Well, my first HP fic in quite a while, and of course it had to be Blaise/Luna (would I write anyone else really?)…so here it is:
Luna sat down at their table in the Three Broomsticks, dumping her bag on the floor before pulling the hood of her cloak down from over her hair and slumping down on the rickety bench, her hands folded in her lap. Waiting…she was always waiting, and every minute seemed to last forever until he got there.
“Have you been here long?” he leaned down and whispered the words against the back of her neck, his breath caressing the tiny hairs on her sensitive flesh.
“I did think for a few moments that you wouldn’t ever get here,” the words were from a well-used, oft-repeated script, the same words she said to him every time they met, every time he was a few minutes late for their weekly assignation.
“What is the news from the camps?” he kept his tone light as he asked the question, sitting down on the bench next to her, his hands finding hers and grasping them tightly under the worn oak table.
“They’re worried, but then you already knew that. I’m sure that Snape is doing his fair amount of sharing. And Ginny…she went missing last week.”
A flash of something that Luna might have categorised as guilt, had she thought him capable of feeling that emotion, crossed his face. “She’s with us. Seems that she’s been another rat in the Order camp for a while.” With a small smile of regret on his lips, he leaned in for a kiss, brushing his mouth across hers lightly before settling back on the bench and studying her.
“Another rat? Who else is spying on us?” Everyone knew about Snape, knew that he played both sides, waiting to see who would pay him more for the valuable information that he was privy to, but they also knew that more often than not his conscience made the right decision. Did that mean they had more spies in the Order camp than they had originally suspected?
“That’s not important right now.” Watching her he tried to figure out what had attracted him to her. She wasn’t his usual type, quiet, unassuming, pretty in the normal way, definitely nothing special, but from the moment he had really seen her for the first time, on the battle field during the first rebel actions, during the Second Reign of Voldemort, he had wanted no one but her. He had dreamed about her for months before finally, one night, stealing into the rebel camps and seducing her with whispered promises and gentle touches. She had never told anyone about that night, nor about the many nights that had followed over the last two years. This relationship – if that is what their frequent frantic couplings could be called – was their secret, and that is how they both wanted to keep it.
Whenever he wanted to meet her he would find a way to send her a signal, but that was the only way that the ware had any involvement in their bond and that is the way they preferred it.
“Does she know?” The thought that someone else might share in their secret made Luna feel anything but secure, and he could tell from the expression on her face that this worried her. The fact that neither of them shared information about their specific roles was very important to them, but they were aware that however innocent they kept it, it wouldn’t look that way should anyone discover the truth.
“I haven’t even breathed your name, except sometimes…when I have those dreams…” with a wicked grin on his face, he leers at her for a moment before leaning across and stroking his fingers through a long blonde tendril that has fallen from the waist-length braid draped over her shoulder. He loves to play with her hair, loves the feeling of its softness as it brushes over his skin when they are making love. It’s one of the things that he dreams about when they are apart. “Do you want to go up to the room now?” He nibbles on her earlobe, groaning when one of her hands brushes lightly over his thigh before she moves it between his legs, cupping his balls, curving around his erection.
“It seems that you’re more than a little bit keen,” she giggled, the sound swiftly dying in her throat when the door to the pub opened and Hermione Granger, Mudblood know-it-all, only female member of the Golden Trio walked into the warm, snow clinging to her black-hooded cloak and the riotous curls of hair that had escaped from the tight bun at the nape of her neck.
Luna’s nails dug into the sensitive skin of his inner thigh as her breathing became harsh, and her eyes widened in panic. “Oh Merlin’s balls…” she managed to gasp before pulling her own non-descript black cloak up over her easily identifiable hair. “I have to hide, she can’t see me here with you.”
“Why not?” he asked, already knowing, but trying to lighten the mood, “are you ashamed of me?” The tears in her eyes reminded him that this was no joke, that they were both in real danger.
