nightseer

Lion’s Pride


Squall Leonhart’s innate grace, the way his eyes noticed everything around him, his quick reflexes, his cool head in a fight; they all reminded Luna of a great cat. His quiet obsession with lions just reinforced the image. No one else would make the connection, but to Luna, Squall Leonhart was a quieter, taller Harry Potter. Not the Harry Potter she had gone to school with, oh Merlin, no. Squall was another version of the Professor Harry Luna met every Wednesday at The Three Broomsticks for a student free lunch. The only difference Luna could see besides their physical appearance was the way they handled their anger. Squall internalized his, using it as a focus to drive him forward, while Harry let his escape in loud, violent bursts of energy and shouts so he could relax and focus on the problem at hand.

Luna watched the two lions argue over how to send Squall and his people back to the proper reality for two hours, and she came to a very firm, inescapable conclusion: Harry and Squall needed to fuck.

She didn’t think they should have a long lasting romantic relationship, or sweet, gentle sex, nor was she foolish enough to believe the two could ever be friends. However, they did need to get rid of the hanging tension. A good, long fuck would do that. It would also give Squall the chance to actually do something productive, because Luna knew how Harry’s mind worked, and he could probably come up with the right solution while pinned to a wall. Unfortunately, Squall couldn’t do that to Harry since they were trapped in a hot stuffy conference room filled with the other Hogwarts professors and Squall’s friends.

Harry snapped something rude, and Squall stiffened. Luna sighed and pushed her chair away from the table. She waved a hand carelessly when the headmistress asked where she was going, but no one else seemed to care if she left. Luna stalked towards the staircase leading towards Harry’s rooms on the sixth floor. She needed to make sure he had lube.

If the lions were too proud to admit the tension in the air was sexual tension and go get rid of it, Luna was going to make them get rid of it.

Twenty minutes later, the crowd in the conference room began panicking when two of its members suddenly disappeared. Ten minutes after that, Dobby confessed to Headmistress McGonagall he had popped the two of them to Professor Potter’s rooms on Professor Lovegood’s orders. Five minutes after that, Headmistress McGonagall and Headmistress Trepe confronted Professor Lovegood outside Harry Potter’s portrait, only to move the conversation elsewhere when the most interesting sounds—Luna hadn’t known Harry was capable of making that sound—drifted through the canvas.

Sometime the next day—long after breakfast and half an hour ‘til lunch—a well shagged Harry Potter and a very smug Squall Leonhart stumbled out into the hallway, and met up with a very cheerful Luna. Harry blushed, Squall raised an eyebrow, and Luna smirked.

“Everyone is waiting in the conference room,” Luna said as she handed Harry and Squall a few slices of cold toast. “I know you’ve figured it out in the middle of sex, Harry. Now you just need to explain everything, and we can send them home.”

“Luna!” Harry blushed, and quickly began shredding his toast so he wouldn’t have to look at anyone. “Could you please not talk about sex like it’s how I solve all my problems.”

“I was in the next room when you had your eureka moment during sex with Charlie,” Luna explained with a small shrug. She didn’t see what the big deal was. Her mother had gotten huge moments of inspiration while eating chocolate, and Luna herself had them while watching Ron and Hermione argue. Harry’s brilliant idea catalyst just happened to be a mind blowing fuck. “I thought it might work to help you figure out how to send them home before our students get here next week.”

“What makes you think he’s staying here?” Squall asked, wrapping his hand around Harry’s wrist possessively.

“What the hell makes you think one night of sex, even if it was bloody brilliant sex, gives you any right to decide what I’m going to do?” Harry demanded as he yanked his hand free, his shredded toast falling to the floor.

Luna gave herself a mental smack as the two men argued their way back to the portrait guarding Harry’s rooms. She had forgotten the most important rule when it came to dealing with lions. They were not only prideful creatures, but possessive to boot. She should have called Charlie to help Harry get his eureka moment, unresolved sexual tension be damned. The headmistress was going to make her find the new defense professor for this.