Some nights, Severus found himself abandoned, surrounded by immortal demons: werewolves and snakes, dead mentors and tormentors. Desperate, he cried for help.
Delicate fingers twined with his, guiding him to safety.
“It’s all right,” Luna whispered.
She allowed him his dignity, and never pried. She only snuggled against him, smoothing his hair until his heartbeat slowed.
“Probably a Tringtiller infestation,” she yawned. “They cause bad dreams. I’ll put out some onions; that’ll keep you safe.”
With her silvery voice soothing him and her silvery hair tickling his cheek, Severus rested at last.