Chapter Text
Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;
Lengthen night and shorten day;
Every leaf speaks bliss to me
Fluttering from the autumn tree.
I shall smile when wreaths of snow
Blossom where the rose should grow;
I shall sing when night’s decay
Ushers in a drearier day.
- Emily Brontë
The faint smell of hay and blackthorn follows her as Luna dashes through the paddock towards town.
Chasing after a rare magical creature isn't out of the ordinary for her, though doing so this close to home is. The unusual silver-blue tail whips through some thick growth ahead of her and out of sight and she attempts to climb out of the bramble she’d followed it into. Admittedly, following a magical creature into the prickly growth in the first place hadn’t been one of her better ideas. Still, managing to untangle herself from the shrubs, Luna continues her pursuit, hastening in the direction of the creature with wand in hand, her eyes darting around to ensure no Muggles are about.
The Moke’s magical signature is faint, even when she sees it again towards the end of the road. She is a little out of breath by the time she comes to a stop at the end of it, huffing in disappointment as she watches the lizard-like creature disappear over the fence leading to the back garden of the lone house at the end of the lane.
Luna contemplates the fence, gazing around. All along this street and surrounding it, there are trees with red-brown leaves that are ready to fall, one with branches that stretch over the fence which she could utilise to get over it. Deciding not to risk losing the creature, she approaches, glancing at the house's front windows. The curtains remain closed, and she hopes the owner doesn’t notice her slip in and out quickly.
Surely just nipping in wouldn’t be a problem?
Tucking her wand into the back pocket of her overalls, Luna climbs the tree carefully, only daring to grasp onto the branch before her when she’s ready to drop down. If she had any concerns about her landing, she needn’t have worried. Her eyes grow wide as she takes in the thick blanket of leaves that cover the garden. It’s so neglected that there is no trace of any lawn to speak of.
As she stares at the mess of leaves around her, she almost forgets the reason why she entered the yard in the first place, until a movement out of the corner of her eye draws her attention.
“There you are!” she announces, making her way over to a bush in the corner that is covered in leaves.
Walking through them isn’t so dissimilar to swimming in shallow water, she thinks, dragging herself towards the mischievous lizard. But as she nears it, the Moke turns its unsettling yellow eyes towards her briefly, only to shrink itself seconds later, disappearing from sight.
“Damn,” she breathes out with a sigh, her shoulders sagging.
She can still sense the creature's magical signature in the area, and wonders for a moment if it’s taunting her by remaining in the garden. Blowing out a breath, Luna puts her hands on her hips, wondering what to do now that her reason for trespassing on this person’s property has made itself scarce.
Deciding it wouldn’t be wise to linger, she makes her way back to the tree, balancing precariously on the branches instead of Disapparating. It wouldn’t do if any of the Muggle neighbours peered through their windows at an inopportune time and saw her performing magic. Dealing with the Ministry for that offence doesn’t appeal to her at all.
Dropping down on the other side, she spares a glance back, noticing ivy growing unchecked on the shaded side of the house as well. The whole place looks a little unkempt to her, and not in a quirky or deliberate way. She wonders what kind of person lives there, and whether perhaps the lack of care given to the property is even something they control, but shakes her head and turns to walk back up the lane.
It isn’t really any of her business.
When she reaches the bramble, she finds a few blackberries that are growing unseasonably late. Plucking them from the bush to snack on, she walks the long way home instead of cutting through farmland this time.
Although her feet carry her towards her house, her mind is still lingering somewhere in the back garden at the end of the lane.
For two days thoughts of the leafy garden swirl.
She wakes up on the third day, deciding she doesn’t want to ignore them any more, dressing comfortably in clothes she doesn’t mind getting dirty. Using her wand to pin her hair up, Luna hunts around in the garden shed behind her house and transfigures some old pillowcases into garbage bags. She goes to the kitchen to eat a piece of fresh bread covered in apricot jam, kisses her father on the cheek on her way out, and begins the walk towards town.
