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Devil's Snare	By : Sacire Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Neville/Luna Views: 6187 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom, or Luna Lovegood. I also won't accept money for this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Chapter 1
- 2-Chapter 2
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- 2
As tendrils tighten around his throat -- and Luna's legs tighten around his waist -- Neville wonders why the Devil's Snare isn't also attacking her -- not that he would want it to -- though the idea of its pulling her closer to him and squeezing them together isn't entirely unappealing.
He suspects the plant must be ignoring her because she seems completely relaxed while he is in a frenzy -- due more -- he thinks -- to her proximity than to his strangulation. In contrast, Luna acts as if nothing is out of the ordinary -- entirely indifferent to the tentacles around Neville's neck -- as she quizzically inspects his face.
She studies him like she would any other unicorn -- petting his long, shaggy hair -- drenched in sweat -- admiring his extraordinary eyebrows -- arched upwards in astonishment -- his kind, wide eyes -- and dilated pupils -- displaying both excitement and vulnerability -- and something else too that she can't quite put her finger on.
Like Mrs. Norris in Filches arms, Neville leans into Luna's caress -- seizing -- he fears -- his only means of actively returning her touch.
Her gaze shifts to his bulbous nose -- pausing to poke it with her index finger -- delighting in the way that it springs back. She repeats this action two more times -- her brow furrowed in concentration -- serious in her pursuit of scientific discovery -- his affectionate smile widening with each poke of his nose -- forgetting -- for a moment -- the plant around his neck.
Her eyes flicker to his lips -- and his breath catches in his throat. Noticing his jaw is ajar -- she leans forward -- waving her hands so as to waft his breath up to her nose -- sniffing -- curious if she can smell the chocolate frogs on his breath -- which, only moments ago, she tasted on his tongue.
She turns her head to the side to better hear the sound of his panting -- relishing the warmth he emits on her ear with each exhale. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him form funny shapes with his lips as he strains them to try to kiss her cheek -- but, alas, it is just beyond his reach.
Closing her eyes -- she places one hand on each of his ears and delicately traces their folds with her fingers -- marveling at their exquisite protuberance and complexity. She repeats the procedure on her own ears -- silently recording every subtle difference she encounters -- for future reference -- cataloguing every detail of his existence -- just in case it should end tonight.
Neville makes his own observations -- the sparkle in her eyes when she blinks -- the glow on her cheeks when she smiles -- the glint of gold in her hair when she turns her head. Remembering that Devil's Snare recoils from light -- he wonders if her radiance might explain the plant's apparent lack of interest in her limbs -- and he hopes that his own enkindling beneath her gaze might have a similar effect.
"These are truly lovely -- but, they will have to go." -- Luna beams -- gesturing at his clothes. Her voice jolts him out of his reverie and makes him uncomfortably aware of his surroundings and restraints.
Neville is confused -- never having heard his Gran's hand-me-downs described as lovely before. When reality sinks in, Neville gulps -- conflicted -- because, on the one hand, his skin is on fire -- and he wants nothing more than to have fewer layers separating him from Luna -- on the other hand, he wonders if she should be focusing her efforts on removing the plant as opposed to his pants.
Looking into her dreamy, wide-set eyes -- and seeing in them -- her enchanting innocence and disarming curiosity -- Neville knows what he wants. As if reading his mind, Luna reaches up to unhook the sole button near the top of his robe and lets it slide off his shoulders -- exposing his school uniform -- a wrinkled button-down shirt poorly tucked into faded dress pants -- topped with a scarlet- and gold-striped tie.
She pulls his shirt out of the waist of his pants -- the movement of the fabric against his body sends chills down his legs. Beginning at the bottom -- she starts to unbutton his shirt -- unable to remove it or his tie entirely because of the tendrils around his collar.
A cool breeze brushes over his skin -- refreshing him -- and giving him goosebumps. He drops his gaze -- feeling self-conscious -- he knows he doesn't have a Quidditch body.
Immediately, her eyes light up. "Oh my!" -- she exclaims -- staring at his chest in amazement. "I've never seen such pulchritudinous horripilation before -- the Plimpies must flock to you!" Neville has no idea what she is talking about but the sincerity of her reverie distracts him from his insecurities.
He gasps -- stiffening -- when the tips of her fingers' first touch his bare chest. Closing his eyes -- he feels her palms flatten and press into him -- moving in large, slow circles over the front of his shivering body -- beginning at his collarbones -- exerting gentle pressure -- traveling along the sides of his rib cage -- meeting at his belly-button -- and sweeping back up to his sternum.
Light-headed and euphoric -- Neville reflexively bucks his hips -- as far as they can reach -- into Luna's core -- picturing the fishies on her panties -- as their clothing scrapes against each other.
He releases a low moan when she kisses the left side of his chest -- feeling his heart rate pound against her lips. He yearns to run his fingers through her hair and pull her closer -- to press her belly against his -- to feel all of her curves squish into his. But, the plant won't let him.
As a desperate hunger grows in him -- he clenches every single muscle in his body -- with all of his might -- which honestly isn't saying much -- to escape his bind. But, this only makes things worse -- causing the tendrils to constrict even more. He cannot imagine a crueler type of torture.
Inspired by the rhythmic heaving of his chest -- Luna begins an interpretive dance in his lap -- lifting up her arms -- and rolling her hips over his bulge -- eliciting a low moan from Neville -- as he pushes his body harder against hers -- pressure building in both of their cores.
He feels himself slowly slipping away, and he is grateful for the painlessness of the choke. Sure, it is constricting his carotid arteries and reducing the blood flow to his brain. But, the pressure is gentle -- just like the touches of the girl in his lap.
As he drifts in and out of consciousness, he watches Luna sway her arms above her head -- and her torso too -- like seaweed -- to the rhythm of her rocking hips -- her eyes closed -- moving silently with a luminous smile on her face. She is glowing -- dancing -- ethereally -- in his lap -- and he wonders if he is dreaming. It certainly would not be the first time he has dreamed about Luna -- but he has never had one feel this real before.
As he sinks deeper into the darkness -- he longs for the ability to speak -- one last time -- so that he can tell her how beautiful she is and how happy she makes him. I -- have -- always -- loved -- you -- Luna. -- he thinks -- as loudly as he can.
She kisses his forehead -- covered in sweat -- "you just need to relax, silly." She reaches her hand down and grabs ahold of his manhood -- over his pants.
Nooo! -- Luna! -- he shouts at her in his head -- as she strokes him -- perfectly. He fights his hardest to stay present -- and alive -- resisting -- with all of his will -- the seductive fog -- threatening him with death -- tempting him with bliss.
"Shh" -- she whispers into his ear -- the sensation of her breath sending chills down his spine. "You have to let go, Neville."
Neville doesn't want to give up -- but he trusts her -- so he does what she says -- and allows himself -- for just one moment -- to be consumed by the greatest pleasure he has ever known. And when the darkness approaches -- he sinks into its arms -- his head dipping -- his eyes shutting -- his shoulders collapsing -- his legs twitching -- with an incandescent smile stretched across his face.

The end? To be continued? We shall see…
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Devil's Snare