Tipping the Nymphae
Title: Tipping the Nymphae
Author: goneoffthelump
Requester: shocolate
Claim: Hermione/Luna: Hermione doesn't believe in nymphae - until they infest her pubic hair and Luna has to go in after them…
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Wherein Hermione learns about the birds and the… birds.
Warnings: Um, see pairing and rating.
Disclaimer: JKR's, all of it. Except the title, which belongs to Sarah Waters, more or less. Oh, and the terrifying squid bit at the beginning, which I found on shocolate's own fic journal, so I guess that's hers? She can share it with Luna.
Notes: This fic was rescued from the valley of shite by Lily, Alycen and Abby. Then it was betaed by Nathaniel. Yes, their initials spell ANAL.
Tipping the Nymphae
Hermione usually avoided making conversation with Luna.
It wasn’t that she disliked conversing with the peculiar Ravenclaw per se; it was just that the conversation always turned exasperating so quickly.
But as she listened to Harry and Ron begin enumerating the returning members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team for the Merlin-only-knows-how-many-eth time that afternoon, she would’ve welcomed a chat with a passing-by mountain troll, if only for the change of subject.
Not that she begrudged them their Quidditch talk, really. Two years was an awfully long time to go without.
And now that the war was over and they’d managed to survive the maelstrom of publicity that had followed during what should have been the peaceful summer months, she was glad that her boys were finally able to just be boys once more.
Truth be told, she knew that Quidditch was the main reason they’d agreed to return to school once it had reopened, so she wasn’t about to try to reign them in. At least not during the first week of term.
Even if that did leave her warily wondering just how exasperating the ensuing conversation was going to be when Luna joined the three of them under the beech tree.
Throwing caution to the wind, she gave Luna a warm smile and asked what she was working on as the younger girl pulled out quill and parchment.
“I’m researching an article for my father on the giant squid,” Luna replied and Hermione was unable to withhold an eyebrow quirk.
“Its eggs are about to hatch,” she continued, tsking sadly. “The poor thing’s all alone … going to be a hard road, I’m afraid. Of course, that’s inevitable when a creature of the deep mates with a human, isn’t it? Magic can only do so much. I do hope the merpeople will lend a hand.”
Hermione looked at Ron, who smirked and gave her hand a playful squeeze as she fished a book from her bag.
She managed to avoid conversation after that.
The sun was low in the sky by the time she noticed the pack of tittering fourth-year girls approaching.
A funny, tight feeling sank into her stomach as she watched Harry cringe and move to stand, eager to avoid another encounter with overzealous teenagers.
“They're not here for you, you know, Harry,” Luna said vaguely.
“Harry, mate,” Ron said, ignoring Luna and eyeing the approaching girls, “don’t you think it’s time you started taking advantage of your hero status?”
“They’re fourth-years, Ron,” Harry said, chuckling.
“So?” Ron chortled. “They’re two years older than the fourth-years were last time we were here. Besides, you can’t pine after my sister forever.” Harry shrugged uncomfortably.
“Oh, Ron, let him be,” Hermione scolded. “You know he hates it when they fawn.”
“They’re not here to fawn over Harry,” Luna said. Harry went red, seeming to struggle between embarrassment and indignation.
“They’re here to fawn over Hermione.”
Hermione gave a start at this. Her stomach tightened further as she looked back at the girls.
The pack reached the beech tree and for a moment it seemed that no one would speak as the girls in the front shifted about nervously and the ones in back tittered on. Finally, a tall brunette stepped forward, clearing her throat and licking her lips.
“Um, hello … Hermione. I’m, um … I wanted, um …” The girl’s face was very red as she suddenly thrust her arm forward, producing a tin with waxed paper peeping out from under the lid. “I’ve made you some biscuits,” she rushed.
Hermione looked at her blankly for a moment. “Oh,” she said carefully, “thank you.” She could hear nervous fingers tapping the bottom of the tin as she reached to accept it. The girl gave another tittering laugh before rushing away amid a cloud of giggles and squeals.
“Reckon she’s looking for a tutor?” Ron asked, chuckling. “Pass that over, Hermione, I’m starving.”
“I … don’t know what she wants,” Hermione said weakly. She looked after the retreating girls for another moment before opening the tin and passing it around, frowning.
“You alright?” Harry asked her as he examined his biscuit.
“Yes,” she said guardedly. “I just … I could have sworn … Oh, never mind.”
“You’re not imagining it, Hermione,” Luna said.
Hermione looked at her sharply. “Imagining what?”
“That all the girls are coming on to you. ”
Hermione tsked and sat up a bit straighter. “Honestly,” she sniffed incredulously. “Oh, Harry, just eat it. Eleanor’s a Hufflepuff, there’ll be nothing wrong with it.” She chanced a glance at Ron, who was frowning at Luna.
“They are, you know,” Luna continued, unperturbed. “Why else would they be sending you all those gifts?”
“All those gifts?” Ron asked.
Hermione looked at Luna suspiciously. “How do you know about that?”
“I hear things,” Luna replied airily. “And they’re only going to become stronger if you don’t get rid of them.”
“Them?”
“The nymphae. You’ve been swimming in the Aegean."
Hermione raised an eyebrow. “You must have also heard that I was in Greece in August with my parents.”
“I hadn’t. But it is the only place where you could have caught them.”
“Caught what, Luna?” Hermione snapped.
Luna’s gaze slid to Hermione’s face. “Nymphae, Hermione,” she said. “Surely you know the story.”
“Nymphae? The mythical cousins of the Veela?”
“Of course,” Luna said. “Daddy ran a wonderful article on them a while ago. I’ll ask him to send you a back issue. You’d find it most useful.”
Hermione gave an exasperated huff.
“The Veela have cousins?” Ron asked keenly. Hermione shot him a look, and he shrugged apologetically.
“They had, Ronald, yes. The Nymphae were the Veela’s Greek cousins, equally powerful and equally beautiful. They had a much harder road, though.” Luna trailed off thoughtfully.
“How come?” Harry prodded.
“They had a pesky habit of seducing the wives of powerful leaders, always a dangerous game. I think they enjoyed the risk of a high-profile woman.”
“They bewitched women?” Harry asked with raised eyebrows as Ron looked startled.
“Theoretically, yes, they would have,” Hermione said shortly, “if they had actually existed.”
“Sappho,” Luna replied, as though answering a question.
“What?”
“Sappho actually existed.”
“Yes, of course she did, but-”
“I suppose you actually believe she seduced all those women with only poetry,” Luna said tersely.
“So what happened to them?” Harry asked, before Hermione could comment on whether magic was a necessary component of seduction.
“They crossed a few too many men in high places. So they were rounded up and exiled to Anatolia, or so it was said. Their complete disappearance shortly thereafter was written off as an incidental casualty of Mithridates' Vespers, but that’s not what really happened.” She paused dramatically and sighed. “No, no, they never made it that far.”
“They were killed?” Harry asked.
“Not exactly, no. They were cast into the sea,” Luna said darkly. “Just terrible. Turned into water lilies, though, and are supposed to be extraordinary. Did you see them, Hermione?”
“Luna,” Hermione said, struggling to control her tone, “water lilies don’t live in saltwater.”
A new voice piped up from behind the tree. “Nymphae do.”
The four on the grass turned to see a slightly pink-cheeked Neville. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, I just … I heard you, and … sorry, but I’m very curious about the nympha lily.”
Hermione stared at him.
“No one understands its magic. It only lives in that one part of the Aegean and it shouldn’t be able to live even there. Blooms all year long, and never reproduces,” Neville said, flushing more deeply.
“It does reproduce,” Luna said. “Just not as a flower.”
“What d’you mean?” Neville asked.
“As its capital letter self.”
“Sorry?”
“Nymphae,” she said, putting a particularly forceful stress on the ‘n’.
Neville blinked and looked to the other three for help.
Hermione gave him a sympathetic look and rolled her eyes.
“A new Nympha is produced when bits of the plant’s pollen get caught in a swimmer’s pubic hair,” Luna explained. “That’s the best spot for them to gain sustenance. They feed off of sexual energy, and they need loads.”
Hermione felt her cheeks warm at Luna’s casualness. She sat up a little straighter, assuming a more dignified air as though she had no idea that Luna was taking about her, Hermione’s, own pubic hair and sexual energy.
An awkward silence fell over the group, punctuated only by nervous coughs and rustles of clothing as the three boys around her shifted uncomfortably.
A very red-faced but determined Ron managed to speak after a minute. “So, the pollen from those lilies is making Hermione a nympho?”
“Nympha,” Luna corrected, “and, yes.”
“Can’t she just … spell it all off?” Ron asked uneasily.
“Oh no, they’ve already harnessed her magic. You need something stronger than a simple cleaning spell to break that bond,” Luna explained.
“What you need,” she continued, looking at Hermione very seriously, “is an orgasm. That should overwhelm them and sever the bond.”
Hermione flushed and averted her eyes from Luna’s surprisingly strong gaze. She watched Ron turn purple and Harry cringe as Neville stared very interestedly at the tree trunk.
She huffed indignantly and made a show of returning to her book.
Thirty minutes later, the five of them were walking up to the castle for dinner. Ron slowed and fell a few paces behind, pulling on Hermione’s arm.
“Is all that really happening? What Luna was going on about?” he asked quietly.
“Oh, Ron, honestly,” she said reprovingly. “Yes, I have been getting a lot of attention, but so’ve you. You know it’s just the publicity. Please don’t start worrying about information you’ve received from Luna Lovegood.”
Ron’s expression remained sceptical for a moment before he relaxed into a sheepish grin. “Yeah, you’re right.” His grin became suggestive as he continued, “Besides, even if those nympho things were real, you’d have been rid of them a long time ago.” He took her hand and blushed a little.
She blinked at him a moment before his meaning came to her. “Oh, right,” she said, feeling herself redden as she smiled and squeezed his hand.
“Hey, Luna,” he called as his grin turned cheeky, “d’you reckon there are a lot of people walking around with these … sea Veela things?”
“Quite possibly.”
“Wizards, too?”
“Certainly.”
“Wish I had some … Go for a little swim and then have any girl you like.” He yelped when Hermione pinched his arm.
“Actually, Ronald, it is far more likely that you would have your choice of wizard, don’t you think?”
Ron furrowed his eyebrows as he rubbed the spot Hermione had assaulted. “You think?”
“There hasn’t been a wizard on record who’s sustained them long enough to determine the actual effect.”
“Why not? Doesn’t our magic work the same?”
“Certainly it does. Most wizards just seem to kill them too quickly.”
“Why?”
Hermione smirked. “I think that should be obvious, Ron.”
“How’d you mean?”
“Well, if one did want to sustain them,” she said, “there seems to be a certain amount of … restraint necessary, doesn’t there?”
“I was only asking because I thought you might like to know,” Ron said indignantly. “Might give you an excuse for Lockhart.”
“Ron, I was thirteen!” she retorted. “Are you ever going to let that go?”
“Prob’ly not,” Ron chortled.
(.|.)
