The dungeons have grown cold with time. The walls groan and the halls howl as skin biting air escapes through the cracks in the castle's brick. Yet, somehow, Severus Snape does not feel the crippling sadness that seems to come every year with the winter. He ponders the reason, and decides that he is no longer suffering from seasonal depression because he is no longer alone in the dark underbelly of Hogwarts. Luna Lovegood twirls around his cauldron in a Mrs. Clause dress which captivates his attention—distracting him from jotting down notes. The dress is red, and sparkles when the light of the candles catch the fabric as she spins. A thick black belt with an obtrusive yellow buckle secures the dress to her waste as the bottom floats up around her legs which have been covered in green stalking's. The blond grabs the potion's stirring stick, stirs the potion three times, and then takes it for a dancing partner. Lovegood holds her new partner in front of her, gives a smile and a curtsey, then begins to waltz around the caldron.
It is all Snape can do to not roll his eyes as he fights the urge to say something scathing.
She has been doing this often. To be more precise, the day dreamer has been dancing with the potion's stirring stick ever since McGonagall announced a winter ball a week prior. It annoys Snape to no end: another dratted ball where he would be forced into dress robes and be placed on 'kissing patrol.' Kissing patrol is Snape's least favorite obligation. He recognizes that this particular duty gives him the excuse to cause distress among his most infernal students, however, seeing young adolescents slobber over each other's faces all night has never been and will never be a 'good time'. His eyes narrow as he forms a glare in Lovegood's direction, her giddiness setting him on edge. Suddenly, the thought of who the free spirited girl is going with becomes his utmost concern.
He will have to be vigilant, as he is now her protector.
You fully understand that she is a high risk target? The words echo in memory.
Hermione had asked Snape to keep the girl safe. The moment the position of body guard was proposed, Snape had turned into a hawk. He became familiar with Lovegood's daily routine, or at least gained an understanding of what a semblance of her typical day looked like, as the chit had no routine. He studied her body language with intensity. For instance; when Lovegood is on high alert her posture stiffens. Whether this means she is on high alert because she hears 'the dungeons talking' or she has spotted a mouse skittering about is more difficult to discern. Typically, Lovegood's posture is held in a loose pose and her eyes stay distant. One thing Snape noted is that although it seems her mind is somewhere else completely, she is always taking in her environment. At times it is just the color of the walls. At others it is the way his eyes wrinkle when he tries to fight off a smile. She had told him of this the day before, and then proceeded to show him the amount of tally marks she had made—one for every time she saw him almost smile. "It's not perfect," she had said, "but one day I'll make you smile so hard you'll be feeling it for days."
The memory gives his heart a painful lurch.
He frowns and rubs his chest as Lovegood laughs at something the potion's stick has supposedly said. Snape sighs, and admits that in her delicate yet intense ways, she has bound him to her. He will forever belong to her, just as he still belongs to Lilly, and if it had been anyone but the girl he never would have agreed to Hermione's task. Snape had not meant to take on such a responsibility. In fact, it was his intention to ignore those in need for the remainder of his miserable life. Initially, he had responded to Hermione's mission with a nonnegotiable no.
"Why not?"
"A detestable job, Granger. I've only just started living without another life on my conscious and you'd have me take the eccentric Lovegood on? Absolutely not."
"You understand, Professor, that 90 percent of the participants turned during project pureblood and that the few who have not—like Luna—have been hunted down and triggered with a mere word."
"You did inform me yes."
"And as her friend, you still refuse to look out for her, even though you fully understand that she is a high risk target?"
. . . a high risk target.
He had faltered then. Snape knew, even without Grangers prompting, that he would guard Lovegood. It is all that he is worth in the end anyhow—someone else's life. This time there will be no bitterness at the job thrust before him. This time there will be no anger. He is not upset at the prospect of taking care of the only person who has shown an ounce of understanding. There is only fear, and hope. His fear is for her safety as he has failed all of the woman in his life: his mother, Narcissa . . . Lilly. His hope is that this is the cause that will finish him off. He hopes that saving her life will be the end of his. To die in the name of her would not be so terrible.
He wonders if she would miss him? Snape watches her dance, his chest constricting.
She counts the steps, one two three forms silently on her lips as she furrows her brow in concentration. Snape notices a stiffness in her frame, and itches to place a hand on the crook of her back in order to ease her posture. He snorts at that thought—him dancing with Lovegood, what a sight that would be. Lovegood smiles, and finishes off her waltz with a spin. One of the Candy Cain earrings she has adorned this evening slips from her ear and goes flying across the classroom. Immediately Lovegood stops, feels for the missing earing, and scrunches up her nose. Snape has to stifle a snort.
A nose scrunch: Luna Lovegood's indication that she is either confused or irritated.
Lovegood then gets on all floors and begins to crawl about his classroom. Snape merely lifts a brow, and continues to watch in amusement. It is at moments like these that Snape must consider himself: what does it say about his character that he has formed an attraction to a female that loses everything? He has no answer, and continues to watch Lovegood who has been crawling on the floor for some time now. She then spots something under a students' desk. Sticking out her tongue in determination, she bends her head underneath the wooden frame. Snape has stopped pretending to do work, and now stands with a smirk and arms crossed in front of his chest. He should stop her but he has been so board as of late, and if nothing else, Lovegood proves to be entertaining. He decides to let the scene play out.
Lovegood inspects the object, frowns, and then sits up forgetting that she is still underneath a desk. The bang of her head fills the room, followed by a meek and startled 'oof.' The desk teeters from the sudden impact, and then falls back, slamming on the floor. Luna Lovegood stares at her professor with the most bewildered look, eyes wide and shining.
"By all means," Snape says sardonically, "continue. "
"I have lost another earing." Lovegood frowns and rubs the new bump swelling on her head.
Snape offers Lovegood his hands as she persists on sitting on the grungy floor. "With all the jewelry I have confiscated I am perplexed that you still have any left to lose." She takes his hands but does not use them to pick herself up. Instead she gazes at them and traces the marks left by war and abuse up his arms. The hairs on his arms prickle much like a dog when its hackles stand on end. He is ready for defense, to put her down if she decides to ask questions. She does not. With a squeeze of his hand she looks up into his face. "Scars can ruin a person you know? Or give them knowledge. I suspect that you are somewhere in between."
