Doors and Leaks

Tarie

Rating: NC17
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Ron & Luna
Book: Ron & Luna, Books 1 - 5
Published: 19/06/2005
Last Updated: 19/06/2005
Status: completed

It had been a long time since she had watched something or someone without them knowing she was there. But it hadn't been so long ago that the tingle in her belly from watching something or someone unaware wasn't familiar.

Chapters

1. Doors and Leaks

1. Doors and Leaks

Doors were ever such nice things. They shut things and people out and kept things and people in, which was very nice of them. They also opened up and welcomed things and people in, which was very nice of them as well. But maybe the nicest thing of all about doors was that sometimes, just sometimes, they took you to a whole new world and you didn't even have to ask your daddy to get a Portkey for you or make sure you had five different Pocket Sneakoscopes, a pixie's eyelash, and a bottle of Heliopath breath - all travelling necessities - packed in your trunk before you went off on your adventure.

Luna liked doors. She especially liked the doors at Hogwarts because she never knew what she would find behind any of them.

When it was late at night and her dorm mates were fast asleep, Luna would toss her duvet off and yank up her nightdress. Up her hands would stretch and out her legs would go and then she would move, move, move, making a bed angel. Bed angels were much more beautiful than snow angels.

After her bed angel had flown up and away, she would string ribbons with sea-glass buttons and thread them in her hair. In and out, under and over, again and again. There was a rhythm to it and it was very important not to muck it up. In and out, under and over, again and again and oh how lovely she must look, like a small jewelled Fwooper. Although some days she didn't like Fwoopers, so she occasionally thought she must look like a small jewelled Huffalump. Either or, she was full of colour and that was quite nice. Luna liked colour. She liked the way it felt.

The doors in Hogwarts all had a colour of their own. Luna liked to walk down the corridors, after she wove the ribbons and buttons in her hair, when the light was dim and no one was around because they were all safe and sound and snug as a bug (Betelgeuses, she liked to think) in a rug, and see the colours of the doors. All of the doors had the same dark mahogany stain on them, but that wasn't the colour that interested Luna. What colour interested Luna was the colour of the air ghosting atop the door's surface. Not many people could see the colour of a door's air, but Luna could. She'd always been able to do that, just like how she'd always been able to breathe or curl her tongue or spot the end of a rainbow hundreds of meters away.

Colours. Some colours were good. Some colours were bad. There were even some colours Luna hadn't made a decision about.

Sometimes, when she was feeling peevish, Luna would open up a door whose air was of a dark, murky colour, which was something she wouldn't normally do, for Those Doors, when they felt like taking her to a whole new world, usually took her to a world full of things that quite made her skin crawl. Because usually Luna's skin didn't crawl (unless she had gotten into Daddy's shaving salve), she sometimes thought it was fun. But the fun usually ended when things creaked in corners or a voice in the darkness told her that it was Mummy. She always knew it wasn't Mummy, because Mummy never called herself Mummy when she had talked to Luna. Mummy had always called herself Mumticore, which Luna found silly because Mummy didn't have the body of a lion or the tail of a dragon or scorpion, although she did have a Mummy-shaped head.

Sometimes, when she was feeling content, Luna would open up a door whose air was of a cool, muted colour. Doors with that sort of colour about their air were her favourite because they always took her, when they were inclined to take her at all, to a strange and wondrous world where everything was normal and abnormal at the same time. There would be desks and chairs and things but they weren't just any desks and chairs and things. They were special and lonely they were because no one paid attention to them. Because Luna thought it was the polite thing to do, she couldn't bear to make a brief visit to their world. So, she would pull up her nightdress and sink down onto the ground, letting the fabric pool around her on the floor, and settle in for a good, long conversation. She would talk to the desks and chairs and things until the wee hours of the morning, tip-toeing back to her dormitory before Mr Peeves would make his morning rounds of mischief.

On one particularly warm evening, after she had made her bed angel and put ribbons and buttons in her hair, Luna came across a very strange door indeed.

At first glance, it wasn't an especially curious door at all. In fact, it was rather ordinary - same old mahogany stain, silver handle, and not a very noticeable air colour. Luna would have walked right past it had she not noticed that it was slightly ajar. Mumticore had always told her to keep the door to an unused room shut up tightly so that marvels and mysteries wouldn't run off, so Luna was always very careful to shut doors behind her. It would be sad if marvels and mysteries wandered off without getting a chance to tell their story.

