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This Stone at My Back	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > FemSlash - Female/Female Views: 5305 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-This Stone at My Back
- 1
Title: This Stone at My Back
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Pairing: Ginny/Luna
Rating: R
Warnings: Faint angst, present tense
Wordcount: 3600
Summary: A tour around Ginny and Luna’s shared home, built amid the roots of both stone and tree.
Author’s Notes: This is the second of my Advent fics, written for thady’s prompt: Ginny/Luna, winter holidays, building a home. Not too much angst.
This Stone at My Back
            They have a huge red couch in front of the fire. Ginny didn’t insist on it, but Luna is wise enough to see the way that her eyes light up when they pass crimson furniture in the shops. And how she lingers over red curtains, and large squashy chairs that remind her of the Gryffindor common room.
            The couch burns like a dim fire in the darkness, even when their own hearth is empty. It does make a house dark, when it’s been carved out of a boulder, and the boulder is interwoven with the roots of a gigantic oak tree. Magic, of course. Ginny is the one who came up with the idea, but Luna is the one who figured out how to make it work.
            Harry and Ron argue Quidditch on that couch, and Victoire and then Dominique learned to walk hanging onto it, and Percy sat on it during the whole of one long, angry night when he and Ginny fought about what a pissant he was. But Luna’s favorite memory is of one evening only about a week before the winter solstice, when they started out both sitting there, in front of a cheerful fire, her head resting on Ginny’s shoulder.
            But she didn’t stay there.
*
            “What I mean to say,” Ginny is explaining with one hand swooping around over Luna’s head, “is Gwenog is wrong. You can’t go on making that play forever and expect them not to catch on. Gwenog is possessive of it because it’s her play, but you can’t leave it the same forever. It’s like Nargles. You can’t just come up with the same ways to deal with them all the time, or they get around them.”
            “Nargles aren’t that smart,” Luna tells Ginny patiently. She’s told her this more than once already. But she doesn’t mind. Luna doesn’t bother to keep track of the names of Quidditch moves, and she knows Ginny loves her anyway. Just like Luna loves her anyway. “They’re just persistent.”
            “That kind of describes the Chudley Cannons, too.” Ginny’s grin flashes, brighter than the fairy lights hanging off the Christmas tree. “But anyway, I told Gwenog that, and she didn’t listen. Do you know what she said?”
            “What?” Frankly, Luna is more interested in the skirt Ginny’s wearing. She’s been wearing it all day, around the house, because as she says, enchanting the stone to curl around the roots and moving dirt doesn’t take a lot of energy. Only clothing that’s tough and that you don’t care if it gets dirty.
            At the moment, Luna is most interested in how short the skirt is, and the way it rides up over Ginny’s hips when she shifts. The fire doesn’t touch the shadows behind her knees. Luna thinks they’re lovely and mysterious. The kind of place Nargles could hide.
            Luna bends down and touches her tongue to the crease behind Ginny’s left knee.
            Ginny’s voice dries up. Then she says, “What? Luna—”
            Luna licks behind Ginny’s knee. Then she drops to the floor so she can lick the right one, too. She puts one hand on Ginny’s hip, so she doesn’t pull away in the middle of it. That’s one fault Ginny has. She’s always pulling away before they get to the good part, like when they’re flying and she won’t step and check on the winged unicorn Luna saw moving its baby to a new home.
            “I’ll never get used to the way you just go for it,” Ginny says, but her voice is a breathy groan. She lifts her legs at Luna’s silent urging and settles them over Luna’s shoulders, tossing her head back. Her hair flames in the light of the fire, making the room and the couch both brighter and warmer.
            Luna can slip her fingers right under the skirt. She smiles. She asked Ginny not to wear knickers that morning.
            Ginny gave her a strange look, but she did it without complaint. That’s another reason Luna loves her.
            “Ahh,” says Ginny, and her head goes further and further back, until her neck gives Luna exciting visions of communications devices she could build. But her tongue delves into Ginny and she’s too busy then for thinking of such things.
            Ginny has all sorts of funny little sounds when Luna licks her, carefully parting and holding her open with her fingers while she uses her tongue, because that’s the way Ginny likes it. She mumble-sighs while she clenches her thighs around Luna’s ears. She makes the most satisfied purr-growl when Luna tweaks her clit. And she tries to lift off the couch when Luna’s tongue goes the deepest, followed by her fingers, and she’s panting and shouting like a Muggle rocket Luna got to watch once.
            Luna enjoys her other senses, too. There’s the warmth at her back, and the lights shaking on the tree to her right, and the flexing of muscles around her ears, and the sudden sharp taste on her tongue when Ginny comes.
