Exclusive Rights- Part 2

AN: I've officially gotten tired of the lack of response from support. The initial email told me my revisions would be evaluated within 2-3 days and it's been over a month, so I've removed what I believe was the problem and hopefully it won't be flagged again. Sorry for the earlier inconvenience, and if you enjoyed this story before, here it is again.

Casting-

Luna- Eve Milkuski

Wiping the sleep from his eyes, Harry instinctively closed them again as the morning sun hit him. His head throbbed and he felt like death warmed over. Since the end of the war, this hadn’t been an uncommon occurrence.

With every memorial and ceremony to honor those who died and those who fought, firewhiskey had become an ever-closer companion. He knew it wasn’t healthy, and he knew that he needed to stop, but it seemed like every day there was another reminder of all the death and loss, and he found himself opening another bottle.

Pulling himself from bed, he tugged the curtains over the window making it blessedly dark in his room at Grimmauld Place. He staggered his way across the room to the loo and ended up hunched over the sink. He turned the water on and even that seemed unbearably loud. It was ice cold as he splashed it in his face, and that at least did a bit to wake him up.

Looking at himself in the mirror, he sighed. You really need to pull yourself together, Potter. Lack of sleep had left him with bags under his eyes that rivaled the ones he developed during the Horcrux hunt. Despite Mrs. Weasley’s best efforts in the last month, he was still rail skinny from living on very little over the course of nine months. His hair was an absolute mess after too long without a cut. All in all, he looked a mess.

Too add to his frustrations, he heard a voice from downstairs, “Harry?” It was Hermione, because, of course, it was Hermione. She rarely gave him more than a day at a time by himself.

He tried to speak but he found his tongue dry and his voice hoarse. He cupped his hands and drank some water. He couldn’t remember water ever tasting quite so good. Trying again, he managed to get out, “Coming.”

Throwing on a shirt and grabbing his glasses from where he’d dropped them on the floor, he made his way down the stairs and to the kitchen. Hermione was waiting for him preparing a cup of tea. When she turned to look at him, she just frowned and stopped what she was doing.

Before he even had a chance, she made her way over to the cupboard and retrieved a small potion, “You’re lucky that there’s still one more, Harry. I won’t be around to brew you anymore in the next few weeks.” She handed him the vial and went back to preparing the tea.

Downing it in one, he’d become much too accustomed to the vile taste in recent weeks. Feeling nearly alive again, he responded, “I’m a fair enough brewer myself, Hermione. I can always make more.”

She turned and looked at him with one raised eyebrow, “Even if that’s true,” they both knew he was middling at potions, but a Hangover Cure wasn’t that difficult, “I don’t think you’d be sober enough to manage it these days.”

“I’m not always on the drink…” He defended himself and it sounded weak even to his ears.

“No, only every other day and most weekends.” The teapot started to whistle, and she turned off the hob, “I really am worried about you.”

“I know.” He was worried about himself. This wasn’t like him. Even in his darkest and broodiest moments, when he still had a psychotic murderer out for his head, he’d never turned to drinking as an escape.

Pouring the tea for the two of them, she told him, “I think you need to find some healthier outlets for your stress.”

“If you have any suggestions… I’m all ears, Hermione, honestly.” He wasn’t trying to be belligerent, but he knew that’s how it was probably coming across.

Hermione just took it in stride, “You could always come over to the Weasley’s. You know that they love having you, and at least you wouldn’t be alone.”

While he wasn’t going to say it out loud, he couldn’t think of a worse idea if he tried. It was hard enough for him to go over for the Sunday roast every week, let alone being there with them every day.

When he looked at Arthur or Molly, any of them really, but especially George, he couldn’t help an overwhelming sense of guilt. It was irrational, he knew that, but he couldn’t help but blame himself that they’d lost a son, brother, twin. It took all his effort just to put on a brave face for the one day a week that he managed.

“I don’t think that’s the best idea, Hermione. They’re going through their own grieving. They don’t need to be worrying about me on top of it.” It was the most diplomatic way that he could think of to get her to leave it alone.

