Apparently, Hern had made Hermione the recruitment officer for his Christmas party, because as soon as she had learned that Severus had not planned to go, she had started to ask him about it at odd intervals, wanting to know why not, and what he was going to do instead.

He had kept silent on that account. His social life was not exactly something to write home about and the truth was, of course, that he had been planning to do absolutely nothing in complete peace and quiet.

However, she had kept on insisting he 'think about it', and it had culminated on the end of term feast in the Great Hall, when she had cornered him to ask the same questions all over again.

Exasperated, because he couldn't understand why Hern wanted him to be there in the first place, he had very plainly explained to her that,

"Hermione. I'm not a Christmas person. I'm not a festive person either. Surely you know that by now?"

She had looked up at him with shockingly wide eyes and taken his hand in her own, smaller one.

"Severus," she'd said, "don't you get it? I want you to come."

That made him falter.

"You don't need me there," he'd said uncertainly, "I'll spoil it all by being mean and boring."

Even as her touch burned his palm, it was her gentle laugh that had done him in. This, along with her quiet, almost shy, "No, you won't. Come. For me?"

It was what had made him end up in front of his bathroom mirror on Saturday eve, going through a very sudden, but intense mid-life crisis.

He took in the sad pallor of his own face, the ever-present bags under his eyes and the encroaching grey on his head. He had brushed his teeth, showered, and even dug up his 'best' coat, which he had purchased from Madame Malkin's for a not insignificant amount of galleons –admittedly some decades ago- but for all his efforts, he seemed to look just the same as he had before.

Slightly greasy hair, frown lines, crooked nose, yellow teeth. He even had to let out the coat at the waist, using a handy little spell his mother had taught him –along with almost everything else he knew about housekeeping- and although he should have seen it coming, it really didn't do much for his mood.

He downed the whiskey he had poured himself for good luck –or was it perhaps for courage, and was he really on the second one already?- and gave up. There was only so much he could do.

Clearly, Hern and Corner knew a thing or two about household spells as well, because even Severus had to admit that the Great Hall looked more enchanting than usual.

There were pinecones, and holly, and fairy lights, and glittery little paper hearts that the first-years had made. There was even a charmed set of string instruments –probably Corner's handiwork- playing a jolly Christmas tune next to one of the gigantic Christmas trees that Hagrid had felled in the Forbidden forest the week before the end of term. There was also finger food and an abundance of alcohol, he noticed, and feeling a little self-conscious, he went straight for the gin.

In addition to the staff, there were several other guests as well, including the liveliest segment of the Board of Governors. He had planned to slink off to a corner with his drink and wait for Hermione to arrive, but -in an attempt to avoid what would undoubtedly have been a very stilted conversation with chairman and former Minister for Magic Millicent Bagnold- he ended up on the odd side of a golden reindeer and walked straight into Potter and Weasley.

They had claimed their old places at the Gryffindor table, and had even had the presence of mind to nick one of the serving plates for themselves. He felt his shoulders sag a little in relief.

"Severus Snape." Weasley stood halfway to grasp his arm and give it a shake. "You're a little greyer around the temples since last I saw you."

Weasley's own hair was impeccably red, just like Rose's, and he wore a deep green robe to match, clearly made by a highly skilled tailor. Apparently, he was making up for a childhood of wearing second-hand rags to teenage balls. Severus could relate, of course, but he was not about to share that particular piece of information.

"A little?" Potter was sampling a few appetisers for himself, looking more plain in a dark brown blazer. He offered the plate to Severus with a mischievous grin. "That's being awfully kind, Ron."

"Careful, you," said Severus as he selected a tattie scone. He gave Potter's head a meaningful look. "Black isn't as forgiving as the fairer colours, Potter. Just wait and you'll see for yourself, eventually."

"Yeah, Harry." Weasley squinted at Potter and leaned in to pick out a disarrayed strand of hair. "I actually think I can see one right here, is it the Auror business that's giving you these? Or little James maybe? It surely can't be Ginny."

"Get off, Ron." Potter swatted his hand away and blushed. "That's not how you get grey hairs. It's all about genetics."

"Let's hear it then." Weasley looked at Severus with a wide smile. "Did Harry's grandparents go grey in their thirties too?"

Severus had to supress a smile of his own. There were things about Rose that sometimes puzzled him because they were not as he remembered Hermione as a child –traits like her open, free-spoken ways and blunt honesty and the way she was naturally at ease in social situations. He had thought of them as something unique to her personality, but he could see traces of them now, in Weasley, and maybe it was just the whiskey he had been drinking, but even though he had hardly seen the man since he was in school, he almost felt like he knew these little parts of him.