When she reaches the end of the lane and climbs the tree beside the lonely house, she sees even more leaves have built up. Rolling up the sleeves of her jumper, she drops down into the yard, wading through the leaves to the far corner so she can start there and work her way backwards.
It’s hard work raking up the leaves slowly, scooping up the mixture of fresh, crunchy leaves and the soggy ones underneath that have already started to decay. Her nose wrinkles at the scent of decay, but barrels ahead, grateful the air is quite cool so she doesn’t overheat. By the time she’s over halfway, she realises she doesn’t have enough rubbish bags and hums in thought, wondering if she could subtly transfigure some out of the leaves if she’s sneaky and quick about it.
Just as she makes up her mind, the back door of the house is jerked open suddenly. Luna looks over her shoulder, startled. When the occupant steps out into the waning afternoon light, her eyes widen further in surprise.
Severus Snape’s dark eyes are narrowed and trained on her, his thin lips curled in a familiar snarl. “What the bloody hell are you doing on my property, Miss Lovegood?”
Famously reclusive, having largely disappeared after the war, she’s astonished to find him largely unchanged, and from the looks of it, still rather grouchy. Blinking, she rubs the back of her hand across her forehead, slightly damp with sweat from her exertion.
“Hello, sir,” she says. “I didn’t know this was your home.”
Snape’s scowl deepens. “Regardless of who this house belongs to, you are still trespassing, Lovegood.”
“Well you see, I was here a few days ago tailing an unusually-coloured Moke, and the sneaky thing managed to give me the slip here in your garden,” she starts to explain, realising as she speaks she isn’t exactly pleading her case. “I noticed there were a lot of leaves, so I thought I might come back here to rake them up.”
“So this is a second instance of trespassing?” he hisses, looking entirely unimpressed.
“It is if you want to look at it that way—”
“There isn’t any other way to look at it,” he interrupts. “What I want to know is how you managed to get past my wards in the first place.”
Luna blinks. “I didn’t notice any wards, today or the last time I was here.”
“Impossible.”
She shakes her head. “I assure you, I climbed over the fence using the tree without any resistance. If there had been wards, I certainly wouldn’t have removed them just to chase down a little lizard.”
“So there is a limit to your delinquency?”
Luna grins. “I suppose there is.”
Snape’s arms are crossed, and it’s obvious he’s struggling with the prospect of her so easily bypassing his wards. There is a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth, and his back is ramrod straight as he towers over her, staring down his prominent nose. Luna vaguely notes his familiar scent and is transported back to the potions classroom, something astringent, smoothed over with woods and earth.
“You should leave, Miss Lovegood.” His tone is cold and firm, with a little danger underlying it.
Not wanting to press her luck, Luna nods, tugging her wand out so she can summon her rake and the bags of leaves she’s gathered. “Nice to see you again, Professor.”
She looks up in time to see the wizard sputter something under his breath as she Disapparates from his garden, a little sad she was unable to complete her task. When she reappears at home, Luna disposes of the bags, stores the rake, and enters the house through the kitchen door, unsurprised to find her father asleep with a book dangling from his fingers in the sitting room. Smiling, she gently removes it, placing a little scrap of newspaper to mark his place before she heads upstairs to clean up.
Against her will, Luna finds her mind drifting back to thoughts of her taciturn former professor, still unable to believe it was his yard she stumbled into. As she rinses the shampoo from her hair, she idly watches the sudsy water as it runs into the drain for a beat before remembering that she needs to condition. By the time she’s finished with her shower and dressed, there is a scent wafting upstairs that smells suspiciously burnt and hurries down to take over for her increasingly off-balance father.
After she gently nudges him in the direction of a task that doesn’t require the use of any fire, Luna doesn’t have time to think about Severus Snape any more that day.
The garden is almost covered in brown-orange leaves.
