ferretface_git | Loony Lovegood

Loony Lovegood

All he ever did was read. It was embarrassing. No war, no sides to pick, no Potters to intimidate. Only a lonely, miserable wizard with too much time on his hands and a roommate that didn't know the meaning of the word boundaries. It was humiliating, and Draco took it all with the grace and maturity of a two year old. At least he was consistent.

He couldn't hide, even if he'd wanted to. His room was no longer the safe haven it had once been. So he'd wandered out to the ocean, wearing a pair of green swim trunks and a dingy white t-shirt advertising some cheap Muggle diner he'd never heard of, his pale legs bare and his eye squinted against the sun. His book was discarded in the sand, tissue-thin pages fluttering in the wind, abandoned while he took a moment to look out over the surf.

If he'd been a normal man, he would've thought it beautiful, sitting with his knobby knees drawn up to his chest and his grey eyes watching the water foam up over the sand. If he'd been normal, he might've considered going for a dip.

But he wasn't normal. He was a Malfoy, and at the moment he was imagining the ocean surging up and swallowing the island whole.

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It was a long walk back to the Compound. It felt like a death march, or at least, that's what he told himself. In truth, he felt more exhilarated than he had in months. He didn't feel at all like himself, and maybe that was the best thing of all.

Still, he didn't speak to her. He didn't look at her. He put one foot in front of the other until the Compound came into view.

One of perhaps Luna's favorite things about the island is that nobody really questions what you're doing. That she's dressed for bed and leading Draco back to their room would be-- well, impossible, for one-- at Hogwarts, and it doesn't get them stopped.

She shuts the door behind them, and then sits herself on Draco's bed.

There was a long moment where he had no clue what to do. All of his past experiences seemed completely useless, completely unrelated. This was new territory, and surprisingly, he found that a bit exciting.

He stepped forward, reaching for her, but at the last moment, he made a quick and impulsive detour to switch out the light.

Feeling bolder in the dark, as all creatures do, Luna peels off her shirt, letting it slip harmlessly to the ground, and stands back up. She walks towards him in the heavy silence, curling her fingers on his arms. It's a bit of a surprise, how her heart is beating in her throat.

There was an excitement in it he couldn't truly explain. Lifting a hand to touch her breast, the other curling along the back of her neck and pulling her into a kiss, he felt startlingly awake. Aware of every little detail, except for the rather important fact of just whom he was doing all this with.

That was something he was more than happy to ignore.

His hand feels good, and this is so much more deliberate, at least for her, than anything else has been. She's so very aware of choosing this moment, and she likes it. Likes for once the feeling of controlling the wind that guides her instead of simply giving in to it.

She inches closer, kissing him harder, her hands sliding up and up until her arms are tangled around his neck.

She was small, but she fit against him better than he might have imagine. Not that he'd imagined this, of course. No, most definitely not. She was small, and he couldn't for the life of him remember if they were the same age, or not. If they'd been in the same year, or if he'd ever seen her outside of school until the island. She was something to be ignored. To be tolerated and ridiculed.

A year ago, he wouldn't be able to live with himself after this. It's amazing what desperation will do to a person.

Walking her back toward the bed, when he felt her hit the mattress, he practically tossed her onto it, pulling off his own shirt and climbing over her before he could change his mind.

Luna lets out a tiny gasp. Yes, it's very different, and that's exactly one of the reasons she's here, wriggling onto her back, her thighs creeping up either side of Draco's hips.

There's a moment where she notices how similar they are in colouring, all blonde and pale. But then she gets her hands on his stomach and back, and she doesn't think so much any more.

He was not a teenage boy. Not any longer. But he was a very impatient man, a man who'd had a very long dry spell, and whatever grace and composure he might have possessed flew cleanly out the window.

He fumbled at the buttons on his shorts, cursing his lack of wand for the umpteenth time, the back of his hand brushing the warmth between her thighs, just behind that thin layer of Muggle cotton, and he bit back a helpless groan.

"Please," murmurs Luna, as she feels the back of his hand come so very close without real contact. After painting a broad stripe of tongue against the inside of his mouth, she moves to exploring the skin of his neck again, lips and teeth and tongue testing for different sounds.

