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edenfallingPart 3. Still rated R, and we're getting closer to the actual sex. (Which is still glossed over, because I don't really write porn/erotica -- just not where my interest lies -- but quite definitely there.)
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Paint the Town, part 3
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Ginny watched, somewhere between amused and worried, as Hermione plastered herself tipsily over a succession of people on the dance floor. This wasn't quite what she'd had in mind when she dragged her friend down to Crimson, but then, she hadn't been expecting to meet Harry, Luna, and Draco here. And she really hadn't been expecting them to all be together -- not in that sense of together, anyhow.
Hermione, poor soul, who hadn't seemed to realize that, contrary to her own habits, her friends had lives outside of work and sleep, was utterly shocked. And Hermione never dealt well with surprises.
Pretending she hadn't seen anything, steadfastly ignoring Draco, and getting drunk off her arse on strawberry daiquiris was better than freezing stiff, launching into mother-hen intervention mode, or running off to tell Ron, Ginny supposed. It was certainly more interesting to watch.
"You want to get out of here, go to my place, beautiful?" asked the man currently rubbing his groin against her arse and running his hands up under her shirt.
She turned in his arms and gave him a once-over -- not too tall, good build, long fingers, wicked beard, nice bum, killer sense of rhythm, decent package from what she'd felt -- some other night she might have taken him up on that. Ginny sighed. "Not tonight. I have to make sure my friend gets home safely."
He pouted, the beard adding an intriguing twist of sarcasm to his face. "Just my luck -- all the good ones are taken, with friends, or gay. Maybe some other time?"
Why not? "Yeah, maybe. I'm Ginny. You?"
"Mark. See you around, beautiful." He peeled away and moved in on a cluster of girls maybe a year or so older than Ginny, wrapping his hands around someone's waist. Fickle bastard. But a good-looking fickle bastard, just right to scratch the itch for a night. Looking for more was only asking for trouble.
Ginny sighed again. There were times she really wished she wasn't so responsible.
Hermione had left her latest partner and was weaving and swaying on her own, arms in the air and hips swiveling to the beat, eyes closed in concentrated bliss. Ginny blinked. Wow. She'd known Hermione was smothering something under all that respectability and fussing about rules -- after all, Ginny had seen her snap off rapid-fire curses in battle, watched her viciously dissect people with a few well-placed words, and been speechless with admiration when Hermione had finally lost all patience and punched Snape in the Great Hall near the end of the war -- but this was more than she'd expected.
"Hey, Hermione," she said, sliding up behind her friend. "Having fun yet?"
"Yes!" said Hermione, speaking louder than necessary. "I love it! I love dancing! I love beer! I love Harry -- you're right about his bum, see?" She flung an arm outward, waving haphazardly across the room. "I even love Luna and that bastard Malfoy. And I love you!"
Hermione twisted, still swaying with the music, and flung her arms around Ginny in a passionate embrace. "You're my best friend ever and I love you."
Ginny patted her on the shoulder, nonplussed. "Er, I love you too?"
"Really? Oh, wow." Hermione beamed upward at Ginny, and planted a sloppy kiss on her neck.
Ginny blinked.
"You know," said Hermione, as if confiding a great secret, "I've never had sex. Not with Harry, and not even with Ron! I told him we ought to, back at Hogwarts, and he said he liked that cow Susan Bones better than me, sorry about that, and go to sleep; there's a battle in the morning. It wasn't fair, not after I got to love him that way."
"Oookay." Ginny was a little worried now -- Hermione was obviously more drunk than she'd thought, even though she was managing not to trip over her words.
"I want to have sex," Hermione proclaimed loudly. "Everyone always says how great it is. I want to see if they're right."
Several people nearby looked on with interest. "You going to do anything about that, or can I move in?" one man asked, only half-joking.
"Back off, bastard," Ginny spat, hand flying to her wand where it, along with Hermione's, was serving as a chopstick to hold up her hair. She swept her glare around the little audience she and Hermione had acquired. "Hands off. That goes for all of you toad-lickers."