“You wouldn’t be an imposition on them in the slightest, Harry. We both know that.” As he made to speak, she held up her hand, “But, I’m not going to push the issue if you really don’t want to go over there.” She fiddled with the handle of her tea cup, “I just worry that you’ll hole yourself up here while Ron and I are away in Australia.”

“I’m the Hero of Magical Britain, Hermione.” He said it with a smile, but there was no small amount of spite in his words, “I’m sure that someone will come round to check on me. At the very least, Kingsley will send round a search party if I’m missing for too long.” Not that they’d have any luck getting into Grimmauld Place if they tried.

At the mention of the new Minister, he couldn’t help but notice that Hermione stiffened slightly. It wasn’t something that everyone would’ve noticed, but then not everyone spent every day for the better part of a year living in a tent together, “What is it?”

“It’s… uh, it’s nothing.” She took a quick sip of tea.

Harry actually had to chuckle at that, “Hermione, you’re lying. We both know it, so why don’t you just tell me the truth.”

She sighed before beginning, “Just don’t get angry.”

“No promises.”

“Prat.” But they both knew she didn’t really mean it, “Since you’ve largely been living as a hermit for the last month, except for the few instances where you’ve absolutely needed to come out, you haven’t seen the inordinate number of news articles speculating on everything from how the war ended, to what you were doing over the course of the last year, to whether or not you could’ve ended the war sooner, and most recently, whether you actually died and are merely a doppelganger being pulled out when the Ministry has need of you.”

He found it rather impressive that she managed to say all that without ever taking a breath, “Really, a doppelganger, why not just Polyjuice?”

“They think you’re dead, Harry,” she said as though that made it obvious, “Polyjuice only works on the living.”

“Right, of course.” He didn’t like where this was going, “What does that have to do with me?”

“Well… Kingsley was hoping that you’d be willing to do a press conference to answer some questions.” Hermione sounded uncomfortable even mentioning it to him, “He thinks it would go a long way to quelling the worst of the rumors.”

His answer was immediate, “Absolutely not.”

“Harry…”

“No, Hermione, I’ve done everything that’s been asked of me. I would’ve gone to every memorial myself, we both know that. But the awards ceremony and the reopening of the Ministry, and the banquet. Enough is enough, I’ve given a hell of a lot to these people, I don’t owe them anything more.”

“I don’t think you do.” Hermione tried to placate him, “And I really don’t think that Kingsley does either.”

“But…” he knew that there was one coming.

“But, if this wild speculation continues, how long until someone suggests you’re lying low because, I don’t know, you intend to become the next Dark Lord.” Normally, such a suggestion would’ve made him laugh outright, but considering his experience at Hogwarts, he knew how fickle the magical community could be.

“I’m not doing a press conference, Hermione. It’s not happening.” Before she could get a chance to argue, he continued, “But I’d be willing to do an interview again. Just like the one I did in fifth year.”

“With Luna…”

“Exactly, with Luna. I still have an exclusivity agreement with her and The Quibbler.” That brought back some rather pleasant memories, but that wasn’t why he was thinking of her now, “I trust her to write the truth.”

“There hasn’t been a new publication of The Quibbler since the end of the war,” Hermione pointed out, “Mr. Lovegood is probably still recovering.”

“There’s no harm in asking her.” If Harry was going to suffer through questions, the only person he was willing to do it for was Luna, “And it’ll be one hell of a first issue back.”

“Alright, if that’s what you think is best.” She gave a light laugh “If I’m being honest, it’s probably more than Kingsley was expecting.”

“And more than he deserves, too.”

Harry was sitting in one of the many rooms of Grimmauld Place. With Kreacher’s help, along with another young elf named Dib, it had cleaned up rather nicely. The décor was no longer so foreboding, but it still had its vintage charm.

Across from him, Luna was pulling out a quill and parchment. While he’d seen her in passing at some of the memorials and services, the last time he saw her properly was at Shell Cottage. In the rare moments that he wasn’t worrying over what to do next about the horcruxes, he spent a few silent moments with her, just taking some strength in one another’s presence.