As the portrait swung closed behind Hermione, she surveyed the common room. She spotted Harry sitting apart from the rest of the Gryffindors, hunched over a piece of parchment.
“Hermione,” he said after giving a start when she dropped her armload of books on his table, “if you can’t fit them all in your bag, I think it’s safe to say you’ve checked out too many books.”
“Sorry,” she said, “but the library was closing and I didn’t want to have to find them all again tomorrow.”
“What is this all for?”
Hermione glanced around as she sat down and lowered her voice. “Do you remember the conversation we had last weekend with Luna? About the … attention I’ve been receiving?”
Harry rolled his eyes. “How could I forget? Ron was in a rage about it all weekend. Said you had a row over it on Friday?”
Hermione sighed. “Yes, I’m afraid I was a bit unfair to him.”
Harry looked surprised. “So you did flirt with Lavender Brown just to irk him?”
“Of course not!” she retorted. “I only mean that he may be right that this … situation is escalating. But if he thinks he can sit there and insinuate that I’m leading these girls on, like … like some sort of …”
“Scarlet woman?” Harry ventured with a smirk. Hermione glared at him. “So it has been getting worse?” he asked, smiling apologetically.
“Yes,” she sighed. “I thought everyone was just being friendly at first. But I had to admit it was starting to get strange when Parvati and Lavender began cornering me whenever they could to boast about all the extra studying they’ve been doing. And then they started going on about how they can sense my ‘newly developed aura’.” She snorted and rolled her eyes. “That’s what sparked Ron on Friday, I had the audacity to politely thank them for offering to tutor me in Divination. What was I supposed to say? It was bizarre, but they did seem to mean well.”
Harry laughed. “That reminds me, I wanted to warn you,” he said with a quick glance around the room, “I’ve noticed Romilda Vane watching you. Really watching you.”
She sighed and shook her head wearily. “It gets worse, though.” She lowered her voice, forcing Harry to lean closer. “McGonagall asked me to stay behind after the prefects' meeting on Friday afternoon, and, well … at first I thought I must be imagining it, but… ” She felt her cheeks warm. “But she definitely … came on to me.”
“McGonagall?”
Hermione nodded wretchedly.
Harry’s eyes went wide and he let out a long breath as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “So you’ve researched it, then?”
“Well, I’ve tried, but there isn’t much.”
“Not much?” Harry snorted, gesturing to the tower of books on the table.
“Most books only give it a fleeting reference, it’s not well understood. I grabbed anything that mentioned sexual magic or the Veela. Or the … Nymphae,” she said sheepishly.
“So you think Luna’s on to something?”
Hermione sighed. “Possibly.”
Harry’s mouth quirked in amusement.
“Oh alright, probably,” she finished reluctantly. “It seems that, hypothetically at least, she could be right. The Nymphae show up occasionally in the history books alongside the Veela, so they might not have been purely mythical. And there’s no explanation for their disappearance. I’ll grant that it is rather dodgy.”
“And the flower thing?”
“That … might also be true. Hypothetically. Oh, go ahead and laugh,” she said, rolling her eyes as Harry grinned. “It was bound to happen sooner or later.”
).(
As Hermione lay in bed that night, she debated whether it wouldn’t be prudent to follow the advice Luna had given her by the lake.
She still wasn’t completely convinced that the nymphae were real, but her research suggested that, if they were, an orgasm might get rid of them.
Trouble was, her research also suggested that it might only make them much stronger.
Her limited sources were split on the question, and it seemed a dangerous gamble.
She shuddered, remembering the feeling of the Headmistress’s fingers running up her forearm.
There was a hypothetical possibility that her own fingers could put a stop to this entire fiasco. If it turned out to be just that simple, she would feel awfully stupid for never having tried.
She could discount her experiences with Ron because, despite very good effort and her continued assurances to the contrary, all her orgasms with him had been … hypothetical.
It wasn’t for lack of trying, certainly.
She smiled into the darkness, remembering a particularly beautiful night at the Burrow during the last week of summer, when they’d slipped out into the trees. She sighed at the memory of Ron’s hands and lips and …
She bit her lip and inadvertently rocked her hips as her hand trailed across her chest.
It may be awkward and nervous and clumsy, but she loved when Ron touched her.
As her fingers skimmed over her breasts and stomach, she inhaled deeply, thinking of him and wishing they weren’t in a fight.
She gasped as her fingers dipped into her pubic hair.
She just needed some release.
And if she happened to rid herself of any hypothetical pubic infestation in the process, all the better.
( v )
“What is that?” Ron demanded.
“What does it look like?” Hermione snapped, slamming the box of sugar-free sweets on the table as she sat down across from him.
“Is that why Romilda wanted to talk to you?” Harry asked uneasily.
“Mmmhmm,” she replied tightly as she jerkily served herself lunch. “Honestly, does she think I’m that stupid?”
Ron’s nostrils flared. “You couldn’t’ve just given ’em back? Told her you didn’t want them?”
She glared at him, and took a large bite of food.
She ate hurriedly, ignoring Ron’s clenched jaw and Harry’s nervous glances.
She’d been trying to reserve judgment all day as to whether the previous night’s orgasm had solved or worsened her problem.
She had chosen to disregard the bottle of elderflower wine at the foot of her bed that morning, as well as the stack of love notes that had come with the morning’s post. All that would have been arranged the night before.
But she knew she couldn’t ignore the encounter with Romilda.
She sighed and chewed and felt her eyes roll of their own accord.
There was a commotion as a spotted owl flew into the hall, wearing the red sash of a high-priority express delivery, but Hermione didn’t notice it until it had landed in front of her.
She furrowed her brow and untied the small package it carried.
She examined it quickly while Harry offered the owl payment, then made to shove the package into her satchel, but Ron grabbed it, stopping her.
“What is it?” he asked accusingly.
“I don’t know, Ron, but I’m certainly not going to find out here, with the whole of the Great Hall staring at me. Let go.”
“Who sent it?” he hissed in a low voice.
“I don’t know. Let. Go.”
“I want to see what it is.”
“Not. Now.” Hermione tugged the package from his grip. His fingers caught in the seam of the brown paper wrapping as it slipped through them. Blood was pounding loudly enough in Hermione’s ears that she didn’t hear the paper tear.
She stared at the empty, torn package in her hand for a moment.
Then she looked up and saw a pair of skimpy black knickers hanging from Ron’s fingertips over the table.
Every eye at the long Gryffindor table bulged. Harry’s jaw fell open.
Ron just blinked for a moment, before going scarlet.
He recoiled his hand, dropping the knickers into a lacy heap on the table, eyeing it as though it were an Acromantula poised to strike.
Hermione’s ears threatened to burn down to nothing as the ringing silence gave way to raucous laughter.
\|/
Hermione stood outside the Great Hall that evening, tapping her heel anxiously when Harry emerged, holding a small bundle wrapped in napkins.
“It’s not very much,” he said apologetically. “Are you sure you don’t want to just come in quickly? There aren’t many people left in there.”
She shook her head tersely. “Is Luna still there?”
Harry nodded. “I’ll ask her.” Hermione took the bundle from him and smiled her thanks wearily. “So you weren’t able to find any more information this afternoon?” he asked.
She shook her head with a sigh. “I tried to ask Professor Sprout, I thought she might have some obscure Herbology text that the library doesn’t carry, but she wouldn’t even listen to me. She kept trying to pull me down to the greenhouses, going on about some impressive coco-de-mer fruit she wanted to show me.”
“A what fruit?”
“Never mind. I know this must seem ridiculous, but I really want to know what else was in Luna’s father’s article. Since some of it appears to be factual, there might be something else I can use.”
Harry raised his eyebrows, but refrained from comment.
Hermione didn’t mention that she’d already asked Madam Pince if the library carried old issues of The Quibbler. She shuddered as she remembered the look of horror on the old woman’s face, and wondered just how many places in the school she’d be unable to show her own face before this debacle was behind her.
She only had to wait a minute before Luna came wandering through the large doors.
“Hello, Hermione,” she said dreamily.
Hermione gave a smile she hoped wasn’t too forced. “Hello. Do you have a moment?”
“Of course,” she replied. “I see the orgasm you had last night has fortified the nymphae considerably.”
“Would you keep your voice down, please?” Hermione hissed as she as she glanced up and down the corridor.
“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Hermione,” Luna replied.
“All the same,” she whispered reproachfully as she pulled Luna over to the wall. In a low whisper, she continued, “You suspected that this would happen?”
Luna nodded.
“And you didn’t see fit to warn me when you… made your recommendation?”
Luna shrugged. “I didn’t want to explain in front of Ronald that all the anticlimactic sexual energy you’d produced with him had likely strengthened them to the point where a simple orgasm would no longer be sufficient to kill them. I suspected that you’d led him to believe that you had climaxed with him, and I didn’t want to embarrass him. He’s really rather sensitive, you know.”
“Thank you for that astute observation. Is there anything else you’d like to tell me now that we’re alone?”
“In order to get rid of them now, you’re going to need to provide them with a new host.”
Hermione raised her eyebrows. “Someone could take them from me?”
“At the moment of orgasm, yes,” Luna replied. “When the bond is at its weakest, the nymphae will break it if there is opportunity to form a new one.”
“Having an orgasm with someone else will transfer all the nymphae to them?”
“If it’s done properly, yes.”
“So I’d be rid of them, but this other person would then be infested?”
“I prefer the term ‘endowed’, but yes.”
There was a commotion in the corridor as the last of the students left the Great Hall, and Hermione jumped, remembering where they were.
Her eyes widened when she saw Ron standing only several yards away, his jaw visibly clenched and nostrils flared. Harry came hurrying through the doors a moment later, calling after Ron worriedly. When he saw the two staring at each other, he blanched and looked apologetically at Hermione.
She glared at Ron and grabbed Luna’s sleeve to pull her down the corridor, too focused on this new information to worry about his latest overreaction.
Seeing him had given her an idea.
“So,” she continued as they started walking, “if the person who took them from me were someone who normally wouldn’t be able to sustain them, would the new bond eventually just give out? And that would be the end of it?”
“Ronald won’t work, Hermione.”
Hermione cast her an irritated glance as they walked.
“The nymphae will only transfer to a host they find suitable. They’re quite comfortable with you, and it will take a very welcoming environment to lure them away, especially when they’re this strong.”
“And Ron’s not welcoming enough?”
“They can recognise his frenetic sexual energy, they’ll know that he won’t sustain them.”
“So what should I do?”
“Whom.”
“What?”
“Or rather, who,” Luna said thoughtfully.
“Excuse me?”
“What or whom you should do is not the issue, but who should do you.”
Hermione stopped walking. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I will, if you like.”
“You’ll what?”
“Do you.”
Hermione stared at her. “You’ll… do me.”
“Certainly.”
“Luna,” Hermione said slowly, “could you start over, please? About all the … doing?”
“The only way you can get rid of the nymphae now is to have someone who is a suitable new host bring you to orgasm by cunnilingus.”
Hermione closed her eyes. “I was afraid that’s what you meant.”
“And I am volunteering my services in that regard.”