He has never felt so exposed.
When he gains his senses he has her up and standing on her feet. Quickly he disengages their hands and takes a step back. He must keep his guard up, or risk doing something utterly disastrous and reproachable. Her lips are ever pink.
"I've been thinking," She says, a hand on her hip and her head cocked.
"A dangerous pass time," Snape remarks. It is not in jest, as many of the things Lovegood cooks up in that head of hers has been a bit bizarre.
"Well," she stops, and stands on her tip toes while leaning into Snape. He can feel her breath on his chin and forces his hands behind his back. He could hold her now if he'd like, lean in and incase that mouth of hers with his own. He cannot, should not. Instead he forms a sneer exposing teeth. He remembers that Lovegood thinks his teeth are yellow in nature and closes his mouth.
"What in blazes are you doing?" Snape snaps. He refuses to retreat or lean back. Strength is shown by keeping ones composer.
"I am trying to see if you are in a listening mood."
Snape takes his hands and places them on Lovegood's shoulders, pushing her down and far away from him. "A listening mood?"
"Yes, sometimes you see, I will make a perfectly good suggestion for the sleeping draught and for some reason you don't seem to hear me. I'm making sure this time you will. I don't see any creatures blocking your ears. Perhaps I should grab my Spectrespecs and try again?"
Snape growls low and has a certain irritated bite to his words. "I am listening Miss. Lovegood. Please, indulge my curiosity."
Lovegood arches a brow much in a Snape manner, and then nods her head. "Alright then, I was thinking that we've been going on about this all wrong."
"Excuse me?"
Lovegood frowns. "I would rather wait to excuse you when I'm done explaining. Could you wait a moment?"
Her reply is so misplaced that Snape almost smiles. He wonders if she will be marking this in that book of hers. "I can wait." He says his tone of voice now calm. This is Lovegood for Merlin's sake, nothing she says is ever meant in harm.
"Thank you Professor. I was thinking that instead of trying to make a draught that gives you dreamless sleep, we could brew a draught that gives you good dreams. I know it doesn't line up with your grey demeanor," Grey demeanor? Thinks Snape, "but it may be good for you to try something new."
Snape takes a moment to assess what Lovegood has said. She may have a point, creating a dreamless non addictive draught may be unlikely to happen given the wizarding worlds current lack of knowledge on potions related to sleep. However, the wizarding world's knowledge on dreams is a vast and fast growing science. Creating a draught related to dreams may make their venture possible.
"Go on."
"I thought that we could take a stroll down to Wizard Wheezes and see what Fred and George have to say. They have potions that allow you to dream up your wildest fantasies. It's quite extraordinary really."
Fred and George are perhaps Snape's least favorite students, after Neville of course. But the idea of exploring Hogsmead with Lovegood is much too tempting.
"Alright." He says. Lovegood's eyes widen in shock.
"Really?"
"Yes; seeing the weasel twins will be a headache, but I see the appeal in changing our idea of the draught."
Lovegood has never looked so inspired. "It's going to work you know."
"Are you always so sure of yourself?"
"When it matters."
"And this matters?"
Lovegood scrunches up her nose. "Of course it matters; it's going to help you."
In this moment, Snape realizes that if anything happens to Luna Lovegood it will be the end of any spirit he has left. Lovegood stares at Snape for a moment, and lets out a soft laugh. Timidly she takes his hand then quickly, so that he cannot pull away, twirls beneath it. Snape takes a step back and yanks his hand to his side. Lovegood's cheeks are pink and her eyes glisten.
"Another time then." She states, and then she is twirling away toward the caldron. Snape stares after her until a sparkle catches his eye. He glances at the floor by his feet, and there— right next to his shoe—is the missing earing. With the spinning blond distracted by the potion, Snape leans down and picks up the candy cain and slips it into his robes.
What Lovegood doesn't know won't hurt her.
One, two, three. One, two, three.
Luna has been counting out this particular beat out in Hogwarts' court yard all evening. The sun is now low, and the wind has a nasty bite to it, but she does not mind. She imagines the sting of the air is giving her the same sort of feeling on her skin as the winter ball will when everyone is looking at her dance. She has never been a very good dancer—formally that is. Dances like the waltz make Luna have to do the most uncomfortable things like straighten her spine and keep count in her head. She remembers asking for McGonagall's help when Harry had invited her to Slughorn's party during her fourth year. McGonagall's delight in teaching her favorite dance's soon grew into a concerned irritation as Luna continued to miss count and step on everyone's feet. Thankfully it had not mattered as Harry had left her the moment they entered the party. No—Lovegood much preferred her own dances, the ones where her daddy would bang the tambourine on his knee while her mother hummed the most lovely tune. Luna would stretch her arms above her head and sway, pointing her face up toward the sky with a sense of utter freedom.
This year, however, Luna wanted to dance with someone.
Luna has now gotten through the most basic steps of the waltz (left foot change, right foot change, and box step) without falling. She squeals, clapping her hands together, and turns toward Ginny who is sitting on a log on top of the snow. Ginny and Luna had quickly made up after her discharge from the medical ward. Luna had not been mad with Ginny as she had been with Neville, because Ginny never left her side. Luna understands that her best friend had been looking for signs of subterfuge, but had done so in order to keep the true Luna—the one who was hidden underneath brain wash and abuse—safe.
"How was that?" Luna asks.
Ginny looks maddeningly board. "It looks fine Luna. Honestly, I don't know why you care so much. It's not like you're going to the ball with anyone."
Luna frowns at this. It is true. The ball takes place the night before everyone leaves for their winter break which is a week from today, and no one has asked her to accompany them. But Luna has decided that she will have fun, even if she is alone. "I want to dance well, in case someone does ask."
Ginny lets out a deep breath and nods her head after swiping her nose which runs from the cold. "Wouldn't you rather just get butter beer and watch a movie with me that night? I'd like to hang out with you before I leave for a couple weeks."
