Entry tags:

fic, harry/luna/ron, smut, threesomes

Fic: Chasing Thestrals, Harry/Luna/Ron, NC-17
Title: Chasing Thestrals
Author: foreword
Disclaimer: Even if this was mine, it would be rc's now. :x
Pairing: Ron/Harry, Luna/Harry, Luna/Ron/Harry
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: drunken groping, public sexual activities, half-clothed sex, threesome, mild bondage
Summary: Luna always seems to be elsewhere, but now she is all that is keeping him here.
A/N: For cork, a belated birthday present! Luna cures all angst with copious amounts of sex, apparently. :-?

Originally this ended in Harry/Ginny smut, but Ginny wasn't exactly chuffed about what else Harry got up to in this fic, so I took it out. If you want the H/G part, let me know and I'll email it to you! <3

They don't talk about it. Harry can't imagine what they would say, even if they did. It was a drunken accident, the kind that comes from being trapped in a house (or dormitory) with someone for so long. It was all alcohol and pent-up lust, or that's what they're telling themselves anyway.

But Harry thinks about it more than he probably ought to. There was too much Firewhiskey. Too much Firewhiskey and not enough to do. Harry doesn't remember how they ended up climbing into the same bed at the end of the night, but he remembers that it was much too small for two people.

Harry could feel Ron's body, warm and firm, pressing up against his, and he couldn't help but press back. Something about the alcohol – the burn as it went down, the way it made every part of him feel the burn, need to be touched – it was the alcohol that made him press back against Ron. It was the alcohol that made Ron moan, that made Ron's cock suddenly hard up against Harry's arse.

But he didn't think the alcohol had anything to do with how much he wanted it, how he rocked himself back against Ron's erection, how Ron's arms slid around him in that tiny bed. The alcohol didn't make them take off their clothes. It didn't make Harry fist his cock while Ron's erection slid-bumped-bruised his thighs and arse until they were wet with come.

Ron came moaning Harry's name, and Harry was pretty sure Firewhiskey hadn't caused that.

But now they're sixth years, and they don't talk about it. Ron fancies girls, and he makes sure everyone knows that. Harry watches him grope Lavender in the Common Room, and he wishes he could tell Hermione how much he understands.

*

November has never been darker, and Harry has never felt so alone. Ron and Hermione can’t keep from fighting, mostly because Ron can’t keep from snogging Lavender. And there is something niggling at the back of his mind, something bothering him about having caught Ginny snogging Dean. He knows that he should let it go, that it won’t do him any good to linger on it, but he can’t stop thinking about it. What business does Dean have snogging Ron’s little sister?

More to the point, what business does Harry have wanting to snog her?

He has hidden himself in the library, hoping to escape another tirade on Ron’s oafishness from Hermione or a lecture from Ron on her unreasonableness. It’s a Saturday night, after all, and even Hermione doesn’t spend her Saturday nights in the library… at least, he hopes that she doesn’t.

He is surprised when he hears a voice somewhere behind him, in the depths of the stacks featuring Goblin Rebellions, but when he recognizes it as Luna’s, it is hard to be surprised about anything.

“Just like a thestral.”

Harry glances over his shoulder to see what she is talking about, expecting to see her reading the book that she is clutching to her chest. Instead, he finds that she is staring at him. It takes him a moment to realize that she isn’t talking about anything she’s read.

“Hey Luna,” he says, after a moment’s pause, and she continues to stare at him as if he hasn’t spoken.

“I hope you won’t let Ronald go.”

Harry stares, for a moment, and decides that she must be talking about Quidditch. She sets her book down on the table next to him but makes no move to sit down herself. Harry glances up at her, and she seems to be awaiting an answer.

“I uh… Well, we won the last match, so I don’t think he’s going to –“

Harry is unsure of how to continue, as Luna has just dropped herself into his lap.

”Do you need help? I could convince him.”

Harry stares at her in surprise, expecting some sort of explanation for all of this, and trying not to think about what Luna is implying she’d like to do with Ron.

