That afternoon, she returned, a basket in her arms and a wide smile on her face.
"You appear even more cheery than usual." He mumbled, as he looked up from his book.
"Oh, I am." She stepped into the room and set the basket and her bag down. "Ms Weasley sent some dinner for us. Are you hungry?"
"She doesn't trust me to feed you?" He frowned as he stood and picked up the basket, the smell of warm bread overcoming his disapproval.
"Don't be ridiculous. She knows you are still recovering and of my questionable stomach." She moved to the kitchen, and he followed.
Together, they unpacked the basket and set the table for two.
As they sat she smiled. "We had an interesting conversation today."
"Only one? You were away all day."
She chuckled. "Well, this one in particular I thought you might take interest in."
His eyes narrowed. "How enlightening. And what might that be?
"Let us tell your story next, Severus!" Her eyes begged, "Your survival is big news. Let The Quibbler be the one to tell the world."
He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Do not be daft."
She frowned, and he regretted his words. He cleared his throat. "What I mean is that you are likely the only one to have any positive emotion on my survival. And I still do not understand that." He shook his head.
"Severus. That's not true. Harry is grateful for everything, even said you were a hero. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, have all been positive. Even Mrs Weasley will likely forgive you at some point." Her eyes widened as her face brightened further. "You really should come with me to the Burrow next time."
He shook his head.
"Comon, Severus. It's going to get out sooner or later. You can't stay holed up here forever. Even if you try to go full Muggle, you will eventually be discovered. Why not let me take advantage of it all?"
He huffed and took a bit of the still warm bread. "I never saw you as one to try to take advantage of anyone, Ms Lovegood."
She flushed again. "I...I did not mean it exactly like that."
He laughed under his breath. "Of course not. I do not think you are capable of such thoughts."
"No. I probably am." She smothered some fresh butter onto her bread, and her eyes widened again. "Oh! We could get Rita Skeeter to write it. She's been after Harry every day to get his 'real story' ever since the memorial." She rolled her eyes. "I cannot even imagine what she would think of this scoop." She giggled.
Severus's lip curled. "That sounds charming."
"But seriously. For some reason, people love her columns. It would be guaranteed to be a big deal. Won't you please consider it?" She leaned over the table, her silver eyes begging him as though they had been friends for years.
"I will.'
"You will? You will do it?" She leaned closer.
"No. I will consider it." He said dryly.
"Thank you." She smiled, and continued to work at her dinner. "How was your day?"
"Uneventful."
She shook her head but did not respond as they both continued to partake in Mrs Weasley's generous offering.
Severus set the tea kettle to boil as he cleared the table. "Chamomile?"
"Yes. Thank you."
He turned from the witch and prepared two cups of tea, adding a bit of calming tincture to his own cup as he considered her previous request. He had no desire for any fanfare or celebrity, but it would be relief in some ways to control the circumstances around his reveal and to once again go about his daily activities without inevitable awkward encounters and disbelief.
Handing her a cup, he sat back at the table.
She leaned back and sipped her tea, watching him with her strange wide eyes.
He tried to ignore her eyes, but even more so, he tried to ignore how exposed he felt beneath her gaze despite his usual black coat layered over his white collared shirt buttoned as though he were in front of the classroom.
"Your nausea?"
"Improving. I have found certain foods more appetising that others, but Mrs Weasley tells me that is quite normal and will last throughout. She said to expect odd cravings as well, but I have not had any at this point."
He nodded and took a long drink of his cup. "Please inform me if there are any preferences of which I can accommodate."
Her wide eyes locked onto his. "I am capable of providing for my own needs, Severus. Even more so now that the Quibbler is making a profit."
"When have you ever been required to obtain your own essentials, Luna?"
"Daddy and I had a lovely garden at home. It provided quite a lot." She shrugged as her smile faded.
Severus stared out the window about the stove. His garden that had once brimmed with potions necessities, herbs, and a few vegetables and berry vine or two had long since been overtaken by weeds and neglect. "Would you like to help redeem the garden here?"
