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Title: Two Plans towards Kindness and Loud Growling
Author: iulia_linnea
Pairing: Snuna
Rating: R
(Highlight to View) Warnings: For shrinkage and the rising spectre of nappy changing.
Word Count: 5000
Summary: Severus finds himself in a Situation that Luna, because of her own concerns, is only too eager to help him resolve.
Disclaimer: This piece is based on characters and situations created by J. K. Rowling, and owned by J. K. Rowling and various publishers, including but not limited to: Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended by the posting of this fic.
Author's Note: Written for leela_cat as part of the snuna_exchange. Thank you, fodirteg, shiv5468, and unbroken_halo, for beta'ing.



After Voldemort's defeat, Luna wasn't surprised when Harry championed Professor Snape's cause for a time, nor did she find it odd when Minister Shacklebolt insisted that Snape's guilt or innocence should be tried publicly; they were both fair men: Harry didn't like to see a good man bullied, and Shacklebolt had a duty to the public. But when Snape was unkind to Harry, rebuffing him in front of revellers at the Three Broomsticks, it further didn't surprise Luna that Harry, who again, didn't like to see a good man bullied, changed his mind about helping their former professor out of that trial. So it was that the Wizengamot, after thanking Severus Snape for his service to Britain's magical community, sentenced him to one thousand, four hundred eight hours—specifically, four hours per day for one year without interruption—of community service for what had been proved of his crimes.

The sentence, Luna felt, was a good one. It would provide the professor with an opportunity to prove himself worthy of wizarding society and help those forgotten children. Snape had never been particularly good with students who could talk back to him, of course, but she hoped that his taciturn presence would be a steadying one for the babies, and hers, a kind one.

Because Merlin knows Peasy Patty isn't capable of being one, Luna thought sadly, surrendering her father's wand to the watchwizard in the Atrium of the Ministry—she didn't think he'd miss it, given that he'd elected not to use it as his new "friend" eschewed her own wand—before calmly approaching the Fountain of Magical Brethren. And I think Professor Snape will need help learning to be kind to anyone.

The Wizengamot, had it comprised more female judges, wouldn't have sentenced Snape to work with children, but men were odd, illogical creatures—her father, especially. How he could find Peasella Patricia Patterson-Wrackton worth spending time with was beyond Luna. Nargles, or perhaps Wrackspurts, had clearly got to the woman; her mouth was perpetually pinched from trying to hold back the vitriol with regard to Squibs that might otherwise spew from it and which Xenophilius, unfortunately, had never heard—and Patterson-Wrackton smoked tobacco in front of her charges at the Hogsmeade Foundling Home when she wasn't drawing her fetid breath to shush them.

Which isn't good for the children. Why Daddy can't see that she's not a nice woman

Luna stopped thinking about her father's "eyesight" abruptly, not liking to consider just what he did see in Peasy Patty, well, not liking to consider what he'd been doing with those attributes of the witch's that had attracted him to her.

And they are massive, aren't they?

Her course was clear: for the sake of the foundlings, she needed to be thrown together with Professor Snape in a way that Patterson-Wrackton and her father couldn't gainsay. This would afford her the opportunity to undo Peasy Patty's influence upon her father, help the orphans, and perhaps, befriend the professor. It made Luna feel odd to imagine how empty the man's life must be without friends.

And if my protest raises awareness about the plight of the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, well, that will be all to the good.

Unsheathing her own wand and casting an indelible ink charm, Luna set to writing her message on the golden statues before her.

~*~

Silvery shards of glass went flying everywhere as Severus shattered the full-length mirror in front of which he stood with a silent spell. He was so distressed that he didn't even try to protect himself against the sharp sting of their contact with his bare skin.

"FUCK!"

But no, it was clear that there wouldn't be any of that, not until he could discover and break the hex with which Potter had cursed him. The destructive brat's words echoed in his mind: "You nasty, ungrateful, shrivelled up prick!" Potter had spat during their argument at the Three Broomsticks. "Yes, I did call you a shrivelled up prick—and I hope it does shrivel up!"

And every day since, it had.

His prick, his thick, sizeable prick, had shrunken into something flaccid, hanging, and useless. Oh, Severus' rational side told him that once Potter had got over his anger—do-gooders such as Potter and his ilk could never hold on to anger long—his prick would be restored; it hadn't been an intentional hex, but his . . . masculine mind could only react with horror at the alteration to his bits.