Placing her hand on the handle, she whispered hullo to the door, small fingers tickling the underside of the handle. It made a queer noise in response - a low sort of moan that worried her.

"What's the matter, Door?" she whispered, pressing her cheek against it. "Has something happened?"

The noise sounded again and her eyes widened.

"Oh. My mistake."

The door hadn't been talking to her, Luna realised. The sound was coming from inside the room.

Bouncing on the balls of her feet, Luna tried to decide what would be the best thing to do. The colour of the door's air hadn't been dark or murky, so there shouldn't be flames or eyes or fake Mummys in there. But the colour of the door's air hadn't been cool and muted either, so there probably would not be desks and chairs and things longing for conversation inside.

What if, Luna wondered, there was a Crumple-Horned Snorkack in there? She owed it to Daddy to be brave - even if she wasn't a Gryffindor - and go in there. If there was a Crumple-Horned Snorkack in there, she was going to catch it for Daddy and The Quibbler. Yes.

Practicing being very quiet, Luna took in a big gulp of air and pushed the good old door open further and further until there was just enough room for her to squeeze between the frame and the solid oak. The moment she stepped inside, she pressed herself against the wall, edging back into the shadows. That noise sounded again, louder this time, and she mentally told her eyes that they were to be very good and do their best to see in the darkness. It took them a few moments to listen to her, but Luna was quite pleased when they finally did. She was a little disappointed, though, at what they showed her. There wasn't any Crumple-Horned Snorkack in there. There was a boy on the opposite side of the room from her and he was the one making those noises.

Well that was interesting. Perhaps not as interesting as a Crumple-Horned Snorkack, but he sounded quite nice when he made that low sort of noise. Perhaps it would be the polite thing to do to say hullo to him, but then she would have interrupted him from his nice moaning and that would have been rude, so Luna decided to stay back in her shadowy corner until he noticed her.

It had been a long time since she had watched something or someone without them knowing she was there. But it hadn't been so long ago that the tingle in her belly from watching something or someone unaware wasn't familiar. Sometimes it was good if you edged up to people if they hadn't noticed you. They weren't expecting you and you could catch them, sort of like how you might catch a fairy, but without a net. But because Luna wasn't sure what she could do with a boy if she caught him, she decided just to watch.

His back was turned to her and she could not see very much, but that was all right. He had very nice shoulders, broad and strong and probably very good for sitting upon. His orange t-shirt was faded and worn and probably very soft to touch, while his pyjama bottoms were a few inches too short on him and the cuffs were fraying a bit, strings hanging down and brushing against his ankles. Maybe, once he realised that she was there, he would offer her a string or two from his pyjamas. That would be lovely; one of her radish earrings needed a bit of repair and that would do just the trick.

Now his noises turned into grunts and Luna bit her lip, shifting her weight from foot to foot. He was doing something with his hand and his head kept jerking and she felt a funny quiver right below her belly. There was a funny quiver and oh-

Oh!

There was a funny quiver and she was wet between her legs. Curling her toes, Luna told herself that she shouldn't leak on the floor because that would give poor Mr Filch more work to do and that wouldn't be very nice of her at all. But Luna didn't listen to herself, because she felt herself become wetter and wetter every time the boy made those noises.

He cried out and Luna saw him start to shake and shake and she just couldn't help herself. She thought the whole thing was more beautiful than a whole pack of baby Blubbering Humdingers would be and she had to giggle because beautiful things made her happy. She giggled and pressed her palm between her legs and sighed, so very happy that she'd decided to take a chance on a door with no noticeable air colour.

The boy turned around quickly at the sound of Luna's voice and she grinned, happy to see him.

"Hullo, Ronald!" she said brightly, delighted. "May I have some string?" She pointed to the cuffs of his pyjama bottoms.

Ronald turned a flattering shade of crimson and she stepped closer to him, tipping her head up and staring at him through the long strands of hair that had fallen in her eyes. He hadn't answered her question, though, so she thought that perhaps he hadn't heard her.

"I said," she repeated, "'May I have some string?' It's right there on your bottoms." She pointed to the cuffs again and began to hum softly. 'God Save the Grindylows' was her favourite song to hum and Ronald was her favourite person, so she thought this was particularly clever of her.

"God– Luna!" Ronald said, sputtering about in a way.

"Yes Ronald?" she asked, smiling serenely, moving the hand between her legs around a bit. Luna knew he hated to be called Ronald, but she liked the way his name rolled off of her tongue and the way he never seemed to mind very much when she called him that. Her smile deepened and she applied more pressure with her hand. "Mmmm."

