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Crimson pooled, warm and sticky. Lungs shuddered, heart struggled, and for the first time since that all Hallows Eve, Severus let his shields disintegrate, fade into nothingness. For the first time in what was certainly a dozen lifetimes, he let himself feel everything. The loss of her, un-aged even a day. All those he’d killed, allowed to be killed, his rage, sorrow, despair, it all consumed him.
He tried to hold onto her eyes, the last sight he’d been granted before closing his own, but they trickled out of his grasp like blood from the wound in his neck. A pain that had been with him since childhood, that would certainly last for evermore, overwhelmed him.
Potter’s footsteps faded as he fled with Severus’s last contrition; directives on the boy's death. All this time, everything Severus had done had been for that arrogant carbon copy of his misery so he…no…so Lily’s son could make it out alive.
Now, neither of them would.
Perhaps it would be for the best.
Harry would be reunited with his family, and Severus would finally be released from his unending torture. He’d carefully evaded death for years, but, now, the cursed Defense Against the Dark Arts position had come to claim penance. It was the one solid Dumbledore had afforded him, sealing Severus’s fate with the stroke of a quill.
He couldn’t wait to be done with it all.
A bright light bloomed in the darkness. His heart gave a protesting clench, attempting to pump life through empty reservoirs.
Ready. He was ready. Had been ready.
Expectantly, Severus opened his eyes, but he was not met by fields of gold or the charred pits of hell.
What he saw was worse.
A blurry, bleeding-heart do-gooder. Then, he felt the cool, beveled edge of a vile tip against his sallow lips.
Weak as he was, he could not contest. All his fight had gone.
^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^
The door slammed and the boards of the cottage floor creaked under his steps as Severus made his way through the sitting room, detritus of the herbs and flowers he carried scattering about. Tossing the handfuls of vegetation onto his workspace, he set to peeling, chopping, and tying clumps together to be hung and dried.
The expansive window directly in front of the table was smeared with grime, obscuring the blanket of gray November clouds and opalescent swells of the Atlantic just off the coast of Pendeen, where Severus had absconded after being released from St. Mungo’s nearly two months after his failure to expire.
Latching the new bundles onto nails pounded into the wooden beams above his head, Severus removed the ones that were ready to be made into a tincture. He cleared his throat, the tissues objecting, screaming for a sip of something cool or warm to ease the perpetual burn left by Nagini’s venom. There was nothing within reach, so Severus ignored his body's complaints and continued the task at hand. This pain was nothing compared to that which he’d suffered most of his life; it was simply an annoyance he’d learned to live with.
With bottles filled and dates affixed, Severus made his way to the kitchen. A perfectionist all his life, his deadened soul barely made a peep as stems and crumpled pieces of leaves were left scattered about. He could tidy up later. It wasn’t as if anyone would be by to judge. There would be no one other than he to gaze upon his catastrophic workstation, cauldron stricken with filth. No one to censure him for the whirlwind of Daily Prophets, issues of Potions Today, and Brewers News that lay strewn from one end of the meager cottage to the other, the last ties to a burgeoning society that he had no desire to be a part of any longer.
With deafening silence and the flick of his wand, golden flames erupted beneath the kettle on the stove.
Whoever had saved his life had clearly done so as a sick joke. No one had come forward to claim the affront, so Severus simply blamed them all. Harry especially, the fool, who’d managed to live as well. A quick plunge into the pensieve and the boy had forgotten seven years of caustic looks and vitriolic remarks. But surely Severus couldn’t have meant it all? Was he capable of detesting the offspring of the woman he’d loved, the woman he’d resigned to live not even close to half a life in sacrifice to?
Absolutely.
The kettle whistled and Severus poured steaming water over tea leaves. Black tea, not the special kind he’d been directed by the Healers to imbibe twice a day in hopes the brew would restore his lost speech, the Dark Lord’s parting gift to his most faithful servant.
Dumbledore had known Severus lacked softheartedness, Mr. Snape having beaten that out of his inadequate son at an early age. Yet, the former Headmaster still insisted Severus be brought on as a teacher as well as a spy. One could not out-teach repugnance for children though with their smug little faces, parading around as if they knew everything simply because they could read.
