The 9 ¾ Incident

Story Starts

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Chapter 1

Disclaimer: In this story, Harry, Astoria, and Luna are entering their seventh year, but took a year's sabbatical, so at the start of this story, they are already adults.

~3rd Person Omnescient POV~

"How are you all so completely relaxed? We're practically late already!" Daphne Greengrass gripped the leather steering wheel of her recently acquired Mazda RX-8, drumming impatient fingers against it until her knuckles went white. The car had been a point of contention with her father—Pureblood sensibilities clashing with modern practicality—but ever since she'd taken over running the Greengrass estate, she'd made her own rules.

Their potion supply business with the farms had flourished under her management, and her boldest move yet—investing in magical farming techniques to produce Muggle crops—had proven astonishingly lucrative. After all, there were far more Muggles than wizards, and Daphne had never been one to ignore a profitable opportunity.

The car itself had been Tracey Davis's influence. Her half-blood best friend—who'd recently finished Auror academy—was currently lounging in the passenger seat, completely at ease despite the crawling London traffic. Tracey hummed softly, tapping her fingers against the window in rhythm with some unheard tune, whilst Daphne glared at the sluggish line of vehicles ahead.

"And Tori—honestly, must you? I don't need to see my sister's public displays of affection with her betrothed." Daphne's voice was sharp with exasperation as she glanced in the rear-view mirror.

"Husband," Astoria Greengrass corrected breezily, perched side-saddle on Harry's lap—the RX-8 only seated four—her fingers tracing idle patterns along his jaw before she leaned in to nibble teasingly at his ear. Harry looked torn between amusement and sheepish embarrassment, his hands resting on Astoria's backside, though he had the decency to flush when Daphne's gaze caught him in the mirror.

"Yes, my apologies," Daphne muttered, rolling her eyes. "I'm still not used to the fact that the three of you are already married. Bloody hell—move, damn it!" She slammed her palm against the wheel, glaring at the unmoving traffic as if sheer willpower could force it forward.

Harry chuckled, shifting slightly beneath Astoria's weight. "We're not really worried because even if we arrive late, it's easy enough to walk to the Leaky Cauldron and Floo to the Three Broomsticks." He shrugged. "Thank you again for picking us up from the airport, by the way."

Daphne exhaled sharply. "Why couldn't the three of you just use an international Portkey instead of doing it the Muggle way?"

Astoria stretched lazily, her toes wiggling in the air before she reached across the gap between the seats to pinch Luna Lovegood's arm. "Luna here wanted to experience Muggle flight," she explained, grinning as Luna—who had been utterly absorbed in watching the chaotic bustle of Muggle London through the window—startled slightly at the contact. "And I was curious too."

Luna turned her head slowly, her large silvery eyes blinking owlishly before her lips curled into a mysterious, knowing smile. Without warning, she seized Astoria's foot, her fingers dancing mercilessly across the sensitive sole.

"Hey—HAHAHAHA! Stop!" Astoria shrieked, thrashing as she tried to jerk her leg free. But Luna had already trapped it under her armpit, fingers continuing their relentless assault. Astoria flailed, pushing against Luna's back with her other foot, face flushed and breathless with protest.

The car filled with chaos—Astoria's helpless laughter, Harry's amused chuckles, Tracey clapping with delight—whilst Daphne, still fuming in the driver's seat, wondered for the hundredth time why she'd ever agreed to chauffeur this ridiculous lot. She made a silent vow to acquire those same traffic-dodging enchantments they had on the Knight Bus.

Harry smiled at the sight, his mind drifting back over the past year. They'd had to take a sabbatical from Hogwarts because Astoria had a blood maledictus curse. With the combined help of both Sirius and his father James, they'd been able to find an Onmyōji who specialised in breaking blood curses—especially the generational ones.

The Greengrasses had suffered under this curse for generations, a shadow woven into the very fabric of their bloodline. At random, one of their women would awaken to the maledictus—a slow deterioration that tightened its grip as the years passed. They never knew who would be next. The women bore it with stoic grace, but beneath their composed facades lay whispered prayers and the quiet dread of living each day under a sentence that might never fall.

Astoria, vibrant and sharp-witted, had believed herself untouched—until the curse awoke in her just two years prior, a searing heat igniting in her veins the very evening their betrothal was announced. Harry and Luna had been beside her, celebrating the union, whilst beneath her skin, something ancient stirred. She could still recall the cold sweat that had drenched her that night, the way her pulse had thundered in her ears, her magic screaming: 'Not now. Please, not now.'

Luna had simply pressed a cool hand to Astoria's forehead, her silvery eyes unreadable, and murmured something about Nargles unsettling the balance. It was so perfectly Luna that Astoria had almost laughed through her terror.

Harry bore the burden of two inheritances. Sirius had designated him the Black heir, having no children of his own. Through the Black line, Harry had been betrothed to Astoria. The Potter betrothal had been to Luna—a match arranged through Lily's fondness for Pandora Lovegood, whose unconventional brilliance had always harmonised with her own.