"Mrs and Mr Evans were both blonde," he said. "At least for the time when I was acquainted with them. I never interacted much with the Potters, so I can't remember well."

"Did they wear glasses?"

Potter had stilled and his eyes gleamed, as they always did when he managed to make Severus talk about the old days.

"Mr Evans did." Severus took a fortifying swig from his glass. "But they were of quite a different…style from yours."

"No wonder." Weasley laughed. "Why do you still wear those old goggles, Harry? I can't imagine round ever having been high fashion."

"Oh, come on, Weasley." Severus snorted. "John Lennon?"

Potter grinned at Weasley's blank gaze. He touched his spectacles fondly. "These are fortified with so many spells now that they're practically stuck to my face," he said. "I wouldn't have the heart to change them out, even if the thought should strike me." He shrugged. "Which it hasn't."

"Harry, Ron!"

They all turned to see Longbottom coming towards them and a round of hearty hand shaking and back patting followed, which left Severus on the side to sip from his drink and battle the old discomfort he was prone to in these sort of situations.

"So…How come you're here?" asked Longbottom with a tilt of his head towards Weasley. "Not that I'm not happy to see you both, but it's a bit of a surprise."

"We're Hermione's dates." Potter lifted his glass in a small toast.

"You're-" Longbottom frowned and looked around the room. His eyes lingered on Hern, who was close by, chatting with the new librarian. "Where is she anyway?"

"No idea." Weasley shrugged and sampled a cheese skewer. "We were early. But I'm sure she'll be around soon."

"Oh, but she's over there with Filius," said Longbottom. He waved a hand and for some absurd reason, Severus' throat seemed to dry up when she looked over at them and her face lit up like the sun. There was absolutely no reason to think that the smile was for him alone.

But then they came over and she walked straight up to stand beside him. Not Potter or Weasley, or Longbottom, but him.

Her dress had short sleeves and he could see her collarbones over the neckline, where a small gold heart rested in the hollow of her throat.

He drained his glass a little too quickly and gave a harsh cough he had not meant to let slip.

"Whoa there, old boy."

A hand landed heavily on his back, and for a startling moment, he thought it was Hermione who touched him, but then they gave him a couple of overly firm pats and Hern wedged his way between the two of them.

"I hope you're all enjoying the party," he said. His eyes landed on Potter and Weasley and he held out a hand. "Cavan Hern, Defence and head of Slytherin."

Potter shook with him. "Harry," he said, "and this is Ron." He nodded his head at Weasley. "We're friends of Hermione's."

"So you're the reason why she would not go to the party with me?" Hern chuckled. "I should feel honoured."

"I don't know about that." Weasley gave Hermione a mock scowl. "She had us wait alone for like half an hour. We had no idea what to do with ourselves. Luckily, Severus here came to the rescue."

"That's hardly an accurate description, Weasley," said Severus. "It seemed to me you were doing just fine on your own."

"Right." Hern smiled gently down at Hermione. "I guess I got the better deal in the end."

"I have the impression you have settled in well here at Hogwarts," said Filius to Hern. "At least judging from all the social events you have put in place for us. It gives the working environment a lift, you know. It's a delight to watch for an old-timer like myself."

"Oh, I do enjoy it here," said Hern, smiling. "At the French Auror force, where I used to be, everyone were male and of approximately the same age, and I have to say I appreciate the greater diversity here. It makes everything a lot more interesting, even though the work itself is admittedly a little more mundane."

"You mean Hogwarts is run by a mob of old women?" Potter grinned at Filius. "No wonder I'm having such problems with getting them to cooperate."

"Dumbledore was the one who knitted socks for everyone at Christmas," said Filius, straight-faced. "I only hand out liquor. But although I can agree fully on the gender issue, there isn't anything interesting about getting old." He chuckled. "You get a little saggier, a little more pain wrecked and a little more apathetic." He nudged Severus' hip sharply with an elbow. "Isn't that right?"

"Don't forget disillusioned," grunted Severus, keeping his thoughts about his tight coat to himself.

"Well, it gives you understanding too, you know," said Hermione softly. She had been quiet up until then and it almost made him startle when she finally chose to speak. They all turned to look at her and she twirled her hands together.