Here he was, approaching his fourth decade, the only mage to ever deceive the Dark Lord successfully and even he did not know everything. Retained no agency over his life. He hadn’t even been allowed to die when it was what, at that juncture, he’d craved more than anything.
Of course, as a Potions Master he could have easily brewed an unction to do the deed, but, as fervently as he wanted it, he didn’t have the stones to do it himself. He would have preferred the snake be allowed to finish what it had started.
So, he’d taken his scorn and inability to accept anyone's understanding or forgiveness and he’d gone. Years of accumulated gold and the sale of Spinner’s End bought him a small cottage close enough to the crashing ocean that Severus almost couldn’t hear his torment when the utter exhaustion made it impossible for him to retain his Occlumency shields in the moments right before the nightmares took hold.
Isolation was familiar. Severus found comfort in being withdrawn. Alone, he needn't look upon familiar faces who, though knowing of his turncoat status, saw him as nothing more than the same aberration he’d perpetuated to maintain his cover. There was no one to stare at his scarred neck and offer empty condolences for what he’d lost in the war. People thought, after reading the illuminating articles about the devout bravery of Severus Snape, that they knew him.
They didn’t know a fucking thing.
They hadn’t a clue what it was he had sacrificed for their society.
Tea finished, Severus set the mug alongside four others on the wooden table next to his favorite leather sitting chair, his feet propped atop a matching ottoman. Steepling fingers over his nose, he peered out the front window, the one that displayed rolling pastures occupied by the occasional antlered beast (an animal he despised), and a glimpse of the cornflower blue door of the cottage opposite his. It had been unoccupied since long before Severus had purchased his property, a trend that the estate agent assured him would continue. The last owner had passed with no next of kin and the title was stuck in a legal process that she foresaw taking years to resolve.
Severus hoped it never settled, or at least, when it did, he could purchase it and be left well enough to himself.
Burning worked its way up his throat, and he gently coughed, then suddenly blustered as a human being with long, blinding blonde hair bounded through the neighboring threshold, and down three rickety steps into the unkept garden.
Severus leaped from his chair, the force knocking the small wooden table askew, sending mugs sprawling to the floor. Rubbing the front of his neck to quell the spasms, he pressed his nose against the glass and glowered at the new occupant.
No, this was impossible. There must have been some sort of mistake. He was not supposed to have a neighbor. He was meant to occupy this small slice of perdition alone.
Had he been sent an owl to inform him of the property's availability? A quick scattering through the accumulated post on the writing desk produced nothing, the search sending only unopened letters from colleagues, and Harry, fluttering to the floor.
In a flurry of billowing robes, a staple of his identity hard lost, Severus stalked to the front door and yanked it open. There was a shrill squeal from two sets of hinges aggravated by the salt-heavy air that he could not find the will to fix. In sock-clad feet, having left his boots next to his chair where he’d removed them, Severus stomped across brittle foliage, picking up the occasional cocklebur, and emitting grunts of frustration, about all he was able to muster from his damaged vocal cords these days.
His lean grip throttled the gate bisecting two lengths of dry stone wall, knuckles flashing a contrasting white against the dark rosewood. Closer now, he could see the girl twirling about the garden, blonde locks radial and cascading about her like the many legs of a dazzling fae octopus.
Expelling a miffed grumble, Severus was just about to return to the sanctity of his home and attempt to cook himself a comestible meal to properly discern if he were truly seeing another living being, or simply a hunger-induced delusion, when the girl stopped mid-twirl, and waved, calling out to him.
“Oh hello there, sir! They told me I had a neighbor but warned me I might not see him for some time.”
The titchy amount of tan Severus had managed about his prominent cheeks while out in the elusive sun, blanched. Though a substandard teacher, his memory remained ironclad, and of all the voices he’d thought he’d never hear again, Miss Luna Lovegood’s had been at the top of that expansive list.
Severus took two quick steps backwards, and let out a strangled gurgle of pain as he stepped on a thorn. Balancing on one leg, he lifted the other, plucking the sticker from the ball of his foot. The white sock bloomed with crimson, and he found himself lost in the way the liquid spread in a familiarly haunting way.
