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Ottery St Catchpole, Devon.
The place where the Lovegoods lived was beautiful. The chess rook-like black cylindrical house stood out on a hill. Heck, there was a stream flowing near the base of it, and it made it look fairytale-ish.
It being midday, Dudley approached the house with a team of ten Vanguards, dressed in casual wizard robes instead of the Vanguard uniform. For others, they were just simple wands for hire paid in money, with no loyalties.
Knock! Knock!
Woosh!
The door to the house automatically opened.
Dudley walked inside. Right through the door, the ground floor seemed to be the kitchen. The stoves, sinks, and cupboards were curved to fit the walls. Every item there was painted in bright colors with flowers, insects, and birds.
Probably Luna. He chuckled just imagining her doing all that.
Then, Dudley walked up the iron staircase. The room was smaller than the kitchen and more cluttered. It looked like both a living room and a workplace. And sure enough, Xenophilius was sitting beside a messy desk, wearing strange glasses, while multiple magical quills around him wrote whatever he dictated. There was also a printing press, though no longer in use as the Quibbler was very popular now and had a full printing house in Diagon Alley.
"Hey, Xenophilius!" Dudley shouted loudly and walked to the man's table. "Wake up. What if it was an enemy intruding."
"Ugh… Can't… not possible." Xenophilius murmured, not even looking up.
Dealing with him is never easy.
"Anyway, since you've been writing so much against the Dark Lord, I've brought ten wizards to protect you and Luna around the clock wherever you go," Dudley explained, though he doubted the man listened to him that well. "They'll be camped outside your home, and on the terrace."
"Umm… Sure, let them."
Scratching his head, Dudley looked back at the ten Vanguards. "Go ahead, set up the safety measures and your lodging."
"Understood."
With the room finally feeling breathable with fewer people, Dudley eyed what Xenophilius was doing. Sure enough, it turned out to be yet another article about some ancient, really exaggerated magical practice.
"Where's Luna?"
"Upstairs."
God help this man. Dudley sighed and walked upstairs again through the spiraling staircase. Finally, he knocked on the door and opened it without waiting.
Instantly, he felt attacked by the bright colors. There was just one window in the circular room and had brightly colored walls with countless portraits on them, they looked handmade. There was a large pale blue carpet on the floor, covering pretty much the entire room. Then there was a single-person bed on one side, a wardrobe beside it with a mirror to its right. And right in front of the window was a curved table. It was high, or maybe it looked high as Luna stood there, working on something, barefoot.
Damn? She painted this?
Then his gaze landed on the ceiling. There, a large painting of him, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville was made, with the word 'friends' written in golden ink, creating a circle around all of them, connecting together.
But that wasn't all as he noticed a large wall painting. It was him and Luna, and surprisingly, it was a portrait of him sitting on a chair, and Luna sitting on his lap sideways, like she did that one time outside, but on the ground.
"Hey, Luna."
"Hello, Dudley. I saw you through the window," Luna replied in her usual, chirpy casual way, not even looking back at him.
Same as ever.
Dudley eyed her petite frame, humming to herself while working. As usual, her long, waist-length messy hair was set free behind her. She was dressed in a casual dark blue full-sleeved shirt, and below was a dark red skirt with flower patterns, going all the way to her knees. Underneath seemed to be a thin black pantyhose.
Knowing nothing had changed between them, Dudley smiled and walked behind her all the way and swiftly wrapped his arms around her slender waist. She smelled of a strange perfume, not unpleasant, but new.
With his chin beside her temple, he looked down at the table in front of her. "What are you doing?"
Unbothered by Dudley's firm arms around her waist, Luna kept humming, even louder, as if she enjoyed his warm body pressed on her back. "Writing an article for next week."
Dudley's big arms squeezed tighter around her, the span of his palms so wide that they nearly overlapped across her belly. One hand alone covered her navel and half her waist, and with both wrapped snugly, it was like being wrapped in a warm, living blanket—he loved how her slender body just vanished into his grasp.
"Article on what?" he asked, his deep voice buzzing against her ear.
"Mmm…" Luna tilted her head just slightly to the side to give space, a dreamy sigh escaping her lips as his mouth brushed her skin. "Dragon nails for potions… oh yes, I read somewhere in the Far East they use them for all sorts of mythical brews. Isn't that fascinating?"