For two weeks, Severus is unable to solve the puzzle of how Lovegood was able to pass through his wards. Her efforts at raking the leaves had been for nought, especially as he had immediately returned to neglecting the maintenance again. Severus tries not to allow this to bother him, but he can’t. He supposes it wouldn’t be that difficult to make time to tidy up the leafy mess himself.
Perhaps.
It will have nothing to do with the younger blonde witch—nothing at all. He simply wishes to avoid his neighbours peering in or commenting on the state of his garden. The busybodies on the street largely leave him alone, but if there was going to be anything they’d complain about, he’s confident it will be the smell of rotting leaves if he lets it get any worse.
Annoyed at Lovegood once more for giving him yet another thing to think about, Severus spends the afternoon clearing the garden, resorting to doing it the Muggle way. By the time he’s finished, the sun is beginning its journey beyond the horizon and his lower back smarts from the physical exertion. Aside from hefting around heavy cauldrons now and again, it’s been years since he’s done much manual labour. His lean build is more suited to the many hours he spends pacing around his house.
Before returning inside, he stares out at the yard and admits to himself that despite his vexation with the young witch, being able to see the grass, even if it does look a little parched, is somewhat satisfying. Even as he allows the visual improvement, he is still soured by the knowledge that the woman causally blundered onto his property in the first place and then had the gall to return a second time.
Severus decides against lingering outdoors, a chill settling over him with the disappearance of the sun's warmth.
Instead, he shuffles his tired body inside, dragging himself upstairs to shower with the hope that the hot water will ease the ache in his muscles. He takes a long draught from a bottle of pain potion in the shaving cabinet in the bathroom to chase away the remaining soreness.
Downstairs, he settles the kettle on the hob to make tea, and busies himself with throwing together a quick hash for dinner which he eats standing over the kitchen sink while staring out the window into the darkness beyond it. Here, in the country, the stars are more stark in the night sky without all the light pollution from living in the city.
After he’s cleaned up after himself, an easy task when the only person he has to worry for is himself, Severus settles in front of the sitting room fire. A new mug of tea in hand, he summons his copy of Botanical Curses and Poisons , so he can pick up his reading where he last left off.
Between his physical exertion outside, and the warmth of the fire, Severus finds his eyes soon become unfocussed and begin to droop. Unwilling to suffer the consequences to his spine for falling asleep in his armchair, he rises, extinguishing the fire before heading up to his room.
There isn’t time for more thoughts about the vexing Miss Lovegood, as the moment his head hits the pillow, he is beckoned to sleep.
He shouldn’t be surprised when there is a knock at his door and he opens it to find Lovegood standing there with a box of pumpkin-shaped biscuits.
She wears a mercurial expression, owlish eyes gazing up at him with her lips curved in a half smile. Something about the witch has always disarmed him in a way he cannot put his finger on. Frozen in the doorway, he mentally kicks himself for being at a loss for words, and hunts for something to say.
“Come in,” he finds himself uttering gruffly, stepping out of the way.
“Thank you, Mister Snape.”
Lovegood practically glides past him, and Severus is stunned when she presses the box of biscuits into his hands and busies herself with removing her pea coat. “Where shall I hang it?” she asks, glancing over her shoulder at him.
“Cupboard door to your right,” he tells her, and she hangs it, moving into the house further as he follows gormlessly after her.
Severus could kick himself. What was he thinking, inviting the girl inside? His brows draw together as he frowns, leading the way through to the kitchen in the back of the house, bypassing the sitting room and study.
“You have a nice home, sir,” Lovegood says airily. “I’m pleased to see you take better care of the inside than you do your garden.”
Severus sputters, spinning to face her, cheeks flushing with warmth and humiliation. The nerve of the girl to be so…blunt. “Take a seat, Miss Lovegood,” he says flatly, choosing not to react to her statement.
It’s not as if she’s wrong.
