The bright light of morning used to make Severus shudder. His life used to be so dark and dim in every single way; vampiric; gothic. He lived in the dungeons. He crept in soundless shadows. He walked on the dark side of the moon. He cloaked himself in blackness as rich as night, and never suffered the harsh realities of daytime.
He'd made his own music then, in that grim lightless world of his, and the only glimmer of anything lovely and bright was the memory of Lily.
Lily, the white and shining armor that shielded his soul from the worst of his nightmares.
But these days, ever since getting sober, he'd stopped pulling down the opaque shades over his windows. The sunlight streamed in at natural moments, sometimes harsh, usually just golden. It always made him a little sad, as he recollected how long it'd taken him to get here.
That darkness in his life from before, it was mostly manufactured. It wasn't real. Once the clouds of chaos and stupor faded, he stared up at the clear blueness of the hemisphere and wondered what the fuck had kept him in the drudgery of his former life.
And now here he was, embracing a girl - nay, a woman - who he'd never really seen before. Not really seen in the real way.
Perhaps his life was more banal, now. It certainly felt that way, he thought to himself as he cradled this gentle young woman in his arms. He wore button-down collared shirts now. And khakis. *Khakis.* And he scarce could remember the last time he'd worn black. Sure he had a couple of ties and a jacket and some trousers, but they generally didn't all go together in one monochrome representation of his heart anymore.
And sometimes he wore - to his great astonishment whenever he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror - *Hawaiian patterned shirts.*
Granted, this had much more to do with the fact that these shirts came in the obscenely large sizes he required, and less to do with his own aesthetic preferences. But the old Severus wouldn't have been caught dead in anything more unconventional than plaid, and even *that* was out of character. Now, he actually liked the way a salmon-pink shirt splashed with neon-green palm fronds distracted from his graying temples, even at the risk of making his face look even more pink and hypertensive.
Maybe life was more plain, less romantic than it used to be. But Severus couldn't be arsed to want that old life anymore whatsoever.
He would give up a thousand unreachable Lily Evanses to make sure that this life with Luna went on forever.
...
After his initial freakout on her first night at his house, the couple settled into a comfortable routine. It only became more comfortable as time went on, to Severus' enormous relief and satisfaction. The burden on his shoulders lightened significantly as he adapted to the gentle presence of the wonderful creature in his midst.
He would toddle off to work, leaving her at the kitchen table surrounded by the detritus of a hearty breakfast meal he'd prepared. She grumpily sipped coffee and nibbled at sausage as he pressed a kiss upon her tousled bed-head.
The day passed uneventfully, with the typical comings and goings of coworkers, punctuated by discussions of technicalities to which Severus tersely responded. All the while feeling his heart lighten simply at the idea of coming home to Luna.
Well, most days anyway. Sometimes his anxiety made his stomach jump in his throat as he questioned the reality of his life. She couldn't really be interested in him, not really. It was all just a big long con and he was the victim of his own bleeding heart.
But then he'd get home, and find Luna engaged in the task of installing a hanging bar from the ceiling so she could read upside-down, hanging like a strange light-haired bat. Or painting magical murals on the walls, depicting some fairy tale or other that caught her fancy. Or training a coyote to howl along to Severus' Grateful Dead vinyls.
And even if he was infuriated by the way she was wrecking the house, he was also delighted that she was making it her own home, too. This knowledge only came after a few aggravated encounters and frustrated bleatings at his therapists. But ultimately he did find a way to accept Luna's quirks in stride, after much hand-wringing on his part: they devised an agreement that any permanent changes in terms of decor - constructive, destructive or otherwise - must be discussed at least a day in advance of actualizing them, for ninety percent of the house. For that remaining ten percent, Luna was given free reign over what came to be called 'the sewing room,' and its adjoining bathroom. Though as far as Severus knew, Luna never sewed anything in there at all. He wasn't even entirely sure if she knew *how* to sew. But the name stuck.
Honestly as time went on, the space looked much more like the Room of Requirement than anything else, but as long as the rest of the house was respected and liveable, Severus conceded the firetrap.