"You- me- What in the sodding hell–"

"If you're having trouble reaching the string for me, Ronald," said Luna slowly, studying him with concern, "it might help if you take your hand off of your penis first."

"My– er– p-p-"

Perhaps Ronald hadn't understood what she meant?

"Yes," said Luna, taking another step toward him, pointing at his handful. "Your penis. Willy. Prick. Knob. Cock."

"I KNOW WHAT IT IS!"

Luna laughed. "Well if you know what it is, why is your hand still on it when I said that it might help for you to take your hand off of it?"

Ronald let go of his penis so quickly that it bounced a bit, making Luna shriek with laughter. Maybe that wasn't very polite of her, but she couldn't help it! His penis was the same colour as his face now, almost, and it was jerking up and down. Plus, it was sticking out of the fly of his pyjama bottoms and it was lovely and long and there was a pearly-white bit of moisture at the tip of it. But if Ronald wasn't careful, he would leak on the floor as well, making even more work for Mr Filch! That simply wouldn't do at all, no it wouldn't! So Luna did what she thought was a good deed - she took her hand from between her legs and wrapped it around Ronald's penis, stopping the bouncing.

"Stay," she said firmly, looking down at it sternly.

She thought she heard Ronald choke a little, but he didn't keel over or anything, so she knew he was still alive. Her eyes were too focused on the whitish liquid at the tip of his penis to look up at him. She frowned; it was really going to dribble onto the floor if she didn't do something to stop it. Deciding that she would do both Mr Filch and Ronald a favour (making sure the floor stayed clean and helping Ronald to avoid getting a detention), she sank down onto her knees, eye-level at last with Ronald's lovely penis and the offending (but not offensive, because it came from Ronald) droplet. After humming one last bar of 'God Save the Grindylows', she then stuck her tongue right out and lapped up that bit of Ronald. It must have felt good to him, because he did a very impressive bellow-moan and stumbled back a few steps. Luna laughed again, a bell-like tinkle, shaking her head so that the buttons in her hair jangled together. "You're very welcome, Ronald." Folding her hands in her lap, she looked up at him expectantly.

Ronald made a series of strange faces, each one more beautiful than the last. Finally he looked at her, his eyes narrow and shining and bluer than that Atlantean wine Daddy had brought back from Atlantis, and begin fiddling with his pyjama bottoms and very nice penis again. "Luna," he said, "I think you ought to go. Really."

"Oh, but don't put that away!" Luna cried. "I wasn't done looking at it!"

"...What? Didn't you hear what I just said?"

"Yes, of course I heard you, Ronald," she said. "But I don't think I ought to go. Not just yet. What if you leak again? We have to stop the leak."

"The...leak?"

"Yes," she said solemnly, going over to him once more. "The leak."

He looked down at her as though she had snakes for hair, which she always secretly thought would be exciting. If she had snakes for hair, she would sit next to Harry at lunch every day. It would be lovely to listen to a Parseltongue conversation.

"Leak?"

"Yes, Ronald. Leak." Perhaps he learnt better if there was demonstration? Luna nodded to herself and then reached a hand for his penis again, giving it a slight squeeze. "We have to make sure this doesn't leak, because I wouldn't want for you to have detention."

Ronald's eyes rolled back in his head and he nodded, his hips doing a funny jerk, pushing his penis further into her hand. "Wh-what," he said hoarsely, "do you think we ought to do to make sure there aren't any more leaks?"

Oh, what a brilliant question! Luna let go of his penis for a moment and clapped her hands in delight. "Oh!" she squealed. "I know what we could do!"

"What's that?"

She curled her fingers around his cock again and squeezed excitedly. "We could have sexual intercourse, so that your penis would leak safe and sound in me, and there would be no leaks on the floor! Besides, I think it'd be quite nice to have sexual intercourse with you!"

Ronald coughed. "Come again?"

"Exactly!" said Luna happily, releasing his penis and grabbing hold of one of his hands, dragging him over to a corner of the room.

Eyeing the wall critically for a moment, she then worked out how they should go about doing this sexual intercourse. Dropping his hand, she stooped down and took the hem of her nightdress in her fingers, then stood up and flung it over her head, bunching the fabric so that the front of the nightdress was now resting behind her head. She felt stunning, her arms long and elegant in the cotton sleeves, the rest of the nightdress flowing down her back like some ceremonial garb befitting the High Priestess of the Sacred Snorkack Society. Shimmying out of her knickers, she then pressed her back against the wall, reaching a hand out and grabbing Ronald by his t-shirt. "Stand still," she said, then braced her hands on his shoulders and lifted herself up, wrapping her legs around his waist. He took in a big gulp of air and let it out quickly and she knew he was worrying over something. "It's all right, Ronald," she said quietly. "I'm on the Potion and I want to stop your leaks."