The war was a serious matter; to be caught with the enemy meant that you were a traitor, and whatever side you were on, the penalty for being a traitor was instant death.
Desperate to hide her, as much for his own safety as hers, he whispered urgently, “Get under the table…” snatching his own cloak from beside him, he moved it so that it would hide Luna from all but those who knew what they were looking for.
No one knew that he was visiting the Three Broomsticks for anything more than a few drinks – he wasn’t high enough up the DE ladder to get anything but the most basic, and pretty much useless, information. While the same couldn’t really be said for Luna – she was a great information gatherer – he liked to think he wasn’t so low that he would screw with someone for over two years for information about a war he had little to no interest in.
Seeing an opportunity too good to miss, Luna shuffled on her knees until she was between Blaise’s legs, her fingers swiftly undoing the buttons on his fly and then her fingers were touching the naked silk-covered iron-hard length of him.
Blaise straightened in shock at the first touch of her fingers on him. As she tightened her grip slightly, and started to glide the moistness of her tongue over him he had to struggle desperately to stay in control.
“I thought that we weren’t meant to meet until tomorrow, Zabini…what are you doing here?”
Sitting up even straighter, his hands clenched so tightly the knuckles had turned white, he stared across the table at his new companion and did his best to make his tension look like anger. “What I do on my own time is my own business. You don’t find me asking you about your little trysts with Nott, do you?”
Under the table Luna stifled a gasp of surprise. Blaise was the go-between for the spy in the Order camp, and Granger, or someone very close to her, was the spy? Not sure what to do, Luna absently stroked Blaise’s cock, her tongue poking out between her lips to capture a drop of salty, clear pre-cum as it gathered on the swelling purple tip.
Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Blaise tried to concentrate on anything but Luna was doing to his body, overloading his senses, under the table. Each touch of her lips on him was absolute torture – but of the good sort. His breathing coming in deep uneven bursts, he focused on the person with Granger’s face, listening carefully to what she was saying and calmly considering how much of it he would actually pass on.
While the spy had been swayed to the dark side with Nott’s empty promises, Blaise had been tempted to redeem himself. Dumbledore’s assurances that when the Order won the battle (as they were sure they would – but then every side in a battle was sure that they would be the winning side, or else they wouldn’t be fighting), his punishment would be lenient, and Luna would be waiting for him. All he had to do was listen to the traitorous ranting and pass on as little information as was ultimately considered safe.
He half-grinned, remembering the moment when Dumbledore and Ron Weasley had shown up, hidden from sight by Harry Potter’s infamous invisibility cloak. They had persuaded Blaise to meet with them in a private room at the Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley where they had discussed the traitor’s perfidy. Ron had admitted that he had considered killing the traitor, as was his duty as executioner for the Order. It hadn’t taken them long to realise another spy (one who had yet to be identified by anyone else in the Order camp) being given fake information would be of more use to them. The discovery that one of their best researchers had been swayed to the so-called ‘dark side’ had come as a great blow, but they had recovered adequately, and recruiting the go-between because of love had done a great deal to aid in the recovery.
After nearly 20-minutes of listening to her whine about how unfair the Wizarding world was to Witches because they were women – something she apparently felt very strongly about – she finally passed on the news of a planned attack. The attack would, if successful, do a great deal of damage to Voldemort’s hold on the Wizarding world. “You have to tell him that they are leaving Hogwarts unprotected…” she said earnestly, “it will be the perfect time for him to attack the school. I’ve worked out that…”
It was at this point that he almost blacked out. Luna in her eagerness to block out treacherous revelations, had closed her pouting lips around the pulsing head of his cock, and had proceeded to suck on him until the tip of his erection touched against the back of her throat.
“Are you all right?” his contact leaned across the table, flashing her rather ample, borrowed, cleavage in a way that she apparently thought to be enticing, “you’ve gone awfully red.” Brushing unruly curls out of her eyes, the snake in the Order’s pit waved one of Madame Rosmerta’s waitresses over and ordered them both a shot of Ogden’s finest – perfect to warm a cold body up on such a bitter night.