“Oh, sir, you’re bleeding! Let me get that for you!” Luna said, appearing at his side.
Even if Severus had not been transfixed by lifeblood once again oozing from his body, he would not have been able to spurn her help. Not verbally at least.
With a swish and flick, the seepage ceased, and his sock returned to a dull shade of white.
“There now. All fixed up!” said Luna, her painfully blue eyes traveling from his foot still in his hand, to his downturned mien.
It took Severus a moment to tear his gaze from the wound that no longer existed. When he managed it, his thick, messy brows knitted and he slammed his foot back to the ground. Standing to his full height, he thrust long hair out of his face, sneered down his nose at his former student and waited. Waited for that maddeningly sweet, lopsided grin to slip into recognition and for her to dash back across to her threshold and never dare come into his yard or bother him again.
“I almost didn’t recognize you, Professor Snape!” she said excitedly, her smile widening, radish earrings dancing from delicate earlobes. “You’ve gone and grown some facial hair. It looks quite debonair!”
The minuscule relaxation of his face proved that the once terrifying Potions Master, who had reveled in making Neville Longbottom quake in his trainers, was out of practice.
“Harry had said you went off to live somewhere by the sea, but I didn’t know you’d come here!” Luna continued to merry about, speaking to him as if he were just another one of her mates she’d come across on a midday stroll. “What a small world! That cottage there was my great-aunt’s. Ministry just recently completed the transfer of the deed into my name. Good timing too. Mrs. Weasley wasn’t very thrilled about the Thestral I took in and nursed back to health. It ate her chickens. They’re good luck though, you know…”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Severus gouged the knuckles of his left hand into his right eye, the pain saccharine, giving him something else to focus on rather than his mounting need to shout at the little witch to make her stop blabbering and leave him be.
Stupid girl! Coming out here and infringing upon my solitude.
He began quickly patting down his robes, searching for a forgotten quill and scrape of parchment on which he could scribe his demands in plain black ink; it was imperative Miss Lovegood return to her abode and stay on her side of the dividing line.
“Oh, that will be my muffins!” Luna shouted suddenly, startling Severus, and disrupting his search. “I’ve made a batch of apple streusel and next will be blueberry. Do you like muffins, Professor? I will bring some over once they’ve cooled!” said Luna, jaunting towards her garden, then shouted over her shoulder, “You really should put on shoes, Professor!”
A low growl reverberated in his throat, irritating the thrashed tissues. The intrusive, peppy little goose had ignored every bit of head shaking and the blatant hand gestures he’d executed to convey his refusal of any baked goods from the likes of her, no matter how delectable the smells wafting from her open kitchen window. With a silent grumble, Severus turned away from the sight of his ex-student twirling about with a baking tray and stalked back toward his house, being careful to avoid any more thorns so as not to draw the presumptuous girl back into his presence.
^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^
Apple-streusel muffins would not be the only provisions Miss Luna Lovegood provided for Severus (to his chagrin), that was just how it started. Even after thrusting a parchment covered in a large sprawling, I DO NOT NEED ANYTHING! into her hands, Luna simply pretended as if she could not read his handwriting, teased him for having such messy penmanship, and nudged the little basket containing the goodies of the day into his reluctant palms.
The muffins (which were quite good, though Severus would make no outward shows of that in Luna’s presence dare he encourage her) were followed by an assortment of biscuits and meat pies like chicken and leek, and, what would become his favorite, duck and vegetables.
This continued for months, through the changing of the seasons. Clear, murky, or pouring rain, Luna would appear on his threshold morning and night, always with food, and, sometimes, conversation. At first, that was unquestioningly refused by snatching the basket and bolting the door, but then, slowly, Severus began to accept it as part of their strange deal. He was fed, which was favorable as Severus had long lost the drive to prepare anything especially appetizing for himself, and Luna got the company she seemed to so desperately crave.
