Luna picked at the jellied toast he had prepared them both for breakfast that day as he watched over his tea cup, his mental wards raised, his memories and emotions back in check.
"Still nauseated?" He took a bite of his toast.
She nodded. "Better than the vomiting like before." She took a small bite with a shrug.
"I can brew you something for it." Unfortunately, it could only be teas and tinctures until he could get access to a potions lab again, but he would make due with what he could brew in his kitchen for now.
She nodded again, her eyes tired. "Thank you."
"I will go to the grocer today. What else might you require?"
"A muggle grocer?" She looked up at him with her wide, curious eyes.
He nodded. "Yes. There is one a short walk from here."
She watched him in silence, but her mind was clearly busy. "Yes. That makes sense then." She tilted her head, still studying him. "Not sleeping well?"
He shook his head. "Neither are you." He could see the dark circles beneath her bright eyes.
"That's true. Sleep has not been my friend recently." She sighed. "So strange as I do love to dream. Don't you?"
He snorted. He hardly remembered the time when his dreams had been something to welcome.
"No? That's sad. But I imagine your dreams are not always pleasant."
His jaw tightened as he checked his mental shields yet again. If she had been inside his head, he would have detected her by now. No one was that good, not even the Dark Lord.
She nodded and then looked down at the table. "I guess mine haven't always been recently either."
He swallowed as something inside him dropped into his gut. "The reason sleep has been so elusive, perhaps?"
"Perhaps…" She picked at her toast.
This was why he despised sharing space. He sensed he should say more, part of him even wanted to say more, but he dreaded where that conversation may lead. The proper thing, he knew, would be to ask her to elaborate or offer some words of comfort. He needed to say something at least, but he did not need to hear her speak the words to know what dark things haunted her dreams as they were likely some of the same which haunted him.
He stood, his limbs suddenly restless, and moved to pour himself another cup of tea. "More tea?"
She shook her head, her blond hair falling about her face. "If it is okay with you, I would like to go to the Weasley's today. We need to get another issue together soon if I am going to keep on schedule." She tucked the loose strands away.
He nodded. Would anyone actually notice if their Quibbler was late? He opted to keep those thoughts to himself. "And what will you tell them of your current living situation?"
"The truth." Her bright eyes locked onto his gaze.
"Which is what in your view?"
"That I am comfortable and well taken care of by a kind and generous friend. Unless you would prefer something else?" She raised an eyebrow.
"Maybe something more believable like nargles or vampire kidnapping?" He raised an eyebrow in return.
She gave him a sour look but replaced it with a crooked smile, revealing a lopsided dimple. "Many might believe you a vampire, Severus. I don't think it would take much to get that rumor going if that is your preference."
He huffed. "Likely so."
"But I am a terrible liar…" Her lips pursed. "I always have been. My father said it was because I usually just say whatever is on my mind. I don't entirely agree with him though. I just don't see a point in speaking contrary to it, but I am plenty capable of keeping my thoughts to myself when I choose."
He could argue that she rarely seemed to choose to do so, but what would that accomplish? "You are free to come and go as you please, Luna. I am not your guardian, and you are not a child anymore. The floo is open to you. Others, however..."
She laughed. "Are you worried I might surprise you with a sitting room full of Gryffindors?"
"It had crossed my mind."
"As amusing as that could be, I won't disrespect your kindness by overstepping."
"Luna, as long as you choose it, this space is as much yours as it is mine." It was the least he could offer, considering.
She reached over the table and touched his hand. He flinched as the warmth of her soft hand caught him off guard, and she pulled away. "Thank you." She smiled again. "Have a good day, Severus. Breakfast was lovely. I'm sorry I couldn't eat it and that I was such poor company. I will try to be better in the future." She bounced out of the room with another smile.
Such a strange witch.
The trip to the grocer had been mercifully uneventful. He had procured the necessities without issue, and no one knew of him or cared of his existence now or before. And the walk there and back brought much needed cerebration on his current predicament with Ms Lovegood. How long would it take before she tired of this arrangement? He imagined it would not last through the end of the week, but again what alternative did she really have? She could not possibly have the resources to rebuild her childhood home at this point. Go back to paying room and board at the Leaky Cauldron or the like? But they could not possibly go on playing house forever. At some point, there would be a child...his child. Their child.