He tried to tell himself that it didn't matter, that for the next year, it wouldn't matter, because the altercation had caused the Wizengamot to increase the length of his detainment at the Hogsmeade Foundling Home. He wasn't to be permitted to leave the grounds for a full year of days! He'd seen Patterson-Wrackton in the courtroom and had known that with only that sharp-faced, peas-spattered harridan awaiting him—she'd balked most ridiculously when told that a Ministry appointed Monitor would be put in place during his "service"—he'd prefer to leave off fucking entirely, but now he wouldn't even have the consolation of a simple wank after dealing with snivelling, snot-nosed, shite-soaked infants all day!

And that mattered to Severus almost more than did the rising spectre of nappy changing. It mattered a great deal, indeed. But what mattered more was his fear; he shuddered to think of it.

What if this curse can't be undone?

If he had died, he wouldn't have been surprised to have awoken in Hell.

But nothing could possibly be worse than this!

~*~

Oh, good, Luna thought, as she rounded the corner of the Home to find Professor Snape sitting on a bench—rather gingerly, she noted—and rocking a cradle. Peasy's got him started, then, and on his first day here, too. That bodes well. Well, almost. "He's crying because you're rocking him too quickly."

The professor craned his neck to regard her. "Lovegood. What the hell are you doing here?"

Luna approached him and laid a hand over his rocking one; she was surprised by the spark she felt, but no doubt that had been caused by the static electricity generated as she'd come through the house over its dusty, ash-choked rugs. There will have to be proper cleaning done. Mipsy and Mrs Southerton need more help. Adding that task to her plan's list of things to do, she told the professor, "You should rock him slowly, like this."

"I have no intention of taking orders from the likes of you," he snapped, jerking his hand away.

Luna raised her eyebrows and whispered to Henry, for Henry was the little one in the cradle, "That's unfortunate because, as his Monitor—"

"No!"

"—I'm afraid I'll be giving him instruction from time to time, won't I, Henry?"

"No, even those desiccated old windbags in the Wizengamot wouldn't have—"

"Someone needs a change, I think," Luna told Professor Snape, lifting the now only slightly fussing Henry out of his cradle and handing him to her older charge. "Miss Patterson-Wrackton's shown you around? You know where the nappies are?"

~*~

At the implied suggestion that he might be changing a nappy without benefit of Imperius, Severus felt what was left of his prick retract emphatically. He stared at Lovegood, unable to hide his horror.

Her eyes widened. He hadn't thought it possible, but they did.

"I see. You've never done it before."

"I assure you that I—oh, the nappies. No."

"Five infants live here. You're going to have to learn to change na—"

"No, I meant that I haven't," Severus started to explain, before remembering his pride, "ever changed a sodding nappy before!" The brat began to snivel, then, presumably at Severus' tone, so he lowered his voice and continued, "Since you know so much, you should change him."

Lovegood giggled. "Now why would I want to change Henry when he's not even fully formed? Really, I had no idea you had a sense of humour, sir." She took the baby from him and turned towards the house. "Follow me."

Severus dropped his gaze to her arse and sighed before pulling a fag from the pack in his trouser pocket and lighting it with a flick of his finger. It was a shapely arse, high and tight, and he didn't feel so much as a twitch from his prick in response to it. He had died. He was in Hell.

And Lovegood's the demon come to keep me in li—"iiargh!"

Suddenly drenched, his limp fag falling from his open mouth, Severus looked at Lovegood's face. Her jaw was set and her eyes, narrowed.

"There will be no smoking in front of the babies!"

~*~

"—but you're sure that you didn't hurt him when you fought, Harry? He's . . . walking strangely, and he sits altogether too carefully, as if he's in pain."

Ginny's face appeared in the fire, her eyes shining. "Oi! You cast a localised weather charm, on Snape, no less! My hero!" she exclaimed, as Harry's head returned to the fire.

Luna sighed. "Harry, what did you do?"

"You were there. You saw it. I didn't do anything but shout a little."

"Rather a lot, really, but that's not important. Name-calling can't harm anyone unless the names make up a proper spell, at least, I think that's right."

"Luna, seriously, I didn't hex the old bastard."

"Strictly speaking—"

"Luna," Harry said, shaking his head at her, "I know his parents were married. I meant that I didn't hurt him. I wanted to, but—"

"Fine, then. I suppose he's just out of sorts to be in unfamiliar surroundings—although it could be an infestation of Nether Nargles."

