As ever, standard disclaimers apply.
"Albus, Snape is missing." Moody did not try to sound like he cared. For one thing he didn't. For another it would have been uncharacteristic. On the other hand, he knew the Headmaster was going to take it hard and for him he did feel compassion. Indeed, the man looked shocked, standing motionless before the fireplace from which Moody's grizzled head was speaking, and the ex-Auror felt a flash of sympathy. But only a flash as he automatically reminded himself that Snape was an untrustworthy turncoat.
"Alastor," Albus spoke slowly, with forced calm. "Explain this to me please."
"I can't. Not much anyway. Apparently Dung was keeping an eye on him while the Weasley family went to Diagon Ally for school supplies. He wasn't paying enough attention and missed Snape walking out. At least that's what I figure from what he's told me." Keep it simple, keep it imprecise. Let Mundungus flesh it out if he feels he must.
Albus briefly pressed the tips of his fingers hand over momentarily closed eyes. "When did this happen?"
"Not sure, Albus. I only just got here and found Dung in a right state of panic."
A long sigh wafted from the old wizard. "I see. Very well then, I shall be there shortly and talk to Mundungus myself."
"He could be anywhere. You want to alert the Ministry to put out an alert?"
"I shall consider it, Alastor." He turned away, signaling to his floo caller that the impromptu meeting was over. That was fine with Moody who felt the less said the safer he was. He went to find Dung slumped dejectedly in a chair in the kitchen, a mug of tea at hand but undrunk. "Good," the ex-Auror praised, "You seem convincingly remorseful."
"I should bloody well hope so, Alastor. I am remorseful. If they hadn't forced me--"
"Forced you? I thought you were alone here and the bastard just disappeared."
"Maybe I should just tell Dumbledore the truth. They are Aurors! They did force me! I had no choice, I'm tellin' ya!"
"Listen to me, Fletcher. I don't care what you tell him as long as you leave me out of it. I got here, found you all concerned and panicked and that's that."
"What do think he'll do?"
"Who? Albus? Well he won't be happy. You know how he feels about his pet Slytherin. He trusts the git, doesn't he. Won't tell us why. But then, he also trusted Quirrel, right?" Moody shook his head. "No one's perfect. Sometimes you have to do the right thing even when someone you respect thinks you're wrong."
"I don't know if I've done the right thing or not. I don't care a whit for Snape. But Albus... I hate the thought of hurting him."
"Bit late for that now, mate."
"Bloody hell, you think I don't know that?!" Fletcher pounded the table once. The action left him obviously subdued. "I'll use the story we came up with." He shrugged. "It's not as if Snape doesn't deserve whatever those blokes come up with."
--
It had been a long drive no doubt made longer by a torturous and totally contrived route to the hidden and highly secret, and certainly well guarded, research and development facility. Few knew its location though many might know of its existence. Margaret's anticipation had been severely tested by the infernal (and to her mind unnecessarily drawn out) drive. Her bum was numb and she was becoming quite aggravated with this cloak and dagger nonsense.
The agony was relieved when the truck came to a stop, shivering so very slightly as the engine idled and then taking off again along a paved (which after the deteriorating roads just before was a bit of a blessing, really) drive. Then they came to a real stop and the engine was cut off. Before she could move, there was a jolt and they were dropping smoothly downward. The scientist waited til the back doors were flung open and a hand offered to help her down. White coated technicians silently gathered up the unconscious wizard, securing him to a gurney, and trundled off with Margaret on their heels. She was more than ready to get to work and all her thoughts were on nothing but her planned procedures.
While the captive was settled into his prison, Margaret was shown to her new office. It was, of course, well lit and well appointed with a divan along one wall, shelves, a cabinet, desk, workstation, chairs. No window but they were below ground. She left her papers and laptop on the pristine wood desk and let her guide escort her to Snape's location.
The captive wizard was unconscious still and Margaret took this as a convenient time to do the CSF collection. She watched with dispassionate interest as the insensate wizard was turned on his side and manipulated into a sort of curled position to allow the technician to properly and safely insert the thin needle between the 3rd and 4th lumbar vertebrae. The scientist moved aside to let the staff do their jobs. Pleased with their restrained efficiency she felt no need to observe. Snape was unconscious and therefore of no interest. There would follow approximately eight hours of enforced recovery during which no further work, other than the withdrawal of various other sorts of samples, could be done. Moreover, she'd decided to wait for the lab results before doing anything more with him. Now was the perfect time for a bite to eat. She headed for the commissary and lunch stopping in her new large office to gather some folders and journals and a palm-pad for recording her thoughts.
An hour and a half later, she was similarly and more comfortably ensconced in her office transcribing and editing the pad notes to her workstation. She was interrupted only once by the senior technician to tell her that they had finished collecting samples for now and the subject was still unconscious but adequately secured in case that condition changed. The results would be in her hands as quickly as possible.
