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The prompt and original drabble posts for this drabblethon were lost to my back-up snafu. These drabbles were written on the occasion of my 400th friending.

33. For stasia, whose prompt was "Hagrid/Snape; cake, socks, flowers."

Is that what they're calling them, these days? (G; Hagrid/Severus; 100 words)

"Happy birthday!"

Severus opened up one wary eye to find his lover cheerfully holding out two woolen articles of clothing, which, upon closer inspection, turned out to be socks.

"Flowers don't belong in socks."

"Yeah, well, I wanted yeh to have 'em both at once, like."

"I like the socks. They're black."

"The flowers are—"

"Black, too," Severus interrupted. "Please tell me that the cake isn't black?"

"Oh, er, no. The elves wouldn't bake a black cake—said it was unnat'ral."

Severus snorted. "As unnatural as a half-giant and a reformed Death Eater taking up residence together?"

"I like yer euphemisms."

34. For stasia, whose prompt was "girl!SEVERUS/Remus; dirt, cats, easter eggs."

Not Just for Breakfast Anymore (G; Girl!Severus/Remus; 100 words)

Severus picked himself up off of the dirt and brushed herself off. "I've got breasts! What the hell did you put into those Easter eggs, Lupin?"

Remus' face was white. "Oh my gods. Severus—"

"Mrs. Norris? Where are you, cat?" Filch called, his voice rounding the corner before he did.

"Quick, in here!" Remus said to Severus, grabbing her and pulling the stunned witch into an empty classroom. "Ow!" he exclaimed, as Severus punched him.

"Fix it!" she demanded, pressing Remus into the wall by the door.

Remus thought about it, and decided that such situations were usually "fixed" with kisses.

35. For stasia, whose prompt was "Draco/Luna; springtime, curtains, cathair."

On Being a Good Example (PG-13; Draco/Luna; 100 words)

"It's not cat hair. It's Crumple-Horned Snorkack fur," Luna exclaimed, opening the bed curtains.

"And why," Draco murmured drowsily, "is it in our bed?"

"Well, Mr. Piddles wanted to sleep in the bed last night. You know how they get in the springtime."

Draco sat straight up, threw off the covers, and stared in horror at his leg. "LUNA!"

"It's your fault," she insisted. "Mr. Piddles was . . . inspired by your example—and you know what copy cats snorkacks are!"

Fumbling for his wand and cursing his having relented to his wife's desire for a pet, Draco cast a much-needed cleaning charm.