
I walk through the stacks searching for my book by smell (the good ones are usually the smelliest, both as an indication of age, as well as how often they are read). Instead I find Hermione and Parvati Patil ensconced at a small table. I eavesdrop.
“I don’t understand this bit here,” Parvati says pointing at something in a book I can’t see.
“Ah, that rune… shizra, its conjugation depends entirely on context, that’s why you’re getting confused.” Hermione flipped to a page towards the back of the book. “Here, this is the form sheet for it, see this little curl on the end there, that’s the only difference. Based on your usage you wanted a downward curve, not a straight line like you’ve got here.”
Parvati gave a great sigh, “Ugh, why did I take runes.”
“Because it’s a very useful course. Besides, you’re getting it, it’s just practice, and knowing where to look things up quickly.”
“I never would have made it through this class with out you.”
I watched a small purple bug crawl up the spine of a book called Necromancy: For Fun and Profit by Risigan Dover. I stared at it briefly just to make sure it wasn’t another spy like Rita Skeeter, but there were no odd markings and it behaved rather bug like.
“Oh please, you’re smarter than you give yourself credit for.”
Parvati laughed, “Well, I suppose if I didn’t let Lavender distract me so much, actually school work has gotten a lot easier the less time I spend with her…” she trailed off, sounding a bit guilty for speaking about her best friend like that, “I mean, I love her to death, but… her and Ron are so gross.”
“I caught them snogging just this morning, both late for first bell. I didn’t have a class so I was doing rounds.”
“Serves them right, carrying on like that, like they discovered kissing. It’s gotten so bad I don’t spend time with Lavender when Ron’s around anymore. Did you tell them off?”
“Detention, with Filtch tonight.”
“That’s it? I’d have given them a week, considering how Ron’s treated you.
Hermione humphed, and I noticed someone walking through the stacks nearby, but not near enough to over-hear.
“What?” Parvati asked.
“I’m… I’m over it. I really am.”
Patil sounded shocked, “What happened?”
“Prefect meeting on the train ride here. I tried to talk to him, and he wouldn’t even look at me. Just told me to ‘mind my own business’.”
“That tosser.”
Hermione shrugged, “Ron… is not a very good friend.” I couldn’t help but frown, Hermione sounded so sad, and I had a lot to empathize about. Ronald had been my childhood crush (well, one of them). He was the neighbor boy you know, but he always thought I was weird, and though I had hoped he might have grown out of his closed-mindedness, when I joined the D.A. and had an excuse to be around him again, I saw that he had not, and was sad for a while.
Hermione continued, “Well, that’s not entirely fair, Ron was a good friend. Doing rounds with him last year was… fun. He made it fun, made me laugh. Harry was so moody and angry all last year, and the world was so dark, Ron was just kind of, bright you know? I needed that, I wanted that. Not anymore. And you know what else?”
“What?”
“Maybe I was blinded by my crush-“
“He is tall, and built,” Parvati interrupted and I swear I could hear Hermione’s eye roll.
“Either way, maybe I was willing to over look it before, but he’s such a fair-weather friend to Harry, who is the kindest, warmest, most earnestly passionate person I’ve ever known, and he deserves better.”
“Hmmmmmmm,” Parvati hummed to herself.
“What?” Hermione asked.
“So really,” Parvati started in a teasing tone, “When you say you’re over it, you’re really just saying now you’ve got a crush on your other oldest friend.” Hermione must have blushed because Parvati immediately added in a shout whisper, “I knew it! Wait… no! You’ve already-”
“Shut up!”
“You and Potter!? No way! No bleeding way!”
“Language, and no-“
“Don’t bother denying it, I can see it in your eyes!”
Hermione must have buried her face in her hands because her next words came out muffled, “promise you won’t tell anyone. ANYONE!”
Parvati squealed, “Only if you tell me everything you dirty slag, now spill!”
I smiled to myself walking away, if Hermione had planned that she was more subtle than I gave her credit for, but more likely Parvati was just really good at digging gossip out of people. She would make a talented reporter, perhaps I should offer her an internship when I’m older. Regardless, Hermione now had a perfect in to bring up the Coven. I don’t know Parvati anymore than the next D.A. regular, but apparently Hermione and her were closer than I realized.
Hmmmmmm, I wonder if her sister is also bisexual. Hehehehe, twins.
At lunch I made sure to catch Greengrass’ eye a few times and smile at her. She did nothing to indicate whether she had noticed or not, but I think she did.
So many people think they are alone in the world, feel disconnected. I’m not sure how that can be. Even I, who spends much of my time alone, never truly feel alone. I’m surrounded by energy, and magic, and if you know even one person, you’re connected to everyone, because that person knows people, and those people know people, like a big intersecting map.
Order in chaos.
It’s momentary, like a shifting fractal, spiraling out and in, infinite splits and permutations. Every once in a while everything shifts in a way that makes sense. For a brief moment, the world is clear and orderly, and in a flash everything dissolves into a reeling mess I can’t make heads or tails of.
People are like that. It seems like everyone is random, but they’re not. People are terribly predictable creatures. Even those like me, who try actively not to be, in the end we are.
Simple action and reaction.
Cause and effect.
It doesn’t take much either to push things one way or the other. A word here and there, or a quiet reminder. I solemnly swear not to use my powers for evil.
Promise.
Really.
I might be a bit selfish though.
Anyone could do it really, spend enough time watching other people and you’ll see the patterns for yourself.
For example. Draco Malfoy used to hold all the power in Slytherin. It was obvious the way people acted around him. Among his peers he was untouchable thanks to his father. This is true no longer. His peers circle him like wolves about to feast, waiting for a moment of weakness. Perhaps if Malfoy hadn’t been so reserved and withdrawn this year, no longer flaunting his power things would have progressed faster, but either way the pecking order amongst the purest of the pure has changed.
There is now a power vacuum.
There exists three boys (Slytherin is so misogynistic isn’t it?) with the necessary requirements to fill this position. The first is Travis Runcorn. His father is a pure-blooded high ranking official in the ministry, married to a pure-blood wife with impeccable pedigree, with old money. However, he’s also a seventh year, so his time is almost up. Also, his father is a “reformed” Death Eater, and one of the principle conspirators in the Minister’s Goblin Pie Scheme.
The second is Blaise Zabini. He doesn’t come from old money, but his late father was from a rather old family (which is why the name was kept through two later marriages). His mother however, while a pure-blood of no note, is incredibly wealthy, and has a vast network of connections. He is also interesting because I don’t believe he has any ties to the Death Eaters.
The third is Theodore Nott. Old money. His father is in He Who Must Not Be Named’s inner circle (Harry named him two years ago). Mother and Father both members of the Wizengamot. He’s also… somewhat scary. A bit overly thin with an angry face. He scowls at everyone. Never speaks up in class. He’s bullied me a few times. I don’t like him, and unfortunately he’s the most likely contender.
The other boys in his year defer to him the same way they used to defer to Malfoy now.
One of the most important things with these kinds of power plays is image. Malfoy had Parkinson, attractive enough, pure-blooded, and a consummate socialite, but she was tainted now by association. This means that if any of the other boys want to make a move to replace Malfoy, they’ll need a trophy girlfriend of their own, and because they are “pure-blooded and proud of it” nothing less than an official contract between families will do.
Neither of the boys has a betrothed currently.