"Yeah, stay away from my Ginny," added Hermione, plastering herself over her friend. Ginny froze for a second, and then realized it wouldn't hurt to look like a couple if she wanted to drive opportunists away. Besides, it would probably be more trouble than it was worth to pry Hermione off.
"Come on, baby," she said, using the voice she usually reserved for her temporary conquests. "Let's go find Harry and the others." Hopefully they could help Ginny get her home before Hermione did something she'd really regret in the morning.
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Luna swam through the music, weaving with the beat like a shark circling its prey. She had better taste than a shark, though. Sharks would never appreciate Draco and Harry the way she did -- unless they were bleeding, she supposed. Blood always seemed to attract attention.
However, blood wasn't a very good way to get attention, not useful attention anyway. People tended to scream and run, or go into shock. And it was a terrible mess to clean up. It had taken weeks to put the Great Hall of Hogwarts back in order after the Easter Massacre.
But Luna wasn't thinking about the war. She was dancing.
Harry ground against her back, hands dipping under the waist of her skirt to tickle and massage. Draco pinned himself to her front, one hand playing with the ties of her shirt while the other snaked over her shoulder to tease Harry.
"Whose place tonight?" asked Draco, leaning in to hide the question from the other dancers, letting his breath ghost over Luna's ear.
"Yours," said Harry. "Ron took Padma to the Burrow for the weekend, but if Hermione runs off to tell him tomorrow, I'd rather be in a flat where he doesn't have the key to the house wards."
"Potter, I believe we may yet teach you strategy. Possibly even before your hundredth birthday." Harry tensed, so Luna pinched Draco's arse in warning; he changed the subject. "You know, I still can't believe Weasley snagged Patil after the way he buggered up at the Yule Ball."
Luna shrugged, the motion rubbing her breasts interestingly against Draco. "She likes chess."
Harry laughed, hot breath tickling the back of her neck. She tipped her head forward; he took the hint and dropped a kiss on her spine. "That's a pretty flimsy reason for a relationship, Luna."
"And ours is so much deeper?" Draco shot back, leaning in and nibbling at Luna's ear as Harry kissed his way along her hairline. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the sensation. Swim in the moment, be here and now. Forget the layers of the world that wrapped tendrils around her during the day, sending her shifting from inside to outside to way beyond. Forget the distractions. No sharp edges here to cut her to ribbons, no mocking voices, no need for defenses -- her boys were with her and she was with them.
Harry made some motion -- probably a shrug, judging by the way his hands tugged upwards on her skin, rekindling the swirling heat in her belly. "You can't play chess all day."
"You're evading the issue. We have sex and we argue -- how is that better than chess?"
"It just is," said Harry.
Luna knew he was blushing; he didn't like talking about their relationship, even though he was mostly responsible for it in the first place. Harry was the one who'd pushed Draco into swearing no Muggle nightclub could possibly interest him, and then dared him to prove it. Harry was the one who'd practically poured alcohol down Draco's throat, not realizing he was getting equally drunk himself. Harry was the one who'd asked Luna if they could stay at her flat overnight since the boys were too pissed to safely Apparate home.
So it was really Harry's fault they'd all woken up in bed together the next morning.
The fact that Luna had forgotten to remind them of her Floo connection had nothing to do with it. That was entirely due to the gypsy moths that had been nesting in her kitchen curtains; it was a little-known fact that dust from their wings could affect the memory. It wasn't her fault Harry didn't believe that.
She was never sure if Draco believed her or not, but he didn't argue so it came to the same thing in the end. And even Harry never said he minded that she'd forgotten...
In any case, there could certainly be worse relationships. Her boys didn't mind Luna's devotion to the Quibbler, and their mocking was friendly, not aimed to wound. Draco's cynicism and whimsy let him follow her through the shifting layers of the world, made him willing to let her keep her shields and to help refine her flashes of insight. Harry's moodiness and care kept her anchored in the here and now beyond the minimum she needed to run her paper and survive in a world of locked and hostile minds. She balanced between them, damping arguments and lending an ear when they struck sparks off each other.
But Luna wasn't thinking about those things now. She was living in the moment, pinned between their bodies, swimming in the music. She was dancing.
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"Harry, we have a problem."