Hermione opened her eyes, narrowing them at Luna suspiciously. “Are you saying this because of the effect they’re having on you? Is this all some elaborate plot to get me into bed?”
Luna smiled serenely. “No,” she answered, “but it is clever of you to ask. Many women in my position would take advantage.”
“But you’re not?”
“No. My sexual awareness is quite highly evolved, and my desires are perfectly under control. You can trust that I offer my services only as a concerned friend.”
Hermione continued to eye her guardedly. “And you wouldn’t mind having the nymphae?”
“Not at all, I think they sound lovely.”
“Well,” Hermione replied slowly, “thank you for that … kind offer. I’ll … think it over.”
“Take all the time you need,” Luna replied. “I don’t have time this evening anyway. Daddy needs my Squid article with tomorrow morning’s owl post.”
(.|.)
).(
Late that night, Hermione collapsed on the Gryffindor common room couch with a frustrated sigh, dropping her satchel and books to the floor unceremoniously.
Harry gave her a small wave as Ron stared determinedly at the chessboard.
She sighed and watched them each make a few moves before her mind began to spin its wheels again.
The common room had soon emptied for the night, leaving only the three of them and a handful of sixth years, Ginny among them.
As her classmates headed up the stairs, Ginny hung back at the sight of Hermione.
“You alright, Hermione?” she asked, sitting next to her. “You look upset.”
Hermione turned to her and smiled at the first innocently friendly female face she’d seen in a fortnight.
“Oh,” Hermione said with a sigh, “I’m OK.”
Ginny glanced over at the boys before leaning closer and lowering her voice. “Is it my brother? What’s he done?” she asked, placing her hand on Hermione’s forearm consolingly.
“No, it’s not to do with Ron, really,” Hermione said, “although he is being very difficult. But that’s not the real problem.” Hermione stopped and looked down to her arm when she felt Ginny’s thumb begin to rub small circles.
Hermione blinked and felt her heart sink.
Ginny moved a bit closer, boxing her into the corner of the couch, and reached for her other hand.
Hermione stared at her, completely aghast as Ginny whispered, “You could do so much better than him, Hermione.” She leaned in. “I mean it,” she said with a significant look.
Ginny came closer still and Hermione tried not to cringe, feeling guilty and embarrassed and hating whatever this damned thing was.
She smiled apologetically.
“Oh, Ginny,” she said. “Thanks, but I … I’m sure that’d be great, but I …”
“What in the bloody hell’s going on here?” came Ron’s strangely hollow voice from over the chess board.
Hermione looked over at him and Harry, who was staring at them with his mouth partially open.
Ron had risen from his seat. Ginny fixed him with a challenging glare, and Hermione saw red seep up his neck.
Ginny stood and took an angry step towards him. “Look, you great prat, I don’t know what you did, but it’s about time you realise just how damned lucky you are that Hermione puts up with you. You don’t deserve her!”
She shared a fiery look with Ron before turning back to Hermione. “You know where to find me when you’re ready for something better.” She pushed past Ron with a huff and marched up the stairs.
Ron wheeled on Hermione almost instantly.
“Well, you were pretty damn cosy with her!”
“Ron, don’t be stupid,” Hermione spat.
“You were flirting with my damn sister!”
“I certainly was not! And before you rail on her, it’s not her fault, Ron, she can’t control it.”
“Oh no, you don’t!” Ron bellowed. “I’m bloody well tired of this!”
“You’re tired of this?” Hermione cried.
“Come off it, Hermione. I know you haven’t got those water Veela or whatever anymore.”
“Oh, do you?”
“Yeah, I heard you with Luna this afternoon. Heard you talking to her like you were doing research, I know you believe her. And I know you haven’t got them anymore, you couldn’t have for a long time now, and I’m starting to wonder just what in the bloody hell’s going on!” He gestured to the couch. “Look at you sitting here, holding her hands and smiling at her. My bloody sister! Like you fancy her or something!”
“You know what, Ron?” Hermione seethed, barely able to breathe. “Maybe I do. Maybe it’s her I’ve fancied all along, and being with you is just a farce, a misguided attempt to cling to red hair and freckles while conforming to the heterosexual paradigm!”
Ron blinked at her angrily. “Sexual pair of what?”
“Oh, honestly,” Hermione snorted. “Why don’t you ask Harry about it - ask how he’s hidden fancying you all this time?”
She gasped, too late to take the words back, and looked to Harry. Harry cringed and went red, his gaze fixed on the floor.
Before she could back-pedal or offer apology, Ron stepped toward her and lowered his voice.
“Shh,” he hissed at her. “Let him be, he can’t help that.”
She felt her eyes go wide. “What?” she managed, looking back to Harry, who was studying something on his fingernail.
“It’s these damn ... bloody ... flower Veela whatever the fuck.”
“What?”
“I told you. I heard you with Luna. I know that you gave them to me when we ... well, you know, at the end of the summer. And you know what, actually,” he said, his anger ebbing a bit as he grew thoughtful, “that answers a few questions .... Luna was right, about it being the other blokes who go goofy, and Harry’s not the only one. Terry Boot’s been staring at me ever since term started …. Now I know why.”
Hermione drew an intense breath through her nose.
“Terry Boot has been staring at you for years, Ron. But not because you are a bloody Veela!”
“But-” Ron started again, his face darkening with anger again.
“No, Ron!” she cried. “Even if you did have nymphae - which, by the way, if we’re continuing to rely on Luna’s information, trust me, you do not - you certainly wouldn’t have caught them from me because I have never had an actual orgasm with you!”
Ron started angrily at her, opening his mouth with some hot reply, until her words registered. His features deflated as he blinked at her.
Hermione gasped, hearing the spite of her words.
“Oh, Ron, I ...” she whispered before he could speak. “That’s not what I ... I didn’t ... You’re not ... Oh!”
She turned and fled to her dormitory, leaving two red-faced, blinking boys in the common room.
( v )
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Hermione stood very still for a solid minute, eyeing Barnabas the Barmy warily. One of the trolls was staring at her and she blushed, wondering if it could tell why she was there.
She tried to breathe steadily and reminded herself that this was the only way to put her life back to normal.
She blushed again as she paced, trying to concentrate more on her need to be rid of the nymphae and less on her need for oral sex. Her stomach tightened when the door appeared.
She took a deep, resolute breath and walked through it.
The room was dimly lit, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but she recognised it instantly.
She was in the library. And in the middle of it, in place of a few tables, was her own four poster.
She blushed yet again, but felt her unease lessen.
“Luna?” she called softly.
Luna emerged from between a row of shelves, holding a small box in her hand. Her hair was pulled atop her head in a messy bun, her wand stuck through it.
Hermione’s stomach tightened again. Summoning all her dignity, she managed a small smile and an uncomfortably shallow breath. “Sorry I’m late,” she said quietly. “I was …”
“It’s quite alright, Hermione, I understand. This is highly out of the ordinary for you.”
Her use of the phrase ‘for you’ earned an eyebrow raise, but Hermione said nothing.
Luna's large eyes held a steady gaze, and Hermione swallowed as the candlelight did funny things to them.
“That sounds lovely,” she said, gesturing to the box Luna held, which was filling the library with a gentle music.
“Yes, you must really like this piece, it’s played it three times already. I’ve never known a mood music box to get stuck on one song before. Is it working?”
Never having encountered a magical music box before, Hermione had no idea if it was working properly. She opened her mouth to say so when the tenor of the music changed and a series of low, intense chords began pulsing across the room.
It was smooth and mysterious and hauntingly beautiful, and Hermione felt herself close her eyes and lean into the sound of it. A tingling awoke between her legs.
Luna’s serene smile grew a little as she set the music box on a bookshelf.
She stepped towards Hermione, watching her with an uncharacteristically focused and penetrating look.
Hermione blinked and felt her heart rate speed up.
“Do you need anything? Something to drink?” Luna asked, gesturing to a table under the window.
Hermione saw a bottle of elderflower wine and a single glass.
“That’d be nice,” she said. Luna stepped in the direction of the table, but Hermione hurried past her.
The bottle was open already, and Hermione poured it with an infuriatingly trembling hand.
Hermione felt Luna’s gaze upon her as she brought the glass to her lips.
There was a swell in the music, and as she became aware of the space between her legs again, Hermione tilted her glass upwards and swallowed its entire contents in four swift gulps.
Luna watched her without reaction.
Embarrassed, she set the glass down and looked at Luna with a small smile.
“Well,” Hermione said shortly, “shall we get on with it, then?”
Luna blinked serenely at her. “If you’re ready.”
Hermione swallowed and attempted a smile. “I am.”
With her gaze steady, Luna stepped toward Hermione until they were only inches apart.
Luna’s scent mingled with the musty smell of books and candles, and Hermione took a deep, shuddering breath as Luna reached up and began to unbutton her blouse.
Luna’s gaze never wavered as Hermione blinked and tried to keep a hold on herself. If Luna could take this all in stride, she certainly could as well.
Her heart continued to pound loudly as Luna worked her buttons, and she was startled to feel an echoing pulse directly between her legs. She bit her lip and unconsciously rocked her hips slightly.
Luna’s pupils grew larger as she felt the movement and undid the final button. Her fingers trailed up to Hermione’s shoulders and pushed the shirt back from her body and off.
Luna pulled even closer, and her hand came to rest on Hermione’s waist. Something between Hermione’s legs throbbed approvingly.
“Is this alright, Hermione?” Luna asked, with the first hint of breathiness. Their faces were only inches apart.
Luna was asking permission to kiss her. Part of Hermione’s brain piped up to say that kissing wasn’t really necessary, and that they’d be better off sticking with the bare necessities.
But before she could give voice to these thoughts, she nodded and leaned, ever so slightly, toward Luna.
It almost seemed she actually wanted to kiss her.
There was no movement when their lips first touched, only gentle pressure and the feeling of warm breath mingling.
Hermione kept her eyes open, reminding herself that she was here out of necessity alone and wondered if she should ask to just get down to business.
Then Luna moved her lips and kissed Hermione’s closed mouth once.
Twice.
The third kiss was stronger and lasted longer, and as Luna pulled back, her bottom lip stuck to Hermione’s for an extra moment, creating a gentle tug on the sensitive skin as the suction broke.
The soundless snap of their lips separating echoed across Hermione’s brain and something - the music or the wine or whatever the hell was making all that racket between her legs - took over. Hermione’s eyes were suddenly forced shut as she began kissing Luna in earnest.
She pressed her lips against Luna’s again and again, and soon Luna’s tongue was in her mouth, slipping over her own tantalisingly.
They kissed for what was probably several minutes, but could have just as easily been several hours for the fogginess that had settled over Hermione’s brain.
Luna’s fingers skimmed over her bare back, and Hermione moved her own hands to Luna’s waist, where she was startled to find cloth instead of smooth skin.
She began fumbling with the buttons on Luna’s blouse, but wasn’t able to make them work as Luna’s tongue continued to taunt her. She gave an exasperated whimper and forced herself to break the kiss so she could look down at what she was doing.
Luna chuckled and raised a hand to her hair, where her wand was still perched.