"I– Luna..."

"Yes?"

"I just– you're–" But Ronald never told Luna what she was, because he leaned down and gave her a kiss sweeter than thirty seven chocolate frogs and then she was laughing against his mouth. He laughed, too, and she wrapped her legs more firmly around his waist, bouncing up and down eagerly.

"You taste very nice, Ronald," said Luna, licking a corner of his mouth.

"I reckon you do, too," he said, pushing her back against the wall. Then he bowed his head and his tongue licked down the column of her throat, which made her sigh and tingle and hum all at once. "Imagine that," he murmured, one of his big and freckled and nice hands now doing very nice things to her breasts. "You do."

"I taste very nice," she repeated, feeling very peaceful and sated.

"Uh huh," he whispered, tasting her breasts now.

"Ooooh," she said, arching her back and pushing herself more against his mouth. Then something occurred to her. "Ronald?"

"Yeah?"

"We can't forget about the leaking."

"No," he agreed, and she could feel him shifting her around, his fingers pressing against her opening. "We can't."

Whimpering a little because it felt very nice to have Ronald fingers against her most delicate part, she then ground her hips down and dug her heels into the back of his bum. In case he forgot that she was to stop his leaks, she wanted to remind him.

She must have done that right, because he pushed his penis against her and she giggled, then bit her lower lip and sank slowly down onto him. She winced a little at first because it felt sort of painful, but Ronald held still, waiting for her to move, which was very nice of him. When she felt like she was ready again, Luna wrinkled her nose and pushed down all the way, sighing. Oh. That felt wonderful, but not as wonderful as hearing them both gasp at the same time. And that, she then decided, wasn't as wonderful as the feeling of Ronald inside of her, or the way that she could move up and down him and the way he could move her up and down atop him. It was very nice, more than nice, even. She squeaked and yipped and maybe even growled a little, especially when he moved his fingers down there too and pressed against her clitoris. She had heard Orla Quirke call it a 'magic button' before but Luna didn't think she was right because Luna had tonnes of magic buttons, but now she understood what Orla had meant. It was Luna's own magic button, one that she didn't put in her hair or let other people borrow to repair their cloaks. It was hers and she didn't have to share it with anyone, although she was more than happy to share her magic button with Ronald. It had been a good decision; he was very good with her magic button. She might like to give it to him for safekeeping.

Ronald filled her again and again and Luna laughed and screamed and held her hands up high above her head, just like she did when she made bed angels, but now it was a bit different because there was no bed and she was not the one doing it. Ron was doing it; he was making a Luna angel and Luna wasn't going to fly away without him.

"Luna," Ronald grunted, pinching her nipple and rolling his hips against her.

"Yes, Ronald?" she panted, rolling her head from side to side, long hair whipping in her face.

"Gonna– gonna– gonna leak."

"That's all right, Ronald," she promised him, licking his jaw line. "Leak all you like. I will clean it up and keep you safe."

He nodded, then thrust into her two more times before moaning and coming again. Luna gasped, then began to hum a new song, 'Weasley is Our King', and clenched down around him, riding him out and saving him from leaking and a detention.

When it was all over, she tapped him on the shoulder. He backed up a step and she disentangled herself from him, then hopped down, nightdress billowing behind her.

"Thank you, Ronald," she said sweetly, patting at the ribbons and buttons in her hair.

"Er, for what?" he asked, slumping against the wall, looking very tired.

"For being the best Door ever. I had a very nice trip."

"Um...." Ronald looked up at her and she could tell he was a bit lost, but that was all right. She sometimes got lost herself.

"And I even know what your colour is," she continued, idly tracing around one of her nipples.

Ronald squeaked and she noticed that he couldn't look away from her bosom. "What's that?"

"It's Luna-coloured."

Smiling softly, she leaned down and picked up her knickers, swinging them in her hand, rearranging her nightdress with the other. "I'll be seeing you later, Ronald. If I remember correctly, there is a desk and very sad chair in a room down the corridor that I should like to visit."

With that, she opened up the door with the not very noticeable air colour and skipped down the hall.