Severus had known both Xenophilius and Pandora in passing and was disappointed to hear the former had succumbed to the injuries he’d sustained while imprisoned by the Ministry. Of course, the unspoken truth sat thick in his silenced voice box. It was the Death Eaters responsible for Mr. Lovegood’s imprisonment, as well as Luna’s, but, if she blamed them, or by extension, him, she never showed it.
One particularly nasty night, the rain coming down in heavy sheets, Severus (who had clearly lost his edge and his mind) stepped aside after answering the door and allowed Miss Lovegood inside his cottage. Hanging her dripping cloak on the rack, Luna dried her curls and without any direction, took the basket covered in patterned cloth to the kitchen where she set to making Severus a plate of that night's offering: shepherd’s pie.
As Luna set the steaming food down on the table, she turned, pulled out her wand, and began to wash the amassment of dishes. Severus abruptly pushed back from the table, tapped her on the shoulder then cut the air with his hand, shaking his head violently. He may have to suffer her cooking for him, but he would be damned if she was going to clean up after him as well.
“I don’t mind, Professor. It looks like you could use a bit of help. And I see here the herbs the Healers directed you to take…” Luna picked up the canister brimming with the packets that were supposed to help him salvage his voice. Severus yanked it out of her hands, shook his head again, pointed to the table and then the door, his inference crystal clear.
You can sit, or you can leave.
Without argument, Luna sat in the chair across from his, the whisper of a smirk on her lips that, were he not such an accomplished Legilimens, would have driven him stark raving mad.
After tossing the tin of herbs back onto the counter, Severus dropped into his chair and took a large bite of pie, nearly groaning at the savory, silken beef and potatoes. While chewing, he motioned to his plate with his fork, then to the empty space in front of Luna, and lastly to the dish brimming with extra food.
“Oh, I’ve eaten already. That’s just for you.”
With a heavy sigh, Severus continued to eat and, for once, Luna did not speak. She did not watch him either, but looked around the cottage, her gaze lingering across the stacks of old magazines, neglected dishes, piles of leaf clippings that had accumulated in the corners of the room. He searched her face for signs of judgment, or, even worse, sympathy.
Poor Professor Snape got his heart ripped out, then his throat, and he’d gone off to the coast to wallow and feel sorry for himself. That's what he imagined they all said about him, anyway. What was it this woman thought? Why did she continue to feed him and talk to him even though he was as cantankerous as a troll hitting puberty and could not reciprocate besides an occasional questioning brow, or snarl?
Not once, though, did Severus ever catch that explicit glint in Luna’s eye broadcasting that she was judging him. Nor was she scared of him. In fact, she never had been. Even at the height of his menace, Luna Lovegood had never quivered in fear when he swept into the room. She had been an excellent student, and a proficient potions maker, a trait which obviously influenced her cooking.
The next time Severus allowed Luna into his house, two weeks after the first, it was a completely different scene. Gone were the old magazines, having been cataloged and the dispensable editions chucked into the fire. The tea cups scattered about had been collected, the dishes done, as well as the wash, and, most importantly, his workstation had been scourgified, old and contaminated unctions tossed, and fresh, up to his previous exemplary standards, steeping in their place.
Luna did not say anything about the fresh, tidy state of the house, but Severus had not expected her to. She simply sat the basket on his kitchen counter and began preparing not one, but two chicken and tarragon pies for their supper. Sitting at the table, he watched her move about, quick and spritely, and realized that he had not once seen her without a smile. Did her cheeks not grow tired? How was it that she was so happy, after everything she’d lost? Her mother, her own freedom for a time, and then simultaneously, her father and her home, the damage after the Erumpent Horn explosion and Death Eater destruction irreparable.
Stew dripping from his fork floating midair between pie and mouth, he watched her eat with that same tilted smirk on her face, even now. Irritably, Severus dropped his fork, grabbed a piece of parchment, and quickly scribbled out -
Why are you so bloody happy all the time, Miss Lovegood?
Her pearlescent blue eyes roved his note, and she let out a musical giggle that made some weak and tender muscle deep inside his chest clench.
“Does it hurt you, me smiling all the time?”
Did it hurt him? Well, no, not really. Severus knew pain, and this was merely…an annoyance. Lips pressed thin, he began scratching out an answer, but she stilled his movements with a gentle hand on his.
