This chapter was inspired by all the readers who felt there should be more Severus and Celena moments in the story.

"Come off it, Fleur," Celena said wearily, pushing parchment, ink pot and quill aside.

"I certainly won't come off eet," Fleur firmly pushed the quill and parchment back towards her. "Not until I see an owl fly out of zis window." She crossed her arms and looked at Celena expectantly.

"I told you," Celena lowered her voice. "You are deducing far too much from that... incident. It didn't matter all that much," she said with an affected little laugh which left Fleur entirely unconvinced. "It was just a... moment."

"Severus Snape ees not a man for... moments," said Fleur with a determined glint in her eye. "Eef 'e kissed you, 'e must 'ave wanted to do zat for a long time."

Celena rolled her eyes. "Yes, I'm sure he daydreamed about this. He taunted me in front of my students and did his best to make me feel like a foolish little girl, and all the while he saw in his mind's eye how he's going to get me out of my -"

"I know 'e wasn't... nice, but zis doesn't mean 'e wasn't attracted to you all ze same," Fleur said patiently, as if explaining something very simple and obvious to a stubborn three-year-old. "And you are interest in 'im too, zat ees a fact."

"How do you work that one out?" Celena crossed her arms in turn. Fleur leaned a little closer.

"You are theenking about Timothy far less zan I feared you would," she said, smiling. "At first eet was an act, I know - and you played your part well... but now I can tell you really are over 'im."

Celena sighed. "What is it that you want me to do?"

"Send 'im an owl," said Fleur, "and ask 'im to meet you in 'Ogsmeade over the next weekend, so zat you can discuss the study program you 'ave planned for next year."

Celena looked at her as if she had lost her mind. "I don't need to meet him in Hogsmeade for that, we can talk in his office, or mine."

Fleur seemed genuinely amused. "What you need," she said, "ees a pretext to get 'im out of school, so you can sit and talk over some drinks. You know," she paused, "like a date."

"I don't imagine Severus Snape ever went on a date," Celena protested.

"I know," Fleur nodded sagely. "Zat is why eet ees up to you to eemprove 'im."

"I have no intention of improving anyone," protested Celena, but to no avail. Fleur tapped her fingers on the table impatiently, and Celena threw up her arms in a gesture of surrender. "All right," she took the quill in her hand, "but what should I write?"

... The following Saturday, Celena stood at the entrance to The Hog's Head. She took a small hand mirror out of her bag and checked out her reflection with nervous apprehension. She dressed less carefully than Fleur advised her to, less than young witches were instructed at Beauxbatons Academy, but somehow she doubted it would make much of a difference either way. Severus Snape was not a man to be hoodwinked by appearances.

She took a deep breath, did her best to ignore the fluttering in her stomach, pushed the creaking door and entered. She had only been at The Hog's Head once before, and the place looked even gloomier than she remembered. A thin, grey-bearded barman was wiping glasses behind the counter, deprived of other employment as the bar was almost completely empty. Celena spotted Severus right away; he was sitting at a corner table, waiting for her, and got up on his feet when she entered. She wound her way through the maze of shabby chairs and tables, until she was standing in front of him.

"Professor Costello," he inclined his head slightly.

"Good afternoon, Professor Snape," she said, trying not to sound too awkward. Privately she felt very cross with Fleur. "I hope you don't mind my choice of place. It's not as merry as The Three Broomsticks, but not as crowded either."

"Not at all," he assured her. "I confess I don't frequent this bar, but it does have its..." he cast a dubious glance at the dusty wooden panels, "atmosphere," he finished. "What would you like to drink?" he asked. "Here, I wouldn't recommend anything but the red wine."

"Red wine will be good," Celena nodded, sitting down, while Snape walked over to the counter to make their order. He returned promptly, and looked at her in silence for a longer time than could be expected.

"I understand there is something you wished to discuss with me, Professor Costello," he finally said, with the air of great awkwardness. "I am at your service."

"Yes," Celena blushed slightly under his gaze. His voice was quite steady, but his eyes betrayed emotions it was not in his custom to show. She reached inside a tote bag she had brought with her, and pulled a thick file out of it. She placed it on the table between them, and at that moment, the barman slouched over and placed a glass of wine in front of each of them, then shuffled away.

