Work Text:
There were many terrifying things at Hogwarts -
The Forbidden Forest.
Exams.
Hagrid’s cooking.
The possibility that Argus Filch might one day experience happiness and become unstoppable.
But above all else, there was Severus Snape.
Snape could silence a classroom by entering it slightly harder than usual.
First years burst into tears on eye contact.
Third years developed stress-related hiccups.
One Ravenclaw fainted because Snape said “Hm.”
Snape considered this proper educational structure.
Fear built character. Fear built discipline. Fear prevented Gryffindors from speaking.
Which was why his greatest nightmare was not Harry Potter.
It was Luna Lovegood. Because Luna Lovegood was immune to fear. Not brave. Not rebellious. Just fundamentally disconnected from the concept of intimidation. Like a very polite ghost.
The first incident occurred during double Potions.
“Today,” Snape announced silkily, “we will be brewing the Draught of Living Death. Though in Mr. Longbottom’s case, merely approaching death would constitute academic improvement.”
Neville whimpered.
Snape swept dramatically through the dungeon like an underpaid vampire.
“Too much wormwood.”
“Wrong direction.”
“Potter, are you trying to poison us all?”
“Miss Granger, stop looking smug. It’s unsettling.”
Then he stopped dead because Luna was stirring her potion with a carrot. Not beside the cauldron. Inside it. The class went silent.
Snape stared.
“Miss Lovegood,” he said at last, “why are you using a carrot?”
Luna looked up pleasantly.
“The turnip refused.”
There was a horrible pause.
“What?”
“The turnip felt emotionally unavailable.”
Dean Thomas made a sound like a bicycle pump dying. Ron slid sideways off his stool. Hermione’s quill snapped in half.
Snape opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. No words came out.
Luna tilted her head sympathetically.
“Oh dear. You look as though your soul just tripped.”
Something inside Snape visibly left his body.
That was the day the students discovered something incredible - Snape did not know how to handle Luna.
Everyone else feared Snape. Even the teachers, occasionally. But Luna treated him like a slightly overworked crow.
And Snape,
Snape was terrified.
Not of physical harm. Of conversation.
The evidence piled up quickly.
EXHIBIT A
“Potter,” snapped Snape one morning, “Why are you smiling?”
Harry blinked. “I remembered something funny?”
“Detention.”
Luna raised her hand.
“I smiled once because I saw a cloud shaped like a ferret wearing socks.”
Snape nodded absentmindedly.
“Understandable.”
The class gasped so violently that Seamus inhaled a beetle.
EXHIBIT B
Neville accidentally melted his cauldron.
“LONGBO-”
“Professor,” Luna interrupted gently, “Yelling wrinkles the aura.”
Snape stopped mid rampage.
The class waited.
Snape inhaled slowly through his nose like a man fighting demons in a parking lot.
“Five points from Gryffindor instead of ten.”
Neville nearly proposed to Luna on the spot.
EXHIBIT C
Snape swept into class one morning looking especially murderous.
“Today,” he said softly, “You will brew in complete silence.”
Luna raised her hand.
“What if someone combusts?”
“What?”
“It happens.”
“It does not.”
“You seem very confident for someone standing near Seamus Finnigan.”
Seamus Finnigan looked offended. Then, his cauldron exploded. The class screamed.
Snape closed his eyes.
Luna nodded serenely.
“The signs were there.”
Soon, students began weaponizing Luna.
Not openly. No one had a death wish.
But strategically.
If Snape looked close to homicide, someone would whisper, “Get Luna talking.”
It worked every single time.
Once, Snape caught Harry whispering during class.
“Potter,” he hissed, “Perhaps you’d like to share your fascinating thoughts with everyone?”
Before Harry could answer, Luna looked up dreamily.
“I think he was wondering whether bats get lonely.”
Snape froze. The class froze. Harry looked alarmed.
“Why,” Snape asked carefully, “Would Potter be wondering that?”
“Because you move like a bat that pays taxes.”
Draco Malfoy emitted a noise usually heard from haunted plumbing.
Snape went utterly still.
When Snape became still, it usually meant somebody was about to perish academically.
But Luna continued peacefully.
“You also have the energy of an exhausted cemetery.”
Hermione disappeared into the table wheezing. Ron was silently convulsing.
Snape stared at Luna for a very long time.
Then,
“Ten points from Gryffindor.”
Harry looked outraged.
“WHY ME?”
“I panicked.”
The problem, Snape eventually realized, was that Luna treated him like a human being.
A deeply unpleasant experience.
One winter morning Luna wandered into class wearing lion slippers, radish earrings and approximately fourteen necklaces that looked cursed.