“What does it matter, me smiling all the time? Has being crabbed brought you any peace, sir?”
I AM NOT CRABBED! Severus scratched in all caps, underlining it twice.
Luna covered her mouth with the palm of her hand but the partition didn’t stop another mellifluous laugh from floating out. The same muscle in his chest fluttered, and Severus felt the very edges of his traitorous lips lift ever so slightly before he slapped an angry hand over them.
Rising from the table, Luna pulled out her wand and moved about his kitchen, placing tea cups on the counter and heating the kettle. When he swallowed his last bite of pie, Luna set down a small plate with a spiced chocolate muffin, and a teacup, which contained one of the packets of herbs from the Healers.
“Life can be very sad, Professor,” said Luna, sitting down with her own muffin and cuppa. “We can either smile despite of it or let it destroy us. I have it on good authority that laughter is just as contagious as resentment. I can certainly tell you which ailment I would like to catch.”
Severus narrowed his deep hazel eyes and stabbed at his muffin. In the far-off confines of his mind, he could dare to admit that he admired Luna in a way. She never had let whispered teases or haughty grumbles dash her spirits. She was happy being her. She didn’t lock herself away behind dense mental walls, scarper off to a cottage perched between a ruthless sea and country he hated and still not manage find repose.
Severus could learn something from her…were he willing…which he certainly was not.
There was nothing that Luna Lovegood was going to teach him.
^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^
The towering oak front doors were ajar as Severus made his way up the stone steps of Hogwarts School. Torches were ablaze, and banners of every color adorned the hallways, proudly displaying each house’s contribution to the vanquishment of the Dark Lord.
This was the first time since he’d been attacked that Severus had set foot on the grounds. A cool chill moved through his limbs, compounded by the frigid weather of Scotland in May. Twisting his hand, warmth bled through his muscles, and he was thankful that he’d mastered nonverbal spells long before his speech had been taken.
It was the second annual ball in remembrance of the fallen. He’d not come to the first one and had been resigned not to attend this one either, if not for his meddlesome neighbor. Though she had not come right out and invited him, she’d said she was going and he should too. For a reason he refused to examine, that had been enough to spur Severus into pressing his dress robes, performing the proper trimming around his goatee and mustache, and apparating to the gates.
As soon as the merry voices hit, Severus retreated behind his walls, an irrefutable coldness setting into his hazel eyes. This being his first foray into society since the end of the war, he could only imagine what people would whisper about. His hand caressed his neck and he suddenly wished he would have thought to wear something to hide his scars. They would inevitably spur uncouth pricks to make comments and ask questions, neither of which he could respond to.
He collected a firewhiskey from the bar, nodding cooly to Seamus Finnigan who looked as if Severus was there to grade the libation just as he would a cauldron of Sleeping Draught.
Severus absconded to an alcove off the Great Hall, the long tables having been removed, but the same bewitched ceiling above swirling with hundreds of shimmering stars. Feelings of nostalgia could have grown, were they permitted, but within his shields, all Severus felt was nothing. His vacant gaze traveled the hall, sweeping between old colleagues, ex-students, and of course, the man of the hour, Harry Potter with his wife Ginny on his arm.
Harry shook hands with Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt, and when they turned away to continue their rounds, the boy who had managed to live made eye contact with the man who, in another life, might have been his father. After all these years, Severus could admit he was not still in love with Lily Evans, simply the idea of her. His loyalties had been fueled by expectations of what it would have been like waking next to her, rather than alone. Dreams of what it might have been like to gaze upon a boy with eyes like Lily’s, yet who looked and acted as Severus did, instead of James, the man who’d relentlessly bullied him.
So many years later, some dreams were best left to fade.
Severus nodded to Harry, and Harry returned the motion. It seemed as if the boy, a man now, was going to come closer, attempt to have the conversation that had, until that moment, been heavily thwarted, but, a pirouetting mass of puffy lilac twirled its way between the two men and then Severus only had eyes for her.
“You made it! I’m so glad, Professor. Have you had any of the food? I could bring you a plate if you’d like!”