Harry turned his head, wondering what Ginny was upset about. Then he saw Hermione, flushed with alcohol and exertion, plunging her fingers into Ginny's low-slung pants while her other hand fumbled with the ties of Ginny's backless shirt.
Ginny fended off another attempt to leave her topless and stared pointedly at Harry.
"Er, right," he agreed. "That's a problem."
"Damn straight -- help me out! And Draco, if you say one word, I'll hex you into next week."
Harry sighed, slipped his hands from Luna's skirt, and helped detach Hermione from Ginny. He grabbed her wrists and held her firmly against himself when she tried to lunge forward again.
"You're no fun," she told him, and pouted, lower lip sticking out and trembling.
"What brought this on, Weasley?" asked Draco, still grinding away with Luna, who had her eyes closed to concentrate on the music. Bastard. You'd think he could lend a hand for once in his life. Harry shifted as Hermione kicked at his legs, their movements almost a dance.
Ginny shrugged helplessly. "She's pissed out of her mind, started saying she'd never had sex and wanted to try, and decided I could do the honors. Since when does Hermione like girls?"
Harry looked down at Hermione. Girls? Hermione? It was strange enough for him to be... well, having sex with another man. And enjoying it. What were the odds on two of their old trio swinging both ways?
"At least Ron's normal," he muttered.
Luna and Draco both raised their eyebrows. This couldn't be good; Draco's contempt for Ron went without saying, but Luna?
"He likes to be tied up," said Luna, far too calmly for someone dropping that sort of bombshell. "And blindfolded."
Harry blinked. Okay, so they were all three screwed up. It must have been the war. And Voldemort. He could blame anything on Voldemort. Wait... why did Luna know that about Ron? How did Luna know that about Ron? Sure, they'd gone out a few times, but when had they ever been serious enough for sex, let alone bondage? ...And just how tipsy was Luna to be spilling secrets in the middle of a nightclub?
Hermione stamped her foot, not bothering to aim for him this time -- which was good since there was no way Harry could have managed to move his feet at that moment. "It's not fair! He wouldn't have sex with me, not even when I was in love with him, but he goes off with Susan Bones, and Luna, and that slut Padma, and probably everyone else and their dog!" She cast imploring eyes at her friends. "I'm not ugly, am I? You'd have sex with me, right?"
Draco opened his mouth, but Harry cut him off. "Don't start, Malfoy. Not now."
"So I can have sex with her later?"
Luna favored him with a heavy-eyed stare. "I think you'd look sweet tied up with silk ribbons."
Harry snickered at the image that conjured. "Pink ribbons. And a big satin bow."
"...And that would be a no," said Draco. "Bugger. Yes, I'd have sex with you, Granger, even though you're Muggle-born, but these two idiots won't let me. They fear our deathless passion."
"Shut it, Malfoy," said Harry.
"Ron has a good heart," Luna told Hermione, "but he's a bit short-sighted and he doesn't always appreciate what people offer him. He never liked my Gryffindor hats, you know. I'm sure there are many people with better taste who'd enjoy having sex with you."
"Really? Would you?" asked Hermione, wriggling against Harry in a distracting fashion. Hmm. Hermione and Draco. Hermione and Luna. Naked, tied up with ribbons... Harry shifted, moving Hermione off-center against his body. He really had to get out of this conversation before he embarrassed himself more than he'd already done tonight.
"What Luna might or might not be willing to do is irrelevant," said Ginny firmly. "Hermione, you're a wonderful, beautiful person, but you're too drunk to have sex tonight. We're going home instead." She looked at her friends. "Are you sober enough to Apparate? I don't want to drag her through Muggle London like this, and I'm not sure I can get her to bed by myself."
Draco leered. "Whose bed?"
"Draco, shut it. Or else."
Harry and Draco exchanged glances. Luna was never sober enough to Apparate after a club night -- she lost her fine magical concentration long before she finished unwinding -- and Harry was feeling tipsier than usual, due to his fear-of-Mrs.-Weasley induced binge. They'd been planning to take the Underground.
"I can manage at least one jump," Draco told Ginny, "and I should still be keyed into your wards. You take Luna; I'll bring these idiots."