The button in Hermione’s fingers vanished, along with the rest of the clothing both of them wore.
Hermione gasped at the sight of Luna’s exposed body and felt the throbbing between her legs swell as the blonde stepped back toward the bed, pulling Hermione by the arm.
She wasn’t sure how she ended up on her back so quickly, writhing as Luna’s hands and lips and tongue and teeth made quick work of any reticence she was harbouring.
She didn’t have any idea how much time had passed since the door to the Room of Requirement had appeared for her, but if she had come in with any doubt that she would go through with this, she’d forgotten it by the time she felt Luna’s hot breath on her inner thigh.
Luna licked and nipped along the sensitive skin towards the dark curls of Hermione’s pubic hair and then her tongue dipped into it, peeping into the folds and teasing them apart.
Hermione arched against her and moaned as Luna pressed her tongue down and delivered a long, firm stroke upwards.
The library faded away as Luna’s tongue made another pass and then began lapping at her. Each of Hermione’s senses was focused on the throbbing space between her legs, aware of nothing but the attentions of Luna’s hot, wet tongue.
Hermione fisted the bedcovers as Luna worked her way up to her clit, caressing the velvety skin around it agonizingly before finally closing her mouth over it.
She sucked gently and Hermione couldn’t help but thrust up against her, earning an appreciative hum from Luna. Hermione gasped and writhed.
Soon there was a finger sliding inside her, and then two, and Hermione realised she had threaded her own fingers into Luna’s hair when her bun came undone and wand fell out, hitting the back of Hermione’s hand.
Aware of her surroundings momentarily, Hermione noticed that the song from the music box had changed. Two women’s voices were filling the library as they slid over one another and rubbed against each other in a sensuous, erotic duet.
The tension in their harmony tightened and then blossomed deliciously as Hermione felt fingers thrust into her.
Luna sucked her clit gently and hummed with her lips once more.
Hermione threw her head back, fisting blonde hair and arching up from the mattress with a cry. She hovered, for a moment, suspended, before collapsing back down onto the bed, trembling.
(.|.)
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( v )
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Some immeasurable time later, Hermione found herself lying in the same library, on the same bed and on her same back, but something was very different.
There was new music playing, which put her in mind of sunlight and flowers and butterflies. She giggled at how utterly silly it was.
Her toes were tingling and there was a funny pulse of electricity gently rippling about in her body.
She’d never even read about anything like this.
There was a sound at the foot of the bed and she lifted her head to look for the source.
A head of blonde hair appeared as its owner straightened up from the floor.
Hermione blinked.
“There we go,” Luna said. “I’ve found all my clothes, so I’ll just go. Stay and sleep, if you like.”
Hermione saw Luna’s lips moving, but couldn’t hear her words. She was too busy trying to work out how it had escaped her notice all these years that Luna was so stunningly beautiful.
The candlelight was now reflecting suggestively not only from Luna’s eyes but from her hair and hips and breasts, and Hermione could do nothing but blink at her for another moment.
Her brain finally caught up with Luna’s words, and she sat up quickly.
“Don’t go.”
Luna smiled at her. “I think it’s best that I go, Hermione.”
“No, don’t,” Hermione repeated, desperately. “I need to … I want … to touch you … like that.”
“Of course you do. The transfer was successful.”
“Transfer?” Hermione blinked again. “Oh. Right.”
“I’d rather hoped I’d have time to leave before they took effect, to save us this trouble.”
“No trouble. Stay, please.”
Luna smiled again, almost sadly. “It’s just the magic, Hermione.”
A voice in the back of Hermione’s mind piped up at this, and she knew Luna was right. Luna was a Nympha now.
But there was another voice, coming from another part of her anatomy, telling her to pull Luna back into the bed and not let her up until she’d passed out from pleasure.
Hermione got to her knees and shuffled across the bed until she could reach Luna’s hand.
“Maybe it is,” she said, “but I don’t want you to go.”
She pulled Luna’s hand, urging her back to the bed.
Luna just looked at her for a moment. Hermione opened her mouth to plead further, but suddenly the music changed and she knew persuasion was unnecessary.
The would-be library was filled with strange echoes that sounded at first like large trumpets being played underwater.
Hermione quirked an eyebrow as Luna’s eyes fluttered shut.
“Whales?”
“Mmmm, Humpbacks,” Luna breathed. Hermione smirked and pulled the blonde into the bed.
(.|.)
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( v )
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“You’re sure?” Hermione asked.
“Yes. Can’t you feel it?” Luna replied.
Hermione sighed. She wasn’t sure how long they’d been in the Room of Requirement, but sunlight was beginning to seep over the horizon through the library window. She realised, idly, that she didn’t know if an enchanted window could be relied upon to indicate the correct time of day.
She sighed a second time before turning to Luna. “I feel … something,” she admitted. “I suppose.”
She honestly had no idea what was real at this point.
“You really think we’ve split them?” she asked again.
“Yes.”
“So, now we’re both ….”
“Yes.”
Hermione bit her lip. She knew this should be bad news, but as Luna’s hair fell over her shoulder and framed her nipple particularly enticingly, Hermione couldn’t quite remember why she was supposed to be unhappy.
“How did we do that, again?” she asked, unable to take her eyes from Luna’s right breast.
“You didn’t heed my warning.”
“Oh, right. Sorry. You just looked so … tasty.” Hermione felt herself blush at this. Part of her brain seemed to register the ridiculousness of this entire situation, but a larger part of it was still stuck on Luna’s nipple. The left one, though. It was making some progress.
“Well, what do we do now? Surely there’s another way to get rid of them.”
“No, this was it. That’s why you came here, remember?”
“Oh right. You were going to take them for me.”
“Yes, I rather liked the idea of being a Nympha. But then, I haven’t anyone who might object to all the attention.”
Hermione blinked as something in her brain slid into place.
Oh dear.
What was she going to say to Ron?
She knew - illogically and inexplicably - that she couldn’t go on with him.
Because the feelings that were coursing through her as she looked at Luna felt so right that, despite being completely foreign, they were familiar.
It didn’t make any sense and she knew she couldn’t prove it and maybe it was just the magic, but it didn’t matter because it was all that she wanted.
“Do you think we’ll feel like this for long?” she asked.
“Oh yes,” Luna said, looking at her with silvery eyes. “When a Nympha is attracted to another Nympha,” she explained, “the desire is insatiable.”
“Insatiable?”
“Forever.”
“Oh.”
Hermione wondered if it was odd that she found the word ‘forever’ comforting instead of ominous.
(.|.)
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( v )
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As she watched a red-faced Ron twist his fingers in the grass, Hermione sighed and reminded herself that this was for the best.
He’d be OK. He had Harry, she thought, as she watched him cast another nervous glance over his shoulder to where Harry stood, discussing training with the newest Gryffindor Beaters.
He’d always have Harry, even if he never realised the true extent to which he had him.
They’d be OK, and it was better for everyone if she did what she felt was right.
“Ron,” she began carefully.
“Hermione, look, before you start,” Ron said quickly, “I overreacted and I was wrong and I’m sorry.”
“Oh, Ron, it’s alright. That’s not what this is about. But thank you, and I’m sorry for the things I said, too.” Ron’s eyes darted to the ground and his ears turned redder. “You’re a wonderful lover, Ron,” she continued, feeling her own face warm. “We just didn’t know what we were doing.” Ron flushed more deeply as he shrugged.
Hermione took a deep breath.
“Ron, I’ve loved you for a long time, and being with you has been wonderful, and-”
“I should have asked you,” Ron said dejectedly, “made sure you were alright before-”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Hermione continued, “but I think maybe I’ve misunderstood some things, and, well, I can’t really explain it-”
“But once we got started, it was just … it couldn’t be stopped-”
“But Luna and I can’t help it, it’s …” She stopped and looked at Ron. “What?”
Ron blinked at her. “What can’t you help?” he asked, narrowing his eyes a little.
“What couldn’t you stop?” she replied. “And who’s we?”
Ron straightened up a bit, rubbing his fingers into the grass. “Didn’t you want to talk to me because of Harry?”
“Harry?” Hermione repeated, feeling her eyebrows float up.
Ron quailed a bit as he shot a glance over his shoulder. Hermione followed it and saw Harry looking over at them nervously. He flushed at the sight of them both looking at him and quickly turned back to the fourth-year who was speaking animatedly, miming his prowess with a bludger.
“Ron,” Hermione said, still eyeing Harry, “what happened after I left the common room?”
Ron’s blush intensified. “Well, I ... once we realised I wasn’t, you know ... a ... Veela or whatever, well… there were still all these ... feelings ... left to deal with.”
“Harry’s feelings?”
Ron shrugged and stared at the grass. “Turned out, not just Harry’s.”
“Oh,” she said carefully. “And how did you deal with these feelings?”
“We, uh ... he … well, I… we ...”
“Did you kiss?” She tried not to sound amused.
“Yeah, and look,” he said quickly, “it’s not just that I was mad at you, or that I didn’t, you know, still want you, it’s just that I’d never thought of Harry like that before, or any bloke, really, not that I think I ever would, think of any other bloke, that is, but that’s not the point, what I mean is I’m sorry I cheated on you and I hope you don’t hate me because Harry and I both love you, but now that we’ve… well, we can’t… we can’t…” He trailed off and looked at her fearfully.
“That’s wonderful, Ron.”
“It … is?”
“Yes,” she smiled, “and I don’t think you should stop.”
Ron stared at her. “OK,” he finally said, uneasily. “Wait, you and Luna what?” he said with a start.
She blushed and laughed uncomfortably. “Well,” she said, trying to remember what she’d planned to say, “it’s a rather long story at this point. But, uh, she and I had an encounter last night that was ... unstoppable. And now it seems we’ve both become Nymphae and are destined to be insatiably attracted to one another for the rest of our lives.”
Ron’s eyes went wide. “Your entire lives? Luna? Are you serious?”
Hermione nodded.
“And you won’t kill her?”
Hermione tsked gently and shrugged. “We’re not really so different, she and I. We’ve always agreed on the important things, haven’t we?”
Ron chuckled and gave an agreeable shrug, shaking his head. “And you’re OK being a … nympho now?”
Hermione chortled. “It’s not really so bad, after all.”
She looked up and saw Luna emerge from the castle, followed by a gaggle of girls clambering for her attention.
Hermione watched Luna politely speak with them as her gaze wandered.
When large grey eyes fell upon her, Hermione hadn’t been ready, and she gasped. The look they fixed her with was so intense she could have sworn it actually reached out and stroked her.
She couldn’t have taken her eyes from Luna’s if she’d tried as their connection intensified, fed by the fawning attention.
Each nervous giggle, each batted eyelash, each tentative request was raw sexual energy, surging through their two bodies.
“Insatiable attraction, eh?” Ron said thoughtfully, seemingly oblivious to the effect it was having on Hermione at that moment. “Reckon that’s not such a raw deal, in the end.”
“Yeah,” Hermione managed as she squirmed and tried not to rock her hips too obviously. “I think it’ll be OK.”