            Ginny slides down, panting, and Luna slips one hand under her own skirt. But Ginny grabs her wrist, and says something that makes no sense. “Why should a magical creature seeker have more courage than a Quidditch player?”
            “Because brooms don’t charge you and try to eat you?” Luna wonders if Ginny is thinking of joining her in magical creature seeking. If she has, she has to get rid of those silly misconceptions she may have.
            But Ginny sinks to the carpet in front of her and pushes Luna back and starts licking her, and Luna relaxes. Oh, that’s what she meant.
            Luna doesn’t always know what Ginny means, but sometimes she does, and it’s a comfort to know both that that’s true and that Ginny doesn’t mind licking her through her knickers at first, which is the way Luna likes it. She arches her head back and lets her hair trail over the hearth and banishes worry from her mind.
*
            There’s their kitchen, modeled to look like a cavern at the bottom of a tree. Oaken wood, carefully bent and manipulated, covers the walls, but there’s stone behind them, and the room’s shape in general follows the odd, elongated outer curve of the boulder. Meeting the back wall is a table that exactly fits into the corner, carved to order. Underneath it are Muggle folding chairs that can be pulled out and set around the table when they pull it out to entertain.
            Luna loves folding chairs. They go into small burrows and they unfurl with small creaks when she’s ready to use them. They’re soothing. Sometimes she thinks she could fold and unfold them all day, except the noise makes Ginny cranky.
            When it’s Christmas, they burn a giant Yule log in the fireplace and tell each other sleepy stories of their childhoods, sitting on the outermost side of the table to watch the crackle of the flames. Luna loves to watch how the light turns Ginny’s eyes almost amber.
            Her favorite memory here is the one of the Christmas before last when Ginny surprised her with an early gift.
*
            “What is it?”
            Luna thinks she knows most materials that things could be made from. It’s a matter of holding them and feeling them and really getting to know them. Ivory doesn’t feel like bone, and neither feels like unicorn horn, and bone and jewels and wood and leather and wool and metal are all different from each other, too. But she can’t figure out what the dagger Ginny shows her is made of. The grey material is hard like metal, but has the smoothness that Luna associates only with polished bone.
            “Do you remember I told you that Charlie’s favorite dragon died a month ago?”
            Luna gasps and looks up. Of course she’s felt dragonhide leather and dragon scales, because those are almost common materials in the shops of the magical creature smugglers she tracks, but she knows one thing she’s never felt. “This is dragonbone?”
            Ginny pauses. “If you already know all about it…”
            Luna leans over and kisses her. “I wouldn’t have known if you hadn’t told me. And it’s beautiful.” She turns the dagger over and over, admiring the weight and heft of it anew. This was bone in a dragon’s wing or paw or head, supporting the immense weight of scales above it, turning and flexing and sending it soaring through the skies.
            “Why did you decide to make me a dagger, though?” Luna has to add. She doesn’t have that much use for a dagger in her line of work. She doesn’t even need to defend herself from the smugglers very much. She always frees the creatures first, and they take their own revenge.
            “Because dragonbone needs to be used to make violent things, Charlie said.” Ginny leans over Luna and turns the dagger back and forth so the edge flashes in the firelight. “And this was the least violent thing I can think of. It’ll cut food for you.”
            Luna smiles at her. “It’s the nicest gift anyone’s ever got me, Ginny. Every time I use it, I shall think of the dragon soaring through the skies and lying there, magnificent in death.”
            Ginny blinks, then smiles. “I think you’re the only one that would think of that last one, Luna.”
            “Other people do not know what they are missing,” says Luna, and links a hand in Ginny’s hair to pull Ginny’s mouth down to hers.
            Other people also do not know what they are missing by not being allowed to kiss Ginny, but in this case, Luna sees no reason to inform them.
*
            Their garden spreads around the outside of the boulder and to the other side of the tree. Luna enjoys spending time there more than she ever will indoors, although she has to admit that other people like it better when the garden isn’t covered with snow.
            But Luna thinks it has its own special beauty then, when the pansies lie sleeping under a thick blanket of glittering silver and the bending twigs of the gigantic oak tree have more frost-writing on them than windows ever manage. And anyway, you can raise Warming Charms so that you’re as snug as Wrackspurts in the heads of some of their acquaintances Luna could mention.