Luna frowns, "you could come to the dance with me."
Ginny lets out a laugh. "Bugger all that Luna. You know I hate formal gatherings."
Luna does know this, but thought she would ask anyway. Well—Luna could use this time to continue arguing with Ginny, or she could keep practicing as she has yet to master the other steps to a waltz: the forward progressive and the promenade. She will keep practicing. With a twirl she dismisses Ginny and takes a moment to spin. Luna loves spinning. In the distance Luna can hear Ginny stand and swipe snow from her pants and jumper.
"Luna I've got to go inside, I can't feel my bottom anymore. I'll see you tomorrow okay?"
Luna hums to indicate to Ginny that she was heard.
And then she is alone. Luna lifts up her hands as she twirls in her solitude, feeling the icy air on her fingertips. If she listens hard enough, she can almost hear her daddy's tambourine and her mother's lilting hum. She takes this time to imagine that she is an ice queen, born in the months of winter, and with her finger tips she can direct the cold winds in any direction she chooses. She chooses east, and stops suddenly, sticking out her right foot and slamming it into the earth as a strong ice queen would do. Only, she has slammed her foot into a hole in the ground. Her ankle gives out and Luna utters a startled cry as she falls to the earth. A puff of white flies upwards and settles on top of Luna's hair. Once the earth has settled, Luna slowly sits up and inspects her ankle. It seems to be alright.
"Well," she says to her feet, "that was all rather silly."
"I'd say so."
Startled, Luna looks up to see Draco with a questioning look adorning his face. "What in the blazes are you doing?"
Luna smiles at her friend curiously. Draco hates the cold, so much so that he has taken great lengths lately to avoid going outside. Anything that made Draco the least bit uncomfortable was always done away with. It is to his chagrin that he cannot control the weather. "Why hello Draco, it's always a joy to see you in the snow."
Draco blushes. "It's almost past curfew. I was worried."
Luna smiles; Draco is one of her greatest friends. "That's very sweet of you, but there's no need to worry, I'm perfectly all right."
Draco nods his head and then lifts an eyebrow. "What are you doing out here anyway?"
"Dancing."
"You call that dancing?"
It is Luna's turn to blush. "Well, just then I was trying to control the winter. But before I was practicing the waltz. I haven't quite got it down yet, I still have two more steps to learn."
"Even I can't control the weather, Lovegood. Stand up for a moment." Luna does, and Draco is now assessing her. He walks in a singular circle looking her up and down. Luna feels as if she is being auctioned off on some podium. He then stops and places a thumb on his jaw as if contemplating something important.
"I'll teach you." He decides.
"You will?" Luna is ecstatic.
"I will. You've got the legs for it."
Luna frowns at this. "Draco, if you continue to judge girls based on their looks you'll find yourself very lonely."
Draco is stunned at Luna's reply. Good, thinks Luna, I have taught him a valuable lesson. Luna then walks up to Draco and holds out her hands, because they are friends and she will forgive him for treating her like a prized pig—this time anyway. "I'm ready."
Draco is able to shake off whatever it was he was feeling (stunned because the only one in his life who has ever corrected him on his manners was his mother, and at times Snape) and takes out his wand, twirling it once. A lovely tune issues forth from his wand's tip, as well as mist which forms into the musical notes being played by what sounds like a violin. Luna smiles, and has to stop herself from twirling some more. Draco steps into Luna and leads her into the dance.
He is spectacular.
She had never noticed how firm Draco's body was, but as he commands the dance Luna can feel his strength. He pushes and pulls her in a way that is a bit overwhelming and Luna's heart begins to palpitate in the extreme. She has to force herself to look down to ease her uncomfortability, and investigates their feet. They are swift in their movement, but now that Luna pays her feet mind, they begin to stumble and she almost steps on Draco. Quickly she begins to count to get her feet back on track.
One, two, three. One, two, three.
Draco's fingers are now on her chin and they lift her head up until she is gazing into his eyes. "Don't think about it so hard," he whispers, and his eyes are so intense and so close that Luna feels the air leave her lungs. Has anyone ever looked at her this way before? Is everyone supposed to look at their dancing partner with such passion—she supposes it does inspire intimacy. Yet, still, he is so close and so warm that it makes it hard to think. As the dance continues, and while Draco's eyes refuse to leave her own, all she can picture is Snape's dark muddy browns. Does he dance as well as Draco? Would he ever look at her so intensely if they were to waltz?
The dance slowly draws to a finish and Draco dips her low to the ground, so low that she can feel her hair brush the snow. Yet his arms do not shake from the weight of her.
"See," he says, his breath on her neck, "it's not so difficult." Draco then lifts her and drops his arms from her waist, taking a step back. It is all Luna can do to not fall down on her wobbly legs. She feels as if she has turned to jellow.
"You're extraordinary, Draco. I—thank you for teaching me."
"You should go with me." He says. He is breathing hard and his eyes shine as they have never shone before.
"Go with you to what?" Luna's mind runs slowly as it is still clouded from the dip.
"You and I, we should go to the ball together. I was planning on staying in that night, 'cause formality has been making me nauseous. But going with you could be fun. Don't you think so?"
Before she contemplates her answer she hears herself saying, "yes."
"Good, it's a date then." He smiles, and then is wrapping his arms around himself as if just remembering they were still outside, "come inside with me? My tits are freezing."
Luna nods, and in a hazy cloud follows him into the warmth.
The doorbell shrieks in Snape's ear as he opens the door to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. He takes a moment to close his eyes and breathe: he should have expected something as irritating to greet him in this maddening place. He messages his temples, getting himself ready to see the dratted twins. He can only imagine what this meeting will be like, in fact, he can only imagine what the twins will be like. He has not seen them since they flew out of Hogwarts, fireworks spurting from their brooms. If Snape were a bigger man, he would let them know he thought it was one of their better pranks and if that toad Umbrage had stayed a moment longer at Hogwarts, Snape would have done something drastic himself.
The woman had been a nuisance with all her pink frills and kittens.