The
(.|.)
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( v )
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End
Author: goneoffthelump
Requester: shocolate
Claim: Hermione/Luna: Hermione doesn't believe in nymphae - until they infest her pubic hair and Luna has to go in after them…
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Wherein Hermione learns about the birds and the… birds.
Warnings: Um, see pairing and rating.
Disclaimer: JKR's, all of it. Except the title, which belongs to Sarah Waters, more or less. Oh, and the terrifying squid bit at the beginning, which I found on shocolate's own fic journal, so I guess that's hers? She can share it with Luna.
Notes: This fic was rescued from the valley of shite by Lily, Alycen and Abby. Then it was betaed by Nathaniel. Yes, their initials spell ANAL.
Tipping the Nymphae
Hermione usually avoided making conversation with Luna.
It wasn’t that she disliked conversing with the peculiar Ravenclaw per se; it was just that the conversation always turned exasperating so quickly.
But as she listened to Harry and Ron begin enumerating the returning members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team for the Merlin-only-knows-how-many-eth time that afternoon, she would’ve welcomed a chat with a passing-by mountain troll, if only for the change of subject.
Not that she begrudged them their Quidditch talk, really. Two years was an awfully long time to go without.
And now that the war was over and they’d managed to survive the maelstrom of publicity that had followed during what should have been the peaceful summer months, she was glad that her boys were finally able to just be boys once more.
Truth be told, she knew that Quidditch was the main reason they’d agreed to return to school once it had reopened, so she wasn’t about to try to reign them in. At least not during the first week of term.
Even if that did leave her warily wondering just how exasperating the ensuing conversation was going to be when Luna joined the three of them under the beech tree.
Throwing caution to the wind, she gave Luna a warm smile and asked what she was working on as the younger girl pulled out quill and parchment.
“I’m researching an article for my father on the giant squid,” Luna replied and Hermione was unable to withhold an eyebrow quirk.
“Its eggs are about to hatch,” she continued, tsking sadly. “The poor thing’s all alone … going to be a hard road, I’m afraid. Of course, that’s inevitable when a creature of the deep mates with a human, isn’t it? Magic can only do so much. I do hope the merpeople will lend a hand.”
Hermione looked at Ron, who smirked and gave her hand a playful squeeze as she fished a book from her bag.
She managed to avoid conversation after that.
The sun was low in the sky by the time she noticed the pack of tittering fourth-year girls approaching.
A funny, tight feeling sank into her stomach as she watched Harry cringe and move to stand, eager to avoid another encounter with overzealous teenagers.
“They're not here for you, you know, Harry,” Luna said vaguely.
“Harry, mate,” Ron said, ignoring Luna and eyeing the approaching girls, “don’t you think it’s time you started taking advantage of your hero status?”
“They’re fourth-years, Ron,” Harry said, chuckling.
“So?” Ron chortled. “They’re two years older than the fourth-years were last time we were here. Besides, you can’t pine after my sister forever.” Harry shrugged uncomfortably.
“Oh, Ron, let him be,” Hermione scolded. “You know he hates it when they fawn.”
“They’re not here to fawn over Harry,” Luna said. Harry went red, seeming to struggle between embarrassment and indignation.
“They’re here to fawn over Hermione.”
Hermione gave a start at this. Her stomach tightened further as she looked back at the girls.
The pack reached the beech tree and for a moment it seemed that no one would speak as the girls in the front shifted about nervously and the ones in back tittered on. Finally, a tall brunette stepped forward, clearing her throat and licking her lips.
“Um, hello … Hermione. I’m, um … I wanted, um …” The girl’s face was very red as she suddenly thrust her arm forward, producing a tin with waxed paper peeping out from under the lid. “I’ve made you some biscuits,” she rushed.
Hermione looked at her blankly for a moment. “Oh,” she said carefully, “thank you.” She could hear nervous fingers tapping the bottom of the tin as she reached to accept it. The girl gave another tittering laugh before rushing away amid a cloud of giggles and squeals.
“Reckon she’s looking for a tutor?” Ron asked, chuckling. “Pass that over, Hermione, I’m starving.”
“I … don’t know what she wants,” Hermione said weakly. She looked after the retreating girls for another moment before opening the tin and passing it around, frowning.
“You alright?” Harry asked her as he examined his biscuit.
“Yes,” she said guardedly. “I just … I could have sworn … Oh, never mind.”
“You’re not imagining it, Hermione,” Luna said.
Hermione looked at her sharply. “Imagining what?”
“That all the girls are coming on to you. ”
Hermione tsked and sat up a bit straighter. “Honestly,” she sniffed incredulously. “Oh, Harry, just eat it. Eleanor’s a Hufflepuff, there’ll be nothing wrong with it.” She chanced a glance at Ron, who was frowning at Luna.
“They are, you know,” Luna continued, unperturbed. “Why else would they be sending you all those gifts?”
“All those gifts?” Ron asked.
Hermione looked at Luna suspiciously. “How do you know about that?”
“I hear things,” Luna replied airily. “And they’re only going to become stronger if you don’t get rid of them.”
“Them?”
“The nymphae. You’ve been swimming in the Aegean."
Hermione raised an eyebrow. “You must have also heard that I was in Greece in August with my parents.”
“I hadn’t. But it is the only place where you could have caught them.”
“Caught what, Luna?” Hermione snapped.
Luna’s gaze slid to Hermione’s face. “Nymphae, Hermione,” she said. “Surely you know the story.”
“Nymphae? The mythical cousins of the Veela?”
“Of course,” Luna said. “Daddy ran a wonderful article on them a while ago. I’ll ask him to send you a back issue. You’d find it most useful.”
Hermione gave an exasperated huff.
“The Veela have cousins?” Ron asked keenly. Hermione shot him a look, and he shrugged apologetically.
“They had, Ronald, yes. The Nymphae were the Veela’s Greek cousins, equally powerful and equally beautiful. They had a much harder road, though.” Luna trailed off thoughtfully.
“How come?” Harry prodded.
“They had a pesky habit of seducing the wives of powerful leaders, always a dangerous game. I think they enjoyed the risk of a high-profile woman.”
“They bewitched women?” Harry asked with raised eyebrows as Ron looked startled.
“Theoretically, yes, they would have,” Hermione said shortly, “if they had actually existed.”
“Sappho,” Luna replied, as though answering a question.
“What?”
“Sappho actually existed.”
“Yes, of course she did, but-”
“I suppose you actually believe she seduced all those women with only poetry,” Luna said tersely.
“So what happened to them?” Harry asked, before Hermione could comment on whether magic was a necessary component of seduction.
“They crossed a few too many men in high places. So they were rounded up and exiled to Anatolia, or so it was said. Their complete disappearance shortly thereafter was written off as an incidental casualty of Mithridates' Vespers, but that’s not what really happened.” She paused dramatically and sighed. “No, no, they never made it that far.”
“They were killed?” Harry asked.
“Not exactly, no. They were cast into the sea,” Luna said darkly. “Just terrible. Turned into water lilies, though, and are supposed to be extraordinary. Did you see them, Hermione?”
“Luna,” Hermione said, struggling to control her tone, “water lilies don’t live in saltwater.”
A new voice piped up from behind the tree. “Nymphae do.”
The four on the grass turned to see a slightly pink-cheeked Neville. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, I just … I heard you, and … sorry, but I’m very curious about the nympha lily.”
Hermione stared at him.
“No one understands its magic. It only lives in that one part of the Aegean and it shouldn’t be able to live even there. Blooms all year long, and never reproduces,” Neville said, flushing more deeply.
“It does reproduce,” Luna said. “Just not as a flower.”
“What d’you mean?” Neville asked.
“As its capital letter self.”
“Sorry?”
“Nymphae,” she said, putting a particularly forceful stress on the ‘n’.
Neville blinked and looked to the other three for help.
Hermione gave him a sympathetic look and rolled her eyes.
“A new Nympha is produced when bits of the plant’s pollen get caught in a swimmer’s pubic hair,” Luna explained. “That’s the best spot for them to gain sustenance. They feed off of sexual energy, and they need loads.”
Hermione felt her cheeks warm at Luna’s casualness. She sat up a little straighter, assuming a more dignified air as though she had no idea that Luna was taking about her, Hermione’s, own pubic hair and sexual energy.
An awkward silence fell over the group, punctuated only by nervous coughs and rustles of clothing as the three boys around her shifted uncomfortably.
A very red-faced but determined Ron managed to speak after a minute. “So, the pollen from those lilies is making Hermione a nympho?”
“Nympha,” Luna corrected, “and, yes.”
“Can’t she just … spell it all off?” Ron asked uneasily.
“Oh no, they’ve already harnessed her magic. You need something stronger than a simple cleaning spell to break that bond,” Luna explained.
“What you need,” she continued, looking at Hermione very seriously, “is an orgasm. That should overwhelm them and sever the bond.”
Hermione flushed and averted her eyes from Luna’s surprisingly strong gaze. She watched Ron turn purple and Harry cringe as Neville stared very interestedly at the tree trunk.
She huffed indignantly and made a show of returning to her book.
Thirty minutes later, the five of them were walking up to the castle for dinner. Ron slowed and fell a few paces behind, pulling on Hermione’s arm.
“Is all that really happening? What Luna was going on about?” he asked quietly.
“Oh, Ron, honestly,” she said reprovingly. “Yes, I have been getting a lot of attention, but so’ve you. You know it’s just the publicity. Please don’t start worrying about information you’ve received from Luna Lovegood.”
Ron’s expression remained sceptical for a moment before he relaxed into a sheepish grin. “Yeah, you’re right.” His grin became suggestive as he continued, “Besides, even if those nympho things were real, you’d have been rid of them a long time ago.” He took her hand and blushed a little.
She blinked at him a moment before his meaning came to her. “Oh, right,” she said, feeling herself redden as she smiled and squeezed his hand.
“Hey, Luna,” he called as his grin turned cheeky, “d’you reckon there are a lot of people walking around with these … sea Veela things?”
“Quite possibly.”
“Wizards, too?”
“Certainly.”
“Wish I had some … Go for a little swim and then have any girl you like.” He yelped when Hermione pinched his arm.
“Actually, Ronald, it is far more likely that you would have your choice of wizard, don’t you think?”
Ron furrowed his eyebrows as he rubbed the spot Hermione had assaulted. “You think?”
“There hasn’t been a wizard on record who’s sustained them long enough to determine the actual effect.”
“Why not? Doesn’t our magic work the same?”
“Certainly it does. Most wizards just seem to kill them too quickly.”
“Why?”
Hermione smirked. “I think that should be obvious, Ron.”
“How’d you mean?”
“Well, if one did want to sustain them,” she said, “there seems to be a certain amount of … restraint necessary, doesn’t there?”
“I was only asking because I thought you might like to know,” Ron said indignantly. “Might give you an excuse for Lockhart.”
“Ron, I was thirteen!” she retorted. “Are you ever going to let that go?”
“Prob’ly not,” Ron chortled.
(.|.)