Draco is not known as a particularly considerate lover. She says please and he hears no request, only permission. Permission to push at her waistband, to hurry it along without much flair or time for foreplay. He'd be embarrassed to admit to rutting like animals, if asked later, but that wasn't far from the truth of it.

Condoms were things that Muggles used. He had very little concept of them, so the need for them hadn't occurred to him at all... but that could also be attributed to him being a man.

He was much more concerned with getting rid of all those clothes -- clothes which seemed to be magically multiplying -- so they could get down to business.

Another time, if he forgets, she'll be happy to scar him by announcing how ready she is to be a mother, but for now, she's just glad she took so many to fill up with water. Half of them have disappeared from the freezer now, and her experiment is ruined, but--

--oh, he's taking off his clothes. She helps by wriggling out of her shorts, kicking them across the room. My, my, she thinks, is that him against her thigh?

For once, she was helping instead of getting in the way. He'd thank her, only that wasn't in his vocabulary.

Without her clothes in the way, all he had to worry about was himself, his own stubborn zipper and his own nervous, jittery hands. He was pressed against her, kissing her almost frantically, needing some sort of distraction...

This was oh so very wrong. Wrong wrong wrong a voice chanted, looped in his head, but he told that voice firmly to shove it up it's arse.

Reaching between them again, groping towards all that heat, he found her wet, biting back a tiny whimper as he pressed against her with no barrier between them.

"Draco," she says softly, stopping him with her slender fingers resting on his cock. "Not without protection." If she strokes him once before climbing off the bed and going to look through her things, then that's just her way.

She comes back with a foil packet. "This is how the muggles do it."

Falling onto his back on the mattress with a quiet oof, he watched her with wide eyes, blinking owlishly, his usually tidy hair sticking up in all directions. When she returned, he looked down at the foil packet with something like horror, and when he said, "How the muggles do it?" there was a distinct shrillness in his voice.

"I don't see another option," Luna says, ripping it open. "Unless you'd like to chance it." She thinks maybe, if this is the sort of way he'll handle it (which is not surprising), she might look into this "pill."

"Or... quit..." she finally adds, in a quiet voice that suggests she likes that idea least of all.

"What do you do with it?" he asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously, but given the option of quitting all together, the least he could do was find out more information.

Besides, he wasn't an imbecile. He'd been on the island two years and of course he'd heard talk. Always use condoms. Yes, of course, but how?

There'd been a perfectly nice doctor who had to explain all of this to Luna; luckily, Luna is still an excellent student. She crosses the room again, only a few steps, and is on her knees in front of him.

Carefully, she rolls the condom on, biting at her bottom lip in intense concentration.

He watched her the whole time, then when she was through, he looked down at his cock, standing up comically with its little rubber hat, and he frowned. "Why would anyone do it like that?"

Muggle or not, this was just silly.

"So I don't get pregnant," Luna answers. "Mostly. No charms out here." She's seen plenty of pregnancy scares at Hogwarts regardless of charms, though.

Pregnant. He got a flash, a quick but no less horrifying portend of that possible future, and suddenly that little sheath of latex was his very best friend.

"Ah. All right, then," he said, closing his hands around her waist and hauling her closer again.

"It's been a while," she says softly, as her thighs hit the mattress. "Use-- use your fingers first." Who knows if he will take direction well here? Luna likes sex; for a motherless daughter, she has a troubling lack of hang-ups about it.

She just likes it to be good, is all.

If it was one thing that Draco Malfoy hated, it was being told what to do by someone so obviously inferior to himself. But his ever raging superiority complex had begun wavering months ago, and right in that moment, it was just about entirely dormant.

Still, he was used to plowing ahead, now, taking exactly what he wanted, so it was with great reluctance and probably very little skill that he reaches between her legs.

Luna lets out a sigh, drawing one leg up and allowing him better access. Even if he's faltering, what they've been up to so far has her wound up all the same, and she welcomes the touch with a little shudder.

Narrowing his eyes, he kept at it for a moment or two, then when she seemed more frustrated than anything, he gritted his teeth and muttered, "I'm sorry, am I boring you?"

Loony Lovegood

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