But Snape has never been known for giving complements, and would not start now. Another breath, and then he opens his eyes. A mad house indeed. The place is oddly full for a Wednesday. There are a gaggle of girls surrounding a booth full of floating hearts that hold potions inside to his left. Two shrieking boys are throwing small balls at one another to Snape's right. The balls explode dying one boy's hair green, and giving the other a pigs' snout. And then Snape is looking up to the spiraling stairs that are full of adults and children alike: they gaze at books, ears on strings, and various other gadgets that Snape does not care to know about. Then Snape looks ahead and quickly has to duck as a paper air plane zooms by his head and exits the door.
Snape grumbles, brushes off his cloak, and then hears her laugh.
"You missed, that's five sickles gentlemen." Her voice is soft and bell like. He follows the sound to the front of the store where the checkout line has been placed. Lovegood stands on her tip toes, leaning over the counter where Fred and George stand. They are both smiling, but fake their agitation at losing what Snape could only imagine was a bet.
"No fair Luna,"
"You saw me miss in the future, admit it."
"Seer."
Luna Lovegood rolls her eyes, a gesture Snape had not known the girl could make.
"I did not, and even if I did I still won. Gimmie." She sticks out her hand, palm flat.
Snape strides up to the counter and hovers just behind Lovegood. "And just what is it you have bet, Miss Lovegood?" She squeals and turns quickly, finding herself trapped between her professor and the counter. She blushes and looks to her feet.
"I told them they wouldn't be able to hit you with one of their paper airplanes."
Snape is unsure why Lovegood has decided to make bets at his expense, but blames the twins. They are the worst kind of influence. "Ah," says Snape and then turns toward the two red heads, "I hear you are experts on creating potions for dreams."
The twins smile, much like a chestier cat, which sets Snape on edge.
"If it isn't Snivels!"
"Good 'ol Snivels!"
Snape has not heard someone call him Snivels in a long time. In fact, he had not heard that nickname since Serious. He is all too sure that his long lost enemy had taught this name to the mischievous twins, and understands that to react to such a silly name would be giving the twins what they wanted: entertainment. Yet still, his vision tunnels and if he is not too careful he knows he will begin to see red. Snape can feel his breath labor, and is jolted back into the present when Luna smacks the back of Fred and Georges heads.
"Now, I'm not as scary as your mother. But if I have to tap into Molly Weasley to get you two to behave I am not above it. Understood?"
Fred and George are all too amused, and pretend to be hurt by pouting and rubbing their heads. "Wow Luna,"
"Yeah, it was only a joke."
"Just wanted to have a bit of fun with our old friend."
Lovegood then turns and takes her professor's hands. She has no gloves he notices, and can feel her cold finger tips seep through his woolen mittens. She smiles prettily up at him, and Snape knows that his presence here has meant the world to her. "I'm so glad you could make it Professor." She says, and then turns to the two boys behind the counter. "You have products to show us?"
Half an hour later Snape and Lovegood exit the back of the store, each with a load of samples. 'For research' Lovegood had said, but taking the erotic dream mixture had still caused Snape to blush. He does not know if he will drink them, and is not sure if this is actually something he wants to incorporate into his research. But he supposes he should just try, even if only to satisfy Lovegood.
At the moment Snape will just appreciate that he is no longer in that inane store.
Hogsmead is quite spectacular this evening. The sunset reflects off falling snow that has blanketed the walk ways. Snape is not sure how he feels about snow. It is cold, and wet, but when safely in doors he supposes it is nice to look at. He looks around himself and notices that he and Lovegood are in a hidden ally way. Best get out in the open, before others get the wrong idea—before Snape becomes brave enough to actually try to woo Lovegood.
What a silly notion. Wat a sad old man he is.
But then Luna twirls her wand and a song is playing, and Snape feels his package being removed from his grasp, and then cold hands are being placed into his own. Lovegood gazes into his eyes, and moves her feet. Snape stumbles at first, unsure as to what Lovegood is up to, when he recognizes the steps to a waltz. Before he truly thinks about his present situation and what it could mean for his own sanity later this night when he knows, knows he will think about what this dance meant to the allusive blond, he takes the lead.
Luna Lovegood is breathless. Snape moves her with such grace that Luna could almost believe she is floating on air. His body is broader than Draco's, sturdier, yet ever so graceful: like a cat. When he directs her body it is not overwhelming, but a suggestion: move your foot this way? His body continues to make polite questions and Luna's own responds in affirmation. Suddenly, he spins her out and away. For the briefest of moments she is cold, and then Snape spins her back into him. Her back is pressing against his front and he is now still, still as a statue. Luna is afraid her heart will burst from her chest.
As is Snape. He is sure she can feel it thud against her ribs. Yet, he cannot calm it. She is so close and smells of cinnamon. Her hair is silky and tumbles in waves and he was able to put his hand there, on the crook of her back where back meets bottom. She feels perfect in his arms, small and sweet and strong. She is so lovely, and all he wants in this moment is to place his head into the crook of her neck and breathe deep. To trace her jaw line to the base of her collar bone with his lips would be one of the world greatest pleasures.
Snape does not deserve such pleasure, and lets her go. Luna stumbles forward, surprised at the lack of contact, and turns slowly. She hopes he will not be angry with her. It is only, well, she dreams of dancing with him at the ball. She does not know why, but thoughts of him have been circling her brain like a pack of nates. She wants him close by her. It makes her feel safe, and he makes her feel understood.
"Thank you, for dancing with me." She says softly, not wanting to scare him off.
"You have gotten much better. I'm almost impressed." Is it Luna's imagination, or does her professor sound a bit breathless?
There is an awkward silence, and all the pair can do is stare after one another. Each knowing what they want, but not sure in how to achieve it. They itch to be close.
"Yes, well," says Snape resisting the urge to shuffle like a simpleton, "try out a dream tonight and record how it affects your psyche."
"Shouldn't we test these long term on some rats instead?" She asks, her face red.
"Yes, quite right. I'll procure what we will need. You— why don't you take tonight off. You did a fine job today."
"Thank you professor."
Before Luna could say anything else, her professor is off with a snap.