They walked together to the buffet spread, and Luna prattled on about their herb garden, which had been conjoined a few months prior, for no other reason, of course, than because caring for one plot of land was easier than two. As they ate at a table sequestered in the corner away from prying eyes, Luna told him outlandish stories about the Crumple-Horned Snorkack she’d seen in the Forbidden Forest, which made him lift a single dark brow. Then she recounted her belief that there was a special subspecies of Niffler in the Ravenclaw dormitories because of the startling degree in which her possessions would always seem to disappear. This story, even through his shields, made Severus angry. Were he to have located the ruffians responsible for this thievery, he might have wanted to enact retribution for not only Luna, but for everyone who had been subject to cruelties throughout these halls.
Severus was very aware that he had also been an instrument in enacting some of that cruelty.
“Would you like to dance with me, Professor?” Luna asked, and without waiting for an answer, grasped his hand and led him onto the dance floor which was not nearly brimming enough to shroud their coupling from eavesdropping on-lookers. Severus watched as a sea of grimaces dipped against ears, until a soft hand grazed his cheek, engaging his attention.
“People are always going to talk, you know. But you don’t have to pay them any mind. You don’t have to let them undermine your happiness.”
He swallowed heavily, wincing with the bob of his Adam’s apple, his eyes easily conveying that which he thought.
I do not have much happiness for them to disrupt.
Decades of chiseling himself into unbreakable stone, finding his first love murdered, and sitting idly by as colleagues were put to death, killing his closest confidants, who could be happy about that?
Yet…he could feel it…that whisper in his chest, the seed planted that so desperately wanted to grow. The need to cherish something, to not have to hide himself away in shame and isolation. The longing not to just wake up, but to seize the day.
The desire to have and to be had.
“I think I’d like to go home now,” said Luna, dragging him out of his thoughts.
Severus blinked, though, curiously, the images he ought not been having didn’t fade as he peered down at the same dazzling witch in his arms.
“Would you like to go together?”
It was then, possibly for the first time within the grounds of Hogwarts, that Professor Severus Snape smiled.
^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^
Silken chiffon floated from his hands as the dizzying effects of side-along apparation quelled, leaving Severus standing quite close to Luna at the bottom of the stairs leading to his front door.
“Shall I make you a cuppa before we retire? Something to wash the firewhiskey away? That cannot be good for your injuries, Professor.”
Severus rolled his eyes but nodded, plodding up the steps behind Luna, the alluring scent of the wildflower tincture he’d crafted for her tantalizing his senses. Her dress swished along as she danced to a silent beat across his sitting room towards the kitchen. In an effort to remain neighborly, instead of following her, Severus swept into his drying room, suddenly feeling the need to busy his empty, twitching hands. Removing his robes, he soon found himself lost in cutting and weighing.
Focused and isolated behind the veil of his long, black hair, Severus jumped when he felt a soft touch on the back of his shoulder, dropping the knife he held. Luna gave him a tender smile, blessing him with her musical laughter, and handed him his cup of healing unction. He wasn’t sure if the herbal concoction was even working, too scared to test it really, but drinking it seemed to make Luna happy, and they all needed a bit of happiness in their lives, didn’t they?
The hot liquid was a balm as it singed his throat which had been irritated by the caustic firewhiskey. He sighed into the cup, glancing over the brim at Luna, who had both her small hands wrapped around her mug, her inquisitive gaze locked on him.
He upended the mug, drained it then turned to set it on the end of his work table. Luna too set her cup down, so close to his that their fingers grazed and a blaze of warmth drew through every inch of skin she lingered against.
“You know, Professor. It’s alright to be happy,” Luna said, twisting to stand directly in front of him, her hands floating up to rest her palms on his t-shirt-clad chest. A hand rose to cup his cheek, but he grabbed her wrist. Swallowing the burn in his throat, Severus channeled every bit of will into this moment.
“Nooot…Prof…fesor…” Severus choked out, vocal cords straining, quivering with effort and need.
“Severus, then?” Luna said with a cheeky lifted brow.
Swallowing deeply again, he nodded, his heart thumping rapidly at the way his name sounded on her lips.