Based on observational data Theodore Nott fancies Daphne Greengrass. (see where I’m going with this?)
When a new betrothal contract goes out it’s big news, because most people don’t bother with them anymore. It’s become the purview of only the social elite. Additionally, when a new contract is formed, official letters from the Ministry go out to all parties associated with the contract.
I’ve been waiting weeks for Greengrass to get hers.
I’ve found my book. Guide to Advanced Occlumency by Maxwell Bernett. Opening the book I listen to the song of the creaking leather and take a big wonderful sniff of the old paper and glue. I shudder, it is one of my favorite smells.
Incidentally I’ve always felt very at home in Ravenclaw. The Sorting Hat thought I would be happier in Hufflepuff, and he was probably right.
Contradictions.
I sit at the Gryffindor table for dinner, and am surrounded by love. Harry sits across from me sandwiched by Hermione and Ginny. Parvati has joined and sits across from Hermione throwing her knowing looks which slowly transform to confused, then calculating when she sees how Harry and Ginny are also acting.
They are not as subtle as they probably think they are. That Ginny’s hand has been on Harry’s leg the entire meal is obvious. The game of footsie that Harry and Hermione are playing is less obvious, but still noticeable. Whatever jealousy that had existed before seemed to be gone for the moment.
Harry seemed genuinely embarrassed by what was happening, but was no less enthusiastic for it, though he adopted a deer in lumos look every time we made eye contact and I licked my lips.
During dessert I had a slice of rhubarb pie, and kept stealing bits of whipped cream off the top with my finger to suck on. Harry noticed every time and once when we made eye contact he held it. I reached out with my bare foot underneath the table and traced the bulge in his trousers. He jumped and squeaked. When Ginny and Hermione realized what had happened Hermione rolled her eyes and smiled at the same time, and Ginny could barely control her laughter. It is this moment I know I am completely included.
Poor Harry getting ganged up on like that.
I relish the warm swelling feeling in my chest.
Parvati really is quite beautiful. I hope Hermione wins her over to the cause.
After dinner it is unstated yet clear to me that Harry, Hermione, and Ginny are all going to go back to Gabrielle’s room. With the slightest head movement Harry indicates that I am also invited (we must maintain secrecy at all times not only because keeping it secret makes everything that much hotter, but also because it’s illegal or whatever.)
When we get there Harry is greeted by Gabrielle with a warm kiss, then Ginny, then Hermione. By this time Harry is laughing and Ginny is rolling her eyes. Gabrielle approaches me and I hold out my arms.
She laughs merrily pulling me into a warm hug and giving me a chaste kiss, too short for my taste, but I understand it is meant as an introduction.
The conversation begins with a group commiseration over the deluge of homework they have been given.
I often have trouble following conversations with lots of people. It’s a bit like a Quidditch match. I try and follow things but get lost on a tangent in my own head and suddenly the subject has changed with out my notice. More often than not when I do have something to say I feel a bit like a commentator.
I wonder if they’ll let me commentate a Quidditch match again?
It takes me a moment to figure out whats being talked about now. Ah, we’re discussing Parvati. Apparently Hermione had only gone so far as to intimate that she and Harry were in a casual relationship which occasionally included Gabrielle, so the groundwork was laid so to speak, with Parvati’s crush on Harry as the lure.
I can’t help but picture Parvati and her sister together, and I briefly consider suggesting Padme, but then I remember the time I asked Fred and George if they’ve ever done anything together and they got a bit queasy and said, “That’s just not on Luna.” “Yeah, wrong that is.”
It took me a moment to realize Hermione was speaking to me, “Luna… Luna?”
“Yes Hermione? Sorry, got a bit lost just now.”
She hesitated less than usual, good. “Right, I was wondering if you’d made any progress on your mystery girl?”
“Oh yes,” I said smiling, “I should be able to invite her any day now.”
Harry was smiling at me the way he always does. Quietly amused by my oddness, but I can tell it is appreciative not mean spirited. It’s always appreciative with Harry. I know he does not believe the things I believe, but he’s also never insisted that they do not.
“Are you waiting on something in particular?” Harry asked.
“A letter,” I reply simply.
The conversation moves on with out me.
I think about an article in the latest Quibbler about Minister Scrimgeour. Apparently he is in a secret alliance with the Goblins and is planning to overthrow the ministry any day now.
I start paying attention to the conversation again when sex is mentioned. Apparently Hermione has been missing Harry over break and Ginny spent the night with him and Gabrielle yesterday (wish I had been there). Ginny frowns for a moment, clouded my nargles so I move over to sit in her laps to clear them away, “Silly, it’s not like we have to leave, lets watch and snog.”
Ginny laughs brightly, smiling at me and I remember back when we were little and she made me dress up as Harry to practice getting married. I think about mentioning this, but realize that doing so will probably embarrass Ginny, so I’ll just tell Harry later when we’re alone.
Hermione seems a little uncomfortable at having an audience, but has the look of someone who’s not going to let that affect them.
Ginny starts fondling me, hesitant and nervous, so I sigh and reach my arms above our heads, but it is Harry starring at us that emboldens her.
Once Ginny starts showing off for Harry her shyness disappears and her hands smooth over my front. Soon she has forgotten that she has an audience and seems fascinated by my form. I feel her nipples, hard against my back. Wanting to make sure Ginny knows I have no barriers at this moment I unbutton the waist on my skirt. I arch my neck and whisper in Ginny’s ear, “I’m not wearing underwear, but I don’t want Harry to see me naked yet.”
Ginny whispers,” alright,” and her face is buried in my neck kissing up it while one hand reaches past the waist of my skirt to trace over my slit, the other hand reaching up under my shirt to palm one of my tiny breasts and play at the nipple. Ginny whispers in my ear again, “I was touching Gabrielle like this last night, I didn’t get a chance to finish, Harry kind of blind-sided me.”
“Yes,” I hiss has the tip of a finger finds my clit at the same time she pinches a nipple, “he does that.”
Suddenly we are kissing, hot and wet. Ginny’s tongue is as fierce as the rest of her, and I don’t have the desire nor patience to try and wrestle her so I simply allow her to plunder my mouth. It is heavenly and had there not been a show forming before us I would have been disappointed when it ended.
Hermione has Harry tied to the bed, spread eagle, wrists and ankles to the four poster poles and Gabrielle naked and… is that a leash attached to her rather magnificent emerald collar?
It is! How delightfully kinky.
Oh my I think to myself, she wears that collar constantly now… isn’t that a rather bold statement.
The beginnings of an idea form in the back of my mind, oh but I am so loath to give up my radish earrings.
Ginny’s fingers dip into me slowly and deliciously and my mind is silenced.
Hermione has kept some of her clothes on, white shirt on but unbuttoned, and no skirt, just knickers. Fancy and lacy, dark purple. They are the smallest knickers I have ever seen, Muggle fashion no doubt. The back of them even disappears into the crack of her bum. How uncomfortable must that be? I don’t even like wearing knickers, period.
Well, sometimes I have to, but I’m always really itchy.
“Get him hard,” Hermione says in her lecture voice. It’s a command, and she gives just enough slack on the leash for Gabrielle slips her lips over the end of his cock, sucking and tonguing,
“Wont take much,” Harry says jokingly.
“That’s enough,” Hermione pulls back. Harry moaning at the loss, “And don’t make me gag you,” Hermione adds teasingly.
