In the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts, a very small handful of the Order were listening to a disjointed de-briefing by Alastor Moody. Like the rest of them, he was sporting some minor injuries, and had to stop talking every few minutes as new information came in, or when his version of the facts was challenged or updated.
"Potter is missing. Arabella Figg is missing. The muggle police have found the body of a boy matching the description of Potter's cousin; neighbours identified the remains at the house as Potter's aunt, Dursley is missing too. The building itself was subjected to very powerful dark magic, the place is a real mess. Most of the roof was found in nearby Wisteria Walk. A passer-by walking his dog witnessed some of what happened. They're trying to calm him down enough to get a coherent statement."
"What about Remus and Bill?" asked Angelina, nursing her damaged arm carefully.
"Both critically ill, I have no more news yet."
"What about the security breach?" asked Kingsley. "Why isn't Grimmauld Place secure anymore?"
"I don't know. Minerva?"
"I suppose Albus suspects that Harry may reveal some of the Order's secrets if…if he is placed under duress," she seemed to be under serious duress herself, Kingsley thought. Merlin, this was a disaster. The Potter boy could be undergoing torture right now and they didn't have a clue what to do about it. Had Voldemort really engineered the whole battle in Little Hangleton to distract them enough to kidnap Harry? It was looking increasingly likely.
Still jumpy, everyone drew their wands as the floo flared and Dumbledore stepped into the room. Tired and pained, he nodded his approval at their caution and sank slowly into his chair.
"Well," he said, regarding their anxious faces in turn. "The Ministry has received some kind of communication supposedly from Harry," there was a squeak from McGonagall at this news, but he raised a hand to calm her, "However, at this moment in time we are treating the message as suspicious. I will not send my best fighters into a trap through impetuosity."
Everyone blurted out questions and opinions on this new development, but Dumbledore was not listening. Leaning his face on one hand, he raised the other for silence. Mournfully, and without meeting anyone's eyes, he asked;
"When was the last time we saw Severus?"
No one spoke. Blood started rushing in Kingsley's ears as he wondered what the hell Albus meant by the question. He wasn't in the room. He hadn't been at the battle. This was not good. The silence was glacial.
"I thought so," the Headmaster looked up at the room. "In that case, I am afraid that he is also missing."
"Shit," said Alastor, with malice. "He's gone back to Voldemort, hasn't he?"
"Of course not!" shrieked McGonagall. "He would never do that!"
"Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater," he spat at her. "It's in his blood, forever branded on his arm, for Merlin's sake! I'm not saying he necessarily went of his own volition, but You-know-who has ways of persuading people! That's why all our secrets are out. Snape's told him everything, including where Potter lived!"
Minerva was still vehemently fighting her colleague's corner.
"He does not know where Harry lives! Only Albus does! He's told me twenty times, he would rather die than go back to that monster!"
The headmaster interrupted the argument quietly but firmly.
"I am afraid that may be another explanation."
"Albus," Kingsley asked, keeping his voice as neutral as he could, "You really believe that Severus could be dead?"
Dumbledore's eyes were tired, but the razor sharpness behind them was still enough to pierce Shacklebolt's defences.
"Kingsley, do you know something?"
He felt the heat rushing to his cheeks. He shouldn't implicate himself in this mess, but he was certain, absolutely and utterly certain that his lover had done nothing wrong. Would revealing their fledgling relationship help Severus, or just pull Kingsley down with him? And if he was still alive, would he be angry at the betrayal of his privacy? Well, it was too late now. After his hesitation, the whole room was now focused intently on him.
"I saw him last night."
Dumbledore spoke gently but the steel in his eyes brooked no argument.
"Where?"
"Here. In his quarters in the dungeons."
"What were you doing there?" demanded Alastor and Tonks simultaneously. Kingsley looked at the table.
"I. We. Erm. That is to say, we are…sort of…" he trailed off, humiliated at his childish inability to state the facts in an adult and professional fashion. No help was forthcoming from the rapt faces in the silent office. He cleared his throat and tried again.
"We've been seeing each other," he managed finally. "A bit."
"You're shagging Snape?" Moody demanded clarification, apparently no more professional than himself on this occasion. Kingsley nodded. The magical glass eye rolled so much it popped right out of his head and rolled off around the room. Angelina finally cornered it under a table after half a minute's chaos while several people tried to catch the slippery orb. The distraction gave him a moment to compose himself. Regaining his cool, auror's manner, he made a statement.
"I arrived in the dungeons at around three yesterday afternoon. Severus appeared relaxed and content. We talked for a while then went to bed. I awoke at seven fifteen this morning to find him gone. Knowing that he had been brewing the previous day, I waited in case he was checking on a potion. When he had still not returned after half an hour, I wrote a note saying that I had to go, and flooed home to change before going to work."
Dumbledore had risen from his chair and was grasping his arm, ignoring the gossipy whispering which bubbled up as he finished speaking.
"Kingsley, this is very important. Did you say you wrote a note?"
"Yes. Just a couple of lines."
"To whom did you address it?"
"No one. I left it on the table. I didn't think anyone else would find it." Kingsley was confused now. With all the important events of the day, why was he paying so much attention to a scribbled 3-line letter?
"You did not sign it?"
Tonks butted in helpfully, "He never signs memos."
"Indeed?" Dumbledore was smiling now, but there was sadness behind the smile. "And the contents of the note, if you would be so kind?" Kingsley racked his brains.
"Something like 'I have to go or I'll be late for work. Thanks for everything'. I can't remember exactly."
Albus reached inside his robes and showed him his own letter.
"That's it," Kingsley confirmed. Dumbledore let out a long breath.
"What was I supposed to think?" he asked no one in particular. "A note in Severus' rooms, apologising for having to go back, and thanking someone for everything." Minerva rounded on him like a mother tiger.
"You thought he defected! How could you, Albus!" He silently handed her the note. She exclaimed, somewhat placated "Oh! But it's just like Severus' handwriting!" She passed it to Alastor, who squinted with both magical and real eyeballs.
"No, that's Shacklebolt's scribble all right. Can't read a damn word."
Kingsley's mind was spinning. He had almost accidentally signed Severus' ticket to Azkaban. Thank Merlin his innocence had been established. But if he hadn't rejoined the Death Eaters, where on Earth was he? Captured? Tortured? Dead? Why hadn't he answered the summons?
The concern must have shown on his face, as McGonagall rested her hand on his shoulder when he was about to leave and try and sort out the whole miserable mess.
"Don't worry, Kingsley," she said kindly, "Severus has been taking care of himself since he was eleven, to my knowledge, and probably even longer before then."
"Thank you, Minerva. I know."
The comfort was short lived, however. As he arrived back at the Ministry, he realised that he had been the last person to see Severus before he disappeared. In fact, he had vanished after a passionate session of lovemaking with Kingsley, leaving him alone without a note or any kind of farewell. He was suddenly overwhelmed by the thought that it was something he had done wrong which had caused him to bolt, some unforgivable error that had horrified Severus so much he had fled his own home. He shook his head, banishing these unpleasant revelations for the moment. The Light was in serious trouble and panicking would not help Severus, or Harry, or anyone now.