He approached his front door and stopped, taking a slow deep breath, emptying his thoughts, clearing his head, and erected his mental walls.
As he stood in his kitchen over the pot of boiling water and a pile of freshly prepared tea leaves, he breathed in the aroma and thought about the potions lab; the soft sounds of a simmering cauldron, the smell of burning wood, the slight haze that hung in the air reflecting the flickering flames when he brewed. He missed it all. Most of all he missed the endless stock of ingredients readily available for whatever potion he dreamed or required. He thought of how easily he could brew a perfect abortifacient if only he had access to those stocks. How simple it would be to brew it into his anti-nausea tea undetectably and offer it to Luna. Then this ridiculous situation would end, and she could move on with her life. There would be no child.
He stared down at the tea kettle. Would Luna be able to connect the dots and pass the blame to him or would she simply believe it was meant to be? She did have the uncanny knack for seeing straight through his facade, but she also seemed to harbor an unearned amount of trust in him. He began listing the necessary ingredients in his head, anise, mugwort, thuja and pennyroyal to start but these would not be obtainable at the local grocer. He could owl his suppliers and have what he needed delivered easy enough, but he would therefore have to reveal himself, and would arouse suspicion surely with that ingredient list, neither of which he was not yet prepared to do.
He had brewed the potion before, more times than he would like to consider, first for fellow classmates and later for desperate students. Why did they always come to him? Of course that question was rhetorical. He knew exactly why. But he had never seen the effects in someone who had already quickened. Certainly, it would be much more dramatic and perhaps require multiple doses to be fully effective, but would it be harmful? As much as he wanted to tell himself that this was unlikely, he knew he could not bring himself to risk it. At least not without the proper research which was impossible in his current situation. Therefore, he would have to only continue to imagine the possibility rather than follow through.
He sighed as he placed the tea and boiling water into his tea pot to brew, inhaling the herbal and citrusy aroma. He had expected her to return by now. It was nearing dinner, but Molly probably ensured her a proper meal, or at least tried. That thought comforted and disgusted him at once. He could only imagine the snide commentary that Luna received from her companions today.
She entered the kitchen, her effervescent essence betraying her presence before she spoke. He might once have found this annoying, but today it brought an odd sense of relief.
"There you are." She approached, her face bright.
He poured the freshly brewed tea into a cup. "For your nausea."
She accepted, giving it a sniff as she watched him through narrow eyes over the cup.
He could not blame her for her suspicions, but again found himself taken aback by her ability to see into his head. "It is only that, I swear it, Luna."
"Peppermint, ginger, lemon and nettles?" She sipped tentatively, her features relaxing.
He nodded. "Yes. I've made some chamomile tea to assist in your insomnia should you desire." He pointed to the cupboard next to the stove.
"Thank you." She sipped again. "I think it is helping already."
He watched her as he sipped his own tea he had prepared earlier. Be kind. "How was your day?" He asked, the words feeling unnatural on his lips. Had he ever asked anyone something so mundane?
She shrugged. "Oh. Quite difficult actually. It is like we all have wrackspurts or something." She sighed and sat at the table. "Everyone is so distracted. The enthusiasm for the Quibbler has waned already. I expected it would eventually, but not so soon. Even I struggled to find motivation today." She circled her fingers on the wooden surface. "I think we have all finally started to feel all the things we have been trying not to. It was all rather unproductive but no one wanted to talk about why." She sighed again.
He considered what she could be feeling now that she'd been hiding from, but did not dare to ask, not wanting to hear those answers just yet, especially not in Luna's bluntness.
"We've already used up Harry's story," she continued. "It was brilliant, of course, but it is not an easy thing to follow. I think we are a bit intimidated by that fact. But the readers just want more and more and more about it all, and we all don't understand what else there is to want to know really. Harry really summed it up, and it's over now." She shrugged.