Ginny’s fingers in me speed up and I’m breathless and squirming.
“Get his bollocks,” She says directing Gabrielle’s mouth down past Harry’s cock, “I want to see lots of spit,” Hermione warns before sucking on Harry. She deliberate goes slow as opposed to Gabrielle’s frantic actions. Harry’s moans are strangled and raw and I feel heat pool deep in me.
Harry arches in his bonds and his breathing speeds up and just before he is about to climax Hermione pulls away dragging Gabrielle with her.
“Fuck!” Harry swears loudly.
Hermione gets up, “Gabrielle, put your fanny over his face and your face over his cock. Don’t let him touch you. Keep him hard.” She walks over to us, face flushed, and wild eyed unable to wipe the smile from her face. “Ginny can I borrow your underwear?”
“Sure,” she says brightly. Frustrated (I was getting so close!) I get up so Ginny can remove her knickers. They are plain white boy shorts and soaking wet. Before we sit back down I widen the squashy chair we’re using so we can lie side by side reaching into each others skirts to pleasure the other. I want to kiss but I want to watch more.
Hermione rolls Ginny’s knickers into a ball and stuffs them in Harry’s mouth. Harry’s eye’s shoot to Ginny and he blushes. Ginny blows him a kiss with her free hand. When Hermione gets back to Harry and Gabrielle she sits near Harry’s head, grabs Gabrielle and roughly fingers her right over Harry’s face until she is coming, juices streaming over Harry’s face.
Ginny comes suddenly stifling her scream by biting her fist. I let my fingers slow and then remove them from her, spreading around the moisture there, playing with the sensitive skin near and around her sex.
Hermione, pushing Gabrielle aside and pulling the knickers from Harry’s mouth, sits astride his face pulling her own knickers aside just enough to give Harry access. She cries out. “Get that tongue in there!” she shouts grinding in little circles against his face moaning louder and louder a constant stream of cursing and directions leaving her mouth. She comes almost silently, shuddering and then a long wavering groan/sigh. She moves off Harry gingerly and checks that she didn’t hurt him before shoving the knickers back in his mouth.
“Cuddle him, wrap a leg and arm around him, kiss his neck and chest,” she speaks to Gabrielle who does so. Hermione moves down and lies on her stomach between Harry’s legs to regard his cock. It is hard and throbbing in the air, over and over; and there is a large pool of pre-come on Harry’s abdomen with one long string connecting to the tip of his cock.
Hermione takes the tip of one finger and gently presses Harry’s cock flat against him. Even with this small movement Harry cries out, sounding pained and desperate. His hands are shaking and pulling against his restraints. With the other hand Hermione scoops Harry’s pre-come off his stomach and onto his cock, spreading it out. She does this very slowly and gently and Harry can no longer keep quiet. Gabrielle is in a similar state and struggles and fails to keep digging her nails into Harry’s chest. I’m not sure Harry can even notice her nails right now.
When Harry’s cock is covered evenly to Hermione’s satisfaction she slowly lets it bend back upwards, then slides forward wrapping her bountiful tits around it. Harry mumbles something that I’m pretty sure is, “You’ve got to be kidding me”.
She fucks him slow with her breasts, taking pride in every twitch and groan, cooing to him, comforting him, telling him ‘I know, Harry I know, it’s soooo hard, and my tits feel soooo good don’t they? You just want to explode all over them don’t you?”
Harry nods.
Hermione pulls away, “not yet.”
Harry’s head flops to the bed and a stream of frustrated unintelligibly muffled curses follows.
After a few seconds just as he’s starting to go soft Hermione grabs Harry’s cock firmly and jerks him, fast and smooth. After only a few seconds Harry is breathing hard through his nose and chanting, “please”.
Hermione stops again.
“FUCK!”
Hermione giggles and Harry glares at her, “Last one I promise,” she says lowering her face to his cock. Harry’s eyes go wide and he struggles to keep his head up to watch.
She sucks him slow and deep, gagging occasionally.
Harry is chanting again and Hermione pulls all but her tongue away, grabbing his cock from the base with her hand to keep it in place. She twirls her tongue in what appears to be random patterns but I realize is runes (she’s practicing her alphabets) against a tiny spot just beneath the tip of his cock. Harry starts to shake and pleads with her from behind his gag but Hermione is unswayed.
What must have been a million years later for Harry he is shaking and screaming, eyes screwed shut as come flies from him. I had no idea a bloke could shoot that far. He fairly coats Hermione’s chest and his own, great big streams of it shooting so hard I swear I can hear it leaving him.
Watching Harry come undoes me. I start to buck and Ginny reacts immediately, holding me down and fucking me hard and fast with her fingers. It is the first time another person has given me an orgasm and I am unprepared for how much better it is.
I am all giddy. Laughing at inappropriate moments, all through the next day.
Greengrass receives her official notice at breakfast the next day.
She casts a common anti-cheating jinx to make anyone at an angle see nothing but a blank page and reads. By the end her face is ashen. She speaks quietly to Tracey beside her before getting up and leaving the great hall. A few moments later I get up to follow her. She walks aimlessly towards the lake, skirting around until spotting the Giant Squid. She pulls a piece of toast from her robes and tosses it into the lake. A lone purple-blue tentacle breaks the water to snatch the toast from the surface. A moment later the tentacle returns to wave once in thanks before disappearing back below the murky water.
Greengrass moves on, walking listlessly. She walks to the edge of the Forbidden Forrest and stands for a moment peering inside. This early in the day the forrest looks far less forbidding. She shrugs after a moment and walks in. The first fallen log she finds, she steps over and sits gently, tucking her skirt beneath her legs.
After a moment she leans over and starts to cry.
I frown. I hate seeing people in pain.
“Hello,” I say walking cautiously over the dense bed of leaves. Dense enough that it is only the occasional rock I need to worry about cutting my feet on. “Did you come here to see the Thestrals?”
“The what?” she asked runnily, the cloudy makeup she draws around her eyes is running dramatically. Any shock or embarrassment she might have felt at first is lost in her confusion.
“The Thestrals. It’s the only domesticated heard in Europe. Hagrid tends them.” I pull an apple from my pocket and toss it on the ground aways away, then sit down next to Greengrass. “They’re quite tame and kind. I even got to ride one once last year.”
Greengrass had stopped crying, “Aren’t they invisible?”
I recite the applicable passage from Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, “Thestrals appear to those who have known death, or witness the death of another.”
“Oh.”
“I can see them,” I add. She is made visibly uncomfortable by this. “Why are you crying? Can I help?”
“Wha- why would you care?” She seems genuinely confused by my offer of help, how sad.
“I hate seeing people sad,” I reply simply. I feel like I can actually see the thoughts forming in her head, she’s thinking no one talks to the little oddball Ravenclaw, so why not tell her, it’s better than telling no one since Tracey would’t understand (She’s only half-blooded, so a marriage contract isn’t something she’d ever have to deal with).
She takes the letter out of her pocket and opens it.
“That’s a betrothal contract,” I gasp, one hand flying to my mouth in mock surprise.
“You recognize this?” She asks, disbelieving.
I nod, “My family may not have any standing, but we’re pure-blood, and my father made sure to teach me the rites and rituals.”
Greengrass nods, and her expression softens, “I’m sorry I don’t know your name.”