"I mean, youth can be self-absorbed," she hurried to say. "When you're older, you learn to appreciate more things and love more and give more love, and that is most important of all, isn't it?" There was a slight blush forming on her cheeks and Severus' heart skipped a beat when her eyes darted towards his. They both quickly looked away.

"That's how I feel about it anyway…"

"That's…a very generous attitude, Hermione," said Filius, clearly touched. He was quite obviously affected by his steady consumption of the very strong punch that the house elves had provided. Severus could not blame him though; he was feeling a little emotional himself all of a sudden.

"Seeing as the majority of the staff are in their early thirties, I'm not sure we can claim full diversity," said Hern, seeming oblivious to the interaction between Severus and Hermione. "Although Binns admittedly skews the distribution a little…"

"Yeah, and thirty something is actually quite old if you compare to my teammates," said Weasley. "Even Harry has grey hairs now," he added helpfully.

"Oh, is it because of the demonstrations?" Hern tipped his glass towards Potter.

"What demonstrations?" the librarian asked. She had followed Hern over and Severus struggled to recall her full name –in the quiet of his mind he sometimes thought of her as 'the Irishman' even though her accent was clearly Scottish.

"People flooded Diagon Alley last Wednesday." Potter sighed. "It has to do with, you know," his eyes flicked briefly towards Severus, "the Death Eaters. I'm sure you've read about it in the papers."

"Right. Of course." She nodded.

"Chances are it'll only get worse, the release is still three months away." Potter looked at Severus again, and there was a frown between his eyes that seemed an awful lot like worry. "My department has received a number of threats already. Apparently, some people feel very strongly that we should keep them locked up."

"Well, that's all in the hands of Kingsley, isn't it?" said Weasley. "I mean he's the one who calls the shots, isn't he?"

"Yes, of course." Potter shrugged. "But you know what people are like."

"Speaking of," said Filius, "what exactly did you two put in that punch?" He nodded at the podium that normally held the staff's dining table. They all turned to notice that the music had increased in volume and that Corner along with several members of the School Board was dancing an odd dance, which included several long wines of garland.

Hern blanched. "I've no idea," he murmured. "The elves made it. But we did ask them for something festive…"

"Oh, dear…" Filius examined his own glass with a worried expression. "I do fear they have taken your request literally."

"I guess it's time to dance," said Longbottom with an air of finality. He nodded at Hern. "Cavan, Hermione, come along, I'll go and find Hannah."

Hermione seemed to hesitate and Severus wanted to pull her away and ask her to go home with him instead, but he was not that brave.

Hern nudged his side. "The first one is mine," he said below the sound of Corner's band. "I think it's only fitting." He grinned. "Not that you aren't a fine catch, old sport."

Potter gave Severus a curious look, but he was too preoccupied to take notice. He realised that he had been hoping to have a serious talk with Hermione tonight, and only belatedly understood what an idiotic idea that had been. Of course, everyone would want to talk to her. She had many friends here and did not have to rely on him to have a good time, as he relied on her.

And now she was off to dance with Hern…

Severus had not been jealous before. He had no right to be, and he knew he needed to protect himself from thoughts like that. But to see them now, like this… It was like a knife twisted in his chest.

They looked perfect together. A beautiful young couple. Had it not been for his dislike of Hern, he might even have tried to be happy for her. Except he had no business forming an opinion either way, and it shouldn't have been a big deal to him. In fact, it was no big a deal, he decided. Nothing for him to think about.

Sttop thinking about it, Severus, Christ.

He had been drinking a little too much perhaps, and the previously relaxing effect of the alcohol was now beginning to make him tired.

Hermione hurried back from the dance floor to find Severus' place empty. She twirled around to look towards the drinks table, but he was nowhere in sight. She sighed.

When she had pictured this night in her mind, there had not been so many other people around to thwart her plans, and Neville had completely thrown her for a loop.

Damn her and her shyness. Why couldn't she just kiss him and be done with it?

"You like him, don't you?"

Harry gave her a quizzical look before his eyes darted briefly to Ron, who was entertaining Elisabeth and Michael, probably with one of his many stories from the National Quidditch League.

Hermione spluttered. "I- No! You as well?" She was both upset and disappointed in her own inability to take action, and could not for her life understand why everyone insisted she had a thing for Cavan Hern.

"I don't, Harry," she said on a deep exhale. "I really don't. I thought you knew me better than that."

"You don't?" Harry's eyebrows crept upwards. His eyes flitted across the room once and he leaned away from her slightly. "Oh…" He scratched his hair, looking like he did not quite believe her. "I felt pretty sure…"

"No." She shook her head and gave a soft snort. "He's way too smooth for my taste, both in looks and manners."