He nodded and sat across from her. It was not over for her, nor himself, considering, but verbalizing that thought would not be helpful at this moment. As they sipped their tea in silence, watching each other, he was again struck how she was not the same girl from before, at how much she had changed in such a short time. "What of Mr Longbottom, Ms Weasley, and yourself? You certainly have stories of what happened during your final year, do you not? Your own battles fought before the final one?"
Luna mumbled something under her breath that he could not understand.
"Do you disagree?" He raised a brow.
"No. I had considered that, and I think it would be a brilliant story..." Her lips tightened.
"But?"
"But it likely would not be flattering for you, would it?" Her pale cheeks reddened as she met his eyes with hers. "You were in charge when that all occurred and it really was awful even before my kidnapping."
He nodded slowly. Awful was too kind. "I was also an active participant, do not forget. The underlying circumstances do not change that fact. As a journalist, you should not fear the facts."
"I know. And Ginny would do an amazing job at writing it." She stirred her tea slowly, her gaze beyond the wall in front of her.
"And I'm now a martyr, thanks to Potter," he hissed, his teeth clenching.
"I guess people will likely understand now that they've heard Harry's story…" She looked unto her cup. "Yes. I will let her know to get working on it right away. It's not too late for this issue. Thank you." Her eyes returned to his.
How strange it was to have company in this kitchen. As before, her presence seemed to brighten the room even though today she wore a muted teal jumper over maroon trousers and what appeared to be dirigible plums hanging from her ears very clearly visible the way she chose to braid her long locks back down her spine. Strange witch.
She sat sipping her tea, he assumed her mind on the Quibbler.
"This is nice." She smiled.
He nodded.
"Thank you for inviting me here."
He nodded again. Her eyes indicated she had more to say.
"I..um...I feel safe here." She chewed her pale pink lip as she watched him.
Something twisted in his chest, but he held his stoic gaze. "I am glad."
"That is your happy face?" Her brow wrinkled as she tilted her head.
He huffed. "Yes."
She shook her head and smiled. "I don't believe it."
He shrugged, noticing the single dimple in her left cheek. "So be it."
She frowned, dimple fading. "I thought maybe you were less uptight in your own home, but maybe I was wrong."
"It would appear that way." He leaned back in his chair, sipping his tea, feeling the witch's eyes studying him.
"I mean, all buttoned up all the time, that same hardened expression on your face. When do you relax, Severus? I hope you aren't avoiding it because of me. Are you worried I might reveal that you are actually capable of anything else? Because I promise you, your secrets are safe with me." Her face twisted in a look of concern.
He took another long sip of tea as he considered her imploring gaze. This was about as relaxed as he had been in ages if he were being honest. He reached up and unbuttoned the top button of his frock coat. "Happy?"
She laughed. "It's a start, thank you."
He gave a single nod, resisting the smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "How is the nausea?"
"Better, thank you."
"Dinner?"
She yawned. "No, thank you. I ate at The Burrow, or tried anyway. Mrs Weasley made a lovely meal as always. It was almost like being back at Hogwarts."
He was about to insist she ate something more but held back, not sure how to do so without demanding it of her. He had no right to demand anything of her.
"I think I will attempt some sleep though." She stood. "Good night, Severus." She bowed her head as she passed him. "Thank you." She paused at the doorway and looked back at him with her unfocused, dreamy stare.
"Good night, Luna."
She smiled and turned.
As he heard her footsteps on the stairs, he leaned over the table, placing his head in his hands and sighed. Closing his eyes, he took some long breaths. He raised his head and unbuttoned the cuff of his left sleeve, pulling back the cloth to reveal the faded criss-crossing scars of the remnants of the Dark Mark. He traced the lines with his fingers. A faded reminder of the person he had once been, a wizard choosing power over all else. He knew better now, understood the sacrifices he had made, the suffering his choices had caused, and that power was not the only thing worth having. But did that really make him a changed man? He could never redeem himself from his terrible choices. A part of him would always be a Death Eater and that made him particularly unqualified to be any sort of parental figure, certainly not a father, and certainly not with someone so utterly contrary to himself.