Snape/Luna, rain, tongues
He should be grumpy that they're outside. It's raining, his hair - unattractive even when it's clean and dry - is stuck to his face in clumps, his robes are soaked, his boots are ankle deep in mud.
It's cold autumn rain - there's no other kind of autumn rain in Scotland - but he ignores the cold water running down his neck to watch the girl next to him. A young woman, but the expression on her face as she spins - barefoot in the mud, sodden blond hair whirling and flinging raindrops, face turned up to the overcast sky to catch raindrops on her tongue - is sweet, childish delight, untainted by adult concerns.
He should tell her to wear her coat, to use a water-off spell, to wear shoes to protect her feet. He should tell her that there is nothing clean and pure about the rain falling from polluted skies.
Instead he watches, and - because no one but her will see, and she makes him feel this way - he lets the corners of his mouth curl up into a smile.