Word Count: 500
Summary: Severus demonstrates his joy in a physical manner.
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: Well, I didn't think that I was going to write anything more this month, been then the Chat Ladies held a Word War. ;) I thank them for beta'ing.
Cake wasn't supposed to be blue, and blue cake wasn't what Severus had been expecting. He cleared his throat.
"There are blueberries in it," Luna said, turning one flour-smeared cheek in his direction to smile at him.
Severus barely registered it as he stared in annoyance at the "cake" on the kitchen table while removing his winter robes. The only thing that had kept him from murdering idiotic brats all day had been the thought of his birthday cake—that, and the fantasy of licking its icing off Luna.
"Chocolate cake shouldn't have blueberries in it."
"This has white chocolate in it," Luna told him, moving forward to lean up on tiptoe and kiss his chin. "Now why don't you have some tea. We have news to share."
Severus sent his robes to the hook by the hearth with an abrupt gesture. "White chocolate isn't chocolate at all." It was his birthday; he should get to choose the cake on his birthday. I did choose it.
"Is it Wrackspurts?" Luna asked, frowning.
"No, it isn't Wrackspurts."
"That's a relief," she told him as he sank into his chair. "I wouldn't want anything to happen to the birthday boy."
"If that were true, you might have permitted me to have the cake I chose instead of engaging in experimental cookery."
"What? Oh, I didn't mean you, Severus."
"You've another husband having a birthday today?"
Luna tilted her head to one side. "Do you know, if I could have more than one spouse at a time, I think I'd want a wife. Wives are so handy," she continued, moving into the pantry. "They seem to do more things around the house than husbands. Of course," she said, as her voice grew faint, "I did enjoy what you did in the bath this morning."
Severus' glower threatened to become a smirk as he remembered that morning, but Luna's implied complaint about his lack of household assistance, on his birthday, no less—and one that looked to include odd pastry—kept his smile at bay.
Luna moved back into the kitchen then, carrying . . . another cake.
"What is that?"
Luna placed the magnificent, obviously proper chocolate cake on the table next to the blue one. "That's your birthday cake, of course. I know that you don't like white chocolate."
"Then . . . then for whom is that one?" Severus demanded, now concerned that company might be in the offing because Luna surely didn't expect him to eat two cakes.
"Why, that's for Lysander—or Lorcan—it's far too soon to tell which name he'll prefer, you know. He was only just conceived this morning."
Severus' eyes widened. Is she saying— "Are you—"
"Pregnant? Oh, yes. Why else would I have baked a Conception Cake? Aught's not truly a birthday, but any excuse to celebrate is a goo—oh! Severus, put me down! I haven't even lit your candles, yet."
"I only want the one lit," he explained, as he carried her up the back stair towards their bedroom, "and it's my birthday, too."