The dungeons have grown cold with time. The walls groan and the halls howl as skin biting air escapes through the cracks in the castle's brick. Yet, somehow, Severus Snape does not feel the crippling sadness that seems to come every year with the winter. He ponders the reason, and decides that he is no longer suffering from seasonal depression because he is no longer alone in the dark underbelly of Hogwarts. Luna Lovegood twirls around his cauldron in a Mrs. Clause dress which captivates his attention—distracting him from jotting down notes. The dress is red, and sparkles when the light of the candles catch the fabric as she spins. A thick black belt with an obtrusive yellow buckle secures the dress to her waste as the bottom floats up around her legs which have been covered in green stalking's. The blond grabs the potion's stirring stick, stirs the potion three times, and then takes it for a dancing partner. Lovegood holds her new partner in front of her, gives a smile and a curtsey, then begins to waltz around the caldron.
It is all Snape can do to not roll his eyes as he fights the urge to say something scathing.
She has been doing this often. To be more precise, the day dreamer has been dancing with the potion's stirring stick ever since McGonagall announced a winter ball a week prior. It annoys Snape to no end: another dratted ball where he would be forced into dress robes and be placed on 'kissing patrol.' Kissing patrol is Snape's least favorite obligation. He recognizes that this particular duty gives him the excuse to cause distress among his most infernal students, however, seeing young adolescents slobber over each other's faces all night has never been and will never be a 'good time'. His eyes narrow as he forms a glare in Lovegood's direction, her giddiness setting him on edge. Suddenly, the thought of who the free spirited girl is going with becomes his utmost concern.
He will have to be vigilant, as he is now her protector.
You fully understand that she is a high risk target? The words echo in memory.
Hermione had asked Snape to keep the girl safe. The moment the position of body guard was proposed, Snape had turned into a hawk. He became familiar with Lovegood's daily routine, or at least gained an understanding of what a semblance of her typical day looked like, as the chit had no routine. He studied her body language with intensity. For instance; when Lovegood is on high alert her posture stiffens. Whether this means she is on high alert because she hears 'the dungeons talking' or she has spotted a mouse skittering about is more difficult to discern. Typically, Lovegood's posture is held in a loose pose and her eyes stay distant. One thing Snape noted is that although it seems her mind is somewhere else completely, she is always taking in her environment. At times it is just the color of the walls. At others it is the way his eyes wrinkle when he tries to fight off a smile. She had told him of this the day before, and then proceeded to show him the amount of tally marks she had made—one for every time she saw him almost smile. "It's not perfect," she had said, "but one day I'll make you smile so hard you'll be feeling it for days."
The memory gives his heart a painful lurch.
He frowns and rubs his chest as Lovegood laughs at something the potion's stick has supposedly said. Snape sighs, and admits that in her delicate yet intense ways, she has bound him to her. He will forever belong to her, just as he still belongs to Lilly, and if it had been anyone but the girl he never would have agreed to Hermione's task. Snape had not meant to take on such a responsibility. In fact, it was his intention to ignore those in need for the remainder of his miserable life. Initially, he had responded to Hermione's mission with a nonnegotiable no.
"Why not?"
"A detestable job, Granger. I've only just started living without another life on my conscious and you'd have me take the eccentric Lovegood on? Absolutely not."
"You understand, Professor, that 90 percent of the participants turned during project pureblood and that the few who have not—like Luna—have been hunted down and triggered with a mere word."
"You did inform me yes."
"And as her friend, you still refuse to look out for her, even though you fully understand that she is a high risk target?"
. . . a high risk target.
He had faltered then. Snape knew, even without Grangers prompting, that he would guard Lovegood. It is all that he is worth in the end anyhow—someone else's life. This time there will be no bitterness at the job thrust before him. This time there will be no anger. He is not upset at the prospect of taking care of the only person who has shown an ounce of understanding. There is only fear, and hope. His fear is for her safety as he has failed all of the woman in his life: his mother, Narcissa . . . Lilly. His hope is that this is the cause that will finish him off. He hopes that saving her life will be the end of his. To die in the name of her would not be so terrible.
He wonders if she would miss him? Snape watches her dance, his chest constricting.
She counts the steps, one two three forms silently on her lips as she furrows her brow in concentration. Snape notices a stiffness in her frame, and itches to place a hand on the crook of her back in order to ease her posture. He snorts at that thought—him dancing with Lovegood, what a sight that would be. Lovegood smiles, and finishes off her waltz with a spin. One of the Candy Cain earrings she has adorned this evening slips from her ear and goes flying across the classroom. Immediately Lovegood stops, feels for the missing earing, and scrunches up her nose. Snape has to stifle a snort.
A nose scrunch: Luna Lovegood's indication that she is either confused or irritated.
Lovegood then gets on all floors and begins to crawl about his classroom. Snape merely lifts a brow, and continues to watch in amusement. It is at moments like these that Snape must consider himself: what does it say about his character that he has formed an attraction to a female that loses everything? He has no answer, and continues to watch Lovegood who has been crawling on the floor for some time now. She then spots something under a students' desk. Sticking out her tongue in determination, she bends her head underneath the wooden frame. Snape has stopped pretending to do work, and now stands with a smirk and arms crossed in front of his chest. He should stop her but he has been so board as of late, and if nothing else, Lovegood proves to be entertaining. He decides to let the scene play out.
Lovegood inspects the object, frowns, and then sits up forgetting that she is still underneath a desk. The bang of her head fills the room, followed by a meek and startled 'oof.' The desk teeters from the sudden impact, and then falls back, slamming on the floor. Luna Lovegood stares at her professor with the most bewildered look, eyes wide and shining.
"By all means," Snape says sardonically, "continue. "
"I have lost another earing." Lovegood frowns and rubs the new bump swelling on her head.
Snape offers Lovegood his hands as she persists on sitting on the grungy floor. "With all the jewelry I have confiscated I am perplexed that you still have any left to lose." She takes his hands but does not use them to pick herself up. Instead she gazes at them and traces the marks left by war and abuse up his arms. The hairs on his arms prickle much like a dog when its hackles stand on end. He is ready for defense, to put her down if she decides to ask questions. She does not. With a squeeze of his hand she looks up into his face. "Scars can ruin a person you know? Or give them knowledge. I suspect that you are somewhere in between."