Harry's face abruptly disappeared. "Yeah, that's what his problem is," Ginny said, appearing vaguely disgusted for some reason. "Let the miserable git smoke. You know, away from the kids. He's got to have some satisfaction while he's stuck there. If he doesn't, who knows how awful he'll be to you and the kids?"

Luna heard Harry's voice and a few words: "That's not . . . needs . . . be . . . sucking," came his garbled reply to Ginny.

"Tell Harry he's not being very respectful."

"Oh, and dousing Snape with cold rain from a single dark cloud was?"

"Goodnight, Ginny," Luna said, ending the fire-call.

Well, it was clear that something was troubling the professor, something more than his punishment and sad case of nappy aversion.

And if I'm going to persuade him to help me with Peasy Patty, I'll have to attend to his needs.

~*~

The children's needs ultimately came first; Lovegood had drummed that dictum into Severus after passing him a pack of fags and asking him how he was feeling the day after his drenching.

"Dry," he'd replied, and absurdly, it had made her smile in a . . . distracting manner, which had made him feel grateful for the distraction of Sybill while Luna had been his student.

His fleeting attention to Lovegood's mouth had not been enough to enliven his prick, but it had been enough to frustrate him on two counts. He shouldn't have been preoccupied by the "distraction" of a former pupil, stellar arse or no, and the absence of the natural desire he should have felt for any healthy, fit, reasonably attractive young woman—yes, all right, he could admit that: young woman—was maddening.

"So, what does Day Two in Hell hold in store for me?" he demanded. "And where is that dreadful woman?"

Lovegood's smile vanished. "If you mean Patterson-Wrackton, she's gone . . . out."

"Yes, I mean Patterson-Wrackton, and I'm aware that she isn't here. What kind of nursemaid goes 'out' with five infants in her care? Is she not paid to—"

"Mipsy says that—"

"There's a house-elf in residence and you suggested that I should change a nappy?"

"I don't think you should shout. It's not good for children to be in a loud environment."

The way Lovegood whispered, with all the conviction of a little girl playing with dolls and not the certainty that came from having lived in such an "environment," irritated the hell out of Severus, but he couldn't bring himself to disagree with her. "Yes, fine. No shouting. No smoking near the children. No swearing. Are there any other restrictions upon my behaviour you'd like to place, oh, Monitor, my Monitor?"

"Mipsy's very old. It's all she can do to prepare the bottles and mash and our food without having to deal with another unpleasant presence here. Peasy Patty isn't nice to her at all."

"No, I suppose she isn't. But where did she go? And is the elf minding—"

"Mipsy," Lovegood insisted.

"—minding the bra—the babies?"

"No, that would be Mrs Southerton. She comes before dawn—well before it—to mind the children so that Peasy Patty can sleep."

Severus opened his mouth to say something and then closed it. How is it that Lovegood knows so much about this place? He resolved to find out.

"What is it? You look as though you've a question."

"Why are you here, exactly?"

"I told you. I'm your Monit—"

"I know what you are, Lovegood. What I want to know is why you? You have no siblings, as I recall, and precious few friends, so what qualifies you to—"

"I wish you wouldn't be mean just because you don't really want to know what 'Day Two in Hell' entails—which is learning to change nappies for you, right after we discuss why you can't seem to walk straight."

~*~

"Harry kept circling around the question and wouldn't just tell me what it was about hexes that he wanted to know, but I eventually got it out of him," Ginny told Luna that evening, as they walked around the peaceful grounds of the Home. "He didn't mean to do it, you know, but I think . . . ."

It had been mean of her, but after Ginny had gone, Luna had laughed out her surprised dismay at just what Ginny believed that Harry had done to the professor. And it explains why he stalked off and sulked the rest of the day, she thought, remembering his dejected aspect in the garden.

She'd found him there while walking with Prudence and Priscilla. Peasy Patty had taken to her chair in the lounge and had kept Henry, John, and Susan with her; they were all under one-year-old and inclined to nap, so of course the woman didn't mind watching them. The twin girls, on the other hand, were of an age to begin toddling, and Luna thought it important to encourage them. With their parents in Azkaban, well, beginning positive reinforcement early seemed important; as the children of Death Eaters, they'd have difficulties receiving anything like it once they were old enough to begin Hogwarts.

