Entry tags:

Fic: Peeping Pensieves (Harry/Luna, Hermione/Draco)
To: marksykins
From: foreword

Title: Peeping Pensieves
Author: foreword
Recipient's name: marksykins
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Harry/Luna, Hermione/Draco
Warnings: cross-dressing, pegging, voyeurism, spanking
Author's notes: Thank you to C. for the beta and S. for the help and encouragement.

I really really hope you like this, Marks!

***
Luna smiles and Harry blinks.

"Don't you want to see?" She's watching him, her eyes wide and staring, and Harry has no idea what she's talking about.

"Er… yeah, sure."

And that's when he notices the strange lights flickering on the wall behind her. That's when he catches a glimpse of a small but unmistakable Pensieve resting on the table by Luna's bed. Harry flushes, remembering his experience with Snape and knowing about the personal nature of what a Pensieve can show someone.

But Luna's already smiling, laughing.

She binds his mouth with soft, gauzy fabric and Harry is too shocked to object, blinking at the way the light material scratches gently against his skin and dampens in his mouth as she takes his hand and dips it into the swirling liquid with hers.

There's the sick twist and upending that's familiar to him from former Pensieve experiences and now they're in a strange bedroom, and they're not alone. Harry spots Hermione across the room, pacing, and she looks angry.

He tries to speak, but the gauzy material feels thick against his tongue, and he knows that she won't hear him anyway. This is a memory.

Luna laughs softly and he looks at her in surprise. She gives him a matter-of-fact smile, pressing a finger against her lips.

"If you aren't quiet, you'll miss all the fun."

Harry swallows and wiggles his tongue against what he thinks may be lace, and watches.

The door slams open, and Malfoy strides in, pink-cheeked and apparently furious. He glares at Hermione and she stops in her tracks, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You're late, Malfoy."

Harry frowns and glances at Luna, but she's watching with rapt attention, nearly bouncing on the balls of her feet with excitement. He looks back at the pair curiously, still not understanding how this relates to Luna. Or him.

Malfoy looks like he's going to spit for a moment, but his expression breaks out into a crooked grin. "Sorry, Granger. Wet for me already?"

Hermione moves quickly, closing the space between them in a few strides, and slaps him hard across the face, with a sound that echoes through the room, a room that Harry is starting to suspect is one he's used before as he notices a familiar vanishing cabinet pushed up against the wall behind the bed.

At the sound of the slap, Harry stares, waiting for Malfoy to react and already feeling anger bubbling hot and thick inside him in anticipation of the sort of insults he expects the other boy to deliver to Hermione, but Malfoy only lowers his eyes. He's still grinning, but he's biting his lip now, looking as though he's trying to hide it.

Hermione places her hands on her hips, frowning like she does when she's handing out punishments to second years for throwing dung bombs in the Great Hall.

"On your knees." Her voice is cold and so low that Harry isn't sure he's heard right. He's positive, actually, that he's heard wrong until Malfoy obeys, lowering himself slowly to his knees without objection and looking up at her, as if awaiting further instruction.

Harry looks frantically at Luna again, sure that this is some sort of trick. That's not Hermione. It can't be. But Luna's gaze is fixed on the pair in front of them, unblinking.

Hermione is circling Malfoy now, careful, deliberate steps around him as she slowly pulls her wand out of her robes. She taps it against her hand as she walks, still watching him, her expression tight. Harry wonders how long this has been going on – whatever this might be – and waits in confusion for some sort of explanation as to what Malfoy is waiting for. Finally, she's come full circle and she pauses, giving Malfoy a haughty look before twisting her wrist in a quick flick of her wand.

And now Malfoy, still kneeling before her, is dressed in something that looks disturbingly like pink silk, tight against his lithe form. He sputters and stumbles back, getting to his feet quickly, tripping over unfamiliar high heels and cursing. He glares at Granger accusingly and fumbles for a wand that he can't seem to find, his hands merely sliding over the smooth, silky material stretching across his bony hips.

Harry swallows hard.

"What the fuck, Granger?" Malfoy's face is almost as pink as his dress, and his hands are curling into fists at his sides.

But Hermione only looks smug, crossing her arms over her chest and grinning. "Aw, Malfoy, pink really suits you."

Harry chokes back a laugh, his jaw starting to ache from the unnatural pull of the fabric, but it's gone in the next instant, because Hermione is stepping up to rosy-cheeked Malfoy and kissing him squarely on the lips. Luna's hand finds Harry's with a tight squeeze, and he feels her breath hot on his neck as she whispers to him. "This next bit is my favourite part."

Harry means to ask why, or how she even has this memory, or a number of other things, but Hermione's pushing Draco back against the bed now, and he's kissing her back eagerly, his hands sliding down her sides as she pushes against his flat, silky chest. Harry is mesmerised.