--
Dumbledore strode into the still somewhat dilapidated house hardly seeing anything but Moody's usual scowl greeting him. "He's in the kitchen, Albus. Don't be too hard on him. He wasn't expecting Snape to be able to get about own his own."
"Is that his excuse, Alastor?" the blue gaze was clearly disappointed even more than angry.
Moody shrugged noncommittally and walked down to the kitchen with the aged wizard. "I think he knows you aren't going to take this well," he offered warily.
"And I suppose you believe the same?" Dumbledore halted while they were only a few steps from the bottom. "If so, you'd be correct, Alastor. I have no intention of taking this well." He resumed his trek without another word. He glided into the kitchen, moving to stand across the table from the now despondent thief. "Mundungus, what have you done?" He asked when that wizard found awareness and finally looked up at him.
"Done? I looked all over the house when I didn't seem him on the street," he purposely misconstrued the question.
"I see." Dumbledore rewarded him with a sad look. "Tell me what happened." He sat down and the change of position immediately made the thief more comfortable and the suspicious ex-Auror more nervous.
"I wanted a smoke. I thought I'd do Molly a bit of a good turn by smoking my pipe out of doors. I came back in and found the front door open. I didn't hear anyone and I didn't think anyone would just leave the door open like that. I went outside but didn't see anyone. I walked about a bit to make sure it was no Fred and George prank being pulled. Then I came in and went upstairs and Snape was gone. I ran back outside and looked everywhere! I could not find him!"
"I do not understand why he would leave."
"The other night Albus, remember? He tried then. When You-Know-Who summoned him."
"No. I don't think he was trying to leave so much as trying to find help. He was in pain and he did not understand it."
"That's it then. He was looking for help and he walked out."
"Mundungus, how was he dressed?"
"What? I don't know."
"I should not think it very difficult to spot a man in a nightshirt wandering the streets of either Muggle or wizarding London."
"I didn't see him, Albus."
"Perhaps not, but someone--"
Young, excited voices coming from the front hall upstairs interrupted the interview. The Diagon Ally excursion had returned. From the noise, it seemed they were all going upstairs rather than down. Most likely to put away their purchases. Molly's sharp cry from the first floor when she discovered Snape's room empty made all three men wince. Fletcher for one looked surprised. He hadn't thought even the soft-hearted Molly Weasley would care that much for the greasy git.
Concerned youthful voices quickly responded and Albus gestured a wordless request for Moody to go and explain the situation while he remained with Dung in the kitchen.
"Mundungus, is there anything else you wish to tell me?" he asked with hope.
"I don't know anything more."
He was saved from further interrogation by the arrival of Molly and the teens. Molly's expression was expectedly concerned while the teens emotions seemed mainly uncertain.
"Molly," Albus greeted with his signature calm humor and warmth before the mother spoke a word.
"Albus, it was a bad decision on my part."
"Now, Molly, it was reasonable to expect Severus would be fine."
"What if the Death Eaters get him?" Ron asked. "Won't he tell them everything? He won't remember not to."
"Unless he was faking, like I always said." Moody livened up the discussion with his trademark paranoia.
"He was not faking, Alastor!" Molly insisted irritably. "I would have known by now! No, he is truly confused and vulnerable."
Harry and Ron exchanged doubtful looks, Ginny, standing between them, jabbed them both in the ribs with her elbows.
"Perhaps we should check the hospitals," Hermoine offered with her typical wisdom. "You did say he was wearing a nightshirt. That would attract attention."
"Good thinkin'" Moody said approvingly. "How?"
Belatedly Hermoine remembered that wizarding folk did not have telephones. But her folks did of course. "From my house. But, erm... Please Mr Moody, try not to frighten my parents."
Dumbledore smiled warmly. "It's a fine idea but we don't all need to go. Perhaps the children and... myself." His eyes were twinkling again.
"No offense Headmaster, but I think someone with a little more experience with Muggles should--"
"No, no, Alastor. The Grangers have helped before. We'll be fine, won't we children?"
Said children as one were thinking that it was a shame Remus was at Hogwarts preparing for the evening's full moon because Remus would be awfully good to have here now.
"Albus, how about Tonks, at least. And shouldn't you be at the school?" Moody did not want to think about all the furor that the robed headmaster would initiate if he suddenly appeared on the Muggles' doorstep in the middle of the afternoon. Or even evening.
"I suppose you do have a point."
"Should we alert the Ministry?" Molly asked in a small voice.
"I'd rather not. If they've found him before the Muggles, we'll know soon enough." He looked at Mad-Eye for confirmation. The retired Auror shrugged.