"What, leave from right here?" Ginny glanced around. "Oh, all right; they're all pissed enough not to notice us vanish." And unlike Muggles, Harry knew, the girls didn't carry handbags they'd have to go fetch; transfiguration was truly a marvelous ability.
Hermione snarled sleepily at Draco, but didn't try to escape when he grabbed hold of her hand where it twined with Harry's.
The familiar second of nothingness and pop of displaced air deposited them in Hermione's flat -- the same one Harry and Ron had also lived in until three months ago, when they moved out and Ginny moved in. Ron's Quidditch paraphernalia had been replaced by an extra bookcase and there were more cushions on the sofa than before, but otherwise the main room was unchanged.
The cushions turned out to be useful, since Draco was more drunk than he'd admitted and accidentally materialized them two feet above the sofa instead of on the floor. Of course, that could also have been related to the fact that he'd only visited the flat twice before, but in either case, Harry was grateful for the soft landing.
"You still think you're better than you really are," he remarked, trying to untangle himself and sit up. "It's nice that some things don't change."
Draco scowled, pushed Hermione off his shoulder, and turned to the noise that heralded Ginny and Luna's arrival. "Weasley, I'm more drunk than I thought and I hate the Underground. Can we stay the night?"
Ginny shrugged. "That's what you get for taking your flat off the Floo network. You can use your old bedroom, Harry, but you'll be cleaning the sheets tomorrow."
"Fine," said Harry, standing and trading Hermione for Luna. "I think Hermione's fallen asleep, so you shouldn't have any more trouble. See you in the morning."
"Potter, we're not getting up before the crack of noon," said Draco, wrapping his arm around Luna's other side. "Right, Lovegood?"
"Hazelfugs can make you queasy if you get up too early," Luna agreed.
"If you say so." Harry shut the spare bedroom door behind them, sealed it with a locking charm, and helped her get undressed.
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Back to part 2
Continue to part 4
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In other news, we're nearing the end of the current project at work. I wonder what I get to do next? I hope it isn't something on the NSS side, because I still know nothing about the nutritional bits of the software programs. (I also seem to have learned more about the financial bits than most people in my department usually need to know. *shrug*)
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Paint the Town, part 3
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Ginny watched, somewhere between amused and worried, as Hermione plastered herself tipsily over a succession of people on the dance floor. This wasn't quite what she'd had in mind when she dragged her friend down to Crimson, but then, she hadn't been expecting to meet Harry, Luna, and Draco here. And she really hadn't been expecting them to all be together -- not in that sense of together, anyhow.
Hermione, poor soul, who hadn't seemed to realize that, contrary to her own habits, her friends had lives outside of work and sleep, was utterly shocked. And Hermione never dealt well with surprises.
Pretending she hadn't seen anything, steadfastly ignoring Draco, and getting drunk off her arse on strawberry daiquiris was better than freezing stiff, launching into mother-hen intervention mode, or running off to tell Ron, Ginny supposed. It was certainly more interesting to watch.
"You want to get out of here, go to my place, beautiful?" asked the man currently rubbing his groin against her arse and running his hands up under her shirt.
She turned in his arms and gave him a once-over -- not too tall, good build, long fingers, wicked beard, nice bum, killer sense of rhythm, decent package from what she'd felt -- some other night she might have taken him up on that. Ginny sighed. "Not tonight. I have to make sure my friend gets home safely."
He pouted, the beard adding an intriguing twist of sarcasm to his face. "Just my luck -- all the good ones are taken, with friends, or gay. Maybe some other time?"
Why not? "Yeah, maybe. I'm Ginny. You?"
"Mark. See you around, beautiful." He peeled away and moved in on a cluster of girls maybe a year or so older than Ginny, wrapping his hands around someone's waist. Fickle bastard. But a good-looking fickle bastard, just right to scratch the itch for a night. Looking for more was only asking for trouble.
Ginny sighed again. There were times she really wished she wasn't so responsible.
Hermione had left her latest partner and was weaving and swaying on her own, arms in the air and hips swiveling to the beat, eyes closed in concentrated bliss. Ginny blinked. Wow. She'd known Hermione was smothering something under all that respectability and fussing about rules -- after all, Ginny had seen her snap off rapid-fire curses in battle, watched her viciously dissect people with a few well-placed words, and been speechless with admiration when Hermione had finally lost all patience and punched Snape in the Great Hall near the end of the war -- but this was more than she'd expected.
