Word Count: 5000
Summary: Severus and Luna are swept together by a besom blessing.
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 Notes: Written for qzee as part of the snuna_exchange. Thank you, eeyore9990 and fodirteg, for beta'ing.
Hogwarts' by-laws required that any professor with a chronic medical condition—no matter his or her expertise—had to accept treatment by a certified Healer from St Mungo's. When Severus had learnt of this, he'd been quick to point out that it would be a Healer-in-Training, not a certified Healer, who would be sent each month to give him the nerve tonic for his damaged throat; on that basis, he'd initially refused treatment. Minerva had sniffed at his objection and handed him the certification schedule for the Healers-in-Training, which illustrated that, as far as the by-laws were concerned, such "novices" were acceptable. Disgusted, Severus had returned to his chambers to sulk—until it had occurred to him how he might gain some benefit from the arrangement.
Almost nineteen months later, Severus stared at the notes he'd made with regard to his plan and sulked heroically in the face of its failure:
Calliope Dillwithers—earned full marks throughout her schooling at Beauxbatons, impeccable Healing credentials, by all accounts well-mannered and engaging, has long red hair.Severus didn't get out much, and it had seemed reasonable to him when he'd begun his treatment to expect that a Healer-in-Training might be worth wooing. He'd not been wrong about that; Bree had been perfect, but Bree had, unfortunately, found him wanting—and Healer-in-Chief Musefool, who had in her charge St Mungo's novices, had flatly refused to tell him anything more about the current class when he'd sent Carfax packing, saying only that "We are not a dating service, Professor Snape!"
Dye-job. Baby-talks. No tits to speak of. Passable tonic.
Marazelle Crumbbottom—marks not stellar, accounted a good Healer, is fond of Potions, is a brunette.
I'd break her in half, even with those tits. Stutters. Dreadful tonic.
Xanthia Yaxley—highly respected at St Mungo's, did poorly only in Divination and Care of Magical Creatures, well-liked, raven-haired.
Wears wig! Shrewish. Nerve tonic tastes of shite.
Bree Freeman-Waters—acceptable student, doesn't suffer fools and patients do well when following her advice, short red hair.
Lovely hair, huge tits. Fascinating conversationalist. Perfect tonic. Hated me at first sight.
Susan Carfax—average student, average Healer, brilliant researcher and author of several papers of interest and utility in Potions community, short blue-black hair.
Apparently addicted to cosmetic charms, average tits. Barely acceptable tonic. No personality whatsoever, rambles.
Seven fucking visits.
And now I'm to be left to the devices of the dregs of the current class of novices!
Severus hoped that the old battleaxe wouldn't send a male Healer-in-Training.
A knock sounded upon his office door.
Severus cleared his throat and called, "Come," suddenly rather nervous, indeed.
"Good morning, Professor Snape. I'm Healer-in-Training Luna—"
"Lovegood, yes, I . . . know."
"Excellent," she replied brightly. "I thought you might have forgotten, what with all the excitement. Now then, I've brought your nerve tonic, but before you take it, I'll need to examine you. Please remove your robes and frock coat."
Severus gaped at Lovegood's back, for she'd turned around to give him his privacy. "Don't be . . . ridiculous!"
"I can't think how I'm being ridiculous."
"If you're going to . . . examine me, you needn't . . . turn your back."
"Oh, I see," Lovegood replied, turning around and approaching him. "You wouldn't be one for social niceties, would you?"
The girl had his robes and coat off and his collar open before Severus could protest, but as he felt her soft, warm fingers pressing lightly upon the delicate flesh of his throat, he snarled, "What are you . . . doing?"
Lovegood glanced down Severus' body and then back at his throat before replying, "Levitating. You're a bit tall for me to examine properly without doing so, you see."
Severus flushed and hoped that Lovegood would keep her eyes focussed upon her task. It had been too long since he'd felt a witch's touch, and her ministrations were having an embarrassing effect on him.
"I think we can do better than a simple nerve tonic," she told him, as she turned around to snatch a memo book from the air and floated back down to the floor.
Severus hastily threw on his robes. "What . . . do you mean?"
"The scarring goes fairly deep and must be interfering with your vocal cords. I don't understand why none of the others noticed that—and it's not that I don't like your voice—but I think it must be frustrating for you," she concluded, looking up from her notes.