As the portrait swung closed behind Hermione, she surveyed the common room. She spotted Harry sitting apart from the rest of the Gryffindors, hunched over a piece of parchment.
“Hermione,” he said after giving a start when she dropped her armload of books on his table, “if you can’t fit them all in your bag, I think it’s safe to say you’ve checked out too many books.”
“Sorry,” she said, “but the library was closing and I didn’t want to have to find them all again tomorrow.”
“What is this all for?”
Hermione glanced around as she sat down and lowered her voice. “Do you remember the conversation we had last weekend with Luna? About the … attention I’ve been receiving?”
Harry rolled his eyes. “How could I forget? Ron was in a rage about it all weekend. Said you had a row over it on Friday?”
Hermione sighed. “Yes, I’m afraid I was a bit unfair to him.”
Harry looked surprised. “So you did flirt with Lavender Brown just to irk him?”
“Of course not!” she retorted. “I only mean that he may be right that this … situation is escalating. But if he thinks he can sit there and insinuate that I’m leading these girls on, like … like some sort of …”
“Scarlet woman?” Harry ventured with a smirk. Hermione glared at him. “So it has been getting worse?” he asked, smiling apologetically.
“Yes,” she sighed. “I thought everyone was just being friendly at first. But I had to admit it was starting to get strange when Parvati and Lavender began cornering me whenever they could to boast about all the extra studying they’ve been doing. And then they started going on about how they can sense my ‘newly developed aura’.” She snorted and rolled her eyes. “That’s what sparked Ron on Friday, I had the audacity to politely thank them for offering to tutor me in Divination. What was I supposed to say? It was bizarre, but they did seem to mean well.”
Harry laughed. “That reminds me, I wanted to warn you,” he said with a quick glance around the room, “I’ve noticed Romilda Vane watching you. Really watching you.”
She sighed and shook her head wearily. “It gets worse, though.” She lowered her voice, forcing Harry to lean closer. “McGonagall asked me to stay behind after the prefects' meeting on Friday afternoon, and, well … at first I thought I must be imagining it, but… ” She felt her cheeks warm. “But she definitely … came on to me.”
“McGonagall?”
Hermione nodded wretchedly.
Harry’s eyes went wide and he let out a long breath as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “So you’ve researched it, then?”
“Well, I’ve tried, but there isn’t much.”
“Not much?” Harry snorted, gesturing to the tower of books on the table.
“Most books only give it a fleeting reference, it’s not well understood. I grabbed anything that mentioned sexual magic or the Veela. Or the … Nymphae,” she said sheepishly.
“So you think Luna’s on to something?”
Hermione sighed. “Possibly.”
Harry’s mouth quirked in amusement.
“Oh alright, probably,” she finished reluctantly. “It seems that, hypothetically at least, she could be right. The Nymphae show up occasionally in the history books alongside the Veela, so they might not have been purely mythical. And there’s no explanation for their disappearance. I’ll grant that it is rather dodgy.”
“And the flower thing?”
“That … might also be true. Hypothetically. Oh, go ahead and laugh,” she said, rolling her eyes as Harry grinned. “It was bound to happen sooner or later.”
).(
As Hermione lay in bed that night, she debated whether it wouldn’t be prudent to follow the advice Luna had given her by the lake.
She still wasn’t completely convinced that the nymphae were real, but her research suggested that, if they were, an orgasm might get rid of them.
Trouble was, her research also suggested that it might only make them much stronger.
Her limited sources were split on the question, and it seemed a dangerous gamble.
She shuddered, remembering the feeling of the Headmistress’s fingers running up her forearm.
There was a hypothetical possibility that her own fingers could put a stop to this entire fiasco. If it turned out to be just that simple, she would feel awfully stupid for never having tried.
She could discount her experiences with Ron because, despite very good effort and her continued assurances to the contrary, all her orgasms with him had been … hypothetical.
It wasn’t for lack of trying, certainly.
She smiled into the darkness, remembering a particularly beautiful night at the Burrow during the last week of summer, when they’d slipped out into the trees. She sighed at the memory of Ron’s hands and lips and …
She bit her lip and inadvertently rocked her hips as her hand trailed across her chest.
It may be awkward and nervous and clumsy, but she loved when Ron touched her.
As her fingers skimmed over her breasts and stomach, she inhaled deeply, thinking of him and wishing they weren’t in a fight.
She gasped as her fingers dipped into her pubic hair.
She just needed some release.
And if she happened to rid herself of any hypothetical pubic infestation in the process, all the better.
( v )
“What is that?” Ron demanded.
“What does it look like?” Hermione snapped, slamming the box of sugar-free sweets on the table as she sat down across from him.
“Is that why Romilda wanted to talk to you?” Harry asked uneasily.
“Mmmhmm,” she replied tightly as she jerkily served herself lunch. “Honestly, does she think I’m that stupid?”
Ron’s nostrils flared. “You couldn’t’ve just given ’em back? Told her you didn’t want them?”
She glared at him, and took a large bite of food.
She ate hurriedly, ignoring Ron’s clenched jaw and Harry’s nervous glances.
She’d been trying to reserve judgment all day as to whether the previous night’s orgasm had solved or worsened her problem.
She had chosen to disregard the bottle of elderflower wine at the foot of her bed that morning, as well as the stack of love notes that had come with the morning’s post. All that would have been arranged the night before.
But she knew she couldn’t ignore the encounter with Romilda.
She sighed and chewed and felt her eyes roll of their own accord.
There was a commotion as a spotted owl flew into the hall, wearing the red sash of a high-priority express delivery, but Hermione didn’t notice it until it had landed in front of her.
She furrowed her brow and untied the small package it carried.
She examined it quickly while Harry offered the owl payment, then made to shove the package into her satchel, but Ron grabbed it, stopping her.
“What is it?” he asked accusingly.
“I don’t know, Ron, but I’m certainly not going to find out here, with the whole of the Great Hall staring at me. Let go.”
“Who sent it?” he hissed in a low voice.
“I don’t know. Let. Go.”
“I want to see what it is.”
“Not. Now.” Hermione tugged the package from his grip. His fingers caught in the seam of the brown paper wrapping as it slipped through them. Blood was pounding loudly enough in Hermione’s ears that she didn’t hear the paper tear.
She stared at the empty, torn package in her hand for a moment.
Then she looked up and saw a pair of skimpy black knickers hanging from Ron’s fingertips over the table.
Every eye at the long Gryffindor table bulged. Harry’s jaw fell open.
Ron just blinked for a moment, before going scarlet.
He recoiled his hand, dropping the knickers into a lacy heap on the table, eyeing it as though it were an Acromantula poised to strike.
Hermione’s ears threatened to burn down to nothing as the ringing silence gave way to raucous laughter.
\|/
Hermione stood outside the Great Hall that evening, tapping her heel anxiously when Harry emerged, holding a small bundle wrapped in napkins.
“It’s not very much,” he said apologetically. “Are you sure you don’t want to just come in quickly? There aren’t many people left in there.”
She shook her head tersely. “Is Luna still there?”
Harry nodded. “I’ll ask her.” Hermione took the bundle from him and smiled her thanks wearily. “So you weren’t able to find any more information this afternoon?” he asked.
She shook her head with a sigh. “I tried to ask Professor Sprout, I thought she might have some obscure Herbology text that the library doesn’t carry, but she wouldn’t even listen to me. She kept trying to pull me down to the greenhouses, going on about some impressive coco-de-mer fruit she wanted to show me.”
“A what fruit?”
“Never mind. I know this must seem ridiculous, but I really want to know what else was in Luna’s father’s article. Since some of it appears to be factual, there might be something else I can use.”
Harry raised his eyebrows, but refrained from comment.
Hermione didn’t mention that she’d already asked Madam Pince if the library carried old issues of The Quibbler. She shuddered as she remembered the look of horror on the old woman’s face, and wondered just how many places in the school she’d be unable to show her own face before this debacle was behind her.
She only had to wait a minute before Luna came wandering through the large doors.
“Hello, Hermione,” she said dreamily.
Hermione gave a smile she hoped wasn’t too forced. “Hello. Do you have a moment?”
“Of course,” she replied. “I see the orgasm you had last night has fortified the nymphae considerably.”
“Would you keep your voice down, please?” Hermione hissed as she as she glanced up and down the corridor.
“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Hermione,” Luna replied.
“All the same,” she whispered reproachfully as she pulled Luna over to the wall. In a low whisper, she continued, “You suspected that this would happen?”
Luna nodded.
“And you didn’t see fit to warn me when you… made your recommendation?”
Luna shrugged. “I didn’t want to explain in front of Ronald that all the anticlimactic sexual energy you’d produced with him had likely strengthened them to the point where a simple orgasm would no longer be sufficient to kill them. I suspected that you’d led him to believe that you had climaxed with him, and I didn’t want to embarrass him. He’s really rather sensitive, you know.”
“Thank you for that astute observation. Is there anything else you’d like to tell me now that we’re alone?”
“In order to get rid of them now, you’re going to need to provide them with a new host.”
Hermione raised her eyebrows. “Someone could take them from me?”
“At the moment of orgasm, yes,” Luna replied. “When the bond is at its weakest, the nymphae will break it if there is opportunity to form a new one.”
“Having an orgasm with someone else will transfer all the nymphae to them?”
“If it’s done properly, yes.”
“So I’d be rid of them, but this other person would then be infested?”
“I prefer the term ‘endowed’, but yes.”
There was a commotion in the corridor as the last of the students left the Great Hall, and Hermione jumped, remembering where they were.
Her eyes widened when she saw Ron standing only several yards away, his jaw visibly clenched and nostrils flared. Harry came hurrying through the doors a moment later, calling after Ron worriedly. When he saw the two staring at each other, he blanched and looked apologetically at Hermione.
She glared at Ron and grabbed Luna’s sleeve to pull her down the corridor, too focused on this new information to worry about his latest overreaction.
Seeing him had given her an idea.
“So,” she continued as they started walking, “if the person who took them from me were someone who normally wouldn’t be able to sustain them, would the new bond eventually just give out? And that would be the end of it?”
“Ronald won’t work, Hermione.”
Hermione cast her an irritated glance as they walked.
“The nymphae will only transfer to a host they find suitable. They’re quite comfortable with you, and it will take a very welcoming environment to lure them away, especially when they’re this strong.”
“And Ron’s not welcoming enough?”
“They can recognise his frenetic sexual energy, they’ll know that he won’t sustain them.”
“So what should I do?”
“Whom.”
“What?”
“Or rather, who,” Luna said thoughtfully.
“Excuse me?”
“What or whom you should do is not the issue, but who should do you.”
Hermione stopped walking. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I will, if you like.”
“You’ll what?”
“Do you.”
Hermione stared at her. “You’ll… do me.”
“Certainly.”
“Luna,” Hermione said slowly, “could you start over, please? About all the … doing?”
“The only way you can get rid of the nymphae now is to have someone who is a suitable new host bring you to orgasm by cunnilingus.”
Hermione closed her eyes. “I was afraid that’s what you meant.”
“And I am volunteering my services in that regard.”
