A/N: I'm sorry I haven't updated this story for over a year! Here is a short (but at least new) chapter. I'm going to try and keep it going a bit more – I still think about the story a lot and have every intention of continuing it – but I'm in the middle of trying to finish a PhD, so forgive me if updates continue to be a bit erratic …


Breakfast was an event of sharp contrasts. The raucous chatting and laughing from all four student tables was loud enough that it reached Severus from several floors away as he descended from his rooms, and forced him to pause when he entered the Great Hall to adjust to the noise. The anticipation of no more lessons for a few weeks, of being at home, of Christmas warmth and merriment, was clear.

The staff table, meanwhile, was almost completely devoid of talk, which suited Severus just fine. He had arrived late on purpose: his whole body was heavy and weak from lack of sleep, and he wanted to sit right on the end of the table and not endure cheerful conversation from anyone. But he needn't have worried. An atmosphere of exhaustion and hangovers reigned. Lupin looked particularly bleary-eyed, Bertram Bartleby-Crouch was staring miserably down at his uneaten breakfast, Sprout was covertly adding a few drops of something medicinal to her pumpkin juice, and even McGonagall was going grimly through her sausages and eggs as if exhorting herself just to hold out for a couple more hours, until the students had gone, before collapsing into bed. (This, Severus reflected, seemed a very excellent plan indeed.)

Lucius, sitting right at the other end of the table in plain black robes, was one of the only people at the staff table who looked remarkably composed and upright. As Severus reached his seat he saw Lucius glance up, and the two held eyes across the room for a moment; then Lucius's face softened into a slight smile, and he looked down again calmly at his cup of tea.

Severus ate a piece of buttered toast and drank his coffee rather slowly, tired but peaceful, half-listening to Agatha Bones's murmured conversation with her sister, and reflecting on how the long-awaited party had gone. Yes, it had been just as wonderful as he had hoped, in the end – but also just as disastrous as he had deserved, after all his wishing and longing and anticipating. He was decidedly not – but why had he thought otherwise? – a party person. Rome might be different in all sorts of ways, with fewer people they knew, and perhaps Lucius wouldn't feel the need to play such an elaborate game of secrecy and flirtation. But still, he would need to think hard about it, how to get some enjoyment out of it, how to put himself in a mood for interesting conversations. And he would need to think, too, about Lucius's behaviour last night – his patience, his seriousness, his unprecedented suggestion of longterm commitment to the relationship. It ought to have excited him. But it didn't, not yet, because he didn't understand it.

Suddenly Agatha Bones turned to him. 'Professor Snape. A good morning to you.'

'Is it?' he shot back.

The old witch looked serenely unruffled by his curt reply. 'Oh dear, you look awfully tired, did you have a disturbed night?'

'Slytherin issues,' he muttered – which was, after all, not untrue – and Agatha nodded wisely.

'Yes, the night of celebrating has only buoyed them up further,' she said, 'whereas we are universally fatigued. I do hope you can have a good rest over the holidays.'

He murmured thanks, watching as students and staff began to drift out of the Great Hall. He saw Lucius get up – saw, too, many pairs of wary eyes among the students turn to watch him, including Draco's. The presence of Lucius Malfoy in the school always stirred the students' notice, whether their reaction was one of fear or admiration, or both. But Lucius appeared not to notice. He walked across the platform towards the end of the table where Severus sat with the Bones sisters, who murmured unhappily to each other when they saw Lucius coming. Severus stood up, trying to look suitably awkward and polite, as he arrived.

'Good morning, Severus,' Lucius said. 'I hope you slept well?'

'Tolerably,' he said, acutely conscious of the Bones sisters' attentive, distrustful silence next to him. 'And you?'

'Yes, I didn't go to sleep until rather late, but then I slept very deeply. If you've finished eating, I wonder if I might trouble you for a few minutes' conversation about Draco? It would be good to know how he's progressing.'

'Of course,' he said, and, turning to bow a brief farewell to the Boneses, he followed Lucius out of the Great Hall. In the entrance hall, they ducked into a curved niche, leaning sideways against the wall to face each other as students flowed past a few feet away.

'It's partly for the business about the Hippogriff,' Lucius said without preamble. 'I need to know how Draco is generally regarded by his teachers, how his work is, and so on. What can you tell me that might be useful?'

Severus hesitated. So Lucius really did want to discuss Draco. And his manner, his raised chin and cool gaze, were much more like the Lucius he knew of old, the Slytherin strategist always probing for information and protecting his family's wealth, aware how useful Severus' intelligence could be, but disdaining him for his poverty and his halfblood status. Here were echoes of the Lucius he had hated.

He decided to play by the rules as he could perceive them. 'All right,' he said quietly. 'It's the usual story. Draco is not well-liked by the staff. They accuse him of insolence, which perhaps you don't care about, but also laziness. He shows no inclination to develop his considerable talents beyond duelling and Quidditch.'

'Hmm,' Lucius said, a smile playing around his lips. 'And here I was hoping your reports on him would improve this year.'

'Drop the Hippogriff case,' Severus said bluntly. 'Draco provoked the animal, that's clear from all the witness accounts. It's not worth the time.'

Lucius raised an eyebrow, his eyes hardening. 'I haven't asked your advice on that particular matter,' he said coolly. 'I only require information from you as Draco's Head of House.'

'Fine,' Severus said, trying to ignore a sudden twist of pain in his chest. So this was how easily it turned. 'I've given you an accurate summary. Have a pleasant holiday.'

He began to turn away, already accepting that it was over, already mentally preparing for another Christmas holiday alone – but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

He closed his eyes for a moment, then shrugged the hand away and looked back at his lover. 'What?'

'Malfoy business, you know,' Lucius said, almost apologetically. 'No one interferes.'

'You may end up wishing someone had,' Severus retorted, but the pain had lessened, though it was hardly the answer he'd hoped for. Suddenly he became aware of a pale head and an anxious face hovering on the edge of his vision across the corridor. Their privacy, such as it had been, was over. 'Draco's here,' he said quietly.

'Ah,' Lucius said, glancing at his son. 'Time to go, then. I'll owl you about the other matter, if that's acceptable?'

Severus inclined his head formally – presumably he meant Rome – and was met with a brief rush of heat from Lucius's eyes. Then Lucius gave a double tap on the wall, as if in farewell, and moved off with his son. Draco looked back at Severus, gave him a tight little smile, and then they were gone.