"Hey, Hermione," she said, sliding up behind her friend. "Having fun yet?"
"Yes!" said Hermione, speaking louder than necessary. "I love it! I love dancing! I love beer! I love Harry -- you're right about his bum, see?" She flung an arm outward, waving haphazardly across the room. "I even love Luna and that bastard Malfoy. And I love you!"
Hermione twisted, still swaying with the music, and flung her arms around Ginny in a passionate embrace. "You're my best friend ever and I love you."
Ginny patted her on the shoulder, nonplussed. "Er, I love you too?"
"Really? Oh, wow." Hermione beamed upward at Ginny, and planted a sloppy kiss on her neck.
Ginny blinked.
"You know," said Hermione, as if confiding a great secret, "I've never had sex. Not with Harry, and not even with Ron! I told him we ought to, back at Hogwarts, and he said he liked that cow Susan Bones better than me, sorry about that, and go to sleep; there's a battle in the morning. It wasn't fair, not after I got to love him that way."
"Oookay." Ginny was a little worried now -- Hermione was obviously more drunk than she'd thought, even though she was managing not to trip over her words.
"I want to have sex," Hermione proclaimed loudly. "Everyone always says how great it is. I want to see if they're right."
Several people nearby looked on with interest. "You going to do anything about that, or can I move in?" one man asked, only half-joking.
"Back off, bastard," Ginny spat, hand flying to her wand where it, along with Hermione's, was serving as a chopstick to hold up her hair. She swept her glare around the little audience she and Hermione had acquired. "Hands off. That goes for all of you toad-lickers."
"Yeah, stay away from my Ginny," added Hermione, plastering herself over her friend. Ginny froze for a second, and then realized it wouldn't hurt to look like a couple if she wanted to drive opportunists away. Besides, it would probably be more trouble than it was worth to pry Hermione off.
"Come on, baby," she said, using the voice she usually reserved for her temporary conquests. "Let's go find Harry and the others." Hopefully they could help Ginny get her home before Hermione did something she'd really regret in the morning.
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Luna swam through the music, weaving with the beat like a shark circling its prey. She had better taste than a shark, though. Sharks would never appreciate Draco and Harry the way she did -- unless they were bleeding, she supposed. Blood always seemed to attract attention.
However, blood wasn't a very good way to get attention, not useful attention anyway. People tended to scream and run, or go into shock. And it was a terrible mess to clean up. It had taken weeks to put the Great Hall of Hogwarts back in order after the Easter Massacre.
But Luna wasn't thinking about the war. She was dancing.
Harry ground against her back, hands dipping under the waist of her skirt to tickle and massage. Draco pinned himself to her front, one hand playing with the ties of her shirt while the other snaked over her shoulder to tease Harry.
"Whose place tonight?" asked Draco, leaning in to hide the question from the other dancers, letting his breath ghost over Luna's ear.
"Yours," said Harry. "Ron took Padma to the Burrow for the weekend, but if Hermione runs off to tell him tomorrow, I'd rather be in a flat where he doesn't have the key to the house wards."
"Potter, I believe we may yet teach you strategy. Possibly even before your hundredth birthday." Harry tensed, so Luna pinched Draco's arse in warning; he changed the subject. "You know, I still can't believe Weasley snagged Patil after the way he buggered up at the Yule Ball."
Luna shrugged, the motion rubbing her breasts interestingly against Draco. "She likes chess."
Harry laughed, hot breath tickling the back of her neck. She tipped her head forward; he took the hint and dropped a kiss on her spine. "That's a pretty flimsy reason for a relationship, Luna."
"And ours is so much deeper?" Draco shot back, leaning in and nibbling at Luna's ear as Harry kissed his way along her hairline. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the sensation. Swim in the moment, be here and now. Forget the layers of the world that wrapped tendrils around her during the day, sending her shifting from inside to outside to way beyond. Forget the distractions. No sharp edges here to cut her to ribbons, no mocking voices, no need for defenses -- her boys were with her and she was with them.