"Smooth?" Harry suddenly laughed -rather loudly and incredulously- and she almost startled. Ron and Michael both turned their heads and held up their glasses in a toast.

"You call him smooth?" said Harry, a little more subdued. He grinned. "I'll admit he tries very hard to be suave, but it's pretty obvious that he's faking, isn't it? I've always thought he's rather edgy."

She blinked. "You're not talking about Cavan, are you?"

"Cavan?" Harry frowned at her. "Why on earth would I talk about him?" His eyes caught on something behind her shoulder, which seemed to distract him, and he reached out to touch her arm.

"Listen, Hermione," he said softly. "I think you need some fresh air."

She looked around, bewildered. "What?"

"Yeah." He turned her by the shoulder towards the large double door at the end of the room. "Go outside for a bit. I'm going to go talk to Filius in the meantime."

"Harry, are you suggesting that I'm drunk? I've barely-"

"Of course not." He pushed her lightly forwards. "Just do it. Go."

She frowned as she looked back at him, and hesitantly took a step towards the exit. Harry nodded.

The world seemed quiet outside of the Great Hall. She could still hear the faint sounds of a Christmas waltz and people's chatter, but with the heavy doors between her and the rest, she might as well have been the only person in the dimly lit castle. Trusting Harry, she crossed the corridor to the main entrance, unsurprised to find it unbolted and slightly ajar.

She peeked outside to see the glimmer of stars high in the night sky. There had been heavy snowfalls over Scotland in the past weeks –to Rose's great delight- and the castle grounds were covered by a velvety blanket, knee-deep beside the bannisters where the wind had blown it up against the thick stone walls.

She silently transfigured a napkin she had brought along into a shawl before she approached the lone man who was standing on the lowest step and leaning against one of the many columns that made up the arch above the door.

"I never knew you smoked."

Severus turned his head to look up at her. "I don't," he said, seeming mildly surprised. "That is, I try not to."

She snorted lightly. "You don't seem to be trying very hard right now."

"No." He watched her out of the corner of his eye. "No, not right now..."

She pulled the shawl closer around her shoulders.

"I thought you'd left."

"I did," he said, looking down. "Or, I was thinking to, but then I ended up here."

They both watched the stars for a moment. Above the eastern corner of the Forbidden Forest, Little Bear had just climbed up above the treetops and if she squinted her eyes, Hermione could almost make out the trail of the Milky Way towards the south. It was probably close to five below zero and the light from behind a stained glass window made the snow beneath them glimmer in purple and green and blue. Below her, Severus' cigarette glowed red when he held it to his lips. She walked down a few steps to stand beside him.

"May I ask you something?"

"Mm." His eyes found hers again. "Of course."

"I…ah…Why didn't you want to come tonight?" That wasn't wat she had wanted to say, but as usual when it came to Severus, she managed to put all Gryffindors to shame.

He shrugged. "Because I have to talk to people, I suppose. And be pleasant. I find it…a little stressful."

"Is that so?" She looked away. "I thought maybe you, I don't know, just don't like anyone here…"

She nearly held her breath. Rarely had she given such a direct insinuation to someone.

He was watching her carefully, the dark of his irises seeming almost black in the night. "I like you…"

"You do?" She shivered, and could not quite tell if it was from the cold, or from the tension. "I mean, that's good. Because I like you too, you know."

Severus extinguished his cigarette against the castle wall and banished the remains. When he straightened, it brought them so near that she could easily have put an arm around his neck. But she didn't.

"Do you want to dance?"

"I don't dance," he said warily, and she felt her shoulders sag.

"Oh…"

Severus suddenly seemed weary. He shook his head. "Forgive me. That was…I wouldn't dream of refusing you."

He reached forward and brushed his knuckles against her cheek. His hand was cold, but the contact made her skin glow warm and she took a step closer so that her lower arms nearly touched his stomach. She was incredibly aware of his body next to hers, how he was so much taller than she was, and broader, and how, if he had just raised his hands from his sides and put them around her shoulders, it would surely have felt like heaven.

She heard him draw a shallow breath.

"Listen, Hermione, I…" He seemed unsure and up close, the lines on his face appeared deeper, as though he had been living under stress for some time. She braced herself, afraid she had asked too much of him.

"There is something that I should probably…"

Suddenly, the faint voices from inside seemed to grow louder and Severus abruptly pulled away from her.

"Ahoy, Hermione?"