He was pleased to see that she looked healthier, regaining some of the weight she’d lost. Her eyes no longer looked worn and hollow. They had that old glow in them that he always admired. And knowing that she was coming over had given him the kick in the pants needed to fix his hair, and get at least a couple of good nights of sleep.

She was wearing a simple summer dress that went to just above her knees. It had flowers on it. There was a butterbeer cork necklace around her neck and a pair of radish earrings on her ears. She looked so very much like herself again already, and he probably admired that even more.

“How’s your dad?” he asked.

“Oh,” she always seemed surprised when he took an interest in her, even after three years of friendship and more, “he’s doing much better now, thank you. We’ve had to replant some of the dirigible plums, and rebuild our home obviously, but other than that he’s been well. And… he’s very apologetic for reporting you to the Death Eaters.”

“He shouldn’t be. He loves you and was willing to do anything to get you back.” Harry never really held it against Xeno Lovegood. Sure, it angered him in the moment, but there were a great many things he would’ve been willing to do to free Luna from Malfoy Manor too.

There was something in that he didn’t really want to examine further quite yet.

Luna smiled, soft and genuine, “I know, and I don’t think he’d do anything different if he had to do it again, but he’s apologetic all the same. He’s rather excited to start publishing again.”

“And I look forward to reading it again.”

“Of course you do, where else are you going to keep up on the most recent Crumple-Horned Snorcack sightings?” It was one of those rare times where Harry genuinely couldn’t tell if Luna was being serious or if she was taking the piss. He was saved from having to respond as she put her quill down to the parchment, “Now, what’s your response to the rumors that you’ve been replaced with a doppelganger?”

Harry blinked owlishly at her as she got right down to the point. He coughed to recompose before answering, “They’re absolute rubbish. I haven’t been replaced by anyone. If anyone reporting that nonsense had the slightest bit of journalistic integrity, they could’ve simply asked the multitude of people that’ve known me for years that have seen me in person.”

“That’s true. But then, to be a convincing doppelganger you’d need to look the part as well as know it. Is there anything you can share that would help convince our readers that you’re the real Harry Potter?”

The way Luna was staring at him, he was sure she was serious, “When I was a third year at Hogwarts, I saved the hippogriff, Buckbeak, from execution using a time-turner. There are only a few other people alive who’re aware of that story, and they can confirm the truth of it.”

“It might be best if you didn’t admit to crimes, Harry.” Luna pointed out.

“Alright, I found the Chamber of Secrets in my second year… only one other person alive, or sane, knows where it is.”

“That’s better, though I think Ron accidentally mentioned that story when we were in DA. There’s any number of people that could’ve given that information to a doppelganger.”

“I believe he only said that I killed a ruddy great snake with the Sword of Gryiffindor and not where it happened. The entrance is in the second-floor girl’s lavatory, by the way.” Feeling bold, Harry leaned slightly closer to Luna, staring intently into her eye, “Or you could write that I fucked you senseless, more than once, since I signed my exclusivity clause with The Quibbler. I’m positive we’re the only ones who know about that.”  While he’d never done another interview until now, that didn’t stop Harry and Luna from using the clause to its fullest during the rest of fifth year, and sixth year.

Luna’s cheeks flushed as she crossed her legs and wiggled her hips, “That… would certainly prove the point. But I think that might be a bit much for some of our younger readers… and some of our older ones, too.” It took her a second to gather her thoughts, “So, there’s no truth to the claims that you died the night of the Battle of Hogwarts?”

“Oh, there’s plenty of truth to it. It just didn’t stick.” Luna was obviously taken aback by that. Her mouth hung open for a second before she snapped it shut. Then he pulled down the collar of his shirt to reveal the second lightning bolt shaped scar on his chest, “I survived the Killing Curse for a second time. I don’t think there’s anyone who could know that but me.”

Her voice was thick with emotion, “You’re probably right, Harry.”

They continued with a half dozen more questions. He gave specific answers about his whereabouts over the last year, almost down to the week, but when asked what he was actually doing, he stayed vague, “I was working to ensure that Voldemort’s death and defeat would be final this time. He survived once, I wasn’t going to allow that to happen again.” Horcruxes weren’t something that the general population needed to know about.