"What must . . . be?" Severus asked, somewhat taken aback.
"Having to clear your throat so often, of course. I'm sure that between the two of us, we can work out a potion to remove some of the internal scarring. Perhaps you'd care to tell me why you haven't addressed this issue before?"
Staring into Lovegood's wide, curious eyes, Severus couldn't think of anything to say. He cleared his throat, frowning at the pain it caused him.
Lovegood sighed. "It must be difficult for you to complain about it, but I don't like seeing a patient in pain. Drink this," she told him, handing him a phial.
Her tonic tasted slightly bitter and alcoholic, but it was good.
"I have nothing to say."
"Oh, that's not true, I'm sure, but you didn't clear your throat!" Lovegood replied, obviously pleased.
She turned her attention to her notes again, which gave Severus the opportunity to observe her; he supposed she hadn't been badly Sorted, after all, but her professionalism gave him pause. No hope there, but perhaps she can do something for the pain.
He'd been so used to bearing it, as he'd borne other pains throughout his life, that it had never occurred to him to address the issue.
Luna was as close to vexation as she ever came as she left Hogwarts. It wasn't right that none of her sister novices had noticed the professor's pain, any more than it had been right that Healer-in-Chief Musefool had counselled her not to listen to his complaints.
That's silly. Professor Snape enjoys a good argument, Luna thought, and someone should be listening for the complaints he's not making. He's in pain, and not just bodily—and Xanthia is shrewish, isn't she?
Luna giggled to remember the list she'd observed on the professor's desk, understanding now why Musefool had been so irritated by this particular patient. It was unusual for one to use treatment as a dating opportunity, but then, the professor wasn't a usual sort of wizard.
He's lonely. He's sad.
Oh, yes, Luna had seen Professor Snape's sadness. It had bled out of him in a shifting blue aural manifestation that she'd detected by virtue of her improved Spectrespecs, which her father had given her when she'd been certified for home visits. No matter what Healer-in-Chief Musefool might think, she and her father knew that aural examination was a critical tool of Healing diagnosis.
Something must be done about the negative energies in which Professor Snape's been stewing, Luna decided, as she continued on her way to Hedge's Witcheries, a new magical household supply shop in Hogsmeade.
Healer-in-Chief Musefool had spoken disparagingly of it in the break room, and ever since, Luna had wanted to visit it.
And now I've a good reason to.
In spite of his better judgment, Severus made an addition to his list:
Luna Lovegood—Excellent student. Promising Healer. Perfect tonic. Smells good, decent tits. Pretty, even wearing those odd eyeglasses. Company not painful. Blonde, I suppose you'd call that long hair of hers.Staring at the entry, he sighed and shifted in his chair, still aroused by Lovegood's touch.
Class in twenty. Plenty of time, he thought, unbuttoning his trousers.
Luna's mother had used a hazel pole as the foundation for her besom broom, but Luna wanted to use an ash one for hers: ash had stronger Healing properties than hazel, its grain was straighter, and it would serve her purpose better than would hazel because she wasn't crafting her besom to be merely a house sweep or a protective talisman. Satisfied with the rod of ash she'd selected, Luna collected and split withy to secure her stiffened straw bristles to the besom's handle. Once it was prepared, she took up her handle and lashed the bristles to it with her willow, weaving hawthorn flowers into the strands as she went. The flowers weren't purely decorative; hawthorn flowers awoke men to erotic thoughts, were protective, and charged marital charms.
It wasn't that Luna thought marriage would cure the professor, but she did feel as though he would benefit by drawing a wife to himself. He was a fine man in many ways, and the besom would aid him in attracting someone who could see past his customary grumpiness to those admirable qualities he tried so hard to hide.
And whomever he attracts, her attention will help ease what ails him.
"That's a fine broom, and make no mistake," Babbity Hedge, the owner of Hedge's Witcheries, said, as she approached the workbench at which Luna was constructing her besom. "And it's grand to find a young witch taking her destiny in hand."
"Oh, this isn't for me," Luna replied, laying aside her broom and looking down at the lady. "It's for a patient of mine."
"Ah, so that's why you're wearing those robes, is it? You're working at St Mungo's?"