Harry made some motion -- probably a shrug, judging by the way his hands tugged upwards on her skin, rekindling the swirling heat in her belly. "You can't play chess all day."
"You're evading the issue. We have sex and we argue -- how is that better than chess?"
"It just is," said Harry.
Luna knew he was blushing; he didn't like talking about their relationship, even though he was mostly responsible for it in the first place. Harry was the one who'd pushed Draco into swearing no Muggle nightclub could possibly interest him, and then dared him to prove it. Harry was the one who'd practically poured alcohol down Draco's throat, not realizing he was getting equally drunk himself. Harry was the one who'd asked Luna if they could stay at her flat overnight since the boys were too pissed to safely Apparate home.
So it was really Harry's fault they'd all woken up in bed together the next morning.
The fact that Luna had forgotten to remind them of her Floo connection had nothing to do with it. That was entirely due to the gypsy moths that had been nesting in her kitchen curtains; it was a little-known fact that dust from their wings could affect the memory. It wasn't her fault Harry didn't believe that.
She was never sure if Draco believed her or not, but he didn't argue so it came to the same thing in the end. And even Harry never said he minded that she'd forgotten...
In any case, there could certainly be worse relationships. Her boys didn't mind Luna's devotion to the Quibbler, and their mocking was friendly, not aimed to wound. Draco's cynicism and whimsy let him follow her through the shifting layers of the world, made him willing to let her keep her shields and to help refine her flashes of insight. Harry's moodiness and care kept her anchored in the here and now beyond the minimum she needed to run her paper and survive in a world of locked and hostile minds. She balanced between them, damping arguments and lending an ear when they struck sparks off each other.
But Luna wasn't thinking about those things now. She was living in the moment, pinned between their bodies, swimming in the music. She was dancing.
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"Harry, we have a problem."
Harry turned his head, wondering what Ginny was upset about. Then he saw Hermione, flushed with alcohol and exertion, plunging her fingers into Ginny's low-slung pants while her other hand fumbled with the ties of Ginny's backless shirt.
Ginny fended off another attempt to leave her topless and stared pointedly at Harry.
"Er, right," he agreed. "That's a problem."
"Damn straight -- help me out! And Draco, if you say one word, I'll hex you into next week."
Harry sighed, slipped his hands from Luna's skirt, and helped detach Hermione from Ginny. He grabbed her wrists and held her firmly against himself when she tried to lunge forward again.
"You're no fun," she told him, and pouted, lower lip sticking out and trembling.
"What brought this on, Weasley?" asked Draco, still grinding away with Luna, who had her eyes closed to concentrate on the music. Bastard. You'd think he could lend a hand for once in his life. Harry shifted as Hermione kicked at his legs, their movements almost a dance.
Ginny shrugged helplessly. "She's pissed out of her mind, started saying she'd never had sex and wanted to try, and decided I could do the honors. Since when does Hermione like girls?"
Harry looked down at Hermione. Girls? Hermione? It was strange enough for him to be... well, having sex with another man. And enjoying it. What were the odds on two of their old trio swinging both ways?
"At least Ron's normal," he muttered.
Luna and Draco both raised their eyebrows. This couldn't be good; Draco's contempt for Ron went without saying, but Luna?
"He likes to be tied up," said Luna, far too calmly for someone dropping that sort of bombshell. "And blindfolded."
Harry blinked. Okay, so they were all three screwed up. It must have been the war. And Voldemort. He could blame anything on Voldemort. Wait... why did Luna know that about Ron? How did Luna know that about Ron? Sure, they'd gone out a few times, but when had they ever been serious enough for sex, let alone bondage? ...And just how tipsy was Luna to be spilling secrets in the middle of a nightclub?
Hermione stamped her foot, not bothering to aim for him this time -- which was good since there was no way Harry could have managed to move his feet at that moment. "It's not fair! He wouldn't have sex with me, not even when I was in love with him, but he goes off with Susan Bones, and Luna, and that slut Padma, and probably everyone else and their dog!" She cast imploring eyes at her friends. "I'm not ugly, am I? You'd have sex with me, right?"