“Luna Lovegood, you may call me Luna.”
“Daphne Greengrass, and likewise.”
We smile, but her’s looks like amusement, “You’re about to make fun of my name aren’t you?” i ask. “Most people call me Looney.”
She shakes her head, “I was thinking about your last name, must be very popular with the lads then?”
I laugh, “No, most boys think I’m too weird or strange, and besides I’m more interested in girls anyway,” I say to her, giving her some “dirt” on me (not that I’d care if people knew) but hopefully she’s more likely to open up.
She chokes, “That’s a rather bold thing to admit to someone, we just met.”
I shrug, “No boy stands anything to gain from marrying me, so why would anyone care?”
She nods, then grows visibly uncomfortable. She changes the subject, “So you know what this means then?” she asks, indicating the letter.
I nod again, “Who’s it with?”
She frowns, nearly in tears again, and bites out, loathing in her voice, “Nott. His father’s a fucking Death Eater, and my father hands me over to his son.”
“Isn’t there a love-match clause?”
She nodded, “Before I left for my first year, my Father told me that I had until graduation to find a love-match before he chose someone for me. I didn’t like it, but I accepted it. Thought I had enough time, I figured, seventh year, that’s when boys start to actually mature right? I’d pick someone then, but this new contract. I have until the end of sixth year. SIX FUCKING MONTHS!” She ended in a hiss. And that’s not the worst thing. It’s this little addendum here.” She pointed viciously, almost tearing the parchment. “… has until the end of her sixth year to choose a love-match of equal or greater standing and able to match the proposed dowry from The Most Ancient and Noble House of Nott.” She finished vehemently, throwing the contract onto the ground. “I’m fucked.” She added sourly.
“Well, not necessarily,” I said sounding like I was mulling things over.
“Who?” she asked wearily.
“Neville Longbottom.”
She frowned, “he’d never survive my father,” she replies pulling a small mirror out of her pocket. She gazes at her face and flinches, producing her wand from up lapel she starts pushing the running makeup back into place with the tip of her wand.
“What about Blaise Zabini?”
She laughs, “I heard he only likes redheads, and thus we have reached the end of available bachelors at school with equal or greater standing,” she ends in a scoff, replacing her mirror and producing another of her purple cigarettes. She lights it with the tip of her wand.
“What about the Black heir?”
She scoffs again, “if anyone even knew who that was.”
“I know who it is,” I state simply.
She whips her head to stare at me and exhales quickly, “Who?”
“Harry Potter.”
She blinks twice.
Again.
Four and five.
Then she smiles like a jungle cat, “Really?”
I nod, also smiling, but then her smile dies, “Isn’t he dating that French bird?” She rolls her eyes, “and tagging Weasley and Granger on the side no doubt.”
“Oh you have no idea,” I say teasingly, sometimes a little gossip is just what’s in order.
“What would you know about it?”
I smile knowingly and produce a piece of parchment from my bag. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything with out having you sign this oath contract.
She gazes shocked at what I’m holding, “Are you serious?” she asks.
“Deadly,” I reply going for as serious a look as possible. It’s very likely I did not do a good job because she laughs at me.
“What’s the penalty?”
“The Permanent Blistering B-Hole Boils Curse.”
She stops laughing. “That’s not something to joke about.”
“I’m not joking.”
She makes a loud dismissive noise, “I’m not signing that.”
“Then your fate is sealed,” I finish ominously.
She glares at me for a bit, glances down at the contract and sighs, “The only requirement is secrecy on my part, I don’t have to do anything?”
“Absolutely nothing, the only requirement is absolute secrecy of everything I’m about to tell you except to those involved,” I say. The words I just said appear on the parchment in a tight uniform script, the phrasing automatically altered. It reads now, Those that sign this document make their solemn vow to have absolute secrecy of everything Luna Lovegood is about to tell you except to those also involved with what Luna Lovegood is about to tell you, lest you suffer the Permanent Blistering B-Hole Boils Curse.
“Fine,” she says impatiently, grabbing the contract and self inking quill I was kind enough to provide. She signs with a flourish and hands it back to me. I place the the contract and quill neatly back into my bag, “Well?” she asks shortly.
“Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, Gabrielle Delacour and I are forming a Coven. I am officially inviting you.”
Her jaw drops.
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I bet you thought I’d forget about the fish.
Nargles gargle everywhere
And nargles spit in turn
When nargles spit inside of you
Your brain will fuzz and turn
Nargles make you hate your friends
And nargles make you sad
When I see a nargle I
Wave my arms like mad
If a nargle did infect you
You must take a breath and try
to see things from another point
of view and you’ll know why
Cause when you see as the nargle does
Your path is straight and true
Cause one thing a nargle won’t ever do
Is try to lie to you
I’ve been thinking a lot about sex lately.
I’m supposed to be in History of Magic but I’ve already memorized the texts (so many inaccuracies, perhaps I’ll be given extra credit on my O.W.L. this year if I include the true answers as well. I tried once to only put the true answers, but I was given a poor mark. Most teachers seem to grade primarily based on one’s ability to memorize.) Instead of watching my class mates slowly fall asleep to Professor Binns, I am outside, near Greenhouse 2 watching bees fuck all the prettiest flowers.
I wonder what Hermione’s pistil- I mean vagina looks like?
Thinking about Hermione makes me think about Harry, and thinking about Harry makes me all warm and fuzzy feeling, low in my belly. He was the first boy to ever be nice to me. To call me friend. To make me feel included. He also has wonderful hair and lots of pretty muscles. How lucky is that? He also has oodles of other pretty girls who want to SHARE! HOW LUCKY IS THAT!?
I love my life.
This has not always been true. I wonder how long this will last, and I wonder what I can do to make sure it lasts as long as possible.
I wonder how big Harry’s cock is. I’ve heard big is supposed to be better, but I am a very small person, so I’m not sure.
Hehehehehe, stamen.
My laughter has produced odd looks from a boy and girl walking back from the forbidden forrest, also playing hooky. There’s not many people who can consistently make other laugh, but how unfunny does one need to be to not even be able to make themselves laugh, so much that they are made uncomfortable by someone by themselves laughing.
I shudder at the thought, and thank whomever is listening I am not like that.
I walk by Hagrid’s house, he is not home.
Wandering back to the castle I spy a small cat, probably someone’s pet. I follow it for a while. Cat’s are excellent at finding garden gnomes, which I am of course always on the lookout for. Their saliva has many magical properties.
The cat does not find any, and eventually disappears over a wall into the courtyard. By the time I walk around to the entrance the cat is gone, but I do spy a wisp of distinct purple smoke just visible over the wall on the other side of the courtyard.
Another quick journey and I see my quarry.
Daphne Greengrass.
She stands, leaning casually against the wall in her dark, green pipped Hogwarts robes. Her raven hair falls straight and shinning to her shoulders with sharp, even bangs across her eyes, which stare unseeing into the middle distance while she smokes what appears to be a muggle cigarette; though the smoke is purple, and rises in tight spirals. Her tie is gone, and her shirt is unbuttoned just enough to show a peak of a plain black bra. Her breasts are ample, and I cannot help but stare for a few moments before approaching her. The size of her chest and arse might have been bad on a shorter girl, but she is very tall, and much of that is her legs which she shows off with a skirt that is probably just long enough to be regulation. Her expression, as always, is calm and aloof, and belays a sense that she just doesn’t care about anything.