“That’s… that’s all right, Luna. Thanks,” he says, shifting so that it will be easier for her to stand up again.

Luna only smiles at him, looping her arms around his neck and tucking her head under his chin until she’s pressed tight against his chest, and Harry is starting to worry that Madame Pince will find them like this.

“You’re not alone,” she says quietly, so quietly that Harry almost doesn’t hear, but she’s tilted her head so that her lips move against his neck when she talks, and Harry can feel it.

“You should go,” he says, his tone cool, but Luna doesn’t let go.

“It’s okay,” she says, and her lips linger for a second longer than is necessary, pressed against the soft skin of his throat. “You can’t keep it all here.” At that, she shifts in his lap, bringing a hand up to rest against his chest; “You can’t. No one can.”

Her whisper sounds strained, distressed, and Harry wonders if she is going to cry.

“I don’t know what you’re-" he starts, but Luna won’t let him finish the lie.

“You loved him, and he loves you. Can’t you hear the whispers? He’s still here. You’re not alone.”

Harry’s chest feels tight as he realizes she is talking about Sirius, and he no longer trusts himself with talking, so he lets Luna. She grips him by the shoulders, and shifts until Harry is sure they’ll topple the small, hard-backed chair. They don’t, though. Luna moves so that she is straddling him, and he can’t let himself break the gaze she has fixed on him.

"Let it out," she whispers as she kisses him, and Harry closes his eyes as her hair falls down around his face.

He moves his lips awkwardly against hers, trying to keep up with what Luna is doing, but it feels impossible. She shifts down against his lap, and she's a warm, heavy weight on his thighs. She opens her mouth against his, and suddenly Harry feels her pushing her tongue past his lips. He is reminded suddenly of a wet kiss underneath mistletoe. It is painfully like his first kiss with Cho, and it takes him a moment to realize that it is because there are tears again.

But this time, he's the one who is crying.

He wants to get up, wants to get out of here, away from those prying, staring blue eyes. He can't let someone see him cry, least of all Luna Lovegood. But Luna won't budge from where she's planted herself, and Harry gives up his attempted escape. He closes his eyes against the curtain of blonde again and he stops trying to get away.

Luna always seems to be elsewhere, but now she is all that is keeping him here.

Harry lets his hands drop from the arms of the chair, lets them fall to Luna's thighs. He holds them, gently at first, tentatively gripping her soft inner thighs with his thumbs as his fingers brush their way further up. Her skirt has been rucked up around her waist, and Harry lets his fingers wander unimpeded, stopping just short of where he expects to find her knickers.

Luna moans unsteadily into his mouth, and suddenly one of her hands has joined his, guiding his fingers more firmly down the slope of her inner thigh underneath her skirt, until Harry feels smooth, damp skin. It is at this point, when Luna has broken off kissing him in favour of nibbling on his ear, that Harry realizes she isn't wearing any knickers.

He pauses, his fingers barely brushing up against her, and Luna squeaks. It is loud enough, Harry thinks, for someone to hear, but Luna just shifts her hips forward, forcing Harry's fingers further up against her wet, naked cunt. Harry's fingers slide against her lips easily, already slick and warm, and Luna's breath is coming in short hot puffs against his ear.

She has unbuttoned her shirt somewhere along the way, Harry apparently too caught up in her lack of knickers to notice. But now her breasts, round and soft and bare, are nearly brushing up against his face with every movement she makes. Harry tilts his chin, and a nipple grazes his lips as she shifts forward. Luna makes another soft noise at this, a noise that's definitely not appropriate for a library.

"Luna, I think we should-" he starts, but Luna only grabs hold of his thigh, rubbing her hand firmly up the material until she finds his erection, trapped up against his leg under his trousers. Harry wisely decides to stop objecting and he rubs his fingers curiously up against her, searching for a wet little dip.

