Kingsley awoke slowly, stretching luxuriantly and rolling over to find himself alone in an unfamiliar bed. Ah, yes. Another wonderful encounter with the very talented Professor Severus Snape. Frowning, Kingsley noticed his leg was resting on something small and roundish, reaching down under the sheet he discovered an orange coloured Bertie Bott's bean, and smiled. Such an enigmatic man. So harsh and formal when dealing with the world at large, but when left to his own devices he ate sweets in bed and didn't bother to shave for days. Not many people knew this, he suspected, and it made him feel rather special that he was one of the privileged few. Yesterday afternoon the potions master had been unguarded in his behaviour, and had obviously understood the upset he was currently going through, and Kingsley had to admit he was becoming just a little bit fond of him. Ok, more than fond. In fact, once the war was over, he decided he would like to wrap his arms around Severus and never let go. Probably not very practical, as far as life plans went, but it was his best retirement option so far.
For the moment however, his lover was nowhere to be seen. He checked the bathroom, the living room and the kitchen, but stopped short of leaving his private quarters for fear of bumping into Dumbledore and outing them both. Actually, the omniscient old git probably knew already, but Kingsley had no wish to experience that damned twinkle this early in the morning.
He dressed and made a cup of coffee while he waited for Snape to return, but after fifteen minutes or so Shacklebolt realised he had to get going or risk being late for work. He grabbed a scrap of parchment from the bureau in the corner of the sitting room and scribbled "Had to go back. Sorry. Thanks for everything," not signing his name out of habit – in the office, his tiny, cramped handwriting was instantly recognisable. Leaving the note on the table where Severus would find it, he stepped through the fireplace.
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The air was thick with spells. Crackling and flashing, magic exploded everywhere as the combatants dodged and dived for cover, yelling curses or screaming. Some very confused muggle police were hovering at the gates, barking something about "dropping your…er...weapon thingies" while the flickering light on top of their patrol car illuminated the debris and fallen wizards on the ground in stark blue. The Riddle House was looming out of the darkness above the assortment of aurors and Order members who had stumbled upon Voldemort's stronghold almost by accident.
Dumbledore had suggested a few people take a look at Tom Riddle's old family home, not really believing they would find anything of interest, but just to be on the safe side after a report of something unusual had appeared in the Little Hangleton Gazette. He had no idea that instigating this minor investigation would effectively send Bill Weasley and Remus Lupin right into the midst of Death Eater Headquarters. The first inkling they had of any problem was a garbled distress message from Bill, investigated by Tonks, who automatically put all her years of training into practice, proceeding with extreme caution and staying in touch with the Order via the emergency gold phoenix pendants which printed off information for members on a little ticker-tape . Her swift assessment of the situation had read: "Red Alert, all ops to L. Hang NOW, 10+ hostile DE, wzds down, get the f over here!"
Kingsley's stomach had knotted as he apparated immediately out of the dull recruitment meeting and into the battle. Firing a protection spell over the unconscious redhead sprawled awkwardly halfway up the front path, he took out a large Death Eater whose repeated blasting curses had a panting Tonks in retreat.
"Thanks Shacks," she gasped, suddenly dropping to the floor to avoid a jet of something unmistakably nasty which missed her by inches. "There are weird wards on the house, find out what they are and get rid of 'em!"
"Got it!" he cannoned round the perimeter of the dilapidated building, spotting a masked figure at every glassless window raining spells on the rapidly increasing numbers of Light fighters in the garden. This wasn't making sense. By now, the full weight of the Ministry and the Order of the Phoenix had the Death Eaters surrounded, and had swiftly set up solid defensive positions. From their current situation they couldn't hope for a decisive victory, the usual tactic would be to apparate away and find another secret lair.
"What are they playing at?" Moody yelled through the chaos.
"No idea," returned Kingsley, "And these wards have me stumped. Never seen anything like them before!" He jumped as the grindingly awful sound of tearing metal shuddered through the air. A rebounded slicing curse had sheared the police car in half, and the little crowd of muggles gaping beyond the fence started screaming in shock and confusion.
"Get them out of here!" bawled Alastor and Dumbledore simultaneously, from opposite sides of the front lawn. On seeing Mundungus Fletcher striding towards them in all his disreputable glory, the muggles scattered in fear, except one policeman who was staring dumbly at his butchered pride and joy.
"I only just had it serviced!" he wailed at Mundungus glumly.
"Forget about it," instructed Fletcher, authoritatively.
"What! Are you mad? How can I do that?"
"Easy. Obliviate!"
Suddenly the battlefield fell silent, the Death Eaters stopped cursing, and Kingsley looked up to see a red-eyed, snake-faced figure regally descending the front steps. Voldemort smiled like a crocodile at the mesmerised faces now staring at him with horrified awe.
"Thank you for a most entertaining time," he hissed. "I do enjoy a good battle. And I think you will agree, this little skirmish was the perfect way to distract you all while my servant, Nagini and I took a little trip to Surrey. Good Afternoon." As one, Voldemort and the Death Eaters disapparated.
Those who had understood the taunt immediately vanished with a chorus of cracking sounds, the conscious injured and those tending to them were muttering in confusion when Angelina Johnson clarified by leaping to her feet and yelling out in panic:
"Sweet fucking Merlin! HARRY!"
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A/N: Some more tough decisions for the sadistic author! Where is Severus? What is he up to? Are Bill and Remus alive? And what was Lord V doing in Dursley-country?