She is also an anomaly.
She is slytherin, and seems to glory in it as I have never not seen her wear at least some token green. She also seems to hold nothing but disdain for the rest of her house despite being the consummate pure-blood, with rich well known parents, known for playing in both the national political arena as well as the inter-house old guard societal politics. She is studious, but has never joined a study group, or any extra curricular. She does not play or watch Quidditch nor Gobstones nor Chess nor, well anything. She seems singularly uninterested in anything outside of an obvious yet understated friendship with Tracey Davis and school. She is near the top of the class, certainly the highest grade in Slytherin her year. She is popular in the way that many attractive girls are popular, in that everyone seems to know them, and most boys are interested, but no one actually wants to be her friend. She has never once said “yes” to a boy, nor gone on a date, and those that call me ‘Looney’ call her ‘Ice Queen’.
Boys like to joke that she’s never even smiled at a boy, and they call her things far worse than lesbian, but like most people, they don’t pay attention. I will admit, I have been long enamored with Miss Greengrass. She’s one of the people I enjoy starring at and I can confirm that to my knowledge she has never once smiled at a boy. She has however, smoldered.
In fact, she seems to enjoy starring at Harry as much as I do. She stares until her cheeks turn a little pink, licks her lips, then looks away. The whole thing doesn’t last three seconds. It’s not exclusive to Harry either. I’ve seen her do the same thing her friend when she’s not looking, and an older girl from Hufflepuff. Even so, I don’t understand why no one ever notices these things but me.
I think everyone rushes too much. Always scheduling and worrying about being places at certain times. Or maybe everyone is just too focused on themselves. Not always a bad thing, but too much of anything is bad for you.
I walk up to her, and stand right in front of her staring up into her eyes. She stares me back for a moment before raising a single elegant eyebrow at me.
“I just wanted to say,” I begin, “I’ve always thought you were quite beautiful.”
The second brow joins the first, and she takes a long drag on her purple cigarette, “Um… thanks?” she replies uncertainly, a large cloud of spiraling smoke rising from her mouth as she says it.
“Bye!” I say, smiling at her, with a wave. Then I walk away.
That went well.
I walk inside the castle heading towards the library. If I am lucky, I will get two things done while there.
There is an interesting portrait on the third floor, but you have to go a bit out of your way to find it, unless you’re heading to the library from Gabrielle’s room. It features a woman in a red dress seemingly being entertained by a large group of men all in suits and tails with top hats. One man, on his knees is kissing the hand of the woman, the rest crowd behind him, all reaching towards the woman as if to say they are next in line.
The woman in red plays coy, she she keeps shooting knowing glances at all the men, and blowing them kisses with her free hand, and if you go late at night, the one kissing her hand is doing far more lascivious things.
What anyone who hasn’t read Hogwarts a History doesn’t know, was that this portrait depicts one of the last legal Covens formed in Europe, and that the woman in red was Headmistress of Hogwarts from 1222 to 1263, and the men were her staff. During their time they used their Coven to add a number of protective spells to Hogwarts ground and castle that simply cannot be outdone by a single caster.
I walk through the stacks searching for my book by smell (the good ones are usually the smelliest, both as an indication of age, as well as how often they are read). Instead I find Hermione and Parvati Patil ensconced at a small table. I eavesdrop.
“I don’t understand this bit here,” Parvati says pointing at something in a book I can’t see.
“Ah, that rune… shizra, its conjugation depends entirely on context, that’s why you’re getting confused.” Hermione flipped to a page towards the back of the book. “Here, this is the form sheet for it, see this little curl on the end there, that’s the only difference. Based on your usage you wanted a downward curve, not a straight line like you’ve got here.”
Parvati gave a great sigh, “Ugh, why did I take runes.”
“Because it’s a very useful course. Besides, you’re getting it, it’s just practice, and knowing where to look things up quickly.”
“I never would have made it through this class with out you.”
I watched a small purple bug crawl up the spine of a book called Necromancy: For Fun and Profit by Risigan Dover. I stared at it briefly just to make sure it wasn’t another spy like Rita Skeeter, but there were no odd markings and it behaved rather bug like.
“Oh please, you’re smarter than you give yourself credit for.”
Parvati laughed, “Well, I suppose if I didn’t let Lavender distract me so much, actually school work has gotten a lot easier the less time I spend with her…” she trailed off, sounding a bit guilty for speaking about her best friend like that, “I mean, I love her to death, but… her and Ron are so gross.”
“I caught them snogging just this morning, both late for first bell. I didn’t have a class so I was doing rounds.”
“Serves them right, carrying on like that, like they discovered kissing. It’s gotten so bad I don’t spend time with Lavender when Ron’s around anymore. Did you tell them off?”
“Detention, with Filtch tonight.”
“That’s it? I’d have given them a week, considering how Ron’s treated you.
Hermione humphed, and I noticed someone walking through the stacks nearby, but not near enough to over-hear.
“What?” Parvati asked.
“I’m… I’m over it. I really am.”
Patil sounded shocked, “What happened?”
“Prefect meeting on the train ride here. I tried to talk to him, and he wouldn’t even look at me. Just told me to ‘mind my own business’.”
“That tosser.”
Hermione shrugged, “Ron… is not a very good friend.” I couldn’t help but frown, Hermione sounded so sad, and I had a lot to empathize about. Ronald had been my childhood crush (well, one of them). He was the neighbor boy you know, but he always thought I was weird, and though I had hoped he might have grown out of his closed-mindedness, when I joined the D.A. and had an excuse to be around him again, I saw that he had not, and was sad for a while.
Hermione continued, “Well, that’s not entirely fair, Ron was a good friend. Doing rounds with him last year was… fun. He made it fun, made me laugh. Harry was so moody and angry all last year, and the world was so dark, Ron was just kind of, bright you know? I needed that, I wanted that. Not anymore. And you know what else?”
“What?”
“Maybe I was blinded by my crush-“
“He is tall, and built,” Parvati interrupted and I swear I could hear Hermione’s eye roll.
“Either way, maybe I was willing to over look it before, but he’s such a fair-weather friend to Harry, who is the kindest, warmest, most earnestly passionate person I’ve ever known, and he deserves better.”
“Hmmmmmmm,” Parvati hummed to herself.
“What?” Hermione asked.
“So really,” Parvati started in a teasing tone, “When you say you’re over it, you’re really just saying now you’ve got a crush on your other oldest friend.” Hermione must have blushed because Parvati immediately added in a shout whisper, “I knew it! Wait… no! You’ve already-”
“Shut up!”
“You and Potter!? No way! No bleeding way!”
“Language, and no-“
“Don’t bother denying it, I can see it in your eyes!”
Hermione must have buried her face in her hands because her next words came out muffled, “promise you won’t tell anyone. ANYONE!”
Parvati squealed, “Only if you tell me everything you dirty slag, now spill!”
I smiled to myself walking away, if Hermione had planned that she was more subtle than I gave her credit for, but more likely Parvati was just really good at digging gossip out of people. She would make a talented reporter, perhaps I should offer her an internship when I’m older. Regardless, Hermione now had a perfect in to bring up the Coven. I don’t know Parvati anymore than the next D.A. regular, but apparently Hermione and her were closer than I realized.
Hmmmmmm, I wonder if her sister is also bisexual. Hehehehe, twins.