“Just fine, hadn’t you better be going? You know, people to see, places to go?” Crossing his fingers under the table, Blaise watched as his contact got a very calculating look on her half-Hermione, half-Cho face, an expression that looked extremely funny if you looked at it for too long.
“Well I am sure that I could find someone to amuse me for a few hours…If you’re sure that you wouldn’t rather spend the time with me?” she sounded far too desperate for Blaise’s liking. Even if Luna weren’t the only woman for him, he knew that he wouldn’t take Cho up on her offer.
“I’d rather sleep with a cobra than with you,” he smiled even as he said the words, which caused her eyes to narrow further, her anger easily apparent.
“Well aren’t you a right bastard?” turning to walk away from the table, she flicked her short glossy hair over her shoulder, making no effort to hide her changed appearance before she left the pub. If anyone actually noticed what had happened at the small table set in the far right corner of the Three Broomsticks then no one had the courage to say anything. The man brooding at the table looked like someone who no one would want to mess with, he was frowning darkly even as his earlier companion seemed to appear from nowhere and sat herself down next to him. “I can’t believe that Hermione is the traitor…I’ve got to tell Harry,” she spoke quietly, already reaching for her cloak.
“Luna, we’ll go up to our room and I’ll explain everything…” he stood up, grasped one of Luna’s wrists in his strong grip and pulled her after him up to the first floor room where they usually had their trysts.
Slumping down on the edge of the rather ornate bed in what Rosmerta jokingly called the “Honeymoon Suite”, Luna stared at Blaise with her large silver eyes, and crossed her legs at the ankle. “So what aren’t you telling me?” She had known for quite a while that Blaise was hiding something, but she had always believed that if someone wanted to share something then they would find a way to do so, no matter how difficult it might prove to be.
“Things aren’t as cut and dried as they seem to be,” he sat down on the bed next to her and took both her hands in his, tugging her a little closer to him and pressing his lips to the pulse at her neck. “I wish I could tell you more, but I don’t want to put you in anymore danger than you are already in being part of this war. I want you to be safe.”
With tears in her eyes, Luna turned her head, her lips brushing tenderly against his, “I love you…” these words always made him smile, he knew that he had done so little to deserve someone like her.
He lifted her onto his lap and slipped his hands underneath the long loose skirt she was wearing. The scent of her perfume, a mixture of peaches and something that was uniquely Luna, filled his nostrils, and his desire for her consumed him, until he could think of nothing but laying her down on the bed and sinking into her moist heat.
Somewhere in the distance a clock chimed ten and Luna lifted her head, they had so little time together and every week it seemed to go by even quicker. “I have to go,” she whispered against his neck, a lone tear rolling down her cheek as she realised that Blaise was in a very dangerous position and this might be the last time she ever saw him.
“Luna, wait…” he curled his hands around her hips and tugged her closer, letting her feel how her nearness affected him. Groaning as she rolled her hips, her hot core brushing against his cock through the rough material of his trousers and her thin skirt.
“Blaise, it’s getting late. With everything that has been going on they’re being even more careful.” As if realising what she had just told him, she placed a hand over her mouth, her face even paler.
Rolling his eyes, a little amused that Luna still was afraid to tell him anything, he brushed a hand through her hair, his fingers tangling in the long blonde strands, “I would never tell them anything I heard from you.”
With a tender kiss to her lips, a kiss that lingered, Blaise stood, Luna’s legs still wrapped around his hips. She slowly slid to the floor, every inch of her body brushing against every inch of his. Feeling like a sappy git who had no control over his own emotions, he murmured against her ear, “I need you!”
With one hand he popped open the button on his trousers. He turned them until Luna’s back was against the heavy oak door and then he hooked a finger underneath the edge of her knicker elastic and pushed them out of the way before thrusting inside her, a groan of relief and pleasure leaving his lips.