"Tolerable," commented Snape, taking a cautious sip of his wine, "but I think it wouldn't hurt them to replace the chipped glasses once in a couple of decades... what is it that you have here, Professor Costello?"

"Some of the plans I've made for next year's Potions study program," said Celena, opening the file to reveal a stack of notes written in her neat, pretty hand. "I would like you to take a look."

"Me?" Severus raised his eyebrows. He looked surprised, but not unpleasantly so. "Why, I was under the impression that you were getting on just fine without my advice."

"I know we've had our disagreements, Professor Snape," said Celena, bravely meeting his eyes, "but the fact remains that you had taught Potions for many years, and are one of the most talented Potion-makers I have ever met. I value your opinion... even if there are some things regarding which we do not see eye to eye."

"Like students whom I would never allow in my class?" Snape browsed the list of those who would be continuing on to seventh-year N.E.W.T classes. "Some of these will never scrap an 'Acceptable' without a heavy dose of Remedial Potions. And Samantha Gardner is unlikely to pass the N.E.W.T examinations at all, if she is anything like she was when I taught her."

"I know, poor girl," sighed Celena, "but she is so determined to try that I simply don't have the heart to turn her down."

"You do realize that a high rate of fails among your N.E.W.T students does not do good to your record as a teacher?"

"I care more about the students' records than mine," said Celena. "In some cases, I agree, attempting the advanced level of Potion-making is a clear waste of time... but in other instances, it is ambiguous. For some, the mere pass of a N.E.W.T examination means a venue to the career they dreamed about... while, if they are denied the opportunity, there is no hope at all, and no motivation for them, perhaps, to work as hard at other subjects. It is worthwhile to teach not only the most talented, or those who have been good at the subject from the start. You have dismissed Dennis Creevey as a hopeless case, Professor Snape; well, in my classes the boy has made steady progress and has even shown some very brilliant strokes. Although I did have to spend some evening tutoring him, I daresay it was more than worth it."

Snape looked at her intently and was silent for a moment. Celena feared her monologue would make him bristle, but to her surprise, a slight smile appeared on his lips.

"As I said," he paused, "you are getting on just fine without my advice, Professor Costello."

All the same, he took her notes from her hand and flipped through them, looking with interest at timetables and lists of books.

"I think the number of Shield Potions that are made in class should be increased," commented Celena as he leafed through the file. "I also believe it might be beneficial if students are allowed to use the Potions classroom during free periods, for some hands-on training in addition to their theoretical homework. Some benefit from not having the entire class look at them while they are practising."

"That is a good idea, generally speaking," agreed Snape, "although I would recommend attendance by a Prefect during such sessions. By now you know as well as I do that even under a teacher's eye, you might get splashes of unfinished potion all over the walls and ceiling, and someone always uses a rusty cauldron which ends up leaking some poisonous substance."

"Oh, I do," confirmed Celena, "I believe Potions classes give Madam Pomfrey just as much to do as Quidditch sessions."

There was another silence, and Severus Snape was looking at her once more. The cynicism, the irony, the unpleasantness were gone, and his eyes were keen, understanding and intelligent, and there was something else in his face... something that made her heart flutter once again.

"I underestimated you, Professor Costello," he said. "I would not be an honest man if I didn't admit that. I thought you lacked experience and knowledge to teach Potions, but I was wrong. You are more than well suited to the task."

Celena's cheeks glowed pink. "Thank you, Professor Snape," she said.

"As for our other," he cleared his throat, "disagreements... I have been blunt at times, I know, but I was trying to get you away from potentially dangerous affairs. I... I might not know you very well, Professor Costello, but I recognized your spirit quite soon. You know no fear... even when it should be deemed common prudence to be afraid."

The dark eyes were staring into the bright blue ones, deep and intense, and Celena felt a flush creep up her neck. Did this stern, unyielding man just pay her a compliment? Did this man kiss me, that night in the Forbidden Forest? Or was it just a dream?