Malfoy falls onto the bed obligingly, sliding back against the mattress and cursing under his breath about what a dirty Mudblood whore she is. He seems to have forgotten about the dress and Hermione steps away from the bed, unclasping the front of her robes and pretending to forgotten about him. There's a bulge apparent under the pink silk stretched across Malfoy's thighs and Harry rubs his tongue desperately against the lace in his mouth as he realises what it is.

Luna grips his hand more tightly, and Harry can feel the wool of her skirt brushing against his skin as she drags their clasped hands against her thigh. It's almost enough to tear his attention away from the scene in front of him, but he doesn't think he's ever been so fascinated with anything before.

Hermione's robes slip gracefully off of her shoulders and Harry realises for the first time that she's wearing trousers underneath them, her prim, crisp uniform shirt tucked neatly in the waistband, her tie resting perfectly over the slope of her chest. He's surprised for a moment, but reflects that it's not all that odd. Hermione wears jeans when she's not in lessons. He's just never seen her in these particular trousers before.

Malfoy seems surprised too – at least, surprised enough to stop his muttering about Hermione. He stares at her and waits, propping himself up on his elbows, his knees spread a bit too wide to be appropriate in the dress, and Luna suddenly tugs on Harry's hand.

She leads him closer to the bed, Harry stumbling over the first few steps, but now they're right up against it, and Harry could reach out and touch Malfoy, if this wasn't just a memory. His chest is rising and falling quickly, with soft, warm puffs of breath, and his erection is thick and straining against the silky fabric of his dress. The dress is rumpled up slightly, causing the hem to come up just past his knees, and Harry is surprised at the pale skin of Malfoy's thighs visible under the silk. He's so busy staring at Malfoy, actually, that he nearly forgets about Hermione.

Luna squeezes his hand so tightly that it almost hurts, and he looks up, not really sure what he's expecting to find, but dazedly relieved that he's no longer staring at Malfoy's thighs.

The trousers are gone now, though her shirt is still buttoned neatly to the collar, her tie still tied in a smart knot. Harry can't help but stare, though, because instead of the pleated khaki front of the trousers, there is something thick and pink poking up through her shirttails.

Harry is sure he's seeing wrong, and he glances up at her face. Hermione's cheeks are flushed, but her eyes have a familiar glint of determination in them as she steps up to the bed, sliding a hand down her stomach to take hold of the strange, pink protrusion. Harry chances a look at Malfoy, who is watching her with an odd mixture of horror and intrigue, his tongue darting out to dampen his bottom lip as his gaze fixes on the movements of Hermione's hand.

"Granger," he breathes out, in a tone that suggests nastiness, but apparently that is all he can manage. Hermione smiles, her expression smug as her fingers skate up, over the buttons of her shirt, and Luna tugs Harry's hand back against the wool of her skirt again.

He feels her fingers loosen from his, and her hand slips over the back of his, pressing his palm against the inside of her thigh, the wool warm and thick under his fingers. He glances at her nervously, his tongue starting to feel raw against the fabric, and is surprised to find her watching him, unblinkingly. Luna smiles and leans into him, raising herself onto her tiptoes and kissing him, her mouth warm and wet and open against the fabric.

Luna pulls away, and Harry feels the material of her skirt sliding out from under his fingers, but when he turns to find her with her skirt bunched up in her fist, she shakes her head, reaching up and gently tilting his chin so that his focus is once again on Hermione and Malfoy.

Hermione has just finished unbuttoning her shirt, the tie sliding down a shoulder and slipping through her fingers as she shrugs off her blouse, exposing the soft pale skin of her shoulders. Harry swallows, shifting uncomfortably on his feet because somehow, this is turning him on. He lets his gaze travel down, over the cotton bra covering Hermione's small breasts, past her bare tummy, to the leather straps cutting across her hips and the odd, pink erection jutting up from between her legs.

He feels a sudden thrill of excitement at that and can't tear his eyes away from the phallus, his trousers uncomfortably tight. Luna has moved the skirt out from under his hand entirely, and he feels the wool brush against the back of it as his fingers skate across the warm, bare skin of her thigh. Luna seems pleased, and she hooks her arm around his waist as his fingers make their way steadily up her inner thigh, until they're feeling warm and moist. The sudden brush of damp cotton against his fingers startles him into looking at her again as Hermione approaches the bed.

Luna isn't paying attention though, her eyes wide and fixed on the scene before them, so Harry swallows and bravely pushes on, turning his gaze back to the bed and tentatively brushing his fingers against the material.

Luna makes a small sound, but it's forgotten in the next moment as Hermione takes hold of her thick, pink, phallus again. Malfoy's watching her in silence, his mouth slightly open, the dress long-forgotten, but Harry notices that there's still a prominent bulge against the pink silk taut across his thighs.