His name left her lips on a moan as Blaise continued to thrust inside her madly, desperate to be even closer to her, to sink inside her and never leave.
Her back hit the door repeatedly, but she ignored the pain of the doorknob digging into the curve of her back, the roughness of the wood as it scraped against her skin through the cotton of her shirt. All she concentrated on was the feel of him pressed against her, joined with her so intimately that it was difficult to know where she ended and he began.
When they finally parted, as they always did – her returning to the Order camp, him to the camp of the Death Eaters – it was with a silent promise that they would meet again soon, and sadness in their hearts that they couldn’t be together. When she returned to the room that she had once shared with Ginny, Luna would realise that Blaise had told her nothing, and that the fear and loneliness she always carried with her hadn’t left.
Standing outside the Order camp – which was in the grounds of Hogwarts – Blaise watched as the sun rose over the tall turrets where he had shared so many experiences with friends who had fallen to the cause, both on the side of good and evil. A trumpet sounded and he heard as his friends and enemies both. He had been unable to prevent Voldemort from discovering the truth that Cho had revealed, and now they were waiting for the axe to fall.
The call to arms had come as Blaise was readying to escape, to warn Dumbledore that they were going to attack. He had been summoned by the dark mark burned into his forearm, and there was nothing he had been able to do to resist the call that roared through his veins, screaming for him to do as he was bid.
Even as his heart cried, he readied his wand and waited for the gates to open. Cho was going to aid them in their infiltration of the camp, desperate to show her leader that she was worthy, that she could help him where others before her had failed.
All around them bodies lay on the ground, both scarred with the dark mark and not. He searched frantically, desperately hoping that she had been able to escape; that she hadn’t been harmed. Several times his heart had stopped in his chest as he had spied a woman on the ground, relief filled him when each body was turned and he didn’t see her staring out at him blankly through dead eyes.
He searched for her for what felt like hours, peering in tents, turning over bodies, desperate to find her. The battle was over, the right side had won. He had been watching as Voldemort fell to the anger of Harry Potter, the killing curse sending a violent green light over the battlefield before melting the evil wizard, scattering his supporters, leaving them to the mercy of the eager Aurors.
He found her sitting at the edge of the battlefield, her long blonde hair shorn short, brushing against her shoulders. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she surveyed the remains of the battle, looking down at all the people who had fallen. So many of her friends had died today. Dumbledore had been the first to go; Voldemort’s determination to win at all costs had given him enough power to defeat the strong wizard. Lupin had been the next to go, furious at Lucius Malfoy’s laughing he had faced off with the aristocratic blond, only to be felled with his own spell. Luna had stopped counting after she had watched the tenth of her classmates fall. Through it all she had been searching for Blaise, mentally pleading that he somehow survived the bloodbath that the battle had become.
Crying, she wrapped her arms around herself and watched as the fallen were covered and the mourning began. A gasp left her lips when she noticed the man running up the hill in her direction. “Luna…oh thank Merlin!” she could hear the panic and desperation in his voice. He lifted her into his arms as he reached her, burying his face in her hair, breathing in her unique scent. No more words were needed. Unsure of what was going to happen to him now that the war was finally over, two years of hell had ended in the literal blink of an eye, Blaise walked towards the nearest tent, intent on reassuring himself that they had both survived.
Rolling onto the makeshift bed in the middle of the tent, Blaise didn’t wait to strip off her clothes, ripping her panties from her, he sank into her depths. It wasn’t about anything more than their survival. The war was over, and somehow, through it all they had both managed to live.
They both knew that it wasn’t going to be easy. Blaise had broken several laws, not the least of which being shown in the dark mark that he had tattooed on his forearm, but he had done some good things. He had helped Dumbledore, had managed to warn the Order that the final battle was coming, and that was, at least, something in his favour.
As he shuddered against her, his seed spilling inside her, Blaise knew that whatever happened, it was going to be worth it, just as long as she stuck by him.