Luna looked down at her lime green robes and smiled before gazing back at Mrs Hedge. "I'm sure you know that this colour symbolises the ability to see the world clearly and—"
"Without judgment, which is a fine thing, when one is a Healer. Just you remember not to forget yourself in the seeing, my dear," Mrs Hedge told her, reaching up to caress the broom's handle before making her way back to the front of her shop to help another customer.
Well, of course I won't, not when I'm doing the looking.
"Yes, I can see that, but it's not necessary. I am not living in filth, you know," Severus retorted, glaring at Lovegood a month after her first visit, "and why you're behaving more like a washerwoman than a Healer is beyond me."
"Severus, don't scoff at the besom. You know that there's cleansing to be done here. We discussed the negative energies."
"Nonsense! And I don't recall giving you permission to call me—"
"There's nothing wrong with your memory," Lovegood interrupted, looking up from her irritating sweeping to scan the room with apparent pleasure. "I know that it must be awkward, the change in our interaction, but you don't want to call me Healer Lovegood, now do you?"
"Healer-in-Training Lovegood," Severus snapped, stepping out of the way of her broom as she began sweeping again.
"As you say," she replied equably, leaning the besom against the chair by which Severus was standing. "Now then, it's time I examined you."
Severus stiffened. Lovegood's soft, warm fingers had been difficult to bear the first time; he'd not thought he'd have to bear them again so soon.
"That's not necessary. I'll take my tonic, and then you can go."
"Oh, but it is necessary," Lovegood insisted, reaching up to loosen Severus' collar, "because if you don't permit me to take proper care of you here, you'll have to come to St Mungo's."
Severus swallowed. He hated leaving Hogwarts. People stared at him. Sometimes, they pointed.
Soft, he thought, as Lovegood's fingers moved over his scarred flesh.
Except that he wasn't, not anymore.
"Enough!" he exclaimed, moving backwards and over the besom, which he'd inadvertently knocked to the floor. "I'm fine. Give me that damned tonic and get out."
Lovegood sighed and stepped over the broom after him, her hands holding onto his collar. "You may have your tonic when I've completed my—oh!"
Severus stared down into Lovegood's wide silvery grey eyes and started to feel his left wrist being encircled by something wooden and smooth, and then his arm rose with the broom towards his throat, and Lovegood's right wrist was similarly encircled by the end of the handle. He jerked his arm down to see that the broom's end had formed a heart-shaped trap around their wrists, one from which neither of them could pull themselves free.
"What is the meaning of this?" Severus demanded, glaring at Lovegood and the cage that the besom, which hung between them, had made of their wrists.
"'Oops'?" Severus demanded.
"Well, that is the tradition, isn't it?"
"Please do stop shaking the broom. It won't release us, not until we've found witnesses."
"'Witnesses'?" Severus asked, a cold sensation sliding down his spine. "Witnesses to what?"
After an awkward walk to her office, Headmistress McGonagall had scowled at Severus. "It's bad enough that you've been flirting with your Healers, but to resort to trickery such as this is beyond the—"
"Oh, no," Luna interrupted. "It wasn't his trickery. I mean, it wasn't trickery at all," she continued, before explaining her diagnosis and treatment ideas.
"I am not lonely."
"Do shut up, Severus," the Headmistress snapped, turning her attention to Luna. "Do you mean to tell me that you intended for this to happen?"
"Well, not exactly. I thought the besom would draw another witch—and I didn't think it would quite capture Severus and his bride."
"Of all the foolish, ill-planned—"
Headmistress McGonagall glared Severus into silence, and Luna bowed her head to stare at her feet, whispering, "I am sorry. I didn't mean for you to be stuck with me."
Severus started, which had the effect of jerking Lovegood closer to him. He could feel the side of her breast pressing against him and was grateful for his robes, even as he felt some small remorse for having snapped at her. There were worse things than being "stuck" with Luna Lovegood, who was obviously distressed by what she'd done.
No doubt because she's stuck with me. Souring at this thought, he didn't apologise, saying instead, "Why hasn't the damned broom released us?"
"Ah, witnesses," Minerva replied, rising to fire-call Filius. When Severus balked at her suggestion, she snapped, "Do you want free or don't you?"
He nodded. Filius arrived only moments later.
Taking in the scene, Filius exclaimed, "Why, congratulations! I haven't seen such a fine besom in years. Was this your work, Healer Lovegood? It's lovely."