"What are you doing, Granger? This isn't part of the deal." He sounds worried, licking his lips nervously, his gaze continually dropping to Hermione's (rather large, Harry thinks) rubber cock.

"Always the petulant child, Malfoy," Hermione says, in a tone that she'd use when addressing misbehaving third years. "Roll over."

Malfoy, surprisingly, rolls over without much complaint, though he shoots Hermione spiteful glares over his shoulder, his heels slipping off of his feet and clattering to the floor. Harry curls his fingers up against Luna's knickers, disbelieving of what is happening in front of him and she digs her nails into his side.

Hermione frowns and climbs onto the bed on her knees, straddling Draco's thighs as she shoves up his dress and Luna moans like it's her that Hermione's straddling. Harry swallows hard, brushing his fingers in a steady, teasing rhythm against Luna. He's trying not to stare because Hermione has pushed Draco's dress up past his bum, and all Harry can focus on is the thin strip of pink lace bright against the pale skin of Draco's arse.

Those must be his knickers.

Apparently Hermione's displeased with how he's wearing them, though, judging by the expression on her face. She makes a 'tsk' sound in the back of her throat as she raises her hand, bringing it down with a resounding smack across Draco's arse. Draco makes a loud sound of protest, squirming underneath her, and Harry is sure he's never seen anything hotter in his entire life as Hermione shifts, letting her cock bump up against Malfoy's arse.

Malfoy's glaring at her frantically over his shoulder, muttering something, but Harry can tell that he's not all that upset. His cheeks are flushed and his expression's a little dazed, and when he shifts against the bed, all Harry can think of is the thick, eager bulge under taut pink silk.

Hermione raises her hand again but now Luna is shifting against Harry, bringing her mouth to his ear to whisper, just as Harry notices, for the first time, another Luna emerging from the curtains on the other side of the room, her wide blue eyes fixed on Draco and Hermione.

"Time to go," she whispers to him, and suddenly the room is spinning, swirling, and they are landing hard on Luna's bedroom floor.

It takes Harry a moment to collect himself, and he wonders briefly if the pink and green rug underneath him is singing as he straightens his glasses and looks up at Luna. She's pushing herself to her feet, straightening her skirt and looking around her room curiously, as if they hadn't just been watching Hermione spank Draco Malfoy.

Harry swallows and watches Luna for a moment in silence, his fingers still damp from where he'd been touching her, his cock still hard against his trousers. Gently, he pries the light fabric from his mouth, letting it fall around his throat.

"What happened next?"

He can barely ask, he's so excited, his breathing shallow and quick, his heart racing in his ears. But he has to know. Luna turns to him slowly, surprise evident in her features as she stares at him.

"I could show you."

Harry closes his eyes and tries to keep his breathing steady before nodding slowly. "In the Pensieve?"

Luna laughs and Harry opens his eyes in surprise as she shakes her head. "We don't need the Pensieve."

She reaches Harry, seemingly by accident, and leans forward, pulling him to his feet. "But could you be Hermione?"

Harry's not sure what she means, and he half expects her to hand him a vial of Polyjuice potion, but she's only kicking off her shoes and moving backwards, throwing herself melodramatically down on the bed in a poor imitation of Malfoy. Harry grins at this, ruffling his hair sheepishly as he takes an awkward step closer to her.

"You're missing the dress," he tells her jokingly.

Luna looks up at him in surprise, raising herself to her elbows and blinking. "You're right. I don't think I can be as pretty as him, but I'll try." She fumbles in the bedclothes and triumphantly produces her wand a moment later, hesitating only briefly before pointing it at herself and murmuring thoughtfully under her breath.

A moment later, her skirt and blouse are melting into thin, pink fabric, tight across her curves. There is only one thing, actually, which doesn't match Draco's dress, and it's a strangely familiar, mouldy-looking collar. Harry recognizes it instantly as part of Ron's dress robes from their Yule Ball adventure.

Luna follows his gaze so that she's staring at her chest and she laughs, dropping her wand beside her and falling back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. "Those were just the best. He really outdid himself that night."

Harry reflects that he shouldn't be surprised, really. Only Luna would admire Ron's robes from the ball. He doesn't remember seeing her then, of course, though he supposes Luna isn't half-bad at going unnoticed when she chooses to, as he's just witnessed in the Pensieve.

"I think you should be taking off your trousers now, don't you?"

Harry's cheeks feel hot as he looks up at her, but his fingers are already moving for the clasp on his trousers, and somehow this just feels right, in spite of the images of Hermione and Malfoy that are most certainly not right and seem to be on a continual loop in his mind.

His trousers slide easily down, until he's stepping out of them, his erection still trapped by the thin cotton of his shorts and Luna's raising herself onto her elbows to watch him. He blushes as he reaches her, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his shorts, and Luna smiles serenely at him as he tugs them down off of his hips, his cock bobbing free.