Instead, he finds her clit, and Luna's grip tightens on his trouser-clad erection as he brushes it with his fingers. He curls his fingers into her, finding the slick dip of her pussy with the very tips of his fingers as he rubs his thumb against her clit. Luna nearly screeches against his ear as she rocks forward into his hand, and her tits brush up against his face as her muscles tense. She is crying out against his ear, bringing him off in his trousers as she climaxes, and suddenly Harry's lap is a wet mess.

Everything is still for a moment, Luna's head resting against his shoulder, her hair mussed and her skin flushed, and then there are footsteps – short, angry footsteps coming to find them.

Madame Pince arrives in time to find a book on prophecies left out of place on a table in the back of the stacks.

*

Harry can't believe what he is seeing.

He probably should have expected that his just-friends date with Luna to Slughorn's party wasn't over yet, even though the party is, and Harry's just spent the past half hour lurking about in the corridors, spying on Malfoy. That sort of thing apparently doesn't bother Luna, however, as Harry has just pulled back his bed curtains to find her waiting there, kneeling on his bed between a very naked Ron's spread legs.

In his bed. With Ron.

"He says he's glad he didn't go, but I don't believe him. Do you?"

Harry stares at her, and Luna twists in a stretch, her spangling silver robes twinkling at him as Ron grunts underneath her. She's managed to tie his wrists and ankles to the bedposts with what appear to be Gryffindor ties, and he's currently wearing a dazed expression and little else.

"I think Hermione slipped him something at dinner," Luna whispers, but it's a stage whisper, and Harry could have heard it from the Common Room.

"Luna, what…."

He's not sure exactly what he's going to ask her, and his throat's just gone dry anyway, so Harry breaks off in a stare. Suddenly, memories from the library come unbidden into his mind, and Harry wonders if Luna is wearing anything under those silver robes.

"Ron?" Harry asks tentatively, and Luna presses a finger up against her lips before taking hold of Harry's hand. She tugs him closer to the bed, and Harry numbly obeys, climbing up so that he's kneeling beside her. Luna reaches behind him to pull the curtains closed and it's only when she's shifted that he realizes how very close he is to Ron's naked cock.

He glances up at Ron's face again, and he is rewarded with a bleary expression. Ron yawns, and the way that he is blinking makes Harry think he's coming out of whatever enchantment he's been trapped in.

"Luna," he says a bit urgently, and she smiles at him before crawling her way up Ron's body. Harry's not sure what he's supposed to do here now, watching with baited breath the way her robes hitch up around her arse as she moves, placing a knee on either side of Ron's stomach. Her hair is falling down around her face, and Harry can no longer see if Ron is blinking his way into consciousness.

Surely, Harry thinks, he couldn't have ended up here in such a state if he'd already been conscious.

"Harry," Luna's voice drifts back to him, and he looks up in time to see her tugging up her robes, propping herself up over Ron with one arm and glancing at Harry over her shoulder. "I'd like for you to fuck me, if that's all right with you."

Harry gapes, and Luna blinks back at him expectantly as Ron stirs underneath her. He's just heard a grumbled curse word, and this is insane. He should leave, and leave now. He certainly doesn't need to be here when Ron wakes up, but Luna has just asked him to fuck her, and Harry is hard-pressed to say no.

"All right," he hears himself saying, and he's already tugging his trousers down his hips, can already feel his erection straining against the fabric.

Luna smiles idly and tugs her robes up, nearly toppling off of Ron in the process, until she's holding them up around her hips and Harry is staring at her arse. It's mostly bare, exposed pale skin, except for the thin scrap of fabric that seems to be covered in fairy lights, stretched across the crack of her arse. Harry is so surprised that he almost misses the fact that Ron has come around.

"Bloody hell."

Ron is cursing in the sort of awestruck voice he used when they tried to fly the Anglia, and Harry can only imagine the sort of sight Luna is to wake up to, her hair falling down around her shoulders and her breasts heavy against the sparkly fabric of her robes. Harry's got his cock out, hot and weighty in his hand, and he starts to fist it as he watches the scene in front of him unfold.