She took one look at Snape and frowned.
“You’re tired.”
Snape stiffened immediately.
“I assure you, Miss Lovegood -”
“You have the posture of a disappointed widower.”
The class collapsed. Even Hermione made a sound like a punctured accordion.
Snape looked personally attacked by existence itself.
“I am not discussing my posture with a student.”
“That’s healthy,” Luna said approvingly.
Snape looked like he wanted to drown in his own cauldron.
And worst of all, Luna was nice to him. Not fake polite. Not frightened respectful. Actually nice.
One morning she entered class, took one look at Snape and said softly, “You seem sad today.”
Snape nearly dropped an entire jar of lacewing flies.
“I assure you, Miss Lovegood, I am not sad.”
“All right,” Luna said kindly, in the exact tone one used with emotional hedgehogs. It was horrifying.
Then came the staff meeting incident.
It began normally. Which should have warned everyone.
Professor Minerva McGonagall was discussing curriculum while Snape radiated concentrated bitterness beside her. Albus Dumbledore was eating lemon drops with the peaceful air of a man refusing responsibility.
Then Luna wandered in.
Nobody knew why.
Luna often appeared places reality hadn’t approved.
“Ah, Miss Lovegood,” said Dumbledore pleasantly. “Can we help you?”
“I was looking for a thestral,” Luna explained. “But I sensed emotional weather.”
Every teacher slowly turned toward Snape.
Snape looked betrayed by the universe.
“I do not emit emotional weather.”
“You absolutely do,” said Luna. “Right now you’re drizzling.”
McGonagall inhaled her tea. Flitwick fell off two cushions.
Snape’s expression suggested murder had become a coping mechanism.
The true catastrophe, however, arrived with Dolores Umbridge.
Umbridge entered Snape’s classroom in an explosion of pink fabric and concentrated evil.
“Professor Snape,” she trilled, “Your students appear terrified of you.”
“Correct.”
“How delightful.”
She turned suddenly toward Luna.
“And you, Miss Lovegood? Are you frightened of Professor Snape?”
The room became so silent you could hear Neville evolving as a person.
Luna considered this carefully.
“No.”
Snape pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Why ever not?” Umbridge demanded.
“Well,” Luna said thoughtfully, “He’s mostly shaped like a threat.”
Harry bent double wheezing. Ron vanished beneath the desk. Draco was crying actual tears.
“SHAPED LIKE A THREAT?” shrieked Umbridge.
“Yes,” Luna said kindly. “Like an irritated umbrella.”
Snape closed his eyes briefly, perhaps communicating with the afterlife.
Luna continued.
“He also resembles a disappointed crow.”
“STOP DESCRIBING ME.”
“You glare like someone stole your favorite plague.”
At this point McGonagall walked directly into a wall trying not to laugh.
After that, Snape simply stopped pretending he understood Luna. He endured her. Poorly.
One afternoon he found her feeding toast crusts to a suit of armor.
“Miss Lovegood.”
“Yes?”
“Why.”
“The armor seemed emotionally hollow.”
“It is armor.”
“We all wear armor, Professor.”
Several nearby students stopped breathing. Snape stood motionless for a full ten seconds.
Finally he said weakly, “Ten points to Ravenclaw for… whatever this is.”
The suit of armor saluted Luna.
Snape immediately left.
Very quickly.
Near the end of term, the students discovered something impossible.
Luna could make Snape apologize.
It happened after Snape unfairly accused Neville of ruining ingredients.
Again.
Neville looked devastated.
Then Luna spoke softly.
“You hurt his feelings.”
The classroom went still.
Snape turned slowly.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You hurt them rather badly,” Luna repeated. “They’re all droopy now.”
Snape stared at Neville. Neville stared back in terror. Snape looked trapped in a psychological bear trap.
Then, against all known magical laws, “Longbottom,” Snape said stiffly, “your ingredients were acceptable.”
The classroom exploded. Hermione screamed. Dean fell over backward. Ron shouted, “WE’VE CROSSED INTO ANOTHER DIMENSION.”
Neville burst into tears. Snape looked horrified at himself.
Luna smiled warmly.
“There you are.”
Snape pointed shakily toward the door.
“Leave.”
“Certainly,” said Luna pleasantly. “Your aura’s doing the angry porcupine thing again.”
“I DO NOT HAVE AN AURA.”
“You do. It’s exhausted.”
Luna drifted from the classroom.
Snape stood motionless for several seconds. Then he turned slowly to face the class.
“No one,” he whispered dangerously, “Will survive mentioning this.”
Harry raised a hand.
“Sir, hypothetically, which part?”
“Detention.”
“Worth asking.”