"Thank you, sir."
"What's this? Those aren't happy tears," Filius gently admonished Lovegood, Summoning a handkerchief and handing it to her.
Severus cleared his throat, not just out of habit. He'd not yet taken his tonic, and he was in more kinds of pain than one.
"Ah, I see. An accident? But how?"
Minerva explained the situation while Severus and Luna sat down in the chairs before the Headmistress' desk.
"Wish the happy couple congratulations, Minerva," Filius told her.
"I beg your pardon?" she asked.
"We do want them to be happy—and unbound—yes?"
"Oh, very well. Congratulations."
The besom's heart-handle expanded enough to permit Severus and Luna to remove their wrists, and Luna took the broom to hug it against her chest as she rose. "I'm really terribly sorry about all this. I'll . . . I'll just go see if there isn't something that I can do to correct it."
She was almost to the castle's entrance when she remembered to breathe, and gasping for air, she kept running until she was beyond Hogwarts' gates and could Apparate away.
"What did you do?" she demanded of Mrs Hedge, once she'd achieved the back room of the witch's shop.
"Goodness! I should like to know what you've done, running away from your groom like this," the diminutive lady said, pointing at the besom. "The handle's gone all heart-y. Whom did you catch?"
"But that's just it," Luna said, taking great gulps of air until she could breathe properly again. "I wasn't supposed to catch anyone! The besom was supposed to draw a proper bride to Severus, not me."
"And what on earth's the matter with you, girl? You're a sweet, smart, pretty little thing. Any decent wizard would like you. Besides, my besom blessings never go awry."
"You did do something."
"Mother's milk, child! You came around shopping on a Wedding Wednesday. Of course I did something. Was that not what you wanted?"
"I what? I did?" Luna asked. Oh, he won't like that, not at all.
Hadn't Severus always chided her for not paying attention when she was his student?
But you're not his student anymore. You're his wife. There's no way out of such a marriage, and . . . and besom marriages aren't made between unwilling partners.
"Yes, dear. You did, and besom marriages can't be unmade, but they're never made between unsuitable partners, you know," Mrs Hedge said gently. "If your young man's a tad surprised, well, he'll soon come around, you'll see."
With a friendly pat to Luna's knee, the old lady left her alone with her thoughts.
Luna realised that she was still clutching Professor Flitwick's handkerchief in the hand that wasn't holding her besom. Setting aside the broom, she dabbed her eyes with the cloth and then blew her nose into it before spelling it clean and tucking it in a pocket.
Well, that's that. You're married now. And Severus can't really object to it as much as he seems to, so . . . so I suppose I should give him the opportunity to get used to the shock while I go tell Daddy—no, Dad, Luna thought, correcting herself.
A married witch really shouldn't be calling her father "Daddy" anymore.
Filius had been so aggressively cheerful about the "wedding" in the face of Lovegood's departure that Severus had found it rather difficult to feel put out about it. Even Minerva had thawed some by the end of the bizarre meeting. As he walked back to his quarters, he considered his bride. Lovegood had always been outstanding in Potions, and her essays had given him, on more than one occasion, something about which to think. He'd long been impressed by her; during the war, her bravery had both angered and worried him, but he couldn't deny that her activities with Longbottom and Weasley had saved the lives of many students. Lovegood was odd, but she'd never allowed the taunts and bullying of her schoolmates to change her; Severus admired that. She'd always seemed happy with herself, too, or so he'd thought until now.
She doesn't appear to think herself worthy of me.
And that was ridiculous: Severus knew himself to be an ugly old misanthropic bastard, and certainly not someone who deserved a wife at all, let alone one who was intelligent, kind, pretty, and young. But there was no getting out of his marriage; the by-laws had a morals clause in them. He'd have to get used to being wed.
Of course, it won't matter what I think about it if Lovegood—no, Luna, he corrected himself, for it seemed stupid not to think of her by her given name now that he was married to her—doesn't wish to grow used to being married to me.
Despite his doubts and easing embarrassment, Severus felt something akin to happiness as he made his way back to his quarters. He half-expected Luna to be there waiting for him.
"Not much of a wedding night," Severus grumbled, when Luna arrived the following month with his tonic.
She blinked in surprise. "Were you expecting one? We barely know each other. I thought I'd let you—"
"Perhaps you'll share your thoughts with me in future, as we share one."