At lunch I made sure to catch Greengrass’ eye a few times and smile at her. She did nothing to indicate whether she had noticed or not, but I think she did.
So many people think they are alone in the world, feel disconnected. I’m not sure how that can be. Even I, who spends much of my time alone, never truly feel alone. I’m surrounded by energy, and magic, and if you know even one person, you’re connected to everyone, because that person knows people, and those people know people, like a big intersecting map.
Order in chaos.
It’s momentary, like a shifting fractal, spiraling out and in, infinite splits and permutations. Every once in a while everything shifts in a way that makes sense. For a brief moment, the world is clear and orderly, and in a flash everything dissolves into a reeling mess I can’t make heads or tails of.
People are like that. It seems like everyone is random, but they’re not. People are terribly predictable creatures. Even those like me, who try actively not to be, in the end we are.
Simple action and reaction.
Cause and effect.
It doesn’t take much either to push things one way or the other. A word here and there, or a quiet reminder. I solemnly swear not to use my powers for evil.
Promise.
Really.
I might be a bit selfish though.
Anyone could do it really, spend enough time watching other people and you’ll see the patterns for yourself.
For example. Draco Malfoy used to hold all the power in Slytherin. It was obvious the way people acted around him. Among his peers he was untouchable thanks to his father. This is true no longer. His peers circle him like wolves about to feast, waiting for a moment of weakness. Perhaps if Malfoy hadn’t been so reserved and withdrawn this year, no longer flaunting his power things would have progressed faster, but either way the pecking order amongst the purest of the pure has changed.
There is now a power vacuum.
There exists three boys (Slytherin is so misogynistic isn’t it?) with the necessary requirements to fill this position. The first is Travis Runcorn. His father is a pure-blooded high ranking official in the ministry, married to a pure-blood wife with impeccable pedigree, with old money. However, he’s also a seventh year, so his time is almost up. Also, his father is a “reformed” Death Eater, and one of the principle conspirators in the Minister’s Goblin Pie Scheme.
The second is Blaise Zabini. He doesn’t come from old money, but his late father was from a rather old family (which is why the name was kept through two later marriages). His mother however, while a pure-blood of no note, is incredibly wealthy, and has a vast network of connections. He is also interesting because I don’t believe he has any ties to the Death Eaters.
The third is Theodore Nott. Old money. His father is in He Who Must Not Be Named’s inner circle (Harry named him two years ago). Mother and Father both members of the Wizengamot. He’s also… somewhat scary. A bit overly thin with an angry face. He scowls at everyone. Never speaks up in class. He’s bullied me a few times. I don’t like him, and unfortunately he’s the most likely contender.
The other boys in his year defer to him the same way they used to defer to Malfoy now.
One of the most important things with these kinds of power plays is image. Malfoy had Parkinson, attractive enough, pure-blooded, and a consummate socialite, but she was tainted now by association. This means that if any of the other boys want to make a move to replace Malfoy, they’ll need a trophy girlfriend of their own, and because they are “pure-blooded and proud of it” nothing less than an official contract between families will do.
Neither of the boys has a betrothed currently.
Based on observational data Theodore Nott fancies Daphne Greengrass. (see where I’m going with this?)
When a new betrothal contract goes out it’s big news, because most people don’t bother with them anymore. It’s become the purview of only the social elite. Additionally, when a new contract is formed, official letters from the Ministry go out to all parties associated with the contract.
I’ve been waiting weeks for Greengrass to get hers.
I’ve found my book. Guide to Advanced Occlumency by Maxwell Bernett. Opening the book I listen to the song of the creaking leather and take a big wonderful sniff of the old paper and glue. I shudder, it is one of my favorite smells.
Incidentally I’ve always felt very at home in Ravenclaw. The Sorting Hat thought I would be happier in Hufflepuff, and he was probably right.
Contradictions.
I sit at the Gryffindor table for dinner, and am surrounded by love. Harry sits across from me sandwiched by Hermione and Ginny. Parvati has joined and sits across from Hermione throwing her knowing looks which slowly transform to confused, then calculating when she sees how Harry and Ginny are also acting.
They are not as subtle as they probably think they are. That Ginny’s hand has been on Harry’s leg the entire meal is obvious. The game of footsie that Harry and Hermione are playing is less obvious, but still noticeable. Whatever jealousy that had existed before seemed to be gone for the moment.
Harry seemed genuinely embarrassed by what was happening, but was no less enthusiastic for it, though he adopted a deer in lumos look every time we made eye contact and I licked my lips.
During dessert I had a slice of rhubarb pie, and kept stealing bits of whipped cream off the top with my finger to suck on. Harry noticed every time and once when we made eye contact he held it. I reached out with my bare foot underneath the table and traced the bulge in his trousers. He jumped and squeaked. When Ginny and Hermione realized what had happened Hermione rolled her eyes and smiled at the same time, and Ginny could barely control her laughter. It is this moment I know I am completely included.
Poor Harry getting ganged up on like that.
I relish the warm swelling feeling in my chest.
Parvati really is quite beautiful. I hope Hermione wins her over to the cause.
After dinner it is unstated yet clear to me that Harry, Hermione, and Ginny are all going to go back to Gabrielle’s room. With the slightest head movement Harry indicates that I am also invited (we must maintain secrecy at all times not only because keeping it secret makes everything that much hotter, but also because it’s illegal or whatever.)
When we get there Harry is greeted by Gabrielle with a warm kiss, then Ginny, then Hermione. By this time Harry is laughing and Ginny is rolling her eyes. Gabrielle approaches me and I hold out my arms.
She laughs merrily pulling me into a warm hug and giving me a chaste kiss, too short for my taste, but I understand it is meant as an introduction.
The conversation begins with a group commiseration over the deluge of homework they have been given.
I often have trouble following conversations with lots of people. It’s a bit like a Quidditch match. I try and follow things but get lost on a tangent in my own head and suddenly the subject has changed with out my notice. More often than not when I do have something to say I feel a bit like a commentator.
I wonder if they’ll let me commentate a Quidditch match again?
It takes me a moment to figure out whats being talked about now. Ah, we’re discussing Parvati. Apparently Hermione had only gone so far as to intimate that she and Harry were in a casual relationship which occasionally included Gabrielle, so the groundwork was laid so to speak, with Parvati’s crush on Harry as the lure.
I can’t help but picture Parvati and her sister together, and I briefly consider suggesting Padme, but then I remember the time I asked Fred and George if they’ve ever done anything together and they got a bit queasy and said, “That’s just not on Luna.” “Yeah, wrong that is.”
It took me a moment to realize Hermione was speaking to me, “Luna… Luna?”
“Yes Hermione? Sorry, got a bit lost just now.”
She hesitated less than usual, good. “Right, I was wondering if you’d made any progress on your mystery girl?”
“Oh yes,” I said smiling, “I should be able to invite her any day now.”
Harry was smiling at me the way he always does. Quietly amused by my oddness, but I can tell it is appreciative not mean spirited. It’s always appreciative with Harry. I know he does not believe the things I believe, but he’s also never insisted that they do not.
“Are you waiting on something in particular?” Harry asked.
“A letter,” I reply simply.
The conversation moves on with out me.
I think about an article in the latest Quibbler about Minister Scrimgeour. Apparently he is in a secret alliance with the Goblins and is planning to overthrow the ministry any day now.
