Author: Carol Anne Caiafa
Summary: Soon they would be together again, and the daydreams would be real…
Warnings: Somewhat explicit femmeslash, mentions of shower and wall sex, frottage, magic during sex, a touch of humour, post-war AU
Disclaimer: Don’t own these characters, not making any profit, etc.
A/N: Written for orionnoire for the witchwinter fic exchange! Many thanks to my beta, who wishes to remain anonymous.
After her father’s retirement, Luna Lovegood delighted in her new responsibilities as editor of The Quibbler. Each new edition was a joy to put together – each freshly discovered story to add to the pages was a triumph. The rumours, bizarre lore and sightings of strange creatures – all these brought a dreamy little smile to her lips.
But today Luna’s daydreams were taking her to other realms. She sat at her rather scratched but still sturdy carved oak desk and impatiently pushed aside the pile of parchment in front of her. Reading through all that work stuff could wait for now. She had been looking forward to this moment for ages, for longer than she cared to admit to anyone, even herself.
Taking up a thin, steel-bladed letter opener, Luna carefully slit the envelope in front of her. It was pale blue, with a faint glow like moonlight, an endearing allusion to her own name and the shimmering tresses of the woman who had sent it. She inhaled its perfume; the same rose essential oil that Gabrielle scented herself with. Floral, sensual and delicate, just like Gabrielle was. She smiled and almost purred, tracing with a forefinger the initials that Gabi had carved, with the same letter opener that Luna had just laid down, the day before she set off for Italy. Captured inside a perfect heart shape, the initials L.L. and G.D.
Slowly and deliciously, Luna’s eyes devoured the sloping script on the page, that familiar, flawlessly penned handwriting. One hand moved absent-mindedly to her throat, playing with the Venetian glass beads in the shapes of miniature strawberries that she wore. They had been the most recent gift from Gabrielle, received a mere few weeks ago. Luna sighed happily – of all the lovers she had had in her life, Gabrielle was the only one who truly understood Luna’s sense of humour and adored her eccentricities wholeheartedly, nurturing and encouraging her individuality instead of attempting to suppress it, to mold Luna into something she could never be. However, Gabi’s new job with the Department of International Magical Co-operation took her travelling to many other lands, and Luna was frequently apart from the woman she adored. Gabrielle was in Venice now, and she’d been to Spain before that, and Armenia before that, and… Luna didn’t quite remember back any further. It was hard being without Gabi so often, but there were exotic and interesting presents sent over to and brought back for Luna every time, and the absences made their reunions all the sweeter. Perhaps there was some truth in the saying that absence made the heart grow fonder, after all.
There had been no gifts with this delivery, so Luna was hopeful that the epistle before her would promise Gabrielle’s return to England. She forced herself to read more slowly, to refrain from racing to the end to glean the desired information. Of course she delighted in the words of affection upon the page, and naturally, she wanted to read all about Gabrielle’s adventures. But most of all, she ached for Gabrielle, longed to hold her close and kiss her everywhere.
Both of them were grown women, survivors of the Great War against Lord Voldemort, but when they came together it was like the two of them turned into playful little girls again. It would be winter soon, and Luna enjoyed nothing better than spending the colder months with her beloved. Gabrielle adored romping in the snow with Luna – throwing snowballs, sculpting houses and people, and falling to the ground, giggling breathlessly, to make snow angels. Beautiful Gabi - she was like an angel made of snow herself, Luna sometimes said. After all, Gabrielle was named for an angel, and had white-blonde hair that seemed to shine as brightly as the moon, fair skin and eyes the intense blue of a clear and starlit winter’s evening.
There was a more adult, erotic side to their play too. Her breath catching, Luna recalled last winter when after creating more than a dozen angelic shapes in the glistening snow, Gabrielle had roughly pulled Luna into her arms for a deep and searching kiss, tongues fluttering in each other’s mouths, hair and eyelashes flecked with snowflakes. Heated bodies sought to rub together through the thickness of wool and fur; nipples hardened and Luna felt herself swiftly becoming slippery and tingling between her thighs. With a gasp, she realised that she was coming, a willing victim to the special magic that only a girl of Veela descent could possess. She almost swooned as Gabrielle laughed throatily and passionately kissed her again.
That Christmas Eve there had been a grand ball held by the Minister for Magic, and Luna and Gabrielle had waltzed together, whirling around and around the marble dance-floor, their silk dress robes billowing like clouds and their matching necklaces of Yuletide bells and crystal icicles tinkling merrily. More staid guests looked down their noses at the two silly, giggly young women, their faces flushed and eyes brilliant with champagne and mutual desire, but the lovers didn’t care one bit. At the ball’s end they raced along the streets, starting a mock-fight with snowballs before kicking off their high-heeled dancing shoes and diving behind the high brick wall of the nearest building. As they leaned against the wall, their lips were joined in wilder kisses than ever, and Gabrielle’s slender hands were pushing aside Luna’s fur wraps, seeking to caress the warmth and roundness of her lover’s breasts. Luna’s fingers were straying too, lifting Gabrielle’s skirt and sliding beneath the thin fabric of lacy knickers, plunging into heat and wetness, and making Gabrielle moan into Luna’s mouth.
Home at last, they still could not keep their hands from each other. Clothes were stripped from their bodies and left to lie unheeded on the floor as they chased and laughed their way into the bathroom. As the warm, misty gush of the shower’s liquid stream cascaded all around them, they kissed and stroked and clung to damp bare flesh, licking droplets of water from lips and throats and faces. Luna sank to her knees and parted Gabrielle’s slick, moist folds, tasting her essence as her fingers wandered through tiny, exquisite platinum curls.
Luna was trembling with arousal as she finished reading Gabi’s letter, and her eyes were dancing as she slid the scented pages back into the envelope. Her snow angel would be back home soon, and all would be right with the world. But still Luna did not take up her work again – she was now losing herself in daydreams about what she would wear for Gabrielle’s return.