He has never felt so exposed.
When he gains his senses he has her up and standing on her feet. Quickly he disengages their hands and takes a step back. He must keep his guard up, or risk doing something utterly disastrous and reproachable. Her lips are ever pink.
"I've been thinking," She says, a hand on her hip and her head cocked.
"A dangerous pass time," Snape remarks. It is not in jest, as many of the things Lovegood cooks up in that head of hers has been a bit bizarre.
"Well," she stops, and stands on her tip toes while leaning into Snape. He can feel her breath on his chin and forces his hands behind his back. He could hold her now if he'd like, lean in and incase that mouth of hers with his own. He cannot, should not. Instead he forms a sneer exposing teeth. He remembers that Lovegood thinks his teeth are yellow in nature and closes his mouth.
"What in blazes are you doing?" Snape snaps. He refuses to retreat or lean back. Strength is shown by keeping ones composer.
"I am trying to see if you are in a listening mood."
Snape takes his hands and places them on Lovegood's shoulders, pushing her down and far away from him. "A listening mood?"
"Yes, sometimes you see, I will make a perfectly good suggestion for the sleeping draught and for some reason you don't seem to hear me. I'm making sure this time you will. I don't see any creatures blocking your ears. Perhaps I should grab my Spectrespecs and try again?"
Snape growls low and has a certain irritated bite to his words. "I am listening Miss. Lovegood. Please, indulge my curiosity."
Lovegood arches a brow much in a Snape manner, and then nods her head. "Alright then, I was thinking that we've been going on about this all wrong."
"Excuse me?"
Lovegood frowns. "I would rather wait to excuse you when I'm done explaining. Could you wait a moment?"
Her reply is so misplaced that Snape almost smiles. He wonders if she will be marking this in that book of hers. "I can wait." He says his tone of voice now calm. This is Lovegood for Merlin's sake, nothing she says is ever meant in harm.
"Thank you Professor. I was thinking that instead of trying to make a draught that gives you dreamless sleep, we could brew a draught that gives you good dreams. I know it doesn't line up with your grey demeanor," Grey demeanor? Thinks Snape, "but it may be good for you to try something new."
Snape takes a moment to assess what Lovegood has said. She may have a point, creating a dreamless non addictive draught may be unlikely to happen given the wizarding worlds current lack of knowledge on potions related to sleep. However, the wizarding world's knowledge on dreams is a vast and fast growing science. Creating a draught related to dreams may make their venture possible.
"Go on."
"I thought that we could take a stroll down to Wizard Wheezes and see what Fred and George have to say. They have potions that allow you to dream up your wildest fantasies. It's quite extraordinary really."
Fred and George are perhaps Snape's least favorite students, after Neville of course. But the idea of exploring Hogsmead with Lovegood is much too tempting.
"Alright." He says. Lovegood's eyes widen in shock.
"Really?"
"Yes; seeing the weasel twins will be a headache, but I see the appeal in changing our idea of the draught."
Lovegood has never looked so inspired. "It's going to work you know."
"Are you always so sure of yourself?"
"When it matters."
"And this matters?"
Lovegood scrunches up her nose. "Of course it matters; it's going to help you."
In this moment, Snape realizes that if anything happens to Luna Lovegood it will be the end of any spirit he has left. Lovegood stares at Snape for a moment, and lets out a soft laugh. Timidly she takes his hand then quickly, so that he cannot pull away, twirls beneath it. Snape takes a step back and yanks his hand to his side. Lovegood's cheeks are pink and her eyes glisten.
"Another time then." She states, and then she is twirling away toward the caldron. Snape stares after her until a sparkle catches his eye. He glances at the floor by his feet, and there— right next to his shoe—is the missing earing. With the spinning blond distracted by the potion, Snape leans down and picks up the candy cain and slips it into his robes.
What Lovegood doesn't know won't hurt her.
One, two, three. One, two, three.
Luna has been counting out this particular beat out in Hogwarts' court yard all evening. The sun is now low, and the wind has a nasty bite to it, but she does not mind. She imagines the sting of the air is giving her the same sort of feeling on her skin as the winter ball will when everyone is looking at her dance. She has never been a very good dancer—formally that is. Dances like the waltz make Luna have to do the most uncomfortable things like straighten her spine and keep count in her head. She remembers asking for McGonagall's help when Harry had invited her to Slughorn's party during her fourth year. McGonagall's delight in teaching her favorite dance's soon grew into a concerned irritation as Luna continued to miss count and step on everyone's feet. Thankfully it had not mattered as Harry had left her the moment they entered the party. No—Lovegood much preferred her own dances, the ones where her daddy would bang the tambourine on his knee while her mother hummed the most lovely tune. Luna would stretch her arms above her head and sway, pointing her face up toward the sky with a sense of utter freedom.
This year, however, Luna wanted to dance with someone.
Luna has now gotten through the most basic steps of the waltz (left foot change, right foot change, and box step) without falling. She squeals, clapping her hands together, and turns toward Ginny who is sitting on a log on top of the snow. Ginny and Luna had quickly made up after her discharge from the medical ward. Luna had not been mad with Ginny as she had been with Neville, because Ginny never left her side. Luna understands that her best friend had been looking for signs of subterfuge, but had done so in order to keep the true Luna—the one who was hidden underneath brain wash and abuse—safe.
"How was that?" Luna asks.
Ginny looks maddeningly board. "It looks fine Luna. Honestly, I don't know why you care so much. It's not like you're going to the ball with anyone."
Luna frowns at this. It is true. The ball takes place the night before everyone leaves for their winter break which is a week from today, and no one has asked her to accompany them. But Luna has decided that she will have fun, even if she is alone. "I want to dance well, in case someone does ask."
Ginny lets out a deep breath and nods her head after swiping her nose which runs from the cold. "Wouldn't you rather just get butter beer and watch a movie with me that night? I'd like to hang out with you before I leave for a couple weeks."