Anyway, their nights together were often starry, frequently spent in the pool or jacuzzi tub, and regularly involved quite a bit of bedroom-based athletics. On nights that were colder, they still sat out of doors, eating dinner on the patio and curling around a cozy firepit. Once the soles of Luna's shoes melted because they fell asleep there, their nighttime shadows becoming living snores while gazing into the sky.
And then, all too suddenly, it was Christmastime.
Now, Yuletide in southern California was an egregious oxymoron, in Severus' opinion. He couldn't remember a single Christmas here where the sun hadn't been shining every morning, every evening, every day.
Severus had tried very hard to forget Christmas existed. Unfortunately for him, the lab was always closed on the holiday, so he would be trapped at home like an agitated bear. Admittedly most years he'd just take some benadryl and knock himself out all day, to keep him from thinking too much.
But this year was different because Luna was there. And it seemed that Luna *adored* Christmas.
This Christmas was the first in his memory where it wasn't a sunny day. The temperature was in the mid-fifties and the sky was full of heavy rainclouds, but they parted sporadically to permit the passage of sunshine. San Diego went through periods flooded with light, and then heaven's shutters would suddenly close and they'd be back in the grey dimness of a misty sky.
There was a wreath of holly and roses on the door, hand-made by Luna on the twenty-first. A gingerbread house was built on the twenty-second, though it wasn't actually a house but a series of lumpy scattered chunks. Luna said it was a model of some ancient pagan ritual circle. Severus suspected this was just a lie meant to cover-up the fact that she'd tried and failed to make an icing that properly would bind the pieces together. (Not that he minded her mess, or the mopping up of it - once his tongue got to work, all that rich silky buttercream cleaned up quite nicely. Though his unhappy digestion didn't agree with his methods.) There was a fir tree in the living room, decorated in the old-fashioned way with dried cranberry garlands, spiced sugarplums, and balls of popcorn. There even were stockings on the mantel: one for Luna, one for Severus, and one for the scaled raccaslider, whose name (Severus had learned) was Penny.
Luna was looking darling and plump in her red sweater-dress, belted around her middle and with shearling trim on the sleeves and collar. Severus was grateful she hadn't bought him some kind of St. Nicholas outfit; instead she'd bought him a brand new turtleneck sweater in a very Slytherin dark green, for which he was eternally grateful.
Her university faculty Christmas party was today, the twenty-third, and Severus had agreed to attend. Begrudgingly, but only a little so. He couldn't really say no to this enchanting creature with full, plump lips and wide, crystal-blue eyes, and a heart that welcomed him so readily.
Luna bustled around, seeming like a slightly-dissociated Molly Weasley. Severus watched with a little smirk as she flustered over some figgy pudding, flour spilled all down her front and a generous smudge of batter on her chin.
"Come here," Severus purred once the pudding was in to boil, and he curled himself around her as she set the timer. And his tongue peeked out to lick up that wayward pudding batter.
He couldn't remember having had a more delightful holiday season. Ever, in his whole damn life.
Luna, like a squirming kitten, unwound herself from Severus' arms, pressing a deceptive kiss on his cheek as she wiggled away. It was just as well, Severus realized as she laughed and shone him a charming smile. He hoped she hadn't felt the hardness of a ringbox in his breastbone pocket. She probably hadn't - after all, there was some advantage to being as large as him, in the sense that the greater the surface area, the less likely it was she'd encountered that particular lump in their brief embrace. Couple this fact with the pleasant thickness of the sweater, and he probably was in the clear.
Still, to be safe, he patted that special lump and felt content that it was secure, unnoticed, and lost against the vastness of his body.
Now to find the right moment. Probably not today, but he didn't plan to take any chances.
"Help me with my hair?" Luna asked, backing up her sumptuous arse against his crotch. A blue satin ribbon dangled, adrift in her tresses where it had come out. Severus' fingers softly parted the waterfall of golden sunshine and identified the weak place in her engineering. Then, with his pudgy but adept hands, he began to gather her locks into a single plait. His fingers pressed along the soft skin of her forehead and brought back some flyaways, some of which artfully slipped again to frame her face.
Soon he tied it all into a bow, and he smiled as he finished, feeling pleased and a little giddy as he contemplated this new life of his.