Day Two had included more than one surprise, for it seemed that the professor had been making notes about the children that day. Luna had wanted a better look at his writing as she'd passed him in the garden, and drawing near to him, she'd heard him murmuring to himself about the babies and their care.

Which is a good sign, in spite of—no, because of—his apparent condition.

"Shrinkage," Luna rightly assumed, would be enough to put even a well-tempered man out of sorts.

Ginny, wrinkling her nose, had nevertheless promised Luna to look into the matter, and Luna had determined not to speak of it to the professor again until she knew how to help him.

She thought it odd that the idea of Professor Snape's even having a penis disturbed Ginny. Luna was sure it was quite a nice one, as far as penises went, given that the professor was rather tall, with large hands and feet, not to mention that magnificent nose of his. Dean's nose hadn't been particularly large, of course, and as his penis was the only one she'd ever seen, she wasn't sure she believed that hands, feet, and noses could be relied upon to indicate penis size.

She supposed she could ask the professor, but common sense kept her conversational topics at dinner, during which Peasy Patty had done most of the talking, centred firmly on less fleshly matters.

Not that it had much mattered—Peasy Patty had spent most of the meal hinting darkly and gleefully about her "refreshing intimacy" with "my dearest man."

Luna liked the children; she'd spent a great deal of time with them in the three, "heady" post-war months that her father had been "walking out," as he persisted in putting it, with Patterson-Wrackton, but Luna didn't want to contemplate what it would be like to live with Peasy Patty all the time.

Because Daddy would want me to do that until I was walking out, too, wouldn't he? And it's not like I could ask Dean to pretend to walk out with me. Seamus wouldn't like that, even for a friend.

She sighed at her assumption. They'd all three discussed Dean's confusion and promised to remain friends, but Luna hadn't received so much as a letter from either of them since Dean and Seamus had told her that they had become a couple.

~*~

Mortification had kept Severus away from Lovegood until dinner, and then he'd silently reviewed his notes about the Home—many of which he'd taken from Mrs Southerton and Mipsy—while the chain-smoking Patterson-Wrackton had bored them with details of her sordid, inexplicable affair with Xenophilius Lovegood of all people and chastised the house-elf. Who is every bit as frail as Love—Luna—said she is.

It was difficult to think of the girl any other way, having seen how downcast the discussion had made her.

Southerton had been good enough to tell him the parentage of the brats before leaving for the day, and Severus understood better something of Luna's concern for them, as well as her motivation for being assigned his Monitor; he was certain that she desired his help in preventing what appeared to be her father's total entrapment by Patterson-Wrackton.

It didn't make him feel any better about his "Situation," as he'd come to think of it, but the admittedly fine tobacco Luna had given him that morning before lecturing him about her rules did have a soothing effect upon his nerves.

Exhaling a smoke ring near the chicken house behind the Home, he set aside thoughts of other people's erotic happiness and focussed on the children. Henry Flint, John Yaxley, and Susan Goyle were the products of the Dark Lord's suggestion to his Death Eaters that they should "breed true, breed quickly, and breed often."

As if they were animals. Disgusting.

Prudence and Priscilla Paxton's mother had been a spy in the Ministry for Voldemort, but it was her husband who had been the Death Eater in the family. Marks couldn't be given to witches who were pregnant.

They'll all suffer, and that woman, Severus told himself, thinking of Patterson-Wrackton, leaves most of the rearing work to Southerton and Mipsy. I can't imagine what kind of life they'll have should Luna's odd father come to live here and distract her further from her duties.

True, the man hadn't done . . . appreciable damage to his own child in raising her, but, Severus recalled from his perusal of the students' records while he was Headmaster, Mrs Lovegood hadn't died until Luna was nine-years-old. Given his own despicable father, Severus had not ever put much stock in them; mothers, however, were important.

Absurdly, and it was perhaps due to his extreme desire to distract himself from his Situation, Severus found himself wanting to do something to secure the brats' futures. He hoped that by doing something positive, Luna might intercede on his behalf with the Wizengamot, as the old bastards had intimated that "good behaviour" would go a long way towards reducing his period of servitude.

If I can do that before having to touch one fucking nappy, I'll consider myself lucky.