I start paying attention to the conversation again when sex is mentioned. Apparently Hermione has been missing Harry over break and Ginny spent the night with him and Gabrielle yesterday (wish I had been there). Ginny frowns for a moment, clouded my nargles so I move over to sit in her laps to clear them away, “Silly, it’s not like we have to leave, lets watch and snog.”
Ginny laughs brightly, smiling at me and I remember back when we were little and she made me dress up as Harry to practice getting married. I think about mentioning this, but realize that doing so will probably embarrass Ginny, so I’ll just tell Harry later when we’re alone.
Hermione seems a little uncomfortable at having an audience, but has the look of someone who’s not going to let that affect them.
Ginny starts fondling me, hesitant and nervous, so I sigh and reach my arms above our heads, but it is Harry starring at us that emboldens her.
Once Ginny starts showing off for Harry her shyness disappears and her hands smooth over my front. Soon she has forgotten that she has an audience and seems fascinated by my form. I feel her nipples, hard against my back. Wanting to make sure Ginny knows I have no barriers at this moment I unbutton the waist on my skirt. I arch my neck and whisper in Ginny’s ear, “I’m not wearing underwear, but I don’t want Harry to see me naked yet.”
Ginny whispers,” alright,” and her face is buried in my neck kissing up it while one hand reaches past the waist of my skirt to trace over my slit, the other hand reaching up under my shirt to palm one of my tiny breasts and play at the nipple. Ginny whispers in my ear again, “I was touching Gabrielle like this last night, I didn’t get a chance to finish, Harry kind of blind-sided me.”
“Yes,” I hiss has the tip of a finger finds my clit at the same time she pinches a nipple, “he does that.”
Suddenly we are kissing, hot and wet. Ginny’s tongue is as fierce as the rest of her, and I don’t have the desire nor patience to try and wrestle her so I simply allow her to plunder my mouth. It is heavenly and had there not been a show forming before us I would have been disappointed when it ended.
Hermione has Harry tied to the bed, spread eagle, wrists and ankles to the four poster poles and Gabrielle naked and… is that a leash attached to her rather magnificent emerald collar?
It is! How delightfully kinky.
Oh my I think to myself, she wears that collar constantly now… isn’t that a rather bold statement.
The beginnings of an idea form in the back of my mind, oh but I am so loath to give up my radish earrings.
Ginny’s fingers dip into me slowly and deliciously and my mind is silenced.
Hermione has kept some of her clothes on, white shirt on but unbuttoned, and no skirt, just knickers. Fancy and lacy, dark purple. They are the smallest knickers I have ever seen, Muggle fashion no doubt. The back of them even disappears into the crack of her bum. How uncomfortable must that be? I don’t even like wearing knickers, period.
Well, sometimes I have to, but I’m always really itchy.
“Get him hard,” Hermione says in her lecture voice. It’s a command, and she gives just enough slack on the leash for Gabrielle slips her lips over the end of his cock, sucking and tonguing,
“Wont take much,” Harry says jokingly.
“That’s enough,” Hermione pulls back. Harry moaning at the loss, “And don’t make me gag you,” Hermione adds teasingly.
Ginny’s fingers in me speed up and I’m breathless and squirming.
“Get his bollocks,” She says directing Gabrielle’s mouth down past Harry’s cock, “I want to see lots of spit,” Hermione warns before sucking on Harry. She deliberate goes slow as opposed to Gabrielle’s frantic actions. Harry’s moans are strangled and raw and I feel heat pool deep in me.
Harry arches in his bonds and his breathing speeds up and just before he is about to climax Hermione pulls away dragging Gabrielle with her.
“Fuck!” Harry swears loudly.
Hermione gets up, “Gabrielle, put your fanny over his face and your face over his cock. Don’t let him touch you. Keep him hard.” She walks over to us, face flushed, and wild eyed unable to wipe the smile from her face. “Ginny can I borrow your underwear?”
“Sure,” she says brightly. Frustrated (I was getting so close!) I get up so Ginny can remove her knickers. They are plain white boy shorts and soaking wet. Before we sit back down I widen the squashy chair we’re using so we can lie side by side reaching into each others skirts to pleasure the other. I want to kiss but I want to watch more.
Hermione rolls Ginny’s knickers into a ball and stuffs them in Harry’s mouth. Harry’s eye’s shoot to Ginny and he blushes. Ginny blows him a kiss with her free hand. When Hermione gets back to Harry and Gabrielle she sits near Harry’s head, grabs Gabrielle and roughly fingers her right over Harry’s face until she is coming, juices streaming over Harry’s face.
Ginny comes suddenly stifling her scream by biting her fist. I let my fingers slow and then remove them from her, spreading around the moisture there, playing with the sensitive skin near and around her sex.
Hermione, pushing Gabrielle aside and pulling the knickers from Harry’s mouth, sits astride his face pulling her own knickers aside just enough to give Harry access. She cries out. “Get that tongue in there!” she shouts grinding in little circles against his face moaning louder and louder a constant stream of cursing and directions leaving her mouth. She comes almost silently, shuddering and then a long wavering groan/sigh. She moves off Harry gingerly and checks that she didn’t hurt him before shoving the knickers back in his mouth.
“Cuddle him, wrap a leg and arm around him, kiss his neck and chest,” she speaks to Gabrielle who does so. Hermione moves down and lies on her stomach between Harry’s legs to regard his cock. It is hard and throbbing in the air, over and over; and there is a large pool of pre-come on Harry’s abdomen with one long string connecting to the tip of his cock.
Hermione takes the tip of one finger and gently presses Harry’s cock flat against him. Even with this small movement Harry cries out, sounding pained and desperate. His hands are shaking and pulling against his restraints. With the other hand Hermione scoops Harry’s pre-come off his stomach and onto his cock, spreading it out. She does this very slowly and gently and Harry can no longer keep quiet. Gabrielle is in a similar state and struggles and fails to keep digging her nails into Harry’s chest. I’m not sure Harry can even notice her nails right now.
When Harry’s cock is covered evenly to Hermione’s satisfaction she slowly lets it bend back upwards, then slides forward wrapping her bountiful tits around it. Harry mumbles something that I’m pretty sure is, “You’ve got to be kidding me”.
She fucks him slow with her breasts, taking pride in every twitch and groan, cooing to him, comforting him, telling him ‘I know, Harry I know, it’s soooo hard, and my tits feel soooo good don’t they? You just want to explode all over them don’t you?”
Harry nods.
Hermione pulls away, “not yet.”
Harry’s head flops to the bed and a stream of frustrated unintelligibly muffled curses follows.
After a few seconds just as he’s starting to go soft Hermione grabs Harry’s cock firmly and jerks him, fast and smooth. After only a few seconds Harry is breathing hard through his nose and chanting, “please”.
Hermione stops again.
“FUCK!”
Hermione giggles and Harry glares at her, “Last one I promise,” she says lowering her face to his cock. Harry’s eyes go wide and he struggles to keep his head up to watch.
She sucks him slow and deep, gagging occasionally.
Harry is chanting again and Hermione pulls all but her tongue away, grabbing his cock from the base with her hand to keep it in place. She twirls her tongue in what appears to be random patterns but I realize is runes (she’s practicing her alphabets) against a tiny spot just beneath the tip of his cock. Harry starts to shake and pleads with her from behind his gag but Hermione is unswayed.