Draco opened his mouth, but Harry cut him off. "Don't start, Malfoy. Not now."
"So I can have sex with her later?"
Luna favored him with a heavy-eyed stare. "I think you'd look sweet tied up with silk ribbons."
Harry snickered at the image that conjured. "Pink ribbons. And a big satin bow."
"...And that would be a no," said Draco. "Bugger. Yes, I'd have sex with you, Granger, even though you're Muggle-born, but these two idiots won't let me. They fear our deathless passion."
"Shut it, Malfoy," said Harry.
"Ron has a good heart," Luna told Hermione, "but he's a bit short-sighted and he doesn't always appreciate what people offer him. He never liked my Gryffindor hats, you know. I'm sure there are many people with better taste who'd enjoy having sex with you."
"Really? Would you?" asked Hermione, wriggling against Harry in a distracting fashion. Hmm. Hermione and Draco. Hermione and Luna. Naked, tied up with ribbons... Harry shifted, moving Hermione off-center against his body. He really had to get out of this conversation before he embarrassed himself more than he'd already done tonight.
"What Luna might or might not be willing to do is irrelevant," said Ginny firmly. "Hermione, you're a wonderful, beautiful person, but you're too drunk to have sex tonight. We're going home instead." She looked at her friends. "Are you sober enough to Apparate? I don't want to drag her through Muggle London like this, and I'm not sure I can get her to bed by myself."
Draco leered. "Whose bed?"
"Draco, shut it. Or else."
Harry and Draco exchanged glances. Luna was never sober enough to Apparate after a club night -- she lost her fine magical concentration long before she finished unwinding -- and Harry was feeling tipsier than usual, due to his fear-of-Mrs.-Weasley induced binge. They'd been planning to take the Underground.
"I can manage at least one jump," Draco told Ginny, "and I should still be keyed into your wards. You take Luna; I'll bring these idiots."
"What, leave from right here?" Ginny glanced around. "Oh, all right; they're all pissed enough not to notice us vanish." And unlike Muggles, Harry knew, the girls didn't carry handbags they'd have to go fetch; transfiguration was truly a marvelous ability.
Hermione snarled sleepily at Draco, but didn't try to escape when he grabbed hold of her hand where it twined with Harry's.
The familiar second of nothingness and pop of displaced air deposited them in Hermione's flat -- the same one Harry and Ron had also lived in until three months ago, when they moved out and Ginny moved in. Ron's Quidditch paraphernalia had been replaced by an extra bookcase and there were more cushions on the sofa than before, but otherwise the main room was unchanged.
The cushions turned out to be useful, since Draco was more drunk than he'd admitted and accidentally materialized them two feet above the sofa instead of on the floor. Of course, that could also have been related to the fact that he'd only visited the flat twice before, but in either case, Harry was grateful for the soft landing.
"You still think you're better than you really are," he remarked, trying to untangle himself and sit up. "It's nice that some things don't change."
Draco scowled, pushed Hermione off his shoulder, and turned to the noise that heralded Ginny and Luna's arrival. "Weasley, I'm more drunk than I thought and I hate the Underground. Can we stay the night?"
Ginny shrugged. "That's what you get for taking your flat off the Floo network. You can use your old bedroom, Harry, but you'll be cleaning the sheets tomorrow."
"Fine," said Harry, standing and trading Hermione for Luna. "I think Hermione's fallen asleep, so you shouldn't have any more trouble. See you in the morning."
"Potter, we're not getting up before the crack of noon," said Draco, wrapping his arm around Luna's other side. "Right, Lovegood?"
"Hazelfugs can make you queasy if you get up too early," Luna agreed.
"If you say so." Harry shut the spare bedroom door behind them, sealed it with a locking charm, and helped her get undressed.
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Back to part 2
Continue to part 4
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In other news, we're nearing the end of the current project at work. I wonder what I get to do next? I hope it isn't something on the NSS side, because I still know nothing about the nutritional bits of the software programs. (I also seem to have learned more about the financial bits than most people in my department usually need to know. *shrug*)
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(no subject)
Date: 2005-02-15 03:37 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-02-15 03:21 pm (UTC)