Drawing in another inhalation of the fruity tobacco smoke, Severus held it in his lungs briefly and smirked. Southerton had also been good enough to tell him just how Luna had arranged to become his Monitor. Exhaling yet more smoke rings, he silently spelled them into ephemeral representations of the figures comprising the Fountain of Magical Brethren.

Never have liked those idealised, crass statues. Galleons spent on gold when some wizarding families can barely get by? Unacceptable.

But Luna, it seemed, was a bit of all right.

Given her . . . concern for me, I believe she'll agree to my plan.

~*~

"Now we come to Day Four in Hell, Professor," Luna told him the following morning, "which is to do with developing your schedule."

"Call me Severus."

Luna blinked. "Really? All right, Severus. Day Four is really too late to be discussing your schedule, but there have been . . . distractions, and—"

"I know everything."

"You read the baby book I left in your room so quickly?"

"About your 'evil plan'."

"Ginny didn't contact you, did she?"

"I beg your pardon? Why would Weasley have—"

"Oh!" Luna practically shouted, feeling it a reasonable distraction for Severus as Mrs Southerton had the babies for changing. "You know about the fountain?"

He snorted. "I know about the fountain, and I know that you mean to separate your father from Patterson-Wrackton."

It wasn't a question, and Luna didn't want to deny it because she couldn't imagine that Severus would approve of prevarication, so she nodded. "I don't think she's a fit guardian for the children."

"No," he agreed, although Luna found it odd that he was agreeing with her breasts; they hadn't spoken, after all.

Severus was a man, though, and she knew that men always appreciated "a nice pair," as Lavender Brown had put it once. Thinking about another pair, Luna was hard-pressed not to look down at the placket of Severus' trousers to discern the state of his penis. She'd wanted to do this ever since her conversation with Ginny, but she thought it might be too rude a thing to do.

I'd much rather see it in working order anyway.

At this thought, Luna looked away from Severus. He was a Legilimens, Harry had told her, so it wouldn't do to be unintentionally rude to him in her mind, especially given his condition.

"This isn't much of a punishment," he continued. "They might have thrown me in Azkaban."

"There aren't any nappies there. I think being here is a punishment for you. You won't even consider—"

"Southerton tells me that her daughter's a Squib, good with children, and in need of work."

"Mrs Southerton said that? She's so shy that she barely ever speaks to me."

"I think it would be an excellent idea to do what we might—"

"'We'?"

"Yes, we. Be good enough to listen."

"Yes, sir."

"Severus, not 'sir'. I'm no longer your professor."

Luna said nothing. It was as unexpected as finding Severus making notes about the children, having it confirmed that he was planning to help them. I was wrong about his kindness problem, wasn't I?

That made sense, really, as his punishments to her when she'd been a student while he'd been Headmaster hadn't truly been punishments, either.

"Besides the obvious, why does it bother you so much that Patterson-Wrackton and your father are lo—"

"Friends," Luna insisted, feeling suddenly rather stubborn.

"Why?"

"She's mean, and I don't want to live with her. Daddy would—"

"A grown woman out of school shouldn't be referring to her father as 'Daddy'," Severus interrupted sharply, an odd look of . . . disappointment on his face.

"My father doesn't think I'm grown, and he'd want me to come to live here with him until I was . . . walking out with someone, at least."

"Yes, where he could monitor you out of every potential lover. That won't do."

~*~

Lovegood's expression—yes, Lovegood it had to be, at least until Severus could ascertain just how . . . mature she was—radiated an uncomfortable degree of innocence that almost made him rethink the plan that was burgeoning in his mind in much the same manner as Lu—ovegood's breasts were shifting perkily underneath her jumper.

"You seem to think you know a lot about me and my father, but—"

"Are you a virgin?"

"No. What does that have to do with anything?"

Relief flooded Severus. This very well might work! "I have an idea, but it will mean a great deal of acting on your part—and bottom," he added, feeling again his distress over the state of his quiescent prick. It will only be for show, man! You can't seriously expect her to find you attractive in any way, and you're in no fit state to manage her even if she did.

"What's this about my needing to be brave, er, needing 'bottom', as you put it?"

It's superb, Severus thought, abruptly clearing his mind of all such useless sentiments. "If the Ministry thought I'd managed to charm a decent witch such as yourself and we sorted out the Home, they might reduce my sentence. And I assure you that if we saw to your father's happiness, you wouldn't have to live with him. Do you truly imagine that Patterson-Wrackton would welcome any distraction for her husband? She despises her position and is looking to free herself from it. She wouldn't consent to any scheme of your father's that would interrupt her marital bliss."

