They moved together in their practiced, ancient dance, the foreknowledge of the other's next move only becoming the sweeter through anticipation. Snake and woman, tempter and innocent, cynic and ingenue, apple and lips. They savoured the freedom which permitted them to act out their parts in the little ego-drama. That freedom was nothing more or less than the grave knowledge that they were each infinitely more deep, more multifaceted, than their chosen role and that lightness of heart that reassured them that no crises of import depended on their actions.
"Why, thank you, Severus. Have a Jaffa cake."