“Let’s make each other happy, then, Severus,” Luna purred.
The end of her request was smothered by the firm, hungry press of his lips against hers. She moaned and he growled, his grip threading into her hair, long fingers forcefully clenched against her skull. She clutched his shirt, then dove underneath it, splaying warm, desirous fingers against his ribcage.
He picked her up like she were nothing more than a doll, desperately gripping the backs of her thighs as he spun them, settling her atop his workstation, their kiss unbroken, if more so, hastened by the movement.
His kisses devolved into unrestrained and half-mad as he trailed a path from the corner of her mouth, spurred on by her exalted breaths to nip and lick and suck from her cheek to the point under her ear and then down the side of her neck. He broke from his affections for only a moment as she tugged his shirt over his head and then he kissed her again, frantically clearing chaotic strands of hair that had attached themselves between ferine lips.
Traveling down her chin, Severus nipped and sucked along the column of her throat. No words disrupted the consuming volume of their breaths, only a gasp as Luna’s dress and undergarments vanished, leaving behind only his perilously tented trousers between them. His dark eyes roved her bare form, licking his lips before greedily imbibing in the delicacy that was her flesh. Palming one breast, he sucked the other, toying the pebbled nipple with his tongue before transferring his pursuits to the other. Luna bowed against him, fingernails digging into his back, scratching him as they traveled to his belt, tearing it from the loops with an alluring whoosh. The buckle clacked again the wood as she tossed it and immediately went to work with the clasp of his trousers, peeling them open and freeing his cock in no time flat.
The cool air hit his erection, and soon after, her warm hand wrapped around the raging girth. He hissed, burying his face in the crook of her neck, groaning and growling, encouraging her as she pumped him slowly from base to tip, milking a bit of spend and smearing it across the bulbous head with the pad of her thumb.
His teeth sunk into her neck, seeking purchase, grounding, but her next words shattered any realm of existence in which Severus Snape could retain control over anything,
“Severus…please…”
And in the height of his mania, the words he’d heard many times before, often pleaded right before the worst moments of his life, had a different effect on him. Said with such passion, from someone who cared for him, set him aflame.
Pressing himself tighter between her split thighs, forcing them wider, Severus fisted his cock as his other hand tangled in her hair, hazel eyes now captured in a forget-me-not haze. Slotting his mouth against hers, he swallowed her moans, giving her some of his own as he notched himself into place and wasted no time beginning to bury himself where he’d wanted to be for months now.
Slowly, he nudged into the very thing he was certain would bring him peace and happiness, commemorating this moment as the blip in time that he finally allowed himself to feel, and to live and to indulge and dare he say…attempt to love again.
Severus let out a heavy breath against her forehead as the plunge concluded, and he stilled, fully entombed, allowing Luna a moment to adjust, and simply basking in the euphoria one could only find with human connection; the unification he’d craved his whole life, and now, joyously had.
At her insistence, Severus began with slow, measured thrusts, kissing her and gripping her thighs in a bid to not let her escape him, not even an inch. Her hands twisted into his hair, and she arched, melding him to her, and before long, she was canting her hips, rocking against him pump for pump as his pace increased. And he felt it. All of it, every drop of everything he’d tried for so long to hide from.
“Severus…I…oh!” Luna whispered breathily in his ear, caressing the lobe with her nose.
“Luna,” he managed to rasp as the delicacy in his arms quivered, clenching his pistoning cock, seducing his own end from deep within his groin. With a feral growl, he was there, spearing and spilling into her, his lips brushing over hers, drinking in every little gasp she bestowed upon his starving soul.
With twin, deep satisfied sighs, unwilling to relinquish his hold on her, and she from him, Severus nuzzled his nose through fair, petal-soft tresses, then lifted her from the table and carried her to his favorite chair. Sitting with her in his lap, a waving hand set a fire in the hearth, and the flickering flames soon cast amber shadows across her creamy skin that Severus was compelled to trace with calloused fingertips. Luna gently kissed him, humming solicitously against his lips, bidding curious thoughts to percolate that, perhaps his pain would not, in fact, be for evermore.