Dudley retracted one hand and gently swept aside her curtain of platinum blonde, tangled hair, revealing the elegant slope of her neck. Then he dipped down and laid a long, wet kiss on her pale skin. His lips clung to her like silk against silk, and the faintest whiff of her earthy perfume flooded his senses. Something flowery, something strange, something hers. His cock hardened immediately against her lower back, straining through his pants as her warmth teased it.
The tightness of their embrace made it impossible to hide his arousal. His erection pressed stiff and bold right into the soft curve of her ass, separated only by her skirt and pantyhose. He groaned slightly as her body molded into him, so effortlessly compared to the hard bulk of his frame.
"I've heard it too," he said between kisses, his lips dotting the length of her neck like dewdrops. "It's not just dragons, you know. Even their Muggles cook up potions like that—not with magic, but with tiger claws and, believe it or not, their testicles."
Luna's brows rose in amusement, her cute petite hand paused writing for a moment. "Really?"
"Yeah…"
Without overthinking it, Dudley's hand slid slowly up her torso, grazing the curve of her ribs before cupping her peaks over the soft fabric of her shirt. Her breasts were small, perfectly shaped to fit his palm, and he gave them a gentle squeeze while his other hand pinched her chin.
Never thought I'd say it but… I like this.
Dudley, once not as interested in Luna sexually, now found himself entirely willing—aching, even; to spend long days and nights with her bare. He cupped her chin gently, his thumb brushing her cheek, and turned her face sideways toward him.
She turned her head willingly, a subtle smile blooming on her lips. It was instinctual; the way she leaned into him.
Their lips met. Softly at first, his mouth coaxing hers open, his lips suckling on her lower lip as she reciprocated in kind. Her lips were delicate and warm, tasting of morning tea and something sweeter.
But soon, tongues joined in. The kiss deepened, and he pressed harder, hungrily. His hand stayed cupping her face as his tongue pushed into her mouth, tasting her breath, dominating her soft, slippery tongue. Hers flicked back with airy defiance, but he claimed it completely. Consuming her mouth, devouring her breath, like a firestorm of quiet hunger.
"Ummm…" Luna moaned into his mouth, the sound fluttery and sweet—yet desperate.
He let go of her face just to get his hands back on her body. His palms flattened over her tits, squeezing them through the shirt like he needed to test their give before moving on. Then lower, gripping her narrow waist like he could hold her still with just one hand. Then lower. His fingers found the hem of her skirt, pinched it, and slowly started to draw it up, his fingers dancing, inch by inch tugging her skirt along the silken pantyhose stretched tight against her hips.
Each stroke revealed more of her dainty legs. Smooth, toned, soft like cream beneath his fingertips. He could already feel the heat radiating from between her thighs, and he wasn't even close to done.
Their lips mashed harder, sloppier, with no rhythm—just open mouths and impatient tongues. The summer heat made everything sticky. Sweat clung to their skin, mixed with the wet mess of their kiss. Their breath turned shallow, hot. Dudley grunted into her mouth, one arm wrapped tighter around her, their bodies moving in need instead of words.
His other hand pulled the skirt up fully, and without pause, dove down into her waistband. First past the pantyhose, then into her plain white panties. His palm found heat and softness—bare skin and the faint tickle of fine hair. She was warm and wet already, and he wedged his fingers between her thighs like he had every right to be there.
She shifted her weight back into him, just a little, but enough to grind her ass into the hard bulge twitching behind his zipper.
Dudley's middle finger dragged right through her tight slit. Her lower lips were slick and flushed hot, and his thumb circled her clit with lazy pressure that made her shiver. But lower, his finger pushed past the heat and down, teasing her tighter back hole. Not entering. Just rubbing over it. Knowing it was there, knowing he could.
Kissing her became impossible. Her neck was craned too far, their angle was off, her neck bent awkwardly, and their breath clashed in heavy puffs. So Luna, ever strange and fluid, simply turned her head back toward her work.
One hand still gripping the table, she picked up the quill again. She tried to write. The ink spread wild across the page—just messy, wandering loops and meaningless shapes as her body rocked, distracted, and twitched.
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