Luna smiled. "Do you mean that?"
She'd been terribly nervous, staying away, but too nervous about what had happened to have come any sooner. Her father had told her that she was being silly, but Luna had explained to him that Severus would no doubt send for her if he wanted to see her before their next appointment.
It never occurred to me that he might be allowing me to grow used to things, too. "Perhaps I should. All right then, I will. Did you take your tonic last month?"
"I'm not . . . damn it, I wasn't clearing my throat, was I?"
"Well, drink this," she said, handing Severus a phial. When his fingers brushed hers as he took it, she started. "Oh! That was only static electricity, I suppose, but I liked it."
Severus cleared his throat and stared at her.
"Because it will help—"
"No, why," Severus said, pausing to drink his tonic and then continuing, "did you like it?"
Luna flushed. "Your fingers are warm."
Watching his wife—his wife!—blush under his gaze made Severus' prick twitch. He took a deep breath and felt the tension and pain in his throat ease. "I see. I suppose other men's fingers are warm," he said, thinking too late how his question might be interpreted by Luna as a crude, thinly veiled attempt to learn if she'd ever had a lover.
"No, Severus, I've never been to bed with a man before," she replied, smiling slightly at him.
It occurred to Severus then how precise Luna was in her word choice, and his prick twitched again.
Luna laughed. "Nor a woman, either. Why do men think that's—"
Severus forced himself to clear his throat, loudly. "I've made some notes about a scar-removal potion. Would you care to see them?"
"I'm surprised you haven't brewed it already," Luna replied, following him to his desk.
He snatched his list of Healers-in-Training off a stack of essays and jammed it into his robes, fishing about the loose papers on his desk until he found his notes. Luna perched on the desk's edge while he sat in his chair, and then she took the notes from him, reading them slowly. The bloom in her cheeks was alluring. The inward curve of her hip, maddening; Severus tried to concentrate only on her expression.
"That's interesting, using a potassium compound the way you propose. How would you . . . ."
By the time Severus and Luna had completed their discussion about his treatment, it had gone three o'clock.
"Are you hungry?" he asked, hoping she'd agree to join him in a late lunch.
Luna shifted herself from the sofa, where they'd moved hours before, to her feet and turned to watch Severus as she stretched. She liked the way his eyes moved over her body, appreciatively but not possessively. It hadn't been particularly awkward, spending the afternoon with Severus after they'd begun talking Potions. She liked that, too.
"I like your mind."
"I beg your pardon?"
"The way it works—methodical without being hidebound. You're not just smart but intuitive, as well."
Severus smirked. "That has nothing to do with lunch."
"And your voice. I do like that, even if the tonic makes you less growl-y."
Luna swallowed as Severus stood abruptly to tower over her. She supposed that he didn't mean to tower; he was just too tall for that to be helped, and he seemed to want to say something, but he didn't.
"Yes, I am."
"What?" Severus asked, sounding confused.
"I am hungry."
"So am—I mean, then let us repair to the kitchens. The elves can prepare a picnic lunch for us—if you'd like that, of course."
"Oh, I love picnics!"
As the sun began to set and he and Luna lay back on a blanket by the lake, Severus decided that he liked picnics, too. "I've never been on a picnic before," he murmured.
"Do you like it?"
Severus was surprised but not startled to feel fingers threading his own then as Luna took his hand. He squeezed, gently, and was pleased when she squeezed back.
"I've never been married before."
Luna's voice was barely above a whisper; for some reason, Severus found it difficult to breathe, but he managed to ask, "Do you like it?"
"I don't think that one picnic makes a marriage, but I don't dislike it," she said, suddenly holding his hand very tightly.
Severus turned up on his side so that he could see Luna's face, grateful that the Unnoticeable Charm he'd set had kept any students away from the area. No one other than Minerva and Filius knew of his marriage, and without knowing how Luna felt about it, he'd wanted to keep things quiet. Luna appeared pensive, but not unhappy.
Squeezing back but then allowing his hand to go limp, Severus slowly withdrew it and swung up to cross his legs. "I don't dislike it, either."
"But it's odd, isn't it? Not what I intended at all, you know."
"I do," Severus replied, not knowing what else to say.