Neville's face peeked out from behind the door, brightening when he saw her. "Ah, there you are. I've been looking all over for you. Cavan and Michael are handing out Christmas presents. They have one for you as well."

He leaned out a little further. "Oh, Severus. You should come too."

"Right." She twisted to look up at Severus uncertainly, but he had turned away and was already heading back inside.

They became separated when she walked up to the Christmas tree to receive her present –a stethoscope, charmed to play 'jingle bells' when she put it at someone's chest- and she thanked Michael and Cavan for both the gift and the evening.

"Excuse me, will you? I'm feeling a little tipsy from the wine."

"Oh." Cavan watched her. "But you'll come back, won't you?"

"Perhaps…"

She looked around the room and slung the stethoscope around her neck. The charmed string quartet had grown off-tune in time with Michael's steady intake of mulled wine. Hannah was wearing an empty punch bowl on her head, and Hagrid sat in a corner, seemingly deep in conversation with the lowest branch on the Christmas tree. Severus was gone.

It was time to go home.

Potter came for the second official inspection that term on the following Monday.

Their meeting had been short and to the point because Filius was anxious to leave the castle behind and start his well-earned holiday. There were still no news about his pending application and as usual, Severus walked Potter to the Entrance Hall when they were done.

"Potter…" He sighed and looked around in search of Hern and other eavesdroppers.

"Yes, Severus?" Potter's voice was gentle. His hands were stuck deep down into his pockets and he was leaning casually against a stone column.

"Potter, I need…" He was searching for a way not to sound pathetic, but each attempt he could think of ended up being worse than the last. Asking for help had never been his strong suit.

"I wanted to ask you a favour."

Potter seemed unruffled by Severus' struggles. "Sure," he said easily. "Shoot."

"Duel me," he grunted out. "I need some practice."

A small frown made Potter's scarred forehead wrinkle up. "Why would you want to do that?"

"I-" He nearly scoffed at himself and shook his head. "Never mind why. It's nothing untoward. I just have to brush up a little. And it has to be with a capable partner."

And preferably one that would not aim to humiliate him in front of a big audience.

"Capable? Why, Severus?" Potter grinned. "I'm flattered that you finally acknowledge my prowess. I remember a time when-"

Severus groaned. "Yes, yes," he said. "I know." Dealing with adolescent Potter had never been his strong suit either, which Potter seemingly delighted in reminding him. "I'm not about to apologise for that."

Potter looked smug. "I distinctly recall you apologising pro-"

"That was one time." Severus huffed. "You caught me in a weak moment."

"Twice." Potter folded his hands in front of his chest. "There was that once when I visited you in Spinner's End and you had just a tad too much firewhisky." He grinned evilly. "Don't you remember?"

"Did I?" He might have. Severus scowled. "You guilted me into it. You are a manipulative little-"

Potter merely chuckled. "So, you want to duel or not?" He checked his watch. "I have an extra hour before my next assignment."

"What? Now?"

Potter shrugged. "Yeah, if you're up for it?"

"I am." He looked towards the Great Hall, where he could hear voices approaching. One of them was female and the risk that it might be Hermione and that Potter might blurt out their practice plans to her made him restless. Somehow he would rather she did not know.

He turned back to Potter. "I suppose we could use my classroom but I'd need to clean it up a bit, I have ah...an experiment set up."

"Follow me." Potter nodded his head towards the stairs. "I might know a place."

Miraculously, they managed not to bump into anyone as Potter guided him all the way to the seventh floor where they took a turn towards the left corridor, a corridor he distinctly recalled to be a dead end. There, they stopped next to a large tapestry.

"Now what?"

Potter had closed his eyes and was walking leisurely back and forth along the opposite wall. Severus' eyes narrowed. He was quite accustomed to Potter's odd behaviours, but this was unconventional, even for him.

"What are you up to, Potter?" he growled, not liking to be left in the dark. "You're acting stranger than usual."

Potter ignored him, but within moments, an entrance appeared on the stone surface that had previously been without a single crack. Severus took a step back.

"Potter?"

"Calm down, Severus." Potter opened the heavy door with a creak. "There's nothing dangerous in there." He hesitated and took a quick peek inside, muttering under his breath. "I do think the fire must have gone out by now…"

"Fire?" asked Severus sharply. He drew his wand and followed. If he had to save Potter's sorry arse from flames, he swore he would retire on the day.

Sadly, as things had turned out, it was more likely that Potter would be the one to save him. Luckily, the room seemed safe enough.