Hermione opened her eyes, narrowing them at Luna suspiciously. “Are you saying this because of the effect they’re having on you? Is this all some elaborate plot to get me into bed?”
Luna smiled serenely. “No,” she answered, “but it is clever of you to ask. Many women in my position would take advantage.”
“But you’re not?”
“No. My sexual awareness is quite highly evolved, and my desires are perfectly under control. You can trust that I offer my services only as a concerned friend.”
Hermione continued to eye her guardedly. “And you wouldn’t mind having the nymphae?”
“Not at all, I think they sound lovely.”
“Well,” Hermione replied slowly, “thank you for that … kind offer. I’ll … think it over.”
“Take all the time you need,” Luna replied. “I don’t have time this evening anyway. Daddy needs my Squid article with tomorrow morning’s owl post.”
(.|.)
).(
Late that night, Hermione collapsed on the Gryffindor common room couch with a frustrated sigh, dropping her satchel and books to the floor unceremoniously.
Harry gave her a small wave as Ron stared determinedly at the chessboard.
She sighed and watched them each make a few moves before her mind began to spin its wheels again.
The common room had soon emptied for the night, leaving only the three of them and a handful of sixth years, Ginny among them.
As her classmates headed up the stairs, Ginny hung back at the sight of Hermione.
“You alright, Hermione?” she asked, sitting next to her. “You look upset.”
Hermione turned to her and smiled at the first innocently friendly female face she’d seen in a fortnight.
“Oh,” Hermione said with a sigh, “I’m OK.”
Ginny glanced over at the boys before leaning closer and lowering her voice. “Is it my brother? What’s he done?” she asked, placing her hand on Hermione’s forearm consolingly.
“No, it’s not to do with Ron, really,” Hermione said, “although he is being very difficult. But that’s not the real problem.” Hermione stopped and looked down to her arm when she felt Ginny’s thumb begin to rub small circles.
Hermione blinked and felt her heart sink.
Ginny moved a bit closer, boxing her into the corner of the couch, and reached for her other hand.
Hermione stared at her, completely aghast as Ginny whispered, “You could do so much better than him, Hermione.” She leaned in. “I mean it,” she said with a significant look.
Ginny came closer still and Hermione tried not to cringe, feeling guilty and embarrassed and hating whatever this damned thing was.
She smiled apologetically.
“Oh, Ginny,” she said. “Thanks, but I … I’m sure that’d be great, but I …”
“What in the bloody hell’s going on here?” came Ron’s strangely hollow voice from over the chess board.
Hermione looked over at him and Harry, who was staring at them with his mouth partially open.
Ron had risen from his seat. Ginny fixed him with a challenging glare, and Hermione saw red seep up his neck.
Ginny stood and took an angry step towards him. “Look, you great prat, I don’t know what you did, but it’s about time you realise just how damned lucky you are that Hermione puts up with you. You don’t deserve her!”
She shared a fiery look with Ron before turning back to Hermione. “You know where to find me when you’re ready for something better.” She pushed past Ron with a huff and marched up the stairs.
Ron wheeled on Hermione almost instantly.
“Well, you were pretty damn cosy with her!”
“Ron, don’t be stupid,” Hermione spat.
“You were flirting with my damn sister!”
“I certainly was not! And before you rail on her, it’s not her fault, Ron, she can’t control it.”
“Oh no, you don’t!” Ron bellowed. “I’m bloody well tired of this!”
“You’re tired of this?” Hermione cried.
“Come off it, Hermione. I know you haven’t got those water Veela or whatever anymore.”
“Oh, do you?”
“Yeah, I heard you with Luna this afternoon. Heard you talking to her like you were doing research, I know you believe her. And I know you haven’t got them anymore, you couldn’t have for a long time now, and I’m starting to wonder just what in the bloody hell’s going on!” He gestured to the couch. “Look at you sitting here, holding her hands and smiling at her. My bloody sister! Like you fancy her or something!”
“You know what, Ron?” Hermione seethed, barely able to breathe. “Maybe I do. Maybe it’s her I’ve fancied all along, and being with you is just a farce, a misguided attempt to cling to red hair and freckles while conforming to the heterosexual paradigm!”
Ron blinked at her angrily. “Sexual pair of what?”
“Oh, honestly,” Hermione snorted. “Why don’t you ask Harry about it - ask how he’s hidden fancying you all this time?”
She gasped, too late to take the words back, and looked to Harry. Harry cringed and went red, his gaze fixed on the floor.
Before she could back-pedal or offer apology, Ron stepped toward her and lowered his voice.
“Shh,” he hissed at her. “Let him be, he can’t help that.”
She felt her eyes go wide. “What?” she managed, looking back to Harry, who was studying something on his fingernail.
“It’s these damn ... bloody ... flower Veela whatever the fuck.”
“What?”
“I told you. I heard you with Luna. I know that you gave them to me when we ... well, you know, at the end of the summer. And you know what, actually,” he said, his anger ebbing a bit as he grew thoughtful, “that answers a few questions .... Luna was right, about it being the other blokes who go goofy, and Harry’s not the only one. Terry Boot’s been staring at me ever since term started …. Now I know why.”
Hermione drew an intense breath through her nose.
“Terry Boot has been staring at you for years, Ron. But not because you are a bloody Veela!”
“But-” Ron started again, his face darkening with anger again.
“No, Ron!” she cried. “Even if you did have nymphae - which, by the way, if we’re continuing to rely on Luna’s information, trust me, you do not - you certainly wouldn’t have caught them from me because I have never had an actual orgasm with you!”
Ron started angrily at her, opening his mouth with some hot reply, until her words registered. His features deflated as he blinked at her.
Hermione gasped, hearing the spite of her words.
“Oh, Ron, I ...” she whispered before he could speak. “That’s not what I ... I didn’t ... You’re not ... Oh!”
She turned and fled to her dormitory, leaving two red-faced, blinking boys in the common room.
( v )
\|/
Hermione stood very still for a solid minute, eyeing Barnabas the Barmy warily. One of the trolls was staring at her and she blushed, wondering if it could tell why she was there.
She tried to breathe steadily and reminded herself that this was the only way to put her life back to normal.
She blushed again as she paced, trying to concentrate more on her need to be rid of the nymphae and less on her need for oral sex. Her stomach tightened when the door appeared.
She took a deep, resolute breath and walked through it.
The room was dimly lit, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but she recognised it instantly.
She was in the library. And in the middle of it, in place of a few tables, was her own four poster.
She blushed yet again, but felt her unease lessen.
“Luna?” she called softly.
Luna emerged from between a row of shelves, holding a small box in her hand. Her hair was pulled atop her head in a messy bun, her wand stuck through it.
Hermione’s stomach tightened again. Summoning all her dignity, she managed a small smile and an uncomfortably shallow breath. “Sorry I’m late,” she said quietly. “I was …”
“It’s quite alright, Hermione, I understand. This is highly out of the ordinary for you.”
Her use of the phrase ‘for you’ earned an eyebrow raise, but Hermione said nothing.
Luna's large eyes held a steady gaze, and Hermione swallowed as the candlelight did funny things to them.
“That sounds lovely,” she said, gesturing to the box Luna held, which was filling the library with a gentle music.
“Yes, you must really like this piece, it’s played it three times already. I’ve never known a mood music box to get stuck on one song before. Is it working?”
Never having encountered a magical music box before, Hermione had no idea if it was working properly. She opened her mouth to say so when the tenor of the music changed and a series of low, intense chords began pulsing across the room.
It was smooth and mysterious and hauntingly beautiful, and Hermione felt herself close her eyes and lean into the sound of it. A tingling awoke between her legs.
Luna’s serene smile grew a little as she set the music box on a bookshelf.
She stepped towards Hermione, watching her with an uncharacteristically focused and penetrating look.
Hermione blinked and felt her heart rate speed up.
“Do you need anything? Something to drink?” Luna asked, gesturing to a table under the window.
Hermione saw a bottle of elderflower wine and a single glass.
“That’d be nice,” she said. Luna stepped in the direction of the table, but Hermione hurried past her.
The bottle was open already, and Hermione poured it with an infuriatingly trembling hand.
Hermione felt Luna’s gaze upon her as she brought the glass to her lips.
There was a swell in the music, and as she became aware of the space between her legs again, Hermione tilted her glass upwards and swallowed its entire contents in four swift gulps.
Luna watched her without reaction.
Embarrassed, she set the glass down and looked at Luna with a small smile.
“Well,” Hermione said shortly, “shall we get on with it, then?”
Luna blinked serenely at her. “If you’re ready.”
Hermione swallowed and attempted a smile. “I am.”
With her gaze steady, Luna stepped toward Hermione until they were only inches apart.
Luna’s scent mingled with the musty smell of books and candles, and Hermione took a deep, shuddering breath as Luna reached up and began to unbutton her blouse.
Luna’s gaze never wavered as Hermione blinked and tried to keep a hold on herself. If Luna could take this all in stride, she certainly could as well.
Her heart continued to pound loudly as Luna worked her buttons, and she was startled to feel an echoing pulse directly between her legs. She bit her lip and unconsciously rocked her hips slightly.
Luna’s pupils grew larger as she felt the movement and undid the final button. Her fingers trailed up to Hermione’s shoulders and pushed the shirt back from her body and off.
Luna pulled even closer, and her hand came to rest on Hermione’s waist. Something between Hermione’s legs throbbed approvingly.
“Is this alright, Hermione?” Luna asked, with the first hint of breathiness. Their faces were only inches apart.
Luna was asking permission to kiss her. Part of Hermione’s brain piped up to say that kissing wasn’t really necessary, and that they’d be better off sticking with the bare necessities.
But before she could give voice to these thoughts, she nodded and leaned, ever so slightly, toward Luna.
It almost seemed she actually wanted to kiss her.
There was no movement when their lips first touched, only gentle pressure and the feeling of warm breath mingling.
Hermione kept her eyes open, reminding herself that she was here out of necessity alone and wondered if she should ask to just get down to business.
Then Luna moved her lips and kissed Hermione’s closed mouth once.
Twice.
The third kiss was stronger and lasted longer, and as Luna pulled back, her bottom lip stuck to Hermione’s for an extra moment, creating a gentle tug on the sensitive skin as the suction broke.
The soundless snap of their lips separating echoed across Hermione’s brain and something - the music or the wine or whatever the hell was making all that racket between her legs - took over. Hermione’s eyes were suddenly forced shut as she began kissing Luna in earnest.
She pressed her lips against Luna’s again and again, and soon Luna’s tongue was in her mouth, slipping over her own tantalisingly.
They kissed for what was probably several minutes, but could have just as easily been several hours for the fogginess that had settled over Hermione’s brain.
Luna’s fingers skimmed over her bare back, and Hermione moved her own hands to Luna’s waist, where she was startled to find cloth instead of smooth skin.
She began fumbling with the buttons on Luna’s blouse, but wasn’t able to make them work as Luna’s tongue continued to taunt her. She gave an exasperated whimper and forced herself to break the kiss so she could look down at what she was doing.
Luna chuckled and raised a hand to her hair, where her wand was still perched.