Luna laughed. "Yes, that's exactly how marriages are supposed to start. Are you very upset with me? I saw your list. 'Tits' seemed like such an important point, and mine are—"
"Just fine. Better than fine. I'm sure they're—"
"Rather small, not even a handful, really, if we're talking about your hands."
"We were discussing your tits," Severus said, smirking as he dropped his gaze to them.
"Would you like to touch them?"
"What? We are married, now."
"Be that as it may, we've never even dated."
Luna smiled and sat up. "Severus, in case you weren't aware, picnicking is a time-honoured dating tradition."
"One date then, fine."
"I thought it was better than fine."
"You know what I meant," Severus practically snapped, entirely too preoccupied by his desire to touch Luna's breasts to control himself.
He didn't want to control himself, but he wasn't about to paw at any woman, be she his wife or not.
"I think you're very traditional."
Severus raised his eyebrows at her.
"Which is all right with me, but how long do you want to wait?"
"Why were you upset about having trapped me? I mean," Severus corrected himself, "why didn't you think yourself an acceptable bride for me?"
"I'm your Healer. It was wrong of me to have trapped you for myself."
"But you weren't trying to do that."
"But I managed to, anyway."
Severus stretched out on the blanket again, this time, closer to Luna. "I should be angry about that, but I'm not."
"Then I suppose the besom knew what it was about, well, that Mrs Hedge did," Luna replied, explaining about the "blessing."
The stars were out by the time Luna thought to ask Severus again, "How long do you want to wait?" and this time, he didn't change the subject.
"Until we feel married."
"That's reasonable. I like that you can be reasonable," Luna said, snuggling more deeply against Severus.
He was very warm, very big, and very hard. She liked all of those things, as well, but decided not to mention them.
"I like your hair," he murmured, burying his nose in it.
Luna grinned. "Yes, hair was important, too. On your list, I mean."
"Do you think we should go inside?"
"I think," Severus said, hesitating, but not to clear his throat, "that I should see you home."
"Dad would like that. He's been after me to introduce you to him, but I didn't know if you'd want that."
"Your father must despise me."
"Not at all. He said he thinks you must be a very patient man, and that such a virtue speaks well of you."
Severus snorted. "I don't feel patient."
Luna rolled over so that she could see Severus' face. "You don't, but I don't mind—"
His lips were soft, his tongue, softer—though Luna had to coax it into her mouth with her own tongue because Severus seemed a bit shy about using his—and kissing him was a lovely experience. If she'd been bolder, she might have pressed forward against Severus, but since he was spending so much energy controlling himself, she didn't think that a fair thing to do. When she thought she might lose control of herself, she gently pulled out of their embrace.
"That's perfect—exactly the way to end a first date. I liked that very much."
"So . . . so did I."
"Yes, but Luna?" Severus asked, as he helped her to her feet.
"Don't make me wait an entire month to see you again. I wouldn't like that at all."
Nine months, three weeks, and two days after Severus Snape and Luna Lovegood's first "date" as a married couple, Filius Flitwick, who was soon to retire, sat humming happily at his desk, writing a letter to his cousin, Babbity:
Please give my regards to Healer-in-Chief Musefool on being so reasonable about releasing one of her brightest Healers to be my replacement. How you managed that, when the two of you were so competitive at school, escapes me, but I know you have your ways. In any case, I can't tell you how pleased I am to know that the Charms students will be in competent hands when I leave Hogwarts. Further, I can't thank you enough for your suggestion as to how to see my friend Severus happy. It was a right neat sweeping, my dear, and seeing the young couple floating blissfully about the corridors—Mrs Snape says that it's easier than walking in her current condition—makes me feel like the best grandfather in the world.
I'll write again once I'm settled. I admit that being asked to join the International Confederation of Wizards was a surprise—and a great honour—but I'm more eager to begin my work with that body as my retirement nears than ever, and I hope to make you and the rest of the family proud. I can't wait to share with you everything that I learn!
Wherever this letter finds you now, I know you'll be up to the best sort of no good, and good luck to you in all your endeavours!
P.S. That pregnancy charm for triplets for which you were asking is enclosed, but I urge you to employ caution when making use of it. If one isn't careful, it's three times three children one will grant, and that wouldn't be, one supposes, a boon to any mother. Our Luna is nervous to be carrying only two babes. Let us hope they don't have our Severus' nose, eh?