"Arabella?" whispered Kingsley, as gently as he could. Blinking at the harsh light in the cubicle she turned a weary face towards him.

"Hello, dear," she croaked. "More questions, is it?"

"Just one, I promise," he smiled apologetically. "I'm so glad you're safe."

"Harry was wonderful," she said with a hint of pride in her voice. "After everything that boy's been through! I asked Petunia to make him come over and help me with my new DVD player, the young ones better with technology, you know. And then they attacked. I never liked that dreadful woman, but I would never wish her dead!" It was clear that exhaustion was making her attention drift. Kingsley took her trembling hand in his and focussed on her pale face.

"Arabella, I'll go away and leave you to sleep now, but first tell me this. Did you hear any mention of Severus at all? Did you see him?" Her brow wrinkled.

"Severus? No, I didn't see Severus. You mean Tristan Snape's boy don't you? I didn't see him."

"Thank you, Arabella. You get some rest now," said Kingsley, a little concerned at her vagueness, as well as the unexpected reference to Snape Senior. Subconsciously he thought of the large blue auror's file bearing that name, mostly assembled before Kingsley's time. He wondered briefly if looking at it might help him find Severus, or if he would consider it an unforgivable breach of his privacy. Of course, there was another, slimmer blue folder immediately before it, but he could not entertain the idea of touching that. Born into darkness, he thought wistfully, but fighting for the Light. Was there such thing as the white sheep of the family? How he would hate to admit he had anything in common with the late Sirius Black.

Frowning, he made his way out into the corridor. At two thirty in the morning, St Mungo's should have been at peace with dimmed lights and hushed tones, but this evening it was buzzing as the healing staff and Ministry officials battled to locate and reunite the component parts of a massively splinched Boy-who-lived. No one knew how, but the Death Eaters guarding Harry and Arabella had somehow dropped their guard for a moment, and he had managed to grab her and successfully apparate them both away, no mean feat for an unqualified teenage wizard. He had called the Ministry from a muggle phone box, but suspecting a trap they refused to send help, procrastinating in true bureaucratic style. Believing he could repeat his earlier fluke, Harry tried to apparate to Hogsmeade with unfortunate results. Still, they had found some of him. Kingsley just hope the rest of the pieces were safe, wherever they were. He didn't like the idea of Voldemort getting hold of them.

On his way through the main doors, he saw a red haired young man miserably smoking a cigarette, shivering in the drizzly night air. His brain whizzed through the names of all the Weasleys for a second before he could place the upturned nose and stiff bearing.

"Percy?" he asked tentatively.

The Ministry clerk came out of whatever trance he had been in and murmured a greeting.

"How is Bill?" he dreaded the answer to the question, knowing that both Bill and Remus were fighting for their lives. The young wizard's shoulders drooped a few inches.

"Bad. They manage to stabilise him, then a minute later he goes back into cardiac arrest. Again and again. The last few hours have been hell." He took out another cigarette and lit it from the stub of the previous one. "Mum is…" he tailed off, unable to find words for what Molly was going through. Kingsley nodded understandingly. He knew there had been a rift between Percy and the rest of his family for more than a year, and though this crisis was agony for all of them, the outcast must be feeling even worse. They were silent for a moment.

"Come for a beer," he offered on impulse. The redhead stared. "I don't mean right now. Whenever. If you ever feel like talking to a stranger. Or drinking in silence with a stranger. Leave a message on my desk. You know where it is?" The other nodded gratefully.

"Thank you, Auror Shacklebolt. That's nice of you."

Kingsley had not heard footsteps, nor sensed any presence behind him, but as he crossed the dark alley a smooth voice was suddenly rippling into his ear.

"Chatting up children now, are we?"

With a gasp, Kingsley spun around and shoved the body against the wall. His large hand wrapped around a pale throat, and his wand was now pointing between a pair of shining black eyes.

"Not bad reflexes, for an auror," commented Snape casually, unperturbed by the assault. Kingsley lowered his wand with a sigh of relief, releasing him. Thank Merlin, he was safe.

"Where the hell have you been!" he didn't intend for the question to be such a demand, but he heard his own yell echoing through the street. Snape glared at him.

"None of your business," he answered, with a hint of annoyance. Kingsley was exhausted, upset and very relieved – almost instantaneously the worry of the past day and a half transformed into boiling anger.

"None of my business! Yes it bloody well is my business! Have you any idea how worried I've been! You just vanished into thin air, Severus!"

"I am under no obligation to inform you of my movements," the tone was icy calm but the fury was evident from a mile away. "I do not belong to you, like some possession to be summoned at will."

"Where have you been! I have a right to know." demanded Kingsley again, unwisely choosing to ignore his lover's fury.

"That is my affair," with a withering sneer he turned to leave. Afraid to let him disappear again, Kingsley grabbed his arm roughly and spun him round.

"You will not walk away from this! Bloody Hell, Severus! Do you even know what happened today?"

"Release me!" ordered Snape, now absolutely incandescent with rage as he struggled in the grip of the larger wizard. Taken aback by the murderous intensity suddenly glowing in the depths of his eyes, Kingsley hesitated without letting go. The next moment he was flying backwards through the air, colliding noisily with a dustbin. He struggled to his feet to find Severus gone. Percy and a mediwitch were hurrying towards him.

"Are you all right, Sir?" she asked, brushing random bits of rubbish from his robe. "Were you attacked? Did you see who it was?"