The button in Hermione’s fingers vanished, along with the rest of the clothing both of them wore.
Hermione gasped at the sight of Luna’s exposed body and felt the throbbing between her legs swell as the blonde stepped back toward the bed, pulling Hermione by the arm.
She wasn’t sure how she ended up on her back so quickly, writhing as Luna’s hands and lips and tongue and teeth made quick work of any reticence she was harbouring.
She didn’t have any idea how much time had passed since the door to the Room of Requirement had appeared for her, but if she had come in with any doubt that she would go through with this, she’d forgotten it by the time she felt Luna’s hot breath on her inner thigh.
Luna licked and nipped along the sensitive skin towards the dark curls of Hermione’s pubic hair and then her tongue dipped into it, peeping into the folds and teasing them apart.
Hermione arched against her and moaned as Luna pressed her tongue down and delivered a long, firm stroke upwards.
The library faded away as Luna’s tongue made another pass and then began lapping at her. Each of Hermione’s senses was focused on the throbbing space between her legs, aware of nothing but the attentions of Luna’s hot, wet tongue.
Hermione fisted the bedcovers as Luna worked her way up to her clit, caressing the velvety skin around it agonizingly before finally closing her mouth over it.
She sucked gently and Hermione couldn’t help but thrust up against her, earning an appreciative hum from Luna. Hermione gasped and writhed.
Soon there was a finger sliding inside her, and then two, and Hermione realised she had threaded her own fingers into Luna’s hair when her bun came undone and wand fell out, hitting the back of Hermione’s hand.
Aware of her surroundings momentarily, Hermione noticed that the song from the music box had changed. Two women’s voices were filling the library as they slid over one another and rubbed against each other in a sensuous, erotic duet.
The tension in their harmony tightened and then blossomed deliciously as Hermione felt fingers thrust into her.
Luna sucked her clit gently and hummed with her lips once more.
Hermione threw her head back, fisting blonde hair and arching up from the mattress with a cry. She hovered, for a moment, suspended, before collapsing back down onto the bed, trembling.
(.|.)
).(
( v )
\|/
Some immeasurable time later, Hermione found herself lying in the same library, on the same bed and on her same back, but something was very different.
There was new music playing, which put her in mind of sunlight and flowers and butterflies. She giggled at how utterly silly it was.
Her toes were tingling and there was a funny pulse of electricity gently rippling about in her body.
She’d never even read about anything like this.
There was a sound at the foot of the bed and she lifted her head to look for the source.
A head of blonde hair appeared as its owner straightened up from the floor.
Hermione blinked.
“There we go,” Luna said. “I’ve found all my clothes, so I’ll just go. Stay and sleep, if you like.”
Hermione saw Luna’s lips moving, but couldn’t hear her words. She was too busy trying to work out how it had escaped her notice all these years that Luna was so stunningly beautiful.
The candlelight was now reflecting suggestively not only from Luna’s eyes but from her hair and hips and breasts, and Hermione could do nothing but blink at her for another moment.
Her brain finally caught up with Luna’s words, and she sat up quickly.
“Don’t go.”
Luna smiled at her. “I think it’s best that I go, Hermione.”
“No, don’t,” Hermione repeated, desperately. “I need to … I want … to touch you … like that.”
“Of course you do. The transfer was successful.”
“Transfer?” Hermione blinked again. “Oh. Right.”
“I’d rather hoped I’d have time to leave before they took effect, to save us this trouble.”
“No trouble. Stay, please.”
Luna smiled again, almost sadly. “It’s just the magic, Hermione.”
A voice in the back of Hermione’s mind piped up at this, and she knew Luna was right. Luna was a Nympha now.
But there was another voice, coming from another part of her anatomy, telling her to pull Luna back into the bed and not let her up until she’d passed out from pleasure.
Hermione got to her knees and shuffled across the bed until she could reach Luna’s hand.
“Maybe it is,” she said, “but I don’t want you to go.”
She pulled Luna’s hand, urging her back to the bed.
Luna just looked at her for a moment. Hermione opened her mouth to plead further, but suddenly the music changed and she knew persuasion was unnecessary.
The would-be library was filled with strange echoes that sounded at first like large trumpets being played underwater.
Hermione quirked an eyebrow as Luna’s eyes fluttered shut.
“Whales?”
“Mmmm, Humpbacks,” Luna breathed. Hermione smirked and pulled the blonde into the bed.
(.|.)
).(
( v )
\|/
“You’re sure?” Hermione asked.
“Yes. Can’t you feel it?” Luna replied.
Hermione sighed. She wasn’t sure how long they’d been in the Room of Requirement, but sunlight was beginning to seep over the horizon through the library window. She realised, idly, that she didn’t know if an enchanted window could be relied upon to indicate the correct time of day.
She sighed a second time before turning to Luna. “I feel … something,” she admitted. “I suppose.”
She honestly had no idea what was real at this point.
“You really think we’ve split them?” she asked again.
“Yes.”
“So, now we’re both ….”
“Yes.”
Hermione bit her lip. She knew this should be bad news, but as Luna’s hair fell over her shoulder and framed her nipple particularly enticingly, Hermione couldn’t quite remember why she was supposed to be unhappy.
“How did we do that, again?” she asked, unable to take her eyes from Luna’s right breast.
“You didn’t heed my warning.”
“Oh, right. Sorry. You just looked so … tasty.” Hermione felt herself blush at this. Part of her brain seemed to register the ridiculousness of this entire situation, but a larger part of it was still stuck on Luna’s nipple. The left one, though. It was making some progress.
“Well, what do we do now? Surely there’s another way to get rid of them.”
“No, this was it. That’s why you came here, remember?”
“Oh right. You were going to take them for me.”
“Yes, I rather liked the idea of being a Nympha. But then, I haven’t anyone who might object to all the attention.”
Hermione blinked as something in her brain slid into place.
Oh dear.
What was she going to say to Ron?
She knew - illogically and inexplicably - that she couldn’t go on with him.
Because the feelings that were coursing through her as she looked at Luna felt so right that, despite being completely foreign, they were familiar.
It didn’t make any sense and she knew she couldn’t prove it and maybe it was just the magic, but it didn’t matter because it was all that she wanted.
“Do you think we’ll feel like this for long?” she asked.
“Oh yes,” Luna said, looking at her with silvery eyes. “When a Nympha is attracted to another Nympha,” she explained, “the desire is insatiable.”
“Insatiable?”
“Forever.”
“Oh.”
Hermione wondered if it was odd that she found the word ‘forever’ comforting instead of ominous.
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As she watched a red-faced Ron twist his fingers in the grass, Hermione sighed and reminded herself that this was for the best.
He’d be OK. He had Harry, she thought, as she watched him cast another nervous glance over his shoulder to where Harry stood, discussing training with the newest Gryffindor Beaters.
He’d always have Harry, even if he never realised the true extent to which he had him.
They’d be OK, and it was better for everyone if she did what she felt was right.
“Ron,” she began carefully.
“Hermione, look, before you start,” Ron said quickly, “I overreacted and I was wrong and I’m sorry.”
“Oh, Ron, it’s alright. That’s not what this is about. But thank you, and I’m sorry for the things I said, too.” Ron’s eyes darted to the ground and his ears turned redder. “You’re a wonderful lover, Ron,” she continued, feeling her own face warm. “We just didn’t know what we were doing.” Ron flushed more deeply as he shrugged.
Hermione took a deep breath.
“Ron, I’ve loved you for a long time, and being with you has been wonderful, and-”
“I should have asked you,” Ron said dejectedly, “made sure you were alright before-”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Hermione continued, “but I think maybe I’ve misunderstood some things, and, well, I can’t really explain it-”
“But once we got started, it was just … it couldn’t be stopped-”
“But Luna and I can’t help it, it’s …” She stopped and looked at Ron. “What?”
Ron blinked at her. “What can’t you help?” he asked, narrowing his eyes a little.
“What couldn’t you stop?” she replied. “And who’s we?”
Ron straightened up a bit, rubbing his fingers into the grass. “Didn’t you want to talk to me because of Harry?”
“Harry?” Hermione repeated, feeling her eyebrows float up.
Ron quailed a bit as he shot a glance over his shoulder. Hermione followed it and saw Harry looking over at them nervously. He flushed at the sight of them both looking at him and quickly turned back to the fourth-year who was speaking animatedly, miming his prowess with a bludger.
“Ron,” Hermione said, still eyeing Harry, “what happened after I left the common room?”
Ron’s blush intensified. “Well, I ... once we realised I wasn’t, you know ... a ... Veela or whatever, well… there were still all these ... feelings ... left to deal with.”
“Harry’s feelings?”
Ron shrugged and stared at the grass. “Turned out, not just Harry’s.”
“Oh,” she said carefully. “And how did you deal with these feelings?”
“We, uh ... he … well, I… we ...”
“Did you kiss?” She tried not to sound amused.
“Yeah, and look,” he said quickly, “it’s not just that I was mad at you, or that I didn’t, you know, still want you, it’s just that I’d never thought of Harry like that before, or any bloke, really, not that I think I ever would, think of any other bloke, that is, but that’s not the point, what I mean is I’m sorry I cheated on you and I hope you don’t hate me because Harry and I both love you, but now that we’ve… well, we can’t… we can’t…” He trailed off and looked at her fearfully.
“That’s wonderful, Ron.”
“It … is?”
“Yes,” she smiled, “and I don’t think you should stop.”
Ron stared at her. “OK,” he finally said, uneasily. “Wait, you and Luna what?” he said with a start.
She blushed and laughed uncomfortably. “Well,” she said, trying to remember what she’d planned to say, “it’s a rather long story at this point. But, uh, she and I had an encounter last night that was ... unstoppable. And now it seems we’ve both become Nymphae and are destined to be insatiably attracted to one another for the rest of our lives.”
Ron’s eyes went wide. “Your entire lives? Luna? Are you serious?”
Hermione nodded.
“And you won’t kill her?”
Hermione tsked gently and shrugged. “We’re not really so different, she and I. We’ve always agreed on the important things, haven’t we?”
Ron chuckled and gave an agreeable shrug, shaking his head. “And you’re OK being a … nympho now?”
Hermione chortled. “It’s not really so bad, after all.”
She looked up and saw Luna emerge from the castle, followed by a gaggle of girls clambering for her attention.
Hermione watched Luna politely speak with them as her gaze wandered.
When large grey eyes fell upon her, Hermione hadn’t been ready, and she gasped. The look they fixed her with was so intense she could have sworn it actually reached out and stroked her.
She couldn’t have taken her eyes from Luna’s if she’d tried as their connection intensified, fed by the fawning attention.
Each nervous giggle, each batted eyelash, each tentative request was raw sexual energy, surging through their two bodies.
“Insatiable attraction, eh?” Ron said thoughtfully, seemingly oblivious to the effect it was having on Hermione at that moment. “Reckon that’s not such a raw deal, in the end.”
“Yeah,” Hermione managed as she squirmed and tried not to rock her hips too obviously. “I think it’ll be OK.”
The
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