"You've not been here before, I take it?" Potter threw his cloak on the floor by the door.

"No." He spun around in a circle, taking in the space, which was really nothing but a large, empty hall. "How did you come to learn about this?"

"Neville found it."

Huh.

"That is…impressive."

"Yeah." Experimentally, Potter fired a mild incendio at the floor. With nothing to give them hold, the flames sizzled and died.

"It's known as the come-and-go room," he said. "Or the room of requirement. It appears when a person is in need. For example, Dumbledore once told me that he used it to go to the bathroom, and Tom Riddle hid Ravenclaw's diadem in here."

Potter looked up. "It was also a vanishing cabinet in this room that Malfoy used to smuggle Bellatrix and the Death Eaters inside that night when…" He shrugged.

"Anyway. Hermione always says that I shouldn't trust anything that seems sentient if I can't see where it keeps its brain, but even she made an exception for this room. Founder's magic, I suppose…" Potter's voice trailed off.

"Right."

Severus could nothing but agree. The room seemed benign enough, and he could not help thinking about the possibilities it offered. With the way Hern seemed so suspicious of him these days, maybe he ought to put it to good use… Who else besides Longbottom knew about it? Was it capable of keeping secrets from those that knew how to get inside?

He did not dare ask Potter –he should not even think about these things in his presence- and he suddenly felt uneasy, as though an invisible hand had taken hold around his throat to slowly, but firmly suffocate him. He turned.

Potter was staring. He was staring at Severus, and it gave him the feeling that Potter knew something, something that he should not –could not- know.

"Potter?"

The lad kept on with the odd ogling, his expression a mix of curiosity and something else. Even on a second look, it was something that Severus couldn't quite name, but it was a look that was rarely, if ever, bestowed upon him.

"Why are you watching me like that?" He cursed himself when his voice broke into a huff.

Potter, true to form, proceeded to throw a bucket of cold water down his spine.

"You like her, don't you?"

Deep down, Severus had been steeling himself for something dangerous, but the question hit closer to home than he had expected. His response, of course, was pure reflex.

"I most assuredly do not."

"Oh, but you do." Potter grinned. "I was watching you the other day. You flinched when she came to stand beside you, did you know?"

"I-"

Had he? And Potter had noticed?

"And then, when she leaned around you to talk to Filius, you visibly held your breath."

"I did not."

"Yes, you did." Potter took a step closer.

"If I did," he said, backing up a little, "it was only because I don't like to be touched."

Potter rolled his eyes. "Oh, please," he said, following in Severus' footsteps. "You were terrified. You never react like that when I touch you."

The nitwit had the audacity to poke him firmly in the chest and Severus wasn't fast enough to swat his hand away.

"See?" Potter gave a self-satisfied grin. "You didn't even blink. You like her."

"Potter," he growled, in a voice he normally reserved for especially dim-witted students. "You are quite possibly the biggest nuisance since the origin of the mosquito."

"Can't help being perceptive." Potter proudly tapped the Auror badge on his uniform. "I earned this, you know. It wasn't all about the fame."

Severus shook his head. He ought to feel relieved, but still. This was the second time someone had confronted him about his feelings towards Hermione. With the first opportunity, and when his rusty duelling skills were hopefully sorted out, he figured he would have to whip himself back into shape as a spy as well. Apparently, there were so many leaks in his personal defences these days that he was practically a human strainer. He had no idea what had happened to him over the years to make his armour go so soft, but it was becoming glaring now in this time of need. Tragically so.

While he was busy worrying, Potter had crept into a sort of battle stance and Severus hurried to follow his example by throwing his cloak on the floor.

"The first one to take a hit loses," said Potter. "No destructive magic."

Severus nodded and Potter immediately threw an impediment jinx straight at his chest. He managed to block it with the counterspell, but Potter did not relent and he quickly found himself in a tight spot. He had to remind himself that whomever cast the first incantation gained a significant advantage.

All too soon, a sharp throb informed him that he had not been quick enough to move his left arm out of the way of Potter's assault –a weakness he would have to work harder to conceal. Potter raised his hands in victory.

"Again?"

"Again."

He managed better the second time around. He got in the first attack and drove Potter towards one of the stone columns that supported the roof, but the result was still the same. A stinging hex –this time dangerously close to his groin.

"Potter."

He was getting angry now. He was seriously out of breath and Potter did not appear ruffled in the least.

"What?"

"Do not go gentle on me."

Potter smirked, a look almost worthy of his father.

"As you wish."