Luna frowns, "you could come to the dance with me."
Ginny lets out a laugh. "Bugger all that Luna. You know I hate formal gatherings."
Luna does know this, but thought she would ask anyway. Well—Luna could use this time to continue arguing with Ginny, or she could keep practicing as she has yet to master the other steps to a waltz: the forward progressive and the promenade. She will keep practicing. With a twirl she dismisses Ginny and takes a moment to spin. Luna loves spinning. In the distance Luna can hear Ginny stand and swipe snow from her pants and jumper.
"Luna I've got to go inside, I can't feel my bottom anymore. I'll see you tomorrow okay?"
Luna hums to indicate to Ginny that she was heard.
And then she is alone. Luna lifts up her hands as she twirls in her solitude, feeling the icy air on her fingertips. If she listens hard enough, she can almost hear her daddy's tambourine and her mother's lilting hum. She takes this time to imagine that she is an ice queen, born in the months of winter, and with her finger tips she can direct the cold winds in any direction she chooses. She chooses east, and stops suddenly, sticking out her right foot and slamming it into the earth as a strong ice queen would do. Only, she has slammed her foot into a hole in the ground. Her ankle gives out and Luna utters a startled cry as she falls to the earth. A puff of white flies upwards and settles on top of Luna's hair. Once the earth has settled, Luna slowly sits up and inspects her ankle. It seems to be alright.
"Well," she says to her feet, "that was all rather silly."
"I'd say so."
Startled, Luna looks up to see Draco with a questioning look adorning his face. "What in the blazes are you doing?"
Luna smiles at her friend curiously. Draco hates the cold, so much so that he has taken great lengths lately to avoid going outside. Anything that made Draco the least bit uncomfortable was always done away with. It is to his chagrin that he cannot control the weather. "Why hello Draco, it's always a joy to see you in the snow."
Draco blushes. "It's almost past curfew. I was worried."
Luna smiles; Draco is one of her greatest friends. "That's very sweet of you, but there's no need to worry, I'm perfectly all right."
Draco nods his head and then lifts an eyebrow. "What are you doing out here anyway?"
"Dancing."
"You call that dancing?"
It is Luna's turn to blush. "Well, just then I was trying to control the winter. But before I was practicing the waltz. I haven't quite got it down yet, I still have two more steps to learn."
"Even I can't control the weather, Lovegood. Stand up for a moment." Luna does, and Draco is now assessing her. He walks in a singular circle looking her up and down. Luna feels as if she is being auctioned off on some podium. He then stops and places a thumb on his jaw as if contemplating something important.
"I'll teach you." He decides.
"You will?" Luna is ecstatic.
"I will. You've got the legs for it."
Luna frowns at this. "Draco, if you continue to judge girls based on their looks you'll find yourself very lonely."
Draco is stunned at Luna's reply. Good, thinks Luna, I have taught him a valuable lesson. Luna then walks up to Draco and holds out her hands, because they are friends and she will forgive him for treating her like a prized pig—this time anyway. "I'm ready."
Draco is able to shake off whatever it was he was feeling (stunned because the only one in his life who has ever corrected him on his manners was his mother, and at times Snape) and takes out his wand, twirling it once. A lovely tune issues forth from his wand's tip, as well as mist which forms into the musical notes being played by what sounds like a violin. Luna smiles, and has to stop herself from twirling some more. Draco steps into Luna and leads her into the dance.
He is spectacular.
She had never noticed how firm Draco's body was, but as he commands the dance Luna can feel his strength. He pushes and pulls her in a way that is a bit overwhelming and Luna's heart begins to palpitate in the extreme. She has to force herself to look down to ease her uncomfortability, and investigates their feet. They are swift in their movement, but now that Luna pays her feet mind, they begin to stumble and she almost steps on Draco. Quickly she begins to count to get her feet back on track.
One, two, three. One, two, three.
Draco's fingers are now on her chin and they lift her head up until she is gazing into his eyes. "Don't think about it so hard," he whispers, and his eyes are so intense and so close that Luna feels the air leave her lungs. Has anyone ever looked at her this way before? Is everyone supposed to look at their dancing partner with such passion—she supposes it does inspire intimacy. Yet, still, he is so close and so warm that it makes it hard to think. As the dance continues, and while Draco's eyes refuse to leave her own, all she can picture is Snape's dark muddy browns. Does he dance as well as Draco? Would he ever look at her so intensely if they were to waltz?
The dance slowly draws to a finish and Draco dips her low to the ground, so low that she can feel her hair brush the snow. Yet his arms do not shake from the weight of her.
"See," he says, his breath on her neck, "it's not so difficult." Draco then lifts her and drops his arms from her waist, taking a step back. It is all Luna can do to not fall down on her wobbly legs. She feels as if she has turned to jellow.
"You're extraordinary, Draco. I—thank you for teaching me."
"You should go with me." He says. He is breathing hard and his eyes shine as they have never shone before.
"Go with you to what?" Luna's mind runs slowly as it is still clouded from the dip.
"You and I, we should go to the ball together. I was planning on staying in that night, 'cause formality has been making me nauseous. But going with you could be fun. Don't you think so?"
Before she contemplates her answer she hears herself saying, "yes."
"Good, it's a date then." He smiles, and then is wrapping his arms around himself as if just remembering they were still outside, "come inside with me? My tits are freezing."
Luna nods, and in a hazy cloud follows him into the warmth.
The doorbell shrieks in Snape's ear as he opens the door to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. He takes a moment to close his eyes and breathe: he should have expected something as irritating to greet him in this maddening place. He messages his temples, getting himself ready to see the dratted twins. He can only imagine what this meeting will be like, in fact, he can only imagine what the twins will be like. He has not seen them since they flew out of Hogwarts, fireworks spurting from their brooms. If Snape were a bigger man, he would let them know he thought it was one of their better pranks and if that toad Umbrage had stayed a moment longer at Hogwarts, Snape would have done something drastic himself.
The woman had been a nuisance with all her pink frills and kittens.