What must have been a million years later for Harry he is shaking and screaming, eyes screwed shut as come flies from him. I had no idea a bloke could shoot that far. He fairly coats Hermione’s chest and his own, great big streams of it shooting so hard I swear I can hear it leaving him.
Watching Harry come undoes me. I start to buck and Ginny reacts immediately, holding me down and fucking me hard and fast with her fingers. It is the first time another person has given me an orgasm and I am unprepared for how much better it is.
I am all giddy. Laughing at inappropriate moments, all through the next day.
Greengrass receives her official notice at breakfast the next day.
She casts a common anti-cheating jinx to make anyone at an angle see nothing but a blank page and reads. By the end her face is ashen. She speaks quietly to Tracey beside her before getting up and leaving the great hall. A few moments later I get up to follow her. She walks aimlessly towards the lake, skirting around until spotting the Giant Squid. She pulls a piece of toast from her robes and tosses it into the lake. A lone purple-blue tentacle breaks the water to snatch the toast from the surface. A moment later the tentacle returns to wave once in thanks before disappearing back below the murky water.
Greengrass moves on, walking listlessly. She walks to the edge of the Forbidden Forrest and stands for a moment peering inside. This early in the day the forrest looks far less forbidding. She shrugs after a moment and walks in. The first fallen log she finds, she steps over and sits gently, tucking her skirt beneath her legs.
After a moment she leans over and starts to cry.
I frown. I hate seeing people in pain.
“Hello,” I say walking cautiously over the dense bed of leaves. Dense enough that it is only the occasional rock I need to worry about cutting my feet on. “Did you come here to see the Thestrals?”
“The what?” she asked runnily, the cloudy makeup she draws around her eyes is running dramatically. Any shock or embarrassment she might have felt at first is lost in her confusion.
“The Thestrals. It’s the only domesticated heard in Europe. Hagrid tends them.” I pull an apple from my pocket and toss it on the ground aways away, then sit down next to Greengrass. “They’re quite tame and kind. I even got to ride one once last year.”
Greengrass had stopped crying, “Aren’t they invisible?”
I recite the applicable passage from Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, “Thestrals appear to those who have known death, or witness the death of another.”
“Oh.”
“I can see them,” I add. She is made visibly uncomfortable by this. “Why are you crying? Can I help?”
“Wha- why would you care?” She seems genuinely confused by my offer of help, how sad.
“I hate seeing people sad,” I reply simply. I feel like I can actually see the thoughts forming in her head, she’s thinking no one talks to the little oddball Ravenclaw, so why not tell her, it’s better than telling no one since Tracey would’t understand (She’s only half-blooded, so a marriage contract isn’t something she’d ever have to deal with).
She takes the letter out of her pocket and opens it.
“That’s a betrothal contract,” I gasp, one hand flying to my mouth in mock surprise.
“You recognize this?” She asks, disbelieving.
I nod, “My family may not have any standing, but we’re pure-blood, and my father made sure to teach me the rites and rituals.”
Greengrass nods, and her expression softens, “I’m sorry I don’t know your name.”
“Luna Lovegood, you may call me Luna.”
“Daphne Greengrass, and likewise.”
We smile, but her’s looks like amusement, “You’re about to make fun of my name aren’t you?” i ask. “Most people call me Looney.”
She shakes her head, “I was thinking about your last name, must be very popular with the lads then?”
I laugh, “No, most boys think I’m too weird or strange, and besides I’m more interested in girls anyway,” I say to her, giving her some “dirt” on me (not that I’d care if people knew) but hopefully she’s more likely to open up.
She chokes, “That’s a rather bold thing to admit to someone, we just met.”
I shrug, “No boy stands anything to gain from marrying me, so why would anyone care?”
She nods, then grows visibly uncomfortable. She changes the subject, “So you know what this means then?” she asks, indicating the letter.
I nod again, “Who’s it with?”
She frowns, nearly in tears again, and bites out, loathing in her voice, “Nott. His father’s a fucking Death Eater, and my father hands me over to his son.”
“Isn’t there a love-match clause?”
She nodded, “Before I left for my first year, my Father told me that I had until graduation to find a love-match before he chose someone for me. I didn’t like it, but I accepted it. Thought I had enough time, I figured, seventh year, that’s when boys start to actually mature right? I’d pick someone then, but this new contract. I have until the end of sixth year. SIX FUCKING MONTHS!” She ended in a hiss. And that’s not the worst thing. It’s this little addendum here.” She pointed viciously, almost tearing the parchment. “… has until the end of her sixth year to choose a love-match of equal or greater standing and able to match the proposed dowry from The Most Ancient and Noble House of Nott.” She finished vehemently, throwing the contract onto the ground. “I’m fucked.” She added sourly.
“Well, not necessarily,” I said sounding like I was mulling things over.
“Who?” she asked wearily.
“Neville Longbottom.”
She frowned, “he’d never survive my father,” she replies pulling a small mirror out of her pocket. She gazes at her face and flinches, producing her wand from up lapel she starts pushing the running makeup back into place with the tip of her wand.
“What about Blaise Zabini?”
She laughs, “I heard he only likes redheads, and thus we have reached the end of available bachelors at school with equal or greater standing,” she ends in a scoff, replacing her mirror and producing another of her purple cigarettes. She lights it with the tip of her wand.
“What about the Black heir?”
She scoffs again, “if anyone even knew who that was.”
“I know who it is,” I state simply.
She whips her head to stare at me and exhales quickly, “Who?”
“Harry Potter.”
She blinks twice.
Again.
Four and five.
Then she smiles like a jungle cat, “Really?”
I nod, also smiling, but then her smile dies, “Isn’t he dating that French bird?” She rolls her eyes, “and tagging Weasley and Granger on the side no doubt.”
“Oh you have no idea,” I say teasingly, sometimes a little gossip is just what’s in order.
“What would you know about it?”
I smile knowingly and produce a piece of parchment from my bag. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything with out having you sign this oath contract.
She gazes shocked at what I’m holding, “Are you serious?” she asks.
“Deadly,” I reply going for as serious a look as possible. It’s very likely I did not do a good job because she laughs at me.
“What’s the penalty?”
“The Permanent Blistering B-Hole Boils Curse.”
She stops laughing. “That’s not something to joke about.”
“I’m not joking.”
She makes a loud dismissive noise, “I’m not signing that.”
“Then your fate is sealed,” I finish ominously.
She glares at me for a bit, glances down at the contract and sighs, “The only requirement is secrecy on my part, I don’t have to do anything?”
“Absolutely nothing, the only requirement is absolute secrecy of everything I’m about to tell you except to those involved,” I say. The words I just said appear on the parchment in a tight uniform script, the phrasing automatically altered. It reads now, Those that sign this document make their solemn vow to have absolute secrecy of everything Luna Lovegood is about to tell you except to those also involved with what Luna Lovegood is about to tell you, lest you suffer the Permanent Blistering B-Hole Boils Curse.
“Fine,” she says impatiently, grabbing the contract and self inking quill I was kind enough to provide. She signs with a flourish and hands it back to me. I place the the contract and quill neatly back into my bag, “Well?” she asks shortly.
“Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, Gabrielle Delacour and I are forming a Coven. I am officially inviting you.”
Her jaw drops.
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I bet you thought I’d forget about the fish.
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