            The center of the garden is a swirl of stones that Luna designed so they would look like a spiral if you have dragon eyes. In the center of the center is a bath for birds, a house for nargles, and a spray of mistletoe growing on an enchanted artificial oak tree. Luna thinks it looks much prettier there than on their own oak, which it would have killed anyway. Mistletoe is not very smart.
            The artificial tree is special to Luna, too, and not just because she decorates it with more than mistletoe when Christmas comes. It’s the place where it occurred to her that she had not asked Ginny a certain question that Ginny might be expecting.
*
            “Ginny! Ginny, can you come outside, please?”
            Luna steps back and looks at the tree with a small frown. She’s used the finest wood for the trunk, and magic grows the leaves and the circulating, enchanted sap that the mistletoe feeds on. But she knows it’s missing something.
            Only snow? No, Luna realizes as Ginny comes around the corner of their house with a little spring in her step, something else. Snow will fall eventually, but the tree will never have its special decorations unless Luna does something first.
            “What is it, Luna?” Ginny smiles at the tree and keeps talking before Luna can answer. “That’s a really nice tree. Are you sure it’ll keep the mistletoe alive?”
            “Of course it will.” Luna is not worried about the mistletoe, not right now. She’s worried about completing the tree. “Ginny, will you marry me?”
            Ginny stares at her with her mouth open. Finally, she manages to make her jaw work, and squeaks, “What?”
            “Will you marry me?” Luna repeats patiently. She glances at the tree from the corner of her eye, and nods. Yes, that was what the tree needed. She can almost see the special glow of Question Magic working along its twigs, lifting them and giving them a kind of life. Luna can’t make the tree grow except through magic, but she can give it all sorts of different kinds of enchantments to keep it alive.
            “I—I had no idea you wanted a wedding.”
            Ginny is still staring at her, and Luna thinks she understands what’s wrong now. She told Ginny once that she didn’t much enjoy Bill and Fleur’s wedding. Luna reaches out and holds Ginny’s hand. Ginny stands there, blinking, and lets her hold it.
            “I don’t want a wedding like your brother and sister had, no. I don’t want one in the middle of a war. But now there’s no war. I suppose we could wait for another one to come along if you really want one just like Bill and Fleur’s,” Luna adds doubtfully. The wizarding world has been at peace for so many years now that she finds it hard to imagine another war starting off. She hopes she won’t have to go and get a Dark Lord for Ginny to feel comfortable. That could take years.
            Ginny’s shoulders begin to shake. She’s having one of her strange fits of laugher. Luna is never sure what brings these on, so she just waits patiently. In the end, Ginny clears her throat and speaks in a normal voice. “What kind of wedding do you want?”
            “I want a marriage. The wedding is just what you go through to get that.”
            Ginny’s eyes take on that bright look that means she’s beginning to understand. “Ohhh.”
            Luna nods. “Right. I want a marriage like the days we have. Except we would enjoy it even more because we would know we’re going to stay together.”
            Ginny smiles again, and clasps both her hands. “So we would go on being our normal selves, but we would be happier?”
            “Yes.” Luna reaches out and slides her hand behind Ginny’s neck, pulling her closer. Ginny’s eyes have turned so bright and glittering that it’s impossible not to kiss her. Luna even likes kissing her when she cries, because the salty taste of her tears makes the kisses more interesting. “Do you want to do it?”
            “Yes,” Ginny says, and kisses Luna first this time, her hands threading through Luna’s hair and back so that they reach her shoulders and hold Luna tight against her. Luna closes her eyes, because she likes both the tears and the feeling of Ginny’s breasts against hers so much. “I’ll marry you.”
*
            Their bedroom is shoved back into the deepest corner of the house, at an angle from the front door. The tree predominates here, and roots twine around the roof and down to meet the headboard of the bed. Luna has always liked to lie here and look up through the small holes she deliberately left when she learned to manipulate roots. They let in a little light, not much, and some deep, sweet air. Now and then she can hear a footfall from above—they live in what is technically a Muggle walking park, but with extensive spells holding them off—and muffled voices.
            The bed is a marvel, because it has blankets lined with fluff from unicorn foals that Luna took with permission. Unicorn mothers groom their foals right after they’re born, using their teeth to pull the fluff off, and they’re always pleased when someone can find a use for it.
            The pillows are red and gold and blue and bronze, because Ginny said they should be. Luna doesn’t know how to tell her that she doesn’t care that much about her Hogwarts House, but she appreciates that Ginny doesn’t just want everything to be Gryffindor.
            Here she and Ginny sleep and wake and dream and make love and sometimes discuss holiday gift ideas, snickering over their more outlandish ones. Luna still doesn’t know why Ginny stopped her from getting Hermione a book on how to find Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, though. It’s the kind of gift Luna would love to get herself.