Setting the container down, he tries not to allow his discomfort to show when she bypasses the table to take a seat on one of the stools at the breakfast bar abutting the kitchen counter. He can feel her eyes tracking his movements as he sets the kettle to boil and hunts around in the cupboard for a teapot.
“What do you do with yourself here, sir?” she asks, her voice pulling him out of his thoughts.
“Don’t call me that,” he snaps, her use of the address causing a spike of irritation.
“What should I call you, then?”
“Severus is fine.” He returns to his task, filling the teapot with boiling water.
“Well then, Severus,” she says as if she’s been calling him by that name for years. “What kind of work do you do now? I presume you aren’t teaching?”
He has to actively try not to snort at her question as he carries the pot over to stand across the counter from her. “No, Miss Lovegood, I do not teach.”
She grins and nods. “Good. I think you were a very knowledgeable Potions Master, but you never seemed all that fond of teaching.”
Severus can’t help the corner of his mouth lifting. “No, I was not overly fond. I work as a consultant and also brew for Apothecaries throughout Europe.”
“That sounds interesting. I always found the subject fascinating, but I know it’s not my strength.”
Severus vaguely recalls the young Ravenclaw earning A’s and E’s in his class, but nothing higher due to her head often being off in the clouds. He always found this behaviour rather vexing, though he is forced to acknowledge that he was rather lacking as an educator.
“And I assume you have chosen to go into a different field of study?” he finds himself asking, curious to know why the hell she’d been chasing after a creature that led her to his garden in the first place.
Lovegood nods. “I studied as a Magizoologist,” she says, accepting the cup of tea he passes her. “I’m involved in the study of rare substrains of species, which is why I’ve come home. The unusual little Moke I was following has been spotted only a few times in the UK in recent years.”
Severus finds himself almost impressed. “A shame you lost it, then.”
She shrugs, taking a sip. “I gave chase and it got away. That’s just something that happens with magical creatures sometimes. They can be rather good at giving you the slip.”
“Do you usually work abroad?”
“I do,” she nods. “Father is happy to have me home to help with the paper, of course.”
Busying himself with drinking tea, he is surprised at the lack of tension in his back and shoulders. Ordinarily being around people sets him on edge, but Lovegood, despite her awkward frankness and propensity for saying whatever is on her mind, is surprisingly easy company. He is finding her straightforwardness rather fascinating and refreshing.
“If you don’t like the biscuits, you don’t have to eat them,” she tells him, dunking one of them into her tea before popping it into her mouth.
Feeling compelled to try one, he reaches for it and stuffs it into his mouth to give himself something to do, unsurprised to find it tastes of pumpkin and spices. It’s not his favourite by any stretch, but it’s pleasant and not overly sweet.
“Hmm, good,” he murmurs around his mouthful.
She smiles brightly at that before swallowing the rest of her tea and jumping down from the stool. “I should probably leave you to get on with your day,” she announces. “I just wanted to bring the biscuits as an apology for trespassing.”
Severus finds himself once again stunned by her, and floats after her towards the front door. He watches silently as she fishes her coat from the closet and pulls it back on, turning back to him once she’s reached the door.
“Would you mind if I stopped by for a visit again while I’m here?” she asks.
For some reason he finds himself nodding. “You may.”
“It was very nice to see you again, Severus,” Lovegood tells him, and without so much as a wave or another word, she shows herself out and shuts the door behind her.
He gazes at the door for some unknown amount of time afterwards, partway between stunned by her easy familiarity with him, and his vexation with himself over allowing her to destabilise him. He finds his footing eventually and stalks back into the kitchen frowning once more in confusion, tipping out his now cold tea and pouring a new cup from the pot.
He has no idea how long he stares at the box of biscuits and the whimsical design she’d clearly piped on each of them by hand. No one has ever gone to this much effort to apologise—in her own odd way, of course—but it still stands.
And despite himself, Severus spends the remainder of the day and night wondering why the hell he’d answered yes to the witch returning.