Luna's robes are sparkling their way over her head as she tugs them up and off, and Ron seems to have just noticed his restraints, because the bed has started an irregular pattern of jerks and thumps as he tries to free himself. A moment later, Harry watches the shimmering fabric of Luna's robes slide off of the edge of his bed, and she straddles Ron's hips, her knickers sparkling up at Harry. He can just make out the curves of her naked breasts, and he has an intense, sudden desire for Ron's current perspective.

"Fuck, what the – what's he doing here? What's this all about?"

Ron's voice is panicked now, and Harry doesn't have to look up from Luna's knickers to know that he's been noticed.

"You took me to him, and he took me to you, so I took you to each other," Luna answers calmly, and she smiles over her shoulder at Harry, who's still gripping his cock in one hand, and trying not to stare at her knickers.

"Do you like them?" she asks him suddenly, and Harry is embarrassed at having been caught in a stare.

"Yeah, they're great," he says, trying to ignore the chorus of cursing that is coming from Ron's end of the bed.

"They'd look even better on you; do you want to try them?"

Harry feels himself flush and Luna laughs, turning and leaning forward again, kissing Ron in a sweep of blonde hair. Her arse is practically waving in the air, and Harry notices that Ron's cock is red and stiff underneath her crotch, belying his anger at the situation. Luna breaks the kiss suddenly, glancing over her shoulder at Harry in an afterthought.

"Are you going to fuck me?"

Harry swallows, fisting his cock again, his eyes darting to those sparkling knickers as he replies. "Er… yeah, if that's all right."

Luna smiles and slides her knees further apart. "You'll have to tug those aside, unless you want to wear them."

She has turned her attention back to Ron, and Harry moves up behind her, running a hand over her arse tentatively and marveling at the way she squirms up into his touch. Ron moans some protest about shagging with him on the bed, but Luna must have stuck her tongue down his throat, because he shuts up quick enough. Harry hooks a finger in the crotch of her knickers, pulling them aside and marveling at how soaked through they are as he slides a finger up against her wet lips, pushing into the slick dip the same way he did in the library and listening to her squeak against Ron's mouth. Ron groans and Harry slicks his wet fingers along his cock, biting back a moan himself at the way Luna is glistening, all spread open in front of him.

It's difficult getting his cock lined up with her the right way while still clutching her knickers in one fist, and at first his prick just drags against her in slick thrusts that make her twist back towards him, and have Ron twisting against the ties.

Harry lets go of the knickers and grips the base of his cock, because he's not sure he can take anymore of this slippery slide and thrust against Luna's cunt. He tries again, poking the head of his cock up against her lips carefully, searching for the dip. Just like that, he's pushing into her in a tight, hot pull and slide, and Luna's whining against Ron's mouth.

Ron, for his part, is arching up against nothingness, trying desperately to rut up against Luna's crotch, and never quite reaching. On his second thrust into Luna, Harry lets his hand drop, and finds Ron's stiff, thick cock easily. It's already wet with precome, and Harry can almost feel when Ron moans against Luna's mouth.

Harry presses on, fisting Ron's cock with the same rhythm that he's fucking Luna, until his hand's a wet mess of come and his balls are clenching up against him. He feels Luna tightening around him in spasms as she cries out, and then Harry's lost it and he's emptying himself into her as he comes.

Luna falls forward, collapsing face-first against Ron and ultimately planting her forehead in the mattress above his shoulder, her arse still stuck up in the air as Harry slips out of her, wiping his come and Ron's from his hand and cock and halfheartedly tugging on his trousers. Ron and Luna are both lazily stretched out across his bed, Ron having managed to slide his hands out of the ties at long last. His ankles are still bound down by Harry, and Harry quietly tugs them free as he tries to decide where he'll sleep.

"Harry," Ron mumbles blearily, and Harry looks up. "C'mere."

There's no space for him with the two of them, and it's ridiculous to think that all three of them can fit on this small bed, but Harry crawls delicately across Ron's gangly form until he's stretched awkwardly over a bit of spare mattress and Ron.

"Night, Harry," Ron says conversationally, and Harry smiles in spite of the elbow in his back. Luna was right. He's not alone.