Now all three were married.

"Finally!" Daphne exclaimed as the traffic cleared ahead, the gridlock breaking apart like a dam bursting. She pressed down on the accelerator with perhaps more enthusiasm than strictly necessary, the RX-8 surging forward.

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The car rumbled to a stop several metres from King's Cross station, its engine ticking softly as it cooled. Tracey leant out first, her wand flicking through the damp London air with practised ease. The Notice-Me-Not charm settled over them like an invisible cloak, letting passing Muggles ignore them entirely. With another wave, she reduced the trunks to pocket-size.

"Now go quickly," Daphne urged from the driver's seat. "You've got less than ten minutes before the train leaves." She hesitated, then added in a lower voice, "And for Merlin's sake, steer clear of the Longbottom boy—rumour has it there was quite the event at the end of the year with the Boy Who Lived and the Defence teacher. Best not get tangled in that mess."

Tracey snorted, rolling her eyes. "Speaking of Defence," she cut in, voice dripping with derision, "your new teacher is that preening peacock Gilderoy Lockhart. Good luck scraping a pass in your NEWTs with him babbling about his autobiography all year." She shook her head in distaste. "The DMLE's had a file on him for ages, but of course, without proper evidence, he just keeps swanning about like he's Merlin's gift to wizardkind."

"Go. Go!" Daphne insisted, flapping her hand at them. "Honestly, I swear, if you miss this train because you were dawdling—"

But before they could move, her voice rang out across the pavement: "Oh, and just because you lot are married and of age doesn't mean I'm ready to be an aunt!"

Heads turned. Commuters slowed. A woman with a pushchair openly gawped.

The Notice-Me-Not charm had vanished. Tracey twirled her wand between her fingers with a wicked grin—she'd dropped it deliberately.

"Daphne!" Astoria's voice cracked with indignation, her face scarlet.

Harry, seeing they weren't winning this exchange, grabbed both his wives' hands. "We're going. Right now."

"Goodbye!" Luna called cheerfully to the gawking passersby, waving as Harry dragged them both towards the station entrance.

With quick final waves, they pocketed their trunks and hurried into the station, the September chill nipping at their heels. Behind them, the car door clicked shut and the engine sputtered back to life. Daphne and Tracey were already melting into the London traffic.

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Neville dashed through the station, his day already an absolute disaster—ever since that bloody elf had appeared at Longbottom Manor, his summer had been one gruelling punishment after another. He was just supposed to Floo onto the platform, simple and straightforward, but at the very last minute the fireplace had malfunctioned in a shower of green sparks and soot. His grandmother was already out for the day attending some Wizengamot function, so no one could Apparate him to King's Cross.

He'd caught the Knight Bus instead, but they'd suffered flat tyres at nearly every stop. Magic made the repairs quick enough, but the delays had stacked relentlessly, and now he was running full-tilt across King's Cross, his trunks piled precariously on a wobbling trolley, shouting breathless "Excuse me!"s at Londoners who couldn't have cared less.

'Please, please, please,'  Neville chanted internally, legs burning. 'Just make it through. Gran will absolutely murder me if I miss the train.'

He could already see Platform 10 looming ahead, meaning 9¾ was just the pillar before it—so close, if he could just—

"Hey, move it!" Neville shouted desperately at a trio blocking his path directly in front of the barrier, thinking he'd let Dumbledore clear this up later if there were witnesses. He pushed forwards, not caring if he ran over the group of two women and a man standing in his way.

"Astoria, Luna, get out of the way!" Harry warned urgently, spotting Neville bearing down on them.

Neville's eyes widened—he yanked the trolley sideways, heart lurching—

Too late. He swerved hard, managing to avoid Harry but catching Astoria and Luna with the edge of his trolley, carrying them all through the magical barrier in a tangle of limbs and trunks.

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The world tilted violently—one moment they were stepping towards the barrier, the next, Luna found herself suspended at a bizarre angle, her torso protruding from the ancient brickwork as if the wall had swallowed her lower half whole. The sensation was utterly disorienting, like being caught mid-transformation into a centaur—only with rough Victorian brick as her other half.

Cool stone pressed against her stomach through the thin fabric of her blouse. The impact had knocked the air from her lungs, leaving her gasping whilst her vision swam with spots.

To her side, Astoria wore the same stunned expression, her usually pristine hair thoroughly dishevelled, dark strands escaping their careful arrangement to frame her flushed face. Her mouth hung slightly open in shock. Beneath them both, on the platform side, twin backsides in pleated skirts were visible—each with a pair of dangling legs that swayed uselessly above the ground.

"Astoria! Luna! Are you two all right?" Harry's voice cracked with panic, his footsteps pounding closer across the cobblestones. Luna could hear the sharp scrape of his shoes, feel the vibrations through the wall as he skidded to a halt.