Luna stood and went to the window. "Oh yes. Very much."
"Then it is yours to do with what you please." He waved a hand to the window.
"Wonderful. I will get started tomorrow." With one last loud sip of her tea, she looked down into the cup, humming to herself as she sat back down. "Oooh."
"What do you see in that cup of yours, Luna?" He leaned forward. He knew it was rubbish, divining tea leaves, but her answer may still be of interest.
"I don't know yet. May I have yours?" She asked with a mischievous grin.
He pushed his empty cup to her after a moment. .
She stared into the two vessels for a long moment and grinned. "I think you are going to agree to let me tell your survival story." Her begging eyes met his again.
He sat, as rigid as ever, but very much alive in his characteristic crisp black frock coat buttoned to the chin and flowing jet black robes, sipping something from his tea cup; Hogwarts' now infamous potions master, Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor, and briefly Headmaster, Severus Snape, until this point believed dead. His piercing dark eyes watched me with suspicion and his smooth baritone voice almost imperceptibly altered by the once assumed fatal injury to his neck, spoke to me as though I were still his student.
Luna giggled as she read the article aloud sitting on the sofa across from him. "I think she fancies you, Severus."
"An unpleasant thought."
She giggled again.
He spoke of the Potter-boy's recount of events as, "an overly sentimental version of the facts... It is true I was once close with Lily Evans. She lived just down the street from myself when we were children."
And the romance? "A wayward friendship that became difficult to maintain in the later years. It was never anything more."
She looked up at him, eyes full of questions, but said nothing, to his relief, and continued reading.
And of the supposed love-magic that protected Mr Potter from death that night eighteen years ago. "She loved that boy with all she had, as I am sure many mother's do. I have no doubt that that love contains very powerful magic; a magic Tom Riddle would have never understood or conceived of. Turned out to be his Achilles Heel, it seems. Albus [Dumbledore] suspected it would be from the beginning. His plans depended on it. Fortunately for all of us, he was correct." Although the wizard-spy had not always been as confident. When Harry Potter reported the return of the He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and the death of Cedric Diggory during the Triwizard Tournament, he was unsure if playing the role of triple agent was doing anything more than delaying the inevitable.
With great pains, he returned to the ranks of Death Eaters to do the bidding of the now deceased Headmaster. From the inside, he warned of the impending dangers and states he did what he could to minimize the damage. Despite his best efforts, he did witness many horrific things. How much he actively participated in remains a partial mystery, but he does state, murder is not on his conscience.
And of Headmaster Dumbledore's death? "It is as Mr Potter reported." Despite further questioning, he would not elaborate on the account leaving one to only assume he has strong feelings hidden beneath that cold persona.
"Rubbish," Severus interrupted. "Potter already said all that is needed on the subject."
Luna raised her eyebrows but continued.
Snape readily admits at one time being drawn to the allure of the dark arts and the many promises made by the now defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named but learning of his plans to target infants, especially those of his former close friends and schoolmates, quickly changed his allegiances.
And yet he seemingly had no trouble torturing his students, even the youngest, during his brief time spent as Headmaster of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, if previous reports from some of those students are to be believed. "Yes, well, I do not know any Professor who has not at least considered it in their career."
"Did you really say that?" she frowned.
"It was taken out of context, but yes." He shrugged.
She shook her head, a small smile on her face. "I always wondered if you enjoyed some of the things you did to us?"
"You always wondered?" He raised an eyebrow. How often had she considered him before their unfortunate meeting at Malfoy Manor?
"Well yes. Taking points from anyone but Slytherin seemed to be a particular passion for you, even when not entirely justified. And you certainly seemed to have it out for Harry, Ron, and Hermione."
"Did I?" He did, but had it been so apparent or just to the perceptions of this uniquely perceptive witch?
She nodded. "And you could be quite rude at times."