Luna looks up at Harry expectantly and he remembers what comes next. "Er…roll over?"

She flops ungracefully over onto her belly, glancing back over her shoulder at him happily, and Harry swallows his embarrassment as he climbs onto the bed, straddling her thighs. They've messed around before, but never like this, and Harry's not really sure how far he's expected to take it.

"Damn it, Granger!" He looks up in surprise, and bites back a laugh at the way Luna's face looks, scrunched up into a fake scowl. She really looks nothing like Malfoy, but Harry would really rather she didn't, anyway. He takes careful hold of the soft pink material and pushes it slowly up past her bum, pausing for a moment to marvel at the polka-dotted pattern on Luna's cotton knickers.

Luna moves against the bed, jutting her arse higher into the air for encouragement, and Harry brushes his hand tentatively over the cotton.

"You'll need to move that out of the way," she tells him, matter-of-factly. "Otherwise, I won't get all pink."

Harry's not really sure where to move them to, but he tries to oblige, hooking a finger under the elastic and sliding one side of her knickers across the skin of her bum, tucking them in her arse crack. Luna laughs delightedly at this, and wiggles her bum. Harry grins and raises his hand, bringing it down lightly over the bare expanse of pale skin.

There's a soft slapping sound as his hand meets the smooth skin of her bum, and it's certainly nothing like the loud smacks Hermione was delivering to Draco. Harry swallows and shifts, his erection poking aimlessly up against Luna's arse as he raises his hand again. Luna makes a small sound and shifts back against him.

"Harder, please."

Harry swallows and nods, bringing his hand down more heavily this time, his palm stinging slightly at the second smack of skin against skin. Luna wriggles underneath him, one cheek now decorated with a faint pink handprint, the other still covered by purple polka-dotted knickers. Harry raises his hand without hesitation this time, and brings it down harder across her bum, a resounding smack filling the air at the contact.

He's so hard it's starting to hurt, and he never thought he'd find this so appealing, but Luna does too, apparently. Harry lets his fingers trail down the warm skin of her arse, dipping them between her thighs to reach hot cotton that's soaked through. Luna makes another sound and shifts back against his touch, and Harry wants to fuck her, needs to fuck her, right now.

"Wanna fuck you," he murmurs in between breaths, his fingers rubbing insistently up against the wet knickers as his leaking prick pokes up against her bum.

Luna fists her hands in the sheets and nods her agreement, still rocking back against Harry's touch as she pulls forward and raises herself tentatively to her knees. "Then you should."

Harry licks his lips and nods, tugging experimentally at her knickers, his cock now poking wetly up against a warm, pink handprint. He tugs them to the side and lets his fingers find her wet, hot opening, moaning softly at the sight of the damp blonde curls twisting around his fingers.

He tugs on the knickers again, getting a better grip on them as he holds them to the side and positions himself awkwardly with his other hand, nudging his cock tentatively up against her dripping cunt.

Luna makes a high-pitched noise and rocks back, so that the head of his cock is just pushing inside of her and Harry thinks he might die. He shoves himself the rest of the way in, until his balls are rutting up against her and he stops, letting out a low moan at the feel of her, hot and tight and wet around him.

He starts to move slowly, letting go of her knickers to grab onto her hips as he shifts, thrusting into her slow and deep before pulling out again, his fingers digging into her skin as he moves, but Luna doesn't seem to care, shifting back against him eagerly. Harry thinks he hears her say "Potter," but he can't stop to question it, lost in the slick, hot pull and slide of fucking her.

He's coming before he means to, collapsing against her and shuddering, shaking, trembling as he falls apart inside of her.

He pulls himself off of her after a moment, rubbing the marks he's left on her hips apologetically as he crawls up beside her on the bed and collapses. Luna laughs softly and flops onto her side facing him, her dress rumpled up around her hips. She makes a face as she slips a hand down her arse, tugging on her knickers.

She squirms slightly at this and Harry blushes. "Sorry."

"For what?" she asks curiously, raising herself to her knees and straddling him, resting on his hips and playing with his tie. "Your shirt's all messy." Harry realises this is probably true as he glances down at rumpled shirttails that disappear underneath her warm wet weight. She smiles and leans forward, the soft push of her breasts under the frilly collar pressing against his chest as the lace from it tickles his neck.

Harry isn't really sure what he was going to apologise for, but it felt like he should, somehow. Now though, she's pressing her lips gently against his, warm and soft and damp, and it feels suddenly unnecessary.

"You could be Draco next time, if you want."

Harry laughs and Luna kisses him again, and he's lost in the easiness of it, at the soft brush of her mouth against his as his hands slide up her thighs and under her skirt, sliding over skin warm from spanking.

It's sometime later before he realises she is serious.