Severus gave a curt nod and entered the bathroom shutting and locking the door behind him, and only then was he able to breathe again. He leaned there against the door, hand splayed out over his chest, until his racing heart returned to normal. That had been stupidly close. There were about fifty reasons he wanted to kick himself. For getting caught up in that annoying nursery, not coming up with an excuse, before hand, of why he was in their bedroom, being unaware enough of his surroundings that Potter was able to sneak up on him, just to name a few.
With weary effort he pushed himself off the door, releasing a deep sigh. Severus hated where he was now, this having the memories and knowledge of someone twenty years older, and not being in a position of power, or even respect, was simply maddening. Severus turned on the cold tap, then leaned forward, hands braced on either side of the sink, to stare at his own angry face. And it was then that he realised that he had no idea what was under that bed. He had seen nothing, registered nothing. The sword of Gryffindor could very well be under their, for all he knew.
"MerlinFuck," he swore at his reflection, repeating Lucius' favourite interjection. "What is wrong with you?" He gave himself a moment more of the pissing anger, then splashed his face with cold water, gathered what dignity was left, and returned to the sitting room. Hoping he could plausibly get out of there before Lily came home.