He made it perfectly clear the war couldn’t have ended any sooner, that he sympathized with every single person that lost a loved one thanks to Voldemort’s reign, but there really was nothing more he could do. There would be some people who believed it and others who wouldn’t, but something about knowing it would be put in ink felt cathartic.

They finished on a lighter note, “And what are your plans for the future?”

“I don’t rightly know…” he told her honestly, “I have offers from the Ministry, from Hogwarts, even from the BIQL, but I haven’t decided what I want to do just yet.”

“Considering everything you’ve done, I think it’s only fair that you get to take a bit of a breather.” Her quill was still in her hand, but she stopped writing, “Now what’s this I hear about you wallowing and drinking yourself to sleep?”

“Luna that’s…” The only time he could remember her ever looking quite so angry was when Umbridge insulted her father. He didn’t have the heart to lie to her, “I’ve been struggling since the end of the war.”

Her face softened as she placed the parchment down on the small table to her right. She stood and walked over to him. She cupped his cheek and stared down at him. He felt embarrassed, but he knew that Luna wasn’t judging him, “You’re angry, and sad, and you don’t know what to do now that it’s all over, and the only people you think you can lean on have their own problems and you don’t want to add to them.”

Leave it to Luna to put things so bluntly. There was no point in lying to her, she’d driven right to the heart of the matter, “You’re right.”

“I know.” Luna gave him a dreamy smile. Suddenly she was sitting in his lap with her hands on either side of his head, massaging at his temples, “And I know you need to have a better outlet for all of the stress that you’re feeling.”

“You sound like Hermione…”

“She can be close-minded at times,” Harry snorted out a laugh at that, “but no one would argue she’s not one of the brightest witches of her generation.”

He was sure that Luna probably wasn’t far off in her own right, though in an entirely different way, “If you have any ideas, I’m all ears… because I know I need to stop, but sometimes it’s easier said than done.”

Luna deftly reached between them and unsnapped the button of his trousers. Her voice was hot against his ear as she offered, “Use me.” It took him back to that first time they were together, that first time she said those same words. They were the same, but they felt… just more.

“I…” His ability to speak was momentarily lost as Luna pushed up so she could pull down the waistband of his trousers and pants all at once. His hardening member sprung free, before it was trapped between his stomach and Luna. He could feel the heat of her through her thin dress as she grinded her hips against him.

“Luna…” his voice came out like a growl, “are you not wearing any knickers?”

She shook her head demurely, “No, of course not. I wanted it to be nice and easy for you when you wanted me. I know how much I’ve missed it.” Her dress slipped up over his spongey tip and he felt her bare pussy, warm and wet, kiss the underside, “I know you must’ve missed it, too.”

He had, more than she could really know. On the lonely nights, cold and hungry, on the hunt for the horcruxes. He thought fondly of their times together, and more than once had to take himself in hand at the memory of it.

But not today. Luna was with him again, warm and oh so willing. And that alone was enough to make him forget the turmoil and frustrations of the last month, hell, the last year.

He fell back into it with practiced ease. His hands slid along her thighs, bunching up her dress as he went, revealing more of her slender body to him. She put her arms in the air to let him pull it off her body. He reached for one of her rosy nipples and twisted. It tightened beneath his fingers as Luna gasped, “I’ve missed you so much… my good girl.”

Luna bit her bottom lip and rubbed her dripping sex harder against his cock, “I want it sooo badly. Hard and rough… the way I know only you can give it to me.”

Her dainty hand guided his cockhead to her slit. They both moaned as she pushed herself down little by little until she couldn’t take any more of him. She looked down to where they were joined and then up at him with a sparkle of lust in her eyes, “It’s been so long… I think you’re going to have to reshape me on your cock again. Because good girls can take it all!”

His cock throbbed inside of her making her giggle. That giggled turned into a gasp as he hooked her knees on his elbows and stood. Her arms wrapped around his neck as he held her suspended in the air. Harry didn’t’ consider himself particularly strong, but Luna was a small girl, and she felt light as a feather in his arms.