            And here, Luna thinks as she turns her head and watches Ginny’s hair spread like a halo of blood over the pillows beside her, is another memory.
*
            “Do you really need to take me into the bedroom to show me the gift?” Ginny whines a little. She’s listening to the wireless, which is talking excitedly about Quidditch teams having trouble with some of their players and who’s going to be dismissed because of the scandals. “I want to listen to this.”
            “But you can only get your gift in the bedroom,” Luna repeats serenely. She’s used to competing with Quidditch for Ginny’s attention. She doesn’t always win. But this time, she knows she’s going to.
            With a heavy sigh, Ginny finally stands and follows her into the room. “Fine. But you have to promise…”
            Luna never hears what she has to promise, because Ginny catches sight of the bed then, and shuts up. Luna walks past her, hearing the soft tread of her own feet, feeling the sway of her hips the way she never does when she’s just stalking through the forest or running away from an enraged Occamy.
            She lies down on the bed and turns around until she’s arranged herself in the middle of the white rose petals scattered across the blankets. Weeks ago, Ginny said something about how stunning she would be in the middle of them. Luna wriggles and stretches out. She’s glad it’s petals and not roses. Thorns would prick.
            “You like it?” she whispers.
            Ginny takes a step forwards and reaches out to play with one of her breasts. Luna arches into it, closing her eyes. She wishes she’d thought to take off her clothes before giving Ginny her gift, but she still feels smug in how shaky Ginny’s fingers are.
            “I love it,” Ginny whispers back. “I didn’t even realize you remembered my silly little request.”
            “It wasn’t silly. It was something you wanted and something I can do.”
            Luna means to go on, to talk about how she can’t make Gwenog behave or make Quidditch less stressful for Ginny, but her voice trails off in a gasp. Ginny undid the front of her robes—golden dragons for Christmas—without her even noticing, and now she has one of Luna’s nipples in her mouth.
            Luna loves it when she does that. It makes her feel like a chocolate cake left out in the sun. She reaches up and pulls on Ginny’s head. She wants to kiss her.
            But Ginny keeps going down, taking off Luna’s robes, and they fall away on either side of her. Luna hopes they look nice, too, for the single second she can make her mind focus on such things.
            Then Ginny gets on top of her, and she’s hiked her robes up around her waist without even bothering to take them off. Luna gasps as she feels wetness slide against wetness, and she captures Ginny’s hands.
            “Like this,” she whispers, and wraps Ginny’s hands around her breasts.
            “That’s nice, Luna, it’s so nice.”
            It is, Luna silently agrees. And wonderful, and sweet, and slick, and slipping as Ginny tries to make sure their crotches line up perfectly, and warm when they finally touch fully and Luna takes hold of Ginny’s sides, too, although she has to touch her skin through cloth.
            Ginny looks as if she’s drowning, her hair streaming around her and her eyes slightly open and her lips parted as if to gasp in air. It’s beautiful. Luna catches her chin and kisses her and kisses her and kisses her, and Ginny kisses back, and the room swirls around them.
            Luna comes with a jerk and a gasp. It never happens so fast, usually, but this time she’s in front of Ginny, who slumps a little sideways and grinds against Luna’s mound and comes herself only a minute later.
            Luna opens her arms, and Ginny collapses into them. Ginny opens her eyes a contented, endless time later and whispers, “I never knew you could look so beautiful in white rose petals.”
            “I’ll remember that,” Luna says, and she closes her eyes and basks in the warmth of the fire.
            “But you look beautiful no matter what,” Ginny is rambling dazedly when Luna bothers to listen to her again. “In white rose petals, and golden dragons, and asking me to marry you, and kneeling down in front of me, with the fire going…”
            Luna kisses her to shut her up, which leads to mock wrestling, which leads to taking Ginny’s clothes off, which leads to Luna’s fingers inside Ginny, which leads to other things, and the faint light from above falls on them like a blessing.
*
            Luna loves their home. All the meters of it and the inconveniences of living inside something that’s part stone and part tree—the darkness, the smell of wood, the dampness, the small woodland creatures who sometimes blunder into their house and mistake it for part of their own homes. (Well, Ginny thinks the woodland creatures are inconveniences, and Luna can be tolerant of such small-mindedness).
            But most of all, she loves the bright light bustling around it and talking about it and yelling at the wireless and rambling about Quidditch and moaning beside her and holding her hands.
            She loves Ginny, and the home they’ve made together.
            The End.
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This Stone at My Back