He had a woman. He had a woman who he wanted to permanently invite into his life. He, Severus Snape, was not alone anymore.
Luna looked up and met his eyes, and her own were soulful and searching.
"You've got a secret," she observed, just a little oblique.
"Maybe," he said, and as a distraction he grasped a gingerbread biscuit left over from the day before. And he stuffed it in his mouth, an innocent defense against any probing questions.
But Luna wasn't really the type to probe, even if he wasn't thusly occupied; she had a kind of saintly patience that amazed him. She just smiled and agreed, "That sounds fine."
...
The party was quite well attended, all things considered. All Luna's usual suspects were there; all the people she talked about during their nighttime conversations. There was Kitty the ecological magic department chair, as vanishingly small and ancient as Luna had suggested. There was Gertrude the philosophy of scientific magic professor, wearing climate-inappropriate tweed and cheerfully going on about her horses. Reynaldo, a famous dark wizard known for his studies on geckos. Not to mention Steven Scamander, cousin to Rolf, who laughed a little too awkwardly at everything Luna said.
Luna herself was splendiferous in her holiday regalia; she wore a silver diadem reminiscent of Rowena Ravenclaw's, and she carried herself with a stately beauty unmatched by any of her coworkers.
Severus had never felt so proud to be someone's date in all his history. His heart was practically bursting with fierce, hot affection for his lady. And the way the other men kept glancing at her delightful comely behind - well, Severus felt pretty chuffed about that, too. He knew it wasn't very progressive of him, but he liked thinking about the fact that *that was his cute little arse* and none of these other blokes could ever get near it.
And when she glanced at him, catching his eye, she simply grinned at him, knowing *exactly* what he was thinking. And loving it.
Soon enough, dinner was served, buffet-style. Severus bounced on the soles of his feet, considering whether to risk looking like a big fat glutton and join the food line too early. In the end, he was saved this disgrace because he saw Luna grab two plates, and cast him a reassuring smile.
She knew how to take care of her man. So, to ease his aching limbs, he settled into a chair for a long winter's binge.
Luna looked a little excited when she came around to join him at the table, to the point that he almost wondered if she wanted to drag him into the bathroom and shag him senseless against the wall.
"I'm not much for pudding," he confessed as he looked at his plate. There was an entire pudding there, sticky and toffee and sexily shining with syrup and glaze. But truth be told, he was *not* much a fan at all, having some painful childhood memories associated with the food.
"Oh," Luna said, and looked a little put out. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."
There seemed to be something much more significant at stake here, though, and Severus quickly amended, "But for yours, my dear, I'll happily make an exception." So saying, he took a spoon and sank it into the spongey cake.
There was a dull clang as his utinsil hit something. At first, he assumed it was the plate, but then he realized that he was only partway through the victual.
"What the..."
He gently teased apart the doughy substance and then quizzically furrowed his brow. There seemed to be something metal in the sweet.
"Did you lose an earring?" he asked, glancing up to Luna and looking to see if one earlobe seemed unusually bare. So saying, he pulled the thing out of the cake, and then realized to his surprise that it wasn't an earring at all.
"Dammit woman," he cursed under his breath, though his heart was pounding so loudly in his chest that he was beginning to feel faint. "Dammit."
He looked at his lovely lady, who was laughing nervously, a sign of extreme anxiety on her part. It took a lot to break her unendingly positive affect.
No. He was not so much a coward that he would let his woman do the difficult thing he'd been meaning to do himself.
Before she could say anything, his fingers slipped into his shirt pocket, and he grasped that little velvet box. Then, with trembling fingers, he removed it from his breast, and then shakily eased himself up out of his chair, and onto one knee in the traditional fashion.
"Luna," he breathed, feeling terror creeping out of every pore in his body, "Would you be so kind as to do me the honor?"
He didn't have to say anything more, because Luna was crying and draping herself over him in tears of joy, or frustration, or something in between. "Yes, Severus," she cried, and he didn't even have the heart to correct her use of his given name rather than his cover-up name. "Of course I will. Of course."
And so to the polite applause of Luna's coworkers, the two of them kissed tenderly and passionately beneath the mistletoe.
...
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