#hermiuna

Bill and Fleur had been at it for twenty torrid minutes. The cottage's air crackled. In her own bedroom, Hermione stared feverishly at the ceiling and muttered, "Jesus Christ." "Oh?" Luna also looked up. "That would have been quite interesting." "Sorry, I'm melting. I…I have to undress." Luna watched Hermione's red and trembling hands. "Do you need to masturbate?" Hermione busied herself with her pajama buttons and quietly confessed, "I wish I could. I've never been able to with just my hand." Luna grinned, alert and eager to learn something new. "Have you ever tried with someone else's hand?"

A 100-word Hermione/Luna drabble for the customary Smutsgiving challenge. ---------------------- There could be no sleeping until the part-Veela/part-werewolf newlyweds on the other side of the wall exhausted themselves. Consequently, no matter where each night’s whispered conversation with Luna began, it always inevitably turned toward sex. “But it’s fascinating, though,” Luna insisted, “there are infinite variables. People are covered in nerve endings! It’s amazing!” “Is it?” Hermione smiled. “Of course! Consider the possibilities. The throat, the wrists, the inner thighs, the lower spine. Everyone has different erogenous zones.” Luna’s lips quirked. “Where are yours?” Hermione blushed. “I…don’t know.” Luna’s eyes flashed with a scientist’s delight. “Would you like to find out?”

@magpiefngrl invited everyone to talk about their favorite rare pairs, and I have to represent for my little pool-noodle ship, Hermione/Luna. They're my beloved neurodivergent sapphic ship. I’m fascinated by the time they spent sharing a bedroom in Shell Cottage. Luna had been held in a lightless cellar for three months, and Hermione had been tortured almost unto death and then had a chandelier dropped on her. Canon would have us believe they were both on an even keel again after a hot meal and a good night’s sleep. Like hell they were. There were certainly weeks of late-night tears and whispered conversations. I’m sure they shared a bed. They were already confidantes and comrades in arms. At Shell Cottage, I think they were each other’s true sanctuary within the refuge of the cottage. I HC Luna as being stimmy and echolalic when she’s not hiding it; Luna needed space to relax and act in the ways that are natural to her after months of confinement. Hermione needed space to feel her exhaustion, her fear, her ambivalence, and her injury, without anyone worrying or offering a well-intentioned pep talk. As Hermione and Luna shared that room, I believe they both grew and healed. They offered each other radical acceptance. Luna could express herself without meeting mockery and impatience, and Hermione was able to be unsteady without judgement. In the language of neurodiversity, they could stop masking. And I do believe it's Hermione-slash-Luna rather than only Hermione-ampersand-Luna: I think Luna is aroace, but she also enjoys trying new things just to see what will happen. For science. My blorbo song for Luna is Robert Palmer’s “Hey Julia” for the line “I sure would like to handle what’s between your ears." Nobody can learn their own sexual responses from a book, and, as in Hermione’s first flying lesson, there’s nothing for it but to just step up and give it a try in the moment. She needs an early partner who is kind and observant but fundamentally chill with whatever happens or doesn’t happen. She needs someone with no ego wrapped up in Hermione's responses, so she can try anything, and stop anything, with no pressure to perform in order not to hurt someone’s feelings. The only works tagged Hermiuna on Tumblr are those I’ve written myself. It’s all poetry and a drabble so far until I finish the second fic in my Brightest Witch series: Sonnet for the femslash theme “bed sharing" Sonnet for the femslash theme “love songs" Smutsgiving drabble Pantoum: Tea at Dawn

On AO3

A 100-word Hermione/Luna drabble for this Thanksgiving challenge. ---------------------- “Show me.” Luna stepped back, eyes intent. Hermione pulled off her pajama shirt, brashly flexing her shoulders more than strictly necessary. Once bare, though, she felt shy. To keep from crossing her arms, she clasped her hands behind her back. “Oh, lovely,” Luna murmured. Hermione shivered under Luna’s focus. “What do you see?” “I see questions and answers. I see skin full of nerve endings.” Luna held her hands near Hermione’s breasts and mimed a gentle plucking caress to see Hermione’s nipples harden. “I see a mind full of fantasies. I want to touch them all.” Hermione glowed. “Keep talking.” ---------------------- “To come to attention” on AO3.

A Hermione/Luna sonnet for the prompt “Love Songs”. ---------- She has no favourite love song, Luna said. Fleur rolled her eyes, waved a dismissive hand, and gently patted Luna on the head: “You’re young, chérie, one day you’ll understand.” What use has she for love songs when she hears a song in every breeze and raindrop’s fall, in light that travelled twenty million years to greet her in her blissful moonlit sprawl? Her body is a love song, hugging trees, romping through puddles, tasting every sweet. With muddy hands and grass stains on her knees all ground is holy underneath her feet. Her lucid, lush attention makes me weak and oh, the way she listens when I speak.