A Traditional Cure for Persistent Pests

Hermione Granger was thrilled to be back in Hogwarts and, best of all, back in the Library. She practically skipped across the room, held back only by Madame Pince's tight glare. She smiled apologetically, bowing her head a bit, as she hurried into its musty depths. Bookshelves towered above her, holding more books than she could read in a lifetime (though she would certainly try). Her fingers trailed a small distance from their sturdy spines as she walked between the shelves, careful not to touch the precious tomes.

"Hello Hermione," a misty voice said. Hermione jumped a bit, eyes jerking from a textbook on medicinal plants towards the voice. Seated at a desk in a tiny alcove, Luna Lovegood peeked over her upside-down Quibbler.

"Hi Luna. How was your summer?" she asked politely.

"Quite enjoyable. Father and I might have discovered a new continent. It was very tiny, though."

She held her hand up, thumb and pointer finger set a sliver apart.

Hermione said, "That's, erm, very nice, Luna."

Luna didn't seem inclined to respond, happily burrowing her nose into the newspaper. On its front page, Minister Fudge glared sullenly out at the Library. His round face transformed into a frog, his mouth opening in a silent croak.

Hermione turned back to her beloved books, but her eyes kept straying toward the pretty blonde. Her outer robe was removed and crumpled up behind her, revealing her fitted blouse and pale arms. The girl's complexion was as fair as ever, a far cry from the tan and freckles Hermione had acquired during her holiday. Luna's hair, however, was a bit brighter than Hermione remembered it. Half-hidden by the sunny strands, two tiny earrings, shaped like hands, waved cheerfully at her. As Luna flipped a page, something caught the brunette's eye.

"Luna, what's that on your hand?" Hermione pointed at a small, dark mark on the blonde's palm.

Luna observed it absentmindedly. "I think it's called a hickey."

Hermione frowned, her curiosity overriding her desire to raid the shelves. "Luna, why do you have a hickey on your palm?"

"Because I was kissing my hand," she said.

"Why?" Hermione blurted out.

Luna smiled dreamily. "I think you might have picked up a Triskin. Asking vague questions is a symptom of their presence."

"There's no such thing as a Triskin. I should know, I've read every page of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them."

The blonde nodded sagely. "Confusion is another symptom. As is forgetfulness. You were going to ask something, weren't you?"

The brunette blinked in surprise. "Ah, right. I was going to ask…"

She glanced about, making sure no one was listening in. Girls like Lavender could take the most innocent conversation and turn it into school-wide gossip. The brunette leaned in and lowered her voice. "Why were you kissing your hand?"

"Because I was bored and it felt nice." The blonde said.

"I suppose that makes sense."

Luna hummed happily. After a moment, she leaned over the paper, quickly kissing Hermione. Her lips felt soft, gentle. Her blonde hair tickled the brunette's face and she placed a pale hand on the other girl's shoulder to steady herself. She tasted a bit like blueberries and something sweet. The kiss was shallow and, in a moment, ended.

Hermione watched, dumbfounded, as Luna pulled away and returned to reading. "Why on earth did you just kiss me?" she hissed, blushing furiously. She could still feel a tickle on her lips and shoulder where Luna had touched her.

"It's a traditional cure for Triskins. You aren't still confused, are you?" Her grey eyes peered at Hermione's flushed face.

Confused? Why would she be confused? After all, a friend (a female one, no less!) had just kissed her, and she had enjoyed it. It was better than Victor's kisses, back in fourth year, a bit gentler and less fumbling. It felt almost natural.

"A little," she admitted.

"Perhaps it hasn't quite left, yet. Are you forgetful?"

Hermione murmured, "Honestly, I'm not even sure I can remember my name right now."

A small smile flitted about Luna's lips. "Best to be sure then."

The misty-eyed blonde buried a hickeyed hand in Hermione's hair and pulled her in for another kiss. It was longer than the first. Apparently, Triskins were driven away by tongue.

Pulling back, Luna said, "Triskins mark their host with a scent so that others of their kind can find you. They're very resourceful that way."

Hermione eyed her nervously. That sounded like an open invitation for more kisses, but this was Luna. It was possible she was honestly, innocently trying to help and didn't understand the connotation that came with French kissing your friend in a dark corner of the library. Hermione tested the waters, flirting awkwardly. "So, if I were to catch another one, say around three o'clock tomorrow, would you be here?"

"No."

Hermione smothered the disappointment in her chest. After all, it wasn't like she wanted to kiss Luna again. She was just a friend, after all, and Hermione liked boys. She really did. There was no reason to be upset.

Luna continued, flipping the Quibbler sideways, "Eight o'clock would be better. Triskins are terrified of the dark."

"Oh," she said in surprise. "That would be wonderful."

Luna folded up her newspaper, skirt swishing playfully around her legs as she stood up. Tiny, hand-shaped earring grabbed onto her lobes at the movement, as if terrified of falling off. Just before leaving, she gave Hermione one last kiss.

"Another Triskin?" she asked.

Luna smiled, unabashedly saying "No. I just thought it would feel nice."

"Like kissing your hand?"

"Yes," Luna said, "but nicer."

Hermione experienced the familiar heat of a blush burning across her face. "Goodnight, Luna," she said.

Luna's earrings waved goodbye.

A/N: As always, reviews are beloved. If you liked it, I want to hear it. If you didn't like it, I want to hear why. My stories will only improve with your input!