But Snape has never been known for giving complements, and would not start now. Another breath, and then he opens his eyes. A mad house indeed. The place is oddly full for a Wednesday. There are a gaggle of girls surrounding a booth full of floating hearts that hold potions inside to his left. Two shrieking boys are throwing small balls at one another to Snape's right. The balls explode dying one boy's hair green, and giving the other a pigs' snout. And then Snape is looking up to the spiraling stairs that are full of adults and children alike: they gaze at books, ears on strings, and various other gadgets that Snape does not care to know about. Then Snape looks ahead and quickly has to duck as a paper air plane zooms by his head and exits the door.
Snape grumbles, brushes off his cloak, and then hears her laugh.
"You missed, that's five sickles gentlemen." Her voice is soft and bell like. He follows the sound to the front of the store where the checkout line has been placed. Lovegood stands on her tip toes, leaning over the counter where Fred and George stand. They are both smiling, but fake their agitation at losing what Snape could only imagine was a bet.
"No fair Luna,"
"You saw me miss in the future, admit it."
"Seer."
Luna Lovegood rolls her eyes, a gesture Snape had not known the girl could make.
"I did not, and even if I did I still won. Gimmie." She sticks out her hand, palm flat.
Snape strides up to the counter and hovers just behind Lovegood. "And just what is it you have bet, Miss Lovegood?" She squeals and turns quickly, finding herself trapped between her professor and the counter. She blushes and looks to her feet.
"I told them they wouldn't be able to hit you with one of their paper airplanes."
Snape is unsure why Lovegood has decided to make bets at his expense, but blames the twins. They are the worst kind of influence. "Ah," says Snape and then turns toward the two red heads, "I hear you are experts on creating potions for dreams."
The twins smile, much like a chestier cat, which sets Snape on edge.
"If it isn't Snivels!"
"Good 'ol Snivels!"
Snape has not heard someone call him Snivels in a long time. In fact, he had not heard that nickname since Serious. He is all too sure that his long lost enemy had taught this name to the mischievous twins, and understands that to react to such a silly name would be giving the twins what they wanted: entertainment. Yet still, his vision tunnels and if he is not too careful he knows he will begin to see red. Snape can feel his breath labor, and is jolted back into the present when Luna smacks the back of Fred and Georges heads.
"Now, I'm not as scary as your mother. But if I have to tap into Molly Weasley to get you two to behave I am not above it. Understood?"
Fred and George are all too amused, and pretend to be hurt by pouting and rubbing their heads. "Wow Luna,"
"Yeah, it was only a joke."
"Just wanted to have a bit of fun with our old friend."
Lovegood then turns and takes her professor's hands. She has no gloves he notices, and can feel her cold finger tips seep through his woolen mittens. She smiles prettily up at him, and Snape knows that his presence here has meant the world to her. "I'm so glad you could make it Professor." She says, and then turns to the two boys behind the counter. "You have products to show us?"
Half an hour later Snape and Lovegood exit the back of the store, each with a load of samples. 'For research' Lovegood had said, but taking the erotic dream mixture had still caused Snape to blush. He does not know if he will drink them, and is not sure if this is actually something he wants to incorporate into his research. But he supposes he should just try, even if only to satisfy Lovegood.
At the moment Snape will just appreciate that he is no longer in that inane store.
Hogsmead is quite spectacular this evening. The sunset reflects off falling snow that has blanketed the walk ways. Snape is not sure how he feels about snow. It is cold, and wet, but when safely in doors he supposes it is nice to look at. He looks around himself and notices that he and Lovegood are in a hidden ally way. Best get out in the open, before others get the wrong idea—before Snape becomes brave enough to actually try to woo Lovegood.
What a silly notion. Wat a sad old man he is.
But then Luna twirls her wand and a song is playing, and Snape feels his package being removed from his grasp, and then cold hands are being placed into his own. Lovegood gazes into his eyes, and moves her feet. Snape stumbles at first, unsure as to what Lovegood is up to, when he recognizes the steps to a waltz. Before he truly thinks about his present situation and what it could mean for his own sanity later this night when he knows, knows he will think about what this dance meant to the allusive blond, he takes the lead.
Luna Lovegood is breathless. Snape moves her with such grace that Luna could almost believe she is floating on air. His body is broader than Draco's, sturdier, yet ever so graceful: like a cat. When he directs her body it is not overwhelming, but a suggestion: move your foot this way? His body continues to make polite questions and Luna's own responds in affirmation. Suddenly, he spins her out and away. For the briefest of moments she is cold, and then Snape spins her back into him. Her back is pressing against his front and he is now still, still as a statue. Luna is afraid her heart will burst from her chest.
As is Snape. He is sure she can feel it thud against her ribs. Yet, he cannot calm it. She is so close and smells of cinnamon. Her hair is silky and tumbles in waves and he was able to put his hand there, on the crook of her back where back meets bottom. She feels perfect in his arms, small and sweet and strong. She is so lovely, and all he wants in this moment is to place his head into the crook of her neck and breathe deep. To trace her jaw line to the base of her collar bone with his lips would be one of the world greatest pleasures.
Snape does not deserve such pleasure, and lets her go. Luna stumbles forward, surprised at the lack of contact, and turns slowly. She hopes he will not be angry with her. It is only, well, she dreams of dancing with him at the ball. She does not know why, but thoughts of him have been circling her brain like a pack of nates. She wants him close by her. It makes her feel safe, and he makes her feel understood.
"Thank you, for dancing with me." She says softly, not wanting to scare him off.
"You have gotten much better. I'm almost impressed." Is it Luna's imagination, or does her professor sound a bit breathless?
There is an awkward silence, and all the pair can do is stare after one another. Each knowing what they want, but not sure in how to achieve it. They itch to be close.
"Yes, well," says Snape resisting the urge to shuffle like a simpleton, "try out a dream tonight and record how it affects your psyche."
"Shouldn't we test these long term on some rats instead?" She asks, her face red.
"Yes, quite right. I'll procure what we will need. You— why don't you take tonight off. You did a fine job today."
"Thank you professor."
Before Luna could say anything else, her professor is off with a snap.