Luna rolled her neck experimentally, checking for injury. Nothing hurt—just the strangeness of being bisected by architecture. Astoria was doing the same beside her, breathing in quick shallow puffs that ghosted warm across Luna's cheek.

Luna tried wiggling her toes, relieved to feel them move against the soft cotton of her socks. The sensation grounded her—a tether to normality in this utterly abnormal situation.

"I think I'm fine," Luna said, her voice carrying that characteristic dreamy quality even as curiosity overtook her. She reached out tentatively towards the rounded curve visible below her.

"I think I too am—Hey!" Astoria protested as Luna's palm made contact with her backside, her voice pitching higher with surprise.

'Interesting,'  Luna mused, pressing her palm experimentally against what she now realised was Astoria's arse. The fabric of her skirt was soft beneath her fingers, warmed by body heat. The curve yielded slightly under her touch—firm yet giving—and Luna tilted her head with the same expression she wore when cataloguing a new creature for her father's magazine.

Astoria let out a tiny, startled squeak. Luna felt the shift of muscle beneath her hand as Astoria tensed, then relaxed almost unwillingly.

"L-Luna!" Astoria's face flushed pink. The faint scent of her shampoo—something floral and expensive—drifted between them, mingling with the damp earthiness of the brickwork and the crisp autumn air.

"Oh," Luna murmured, her voice low and considering. "How peculiar."

She could feel the rapid flutter of Astoria's pulse where their shoulders brushed, could see the faint dusting of freckles usually hidden beneath her blouse. Luna found herself wondering if they extended further.

Harry's breath came in sharp bursts as his eyes darted between his wives and the impossible sight before them. His hands went automatically to his wand, pulling it free even as his mind struggled to process what he was seeing. The familiar weight of holly wood felt reassuring in his grip, though he wasn't entirely certain what spell might remedy this particular situation.

"Right. Okay. You're—you're stuck in the wall." He said it aloud as if hearing the words might make them make sense. They didn't. "Can you feel everything? Any pain? Numbness?"

His voice steadied as he fell back on practical questions—the same methodical approach he used after Quidditch accidents or duelling practice gone wrong. Focus on what could be measured and tested, even when understanding seemed impossible.

He moved closer, wand raised, the tip glowing with soft golden light as he cast diagnostic charms. The magic probed the space where flesh met stone with careful precision. "The barrier's still active—I can feel the magic humming—but it's all wrong, twisted somehow."

His jaw clenched. "That Longbottom boy crashed through with you, didn't he? Merlin's sake, where is he now? That bloody idiot."

Luna blinked slowly, her thumb now absently stroking along the seam of Astoria's skirt where fabric met the curve of her hip.

"We already told you we feel fine—don't we, Astoria?" Luna's voice carried that familiar dreamy quality, as if she were commenting on the weather rather than their predicament.

"Y-yes! But could you please stop—oh!" Astoria's complaint dissolved as Luna's thumb began stroking deliberate circles just above her arse, the pressure light but insistent. Heat bloomed beneath Astoria's skin, and her protest trailed into a bitten-off breath.

"There's an aversion charm layered into the barrier," Luna observed with academic interest, seemingly oblivious to the effect she was having. "Notice-Me-Not, I think, though more sophisticated than the usual version. Muggles won't see a thing—won't even think to look this way."

Harry and Astoria stared at her, both struggling to follow her seemingly random observation.

Luna's hands glided lower, catching the hem of Astoria's skirt between her fingers. The warmth of Astoria's thigh radiated through her stockings, silk-smooth beneath Luna's fingertips.

Astoria's eyes flew wide, pupils dilating. Her lips parted on a sharp inhale she couldn't quite stifle.

"Luna—what are you—?" Her voice wavered, less accusation than breathless confusion.

"A bit of fun?" Luna suggested, her tone light and dreamy even as her gaze flickered with something decidedly less innocent. "Since we're already here, and the circumstances are rather... unique."

Her fingers found the bare skin just above Astoria's stockings—fever-warm and impossibly soft. A shiver raced through Astoria's body, and her breath stuttered as Luna traced the inside of her thigh with featherlight touches.

Harry groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Merlin's beard, not now—we need to figure out how to get you both out of there, not—"

But his protests died as he took in the scene. Luna's exploration had lifted Astoria's skirt, revealing the curve of her backside in black lace and the tantalising band of bare skin above her thigh-high stockings. Her position—bent forward, half-swallowed by the wall—made Harry's mouth go dry.

To Luna's right, Astoria had ceased protesting entirely, her face a study in contradictions—embarrassment warring with arousal, her composure thoroughly undone. The flush had spread down her throat and vanished beneath her blouse.

"Why not?" Luna asked with genuine curiosity, her fingers tracing patterns on Astoria's skin that made the other girl shiver. "Nobody can see us—the charm ensures that. And this is rather a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for this type of... experimentation."

The word hung in the air between them, heavy with possibility.

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END