"You're not seriously suggesting that we help that Wrackspurt-infested horror to become my step-mother, are you?"

"Lovegood, that was an unkind thing to say. You show promise."

She glared at him for half a second, but then her expression cleared and she smiled. "This seems . . . mean, your plan, but it's really very kind, isn't it? Whatever you intend to do, it will provide employment to a Squib, ensure that the children have a good foster mother, make . . . that witch and my father happy, and—"

"Free you from being his sole concern, yes, but it's not kind. It's pragmatic. However, if it helps to get me out of this place, then think of it however you like—oh, and Patterson-Wrackton isn't a witch. She's a Squib."

"What?"

"She doesn't have a wand. She never uses spells. She's a Squib."

Her eyes widening, and this time enough that Severus noticed how fine they were, Luna said, "Well, that does explain a lot, doesn't it? How sad that she's so angry all the time."

Severus snorted. Do-gooders. They aren't all bad.

~*~

It was a good day for a wedding, crisp and clear, and Severus hadn't objected when Luna had asked him to wear a yellow flower on the lapel of his robes. She expected that the Wizengamot's release of him from service had gone a long way towards improving his disposition—that, and his "talk" with Harry the previous week at the Three Broomsticks.

He's not walking oddly anymore.

Given her pleasure in his kindness and the success of his plan, Luna found herself . . . pragmatically cheerful about Severus' springing "step" as she stood before the Ritual Stone and waited for her father and Peasy—No, Peasella, she corrected herself—to approach. The walking out business had proved sufficient distraction for her father to propose to Peasella, and they'd elected to have an incredibly short engagement. It had only lasted as long as it had taken Peasella to install Mrs Southerton's excellent daughter as the new Headmother of the Hogsmeade Foundling Home and make arrangement for Mipsy's retirement.

Luna grinned. She'd always wanted a house-elf for a friend.

It wasn't friendship on her mind, however, as she furtively glanced at Severus, who was standing towards the front of the well-wishers—and staring directly at her, his eyes gleaming with suggestive promise.

Oh. Oh, so it's not just me, then, Luna thought, grinning more widely and turning her attention to the ceremony as her father and Peasella appeared at the end of the flower-strewn "aisle" between their guests—but not before she caught Ginny's eye and winked at her.

~*~

Severus caught the look that passed between Luna and Weasley and grimaced, noting as he focussed on Weasley that she was rubbing a hand up and down Potter's back as if to comfort him. Distasteful, pawing at each other in public, he thought, no matter that he would have enjoyed lavishing a related form of attention on Luna at the moment.

She was, he had to admit, much more than reasonably attractive; she was refreshingly lovely, and more importantly, interested.

He could hardly believe his luck, and not being a stupid man, he'd set aside any qualms he may have had about wooing Luna in earnest. If Luna wished wooing, and their engagements of the past few weeks had been ample enough illustration that she did, then wooing she would have.

Proper wooing, by prick, he told himself, rocking slowly forward into an ever so slight bounce as his prick twitched in time with the rhythm of the processional.

~*~

"I didn't expect you to enjoy yourself this much," Luna said to Severus, as they swayed together through a dance during the reception.

He smirked. "No, you told me you expected it of me."

"I know, I'm not your Monitor anymore. I should probably stop lectur—"

Luna felt the squeeze of Side-Along Apparation and then found herself ensconced behind the treeline of the Home.

"—ing you! Oh, Severus, what are you—"

There was nothing fetid about his breath, even if he did smoke from time to time. His tongue was soft and insistent; his arms felt powerful around her; and Luna found herself melting into their embrace while at the same time exhilarated by it—so exhilarated, in fact, that she pulled back a bit to speak.

"Yes, I've thought about shagging you, too. Can we do it now?"

Admittedly, it was surprising to hear Severus laugh, but Luna liked hearing it almost as much as she'd liked feeling the evidence of his recovered penis against her body.

"Hell, yes, we can do it now," he practically growled. "We will do it now—right here!"

Luna gasped as Severus began undoing her dress' buttons. "Wouldn't it just be easier to undo your buttons and have me lift up my dress? I'm not wearing any knickers, you know."

Severus did growl, then, and Luna wasn't surprised to discover that she loved the loudness of it.