"I did," muttered Percy darkly.

"No, you did not," corrected Kingsley firmly. "I simply fell. Percy?"

The disgraced Weasley was looking at him with a mixture of confusion and suspicion.

"Percy, I fell. It's important. There was no one else here, was there?"

"No," he agreed, not understanding but automatically responding to the authoritative voice. "I saw no one."

Kingsley forced a smile for the nurse's benefit.

"I'm fine. Thank you for your concern, Madam."

…….

"I'm afraid I owe you an apology, my boy," Dumbledore was obviously functioning thanks to an industrial-strength Midnight Oil potion, but the contrition in his voice was real enough as he ended his complicated rendition of the day's events.

Severus was physically incapable of speech for a few moments.

Having known his inflammable potions professor for almost thirty years, Albus was prepared for all manner of attacks, curses, sulks, screeches and door slamming. But when the unfathomable eyes finally rose to meet his, the headmaster was devastated to see tears glistening in them. The voice was barely audible.

"How could you think that? How could you?"

Silence stretched between them, Severus gleaning a perverse comfort from the agonising guilt radiating off of Albus. Neither seemed able to utter a word. Eventually, Fawkes flew down from his perch and settled on the arm of the younger man's chair, head bowed and apologetic, begging for some attention by nuzzling underneath a delicate white hand. Severus glared for a second, then relented and stroked his soft head in silent forgiveness for Dumbledore's lack of trust. Beautiful notes of phoenix song softened the atmosphere in the room, and the old wizard began to relax.

"So what would you have me do now?" asked Severus, recovering his usual haughty demeanour. Albus grinned in relief on seeing the familiar mask slide back into place, even if it was tempered somewhat by his abnormal display of affection for Fawkes.

"I'm so very glad you're safe, child. There are enough people sorting out Harry's predicament at present. I would prefer you to go and speak with that terribly handsome auror who's been worried sick about you."

Snape looked mortified. His private life was private! How utterly humiliating.

"You are aware of the…situation, then?" he asked with a carefully levelled tone, wishing his cheeks were not so damned hot. Bloody Albus. Bloody hell.

"Oh yes indeed, we all are." Dumbledore quickly reached for a sherbet lemon and sucked as hard as he could, knowing the beaming smile threatening to crack his face in half would only irritate the scowling slytherin further. There was so much he wanted to say, but suspected that a lecture would not be welcome. Curbing his delight, he limited himself to just a few words. "He is a good man, Severus."

"But I am not."

Snape continued stroking Fawkes's red and gold plumage pensively. Delighted with the fuss he was getting, the bird had settled into his lap making little bubbling sounds of contentment. Unable to resist a small amount of meddling for the good of his dear, troubled protege, the headmaster sucked hard on his sherbet and muttered offhandedly,

"Kingsley clearly thinks you are."

…….

Completely drained, Kingsley dragged his uncooperative feet up the stairs to his flat, cursing the lift for being out of order. He had gone straight back to the office to help investigate the Privet Drive attack, and had made some progress. When Moody finally sent him home to sleep at four he had no strength left to protest. He no longer knew what to think about Severus, but had a gut feeling that his earlier show of violence had blown it once and for all. He was such a complicated character, impossibly difficult to fathom. Kingsley had been so relieved to see him alive he had lost his temper, which he never, ever did. He had probably deserved the magical shock, too. How had that enigma of a man managed to get so deep under his skin? What was going on? Sighing, he willed his tired brain to give up this unhappy train of thought and just let his body sleep.

As he reached the last flight of stairs he found the object of his thoughts sitting on the windowsill on the landing, an unreadable expression on his face. Kingsley was unsure whether this was good or bad. Well, at least he wasn't being ignored. Both men regarded each other silently in the fluorescent light of the corridor for a moment.

"I'm sorry I shouted at you, Severus."

"I am sorry I threw you across the street."

"I was worried."

"I know that now. I was ignorant at the time. Albus has since explained the developments of the day."

"You weren't captured? Or hurt?"

"No. Yourself?"

"No. Well, a scratch. It's been healed. Where did you go?"

The sound of footsteps and drunken giggles far below on the stairs reminded them they were in a public place. Kingsley opened his front door and invited Severus inside. It took him a moment to register what was different about the potions master, then he noticed he was wearing a fitted black muggle suit, teamed elegantly with a dark grey shirt. He compared it with the habitual sweeping black robes and the dishevelled green dressing-gown of the previous day and failed to suppress the thought that all 3 outfits were very different, yet all very attractive. They sat down in cream leather armchairs either side of the fireplace. Again Kingsley opened the conversation.

"How long have you been waiting outside my flat?"

"Just over an hour."

"I see."

Snape slumped down in the chair, picking at his nails, fiddling with his hair and fidgeting uneasily, all the while avoiding Kingsley's gaze. Eventually he took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

"Kingsley, I owe you an explanation."

…….

A/N: Thank you for the reviews! They feed my soul x

Just a quick note about KS's mental state. My Kingsley is someone who is usually cool and emotionally self-sufficient, who puts his job before personal relationships; but the stress of recent months has knocked him rather off balance, making him fall for Severus sooner and harder than he has fallen for previous lovers. He is operating at maximum efficiency on all other fronts.

Onto SS's mind: who knows what goes on inside that head? Perhaps an small insight next time…