"Well," she said lightly, "this summer, I believe I will be as far from danger as can be imagined. Summers are usually hectic time at the family business - Costello Concoctions, you know - and my parents will need every pair of helping hands. Of course, I don't plan to spend the entire summer in London. Fleur invited me to spend some time with her, and Professor McGonagall told me she is planning a staff reunion for a couple of days in Brighton, sometime around mid-July... do you think you will attend, Professor Snape?"

She knew very well that such rallies were held for the Hogwarts staff every summer, and were particularly enjoyed by Professor Sprout and Madam Pomfrey. She also knew Severus Snape hasn't attended a Brighton weekend with his colleagues in living memory, so she expected to hear a negative. He surprised her once more, though.

"I might," he said cautiously. "It... depends."

"On what?" Celena dared to ask. Unexpectedly, he leaned closer.

"Do you remember how we first met?"

Celena blinked, confused and a little discombobulated at the possible implications of this question. "Why, yes," she said cautiously. "It was in Professor McGonagall's office on September the first."

But Snape shook his head. "I meant the time when you arrived at Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament. The carriage pulled down and you all stepped out, shivering with cold and looking apprehensive. Fleur Delacour was standing beside you."

Celena looked at him, gratified that he should remember such a detail. And most people would say she was standing beside Fleur, not the other way around.

"You don't remember, perhaps," he suggested.

"Oh, but I do," Celena hastened to say. "You stood there, so austere-looking, and Fleur and I hoped you are not one of the judges," she smiled wistfully. "That was a fun year, for the most part... for me, at least. Fleur was the one to get landed with all the hard work."

"Hard work indeed," the corner of Snape's mouth twitched sarcastically. "Photo shoots and interviews and opening balls."

"You must know it was much more than that!" protested Celena. "It was pure chance Fleur didn't tie for championship with Harry Potter, or she could have ended like poor Cedric Diggory. She was as good as any of them. Yes, she was," insisted Celena, dismayed by the look of skepticism on Severus's face. "You think Fleur is just a silly little woman, that she is vain and empty-headed."

"No," Snape said firmly. "I do not. I used to think so of you," he admitted sheepishly, "and I couldn't have been more wrong. I learn from my mistakes."

Both his gaze and his voice were so earnest that Celena felt a little overwhelmed. There was power in the man sitting across from her. She was about to say something when their conversation was interrupted by a little man with small, rather bloodshot eyes and matted ginger hair, who sauntered over to their table.

"Snape!" he called out. "Fancy meeting you 'ere!"

Severus turned around, and his features instantly rearranged themselves into the well-known scowl. "Mundungus," he said.

"I was going to go up to the school to look for you, but stopped 'ere on my way, to 'ave a drink or two - and there you are. I need a word with you, Snape," the man lowered his voice conspirationally.

"Surely it can wait?" Snape said irritably. "I am in the middle of something."

"So I see," smirked Mundungus, looking insolently at Celena.

"Professor Costello," Severus spoke to her once more, "this is Mundungus Fletcher, the most shameless sneaking thief I have ever had the misfortune to meet. I wasn't expecting to see you any time soon, Fletcher. Weren't you supposed to be under interrogation for the attempted import of fake Veela hair from Bulgaria? How did you wriggle out of that one?"

"I have my methods," Mundungus Fletcher grinned shamelessly, "and it doesn't hurt to know the right people, either."

"As I said, he is a sneaking..."

"But I can be useful," Mundungus interrupted defensively.

"You can," confirmed Snape. "Otherwise, you wouldn't be tolerated."

"Can we go up to the castle and talk?" asked Mundungus. "It's about you-know-what," he added in a dramatic whisper.

"Oh, very well," Snape said in an exasperated voice. He paid for the wine, and the three of them walked out of the bar. Snape and Mundungus Fletcher were to continue in the direction of Hogwarts, while Celena planned to pass through the post office.

"I will see you at dinner, Professor Costello," said Severus Snape by way of goodbye. She looked after him for a long time, and he looked back once.

It appeared that all her conversations with Severus Snape were destined to be interrupted. She didn't know whether she felt frustrated about that, or relieved. But she was glad, at any rate, that she had listened to Fleur.