He pulled his cock back slowly before pushing himself forward again, moving her little cunny along his cock like a glove. It didn’t take long to remind her body of him. After just a few dozen slow strokes he had every inch buried in her body. There was a slight indentation on her tummy from where he was nestled so deeply.

Luna let one of her arms drifted from his neck and pressed the spot tenderly, “Back right where you belong…” It was the most whole, the most alive, he’d felt since the battle ended.

“Damn right.” Smack! He wrenched his cock free of her clutching heat and drove back forward with a ferocity that left her mouth hanging open. She held onto him as he pushed and pulled her little pussy back and forth along his length.

He knew Luna, maybe better than anyone. He knew that she needed to be used, and he knew that he needed to use her.

Smack… Smack… Smack… Smack. Smack. Smack! She buried her face in his neck, and softly kissed the tender skin there as he ravaged her. She screamed, loud and shameless, as she came around his cock. He could feel her slick girl cum dripping from his balls to stain his trousers and the hardwood beneath his feet.

With every thrust, another little squirt escaped her tiny cunny. Her words were delirious in his ear, muffled against his neck, “So good… so perfect...”

He filled his hand with her pert bum, hammering into her to the point his body was aching. The minutes ticked by as Luna squeaked every time he bottomed out inside of her. Her quivering pussy, in a seemingly perpetual state of climax, tried to pull the seed from his balls. He lost any resolve as she whispered in his ear, “Fill me… please… I miss it.”

He came with a grunt, forcing every inch into the lithe blonde. His balls flexed over and over again as he unloaded into her hot pussy. He gave little thrusts with each new pulse, trying to get every rope deeper than the last. Her overstuffed little hole couldn’t contain it all as thick strands of white leaked down to his balls.

When he was finally spent, he felt light-headed… and truly euphoric for the first time in a month. He dropped to his knees right there with his cock still lodged in Luna. He ended up on his back with her laying across him.

Her voice pierced through the haze of pleasure, “You’re still hard, Harry.” He was but his legs and arms were burning, and he didn’t feel like he had the strength to go another round even if he tried. But he didn’t need to, “My turn.”

This was different. It was lovemaking rather than the rough, physical sex that they’d been having only moments earlier. Harry looked up at her in awe. Pale and slender, she looked like a fairy out a story as she slowly grinded herself against him.

If their first round had been enough to alleviate the physical tension that had been building up, this released every other emotion that he’d been suppressing with drinking.

Her hands were on his chest as they stared at each other. He didn’t know where they came from, but he could feel tears threatening to fall at the corner of his eye. And that’s when he noticed, Luna was the same. It was only then that he realized, or at least fully accepted, that this was just as much for her as it was for him.

He wrapped his arm around her lower back and pulled her against him. They kissed as she kept bouncing her tight little bum on his cock. He couldn’t say how long they spent like that, just slowly making love.

All he knew was that from the moment of his first peak, his cock still felt like a live-wire, ready to go off again in a constant state of intense sensitivity. Somehow, Luna managed to ride that fine line and keep teetering right on that wonderful edge. But there was only so long that could last.

She knew it was coming the moment he flexed inside of her. She lifted her hips and slid out of his grasp. His first shot hit her in the stomach before he felt her warm mouth envelop him. Her tongue danced along his frenulum, coaxing every thick strand she could from him before swallowing.

When he had nothing left to give her, she dutifully cleaned every inch of his cock. It threatened to rise for another round, and had she continued it surely would’ve, but she finished with a final kiss to his tip before sitting up on her knees, “I think that’s a much better way of coping, don’t you?”

Harry laughed, genuine from deep in his belly as he pulled her down into a hug, “Luna you’re… just the best.”

“Oh,” even after that, she still managed to sound surprised, “I’m glad you think so.”

He knew that she was his, to use, as she loved to put it. But they’d become more than that to each other, and he needed her to know sit, “You know I’m yours too, right?”

He could feel her smile against his chest, “I thought so… but it’s good to know for sure. Maybe we should put it in writing?” He just hugged her tighter.