"Patience has never been my strong point."
"Oh, I disagree. You were always incredibly patient with me. Perhaps just with those three. Oh, and Neville, of course. But I suppose you had your reasons didn't you?"
He gave a single nod.
"I mean, if I think about it, they probably reminded you a lot of some of the students you went to school with. What I know of Harry's father, and his friends… and what I've put together from listening to Harry -"
"I think that's enough theorizing about the inner workings of my mind, Ms Lovegood." He interrupted, jaw tense as he tried to keep his voice steady.
Her eyes widened. "I'm sorry, Sir. I didn't mean to get so assume again..." She looked away.
He sighed as he assessed his mental shields. Could Potter have toldt her of his stolen memories? He did not want to believe the witch could read him so plainly. But she was correct. The Potter boy and his following very much reminded him of those Gryffindors from his youth in so many ways. At least, however, they had chosen something more valuable to do with their time than tormenting less fortunate students.
She broke the silence as she cleared her throat. "Shall I continue reading?"
He nodded.
A friend of the Professor, Lucius Malfoy, responded to the news of his survival. "There has always been more to Severus than most credit him for. I cannot say I am entirely surprised by any of the recent revelations. Although he did fool many."
His wife, Narcissa added, "He has been willing on many occasions to protect his students, even with his life. Many should be grateful for his presence throughout this tumultuous time. We all had to make difficult choices during it all."
Her eyes narrowed as she bit her lower lip. She must be considering her own experiences with the Malfoy's.
"Such flattery. A pity Lucius was able to avoid all punishment."
She nodded. "But not surprising. It is the way of things, isn't it? The powerful and well connected are always given benefits others are not."
He nodded. Again the young witch proved wise beyond her years, but perhaps it was because she had seen much beyond her few years as well.
And how did he survive the attempt on his life? "Quick actions by some heroic students. Some of the same well known to be part of the resistance against my administration, and the brilliant care by those at St Mungos. I had no part in that."
He had fully meant to die. Perhaps even planned it as atonement for his past transgressions. But he would not elaborate on that either.
And of the future? For once since graduating Hogwarts, his life will not be defined by rising dark lords or Magical Wars. He says he will, "Finish a few potions manuscripts and take time to catch up on some reading." Although, my sources suggest he may return to Hogwarts in the spring, the ever cryptic wizard would neither confirm or deny this.
"So? Will you be returning to Hogwarts this spring?"
"I have not been asked to do so. I am unaware of her 'sources.'"
"If you were?" She continued staring at the parchment in her hand.
"The income would be advantageous considering the circumstances."
She nodded as her large eyes became distant. "Yes. I suppose that is practical."
"Oh, there's one last line." She waved the manuscript.
Severus Snape; Scoundrel or Saint? Perhaps only time will be the judge of that.
Luna looked up at him from behind the draft. "So?"
He circled his hand before him, stirring the liquid in his tumbler and took a slow sip. "Scoundrel, I should say."
Luna laughed so hard she practically convulsed. "No. I mean. Can I publish it? I promised you would get the final say."
"No one is really going to care about this drivel."
"Then I can?" Her face became hopeful.
"If you insist," he grumbled.
"Good. I already paid Ms Skeeter. She included these photographs. Which do you prefer?"
He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Must there be a photo?"
"Of course, it can't be a front page without a photo?" She flipped through the stack of photos. "I find myself agreeing with Ms Skeeter's choice." She handed him the photo.
In it, he sat half shadowed, stirring the grey tea cup. He huffed. "It will do."
Luna took it back and cocked her head as she stared at it. "It makes you appear very mysterious. I think it fits the tone of the article well."
"And what will you call your article, Scoundrel or Saint?" He took another sip of whiskey as he watched as she chewed her lower lip in thought.
"No. That sounds like something Skeeter would call one of her dreadful books." Her nose wrinkled. "Perhaps 'Severus Snape, Very Much Alive.'"
That would do. He nodded.