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."

…….

"I panicked," confessed Severus grimly. "I am afraid I am unaccustomed to such a level of intimacy with a person who understands what I am, if that makes any sense." Kingsley pondered this for a moment, not sure how to phase his reply without sounding rude.

"You mean, you prefer to sleep with strangers?"

Snape rose from his chair and leaned against the mantelpiece, apparently searching for the right words, or wondering how to explain. He stared at the conceptual painting which he had claimed to dislike so much on his last visit to Kingsley's flat, then continued in a soft voice.

"I suppose the best thing to do is to tell you about Anthony."

Kingsley felt something stir in the pit of his stomach. Severus had another lover. How could he have failed to notice? He, the fully-trained senior auror whose job was to observe human behaviour and spot the obvious. Glancing out of the uncurtained window he could see the lights of Greenwich twinkling on the other side of the river, as his insides began to feel uncomfortably cold as the darkest hour of the night descended. He said nothing as Severus paused to fidget again before beginning his narrative.

The wizarding world was a small one. After Severus had joined the Hogwarts staff he realised that any participation in the gay culture of wizarding London would leave him in a vulnerable position. The first war had just ended, and certain elements from both sides who had good reason to wish harm upon him and his new career could very easily acquire enough dirt to make life difficult. At that time, homosexuality was considered unusual, but not particularly offensive if it was decreed to be within the 'proper' confines of a relationship; meaning that a wizard could normally set up home with another wizard without fear of local disapproval, but a wizard who got wasted on illegal potions every night and sucked off random men in the filthy alley behind the Kneazle's Whiskers would be on the receiving end of some serious trouble. Especially if he was a teacher at a prestigious boarding school.

So Severus had been forced to look further afield if he wished to avoid bringing disgrace on himself and worse, on Dumbledore. Taking no chances, he not only headed for the muggle scene, but the New York muggle scene, where no one asked questions and anonymity was a hundred times easier, though he did get one scare when he bumped unexpectedly into a closeted British wizard with had the same idea.

New York was where he met muggle art dealer Anthony one Summer holiday, keen to lose his identity by putting the Atlantic ocean between himself and his ultra-religious family, believing that the shock of discovering his alleged perversion would kill his old mother. Instead of vanishing from the hotel room at daybreak as was his habit after one night stands, Severus had inexplicably accepted the offer of breakfast, and in a secluded corner of a softly-lit bagel bar, two men from different universes formed an unusual bond.

"I don't know what it was that made us mesh so well. I was certainly not in love with him," Snape was gazing into the distance now, lost in a different time, a different life. Kingsley was still feeling a nasty ache of jealousy towards this muggle, but did not want to stop Severus' monologue. He had a feeling he was the only person to ever hear it.

"But you continued seeing him?" he prompted.

"Oh yes," intoned Severus softly, still miles away.

Severus and Anthony spent two weeks together, Englishmen in New York, visiting galleries and museums, bars and clubs, or simply enjoying each other in bed. It was refreshing to just be himself, not to be judged by his name, his family's reputation, the mark on his forearm. Well, perhaps the dark mark did lead Anthony to judge him, but not in the way he was accustomed to.

'Mis-spent youth?' he had joked, tracing the outline of the abomination in the shower one morning. Severus had snatched his arm back in horror. He knew! How did he know? What on earth was going on? Was he really a muggle? Or a spywizard? Shit.

'Sorry, did I say the wrong thing?' he frowned, looking appalled at the darker man's reaction. 'I understand these things can hold bitter memories.' As Snape continued to stare at him in horror, a disconcerted Anthony continued, trying to put him at ease. 'I just thought that, you know, with your gothic image and skull tattoo, you had been a teenage heavy metal fan. Or a biker or something. I didn't mean any offence.'

And Severus breathed again. He had spent enough time in the city to understand that particular sub-culture, especially as enormous denim-clad men with handlebar moustaches always seemed keen to load him onto the back of their Harley-Davidsons. This usually made him scowl. Motorbikes reminded him of that menace Sirius Black, who had recently shown his true colours by bumping off his supposed best friends and ending up in Azkaban with his loony cousin Bellatrix and the rest of them. He had known all along that the freak was homicidal and a danger to society. Had anyone listened to him, Potter, Pettigrew, Evans and all those muggles would still be alive.

He filed these thoughts away to be enjoyed later, and concentrated on convincing Anthony that he had spent the late seventies as a particularly cool and interesting punk, rather than a depressed and disillusioned rubbish Death Eater turned spy. Anthony was pleasantly impressed, having been too afraid of his mother to ever get the mohican and studded leather jacket he had always craved.

'I bought all the records though!' he eagerly reeled off a selection of odd or downright rude phrases, titles of albums and bands presumably, which brought a pleasant, dreamy look to his face.

"What happened when the new school term started?" asked Kingsley, his earlier exhaustion forgotten by the mental image of Severus' double life mingling with the eighties New York gay scene. Being a bit weird had been actively encouraged in those circles. Kingsley couldn't help the thought that his partner probably fitted in better than any other time or place in his life.

"Anthony went back home to stuffy suburban Oxford long before September. We agreed not to keep in touch, believing that we had spent a perfect fortnight together, and any attempts to recreate it would spoil the, ah, magic. But then a year later, school broke up for the Summer and I headed back to America. Three days into my stay, there he was, standing at the bar in Studio 54."

They had settled into a routine. Every year, they would spend the first two weeks of the summer holidays together in New York engaging in carnal depravities which would have made the school governors' hair stand on end as well as finishing off Anthony's mum good and proper; returning to celibate respectability thereafter, forgetting each other's existence until July rolled around. An odd sort of relationship, but one that Severus had enjoyed very much.

"So Anthony's ignorance of your world made sure there was a distance between you," concluded Kingsley, suddenly feeling very tired again, knowing that he could never the kind of lover Snape needed. "You felt safe because he only knew about the things you chose to tell him."

Severus had emerged from the trance-like state he had been in throughout his recital. He looked over at Kingsley and bit his lower lip, nodding sadly.

"Quite. Then suddenly, a wizard who does know all about my terrible past shows an interest in me. Not just sexually, either. You seem to…" he cleared his throat and looked away again. "…to care about me."

"I do care about you," Kingsley said, without hesitation. "But I understand. I trespassed across your boundaries, and you ran to him."

"No!" exclaimed Severus, with considerable force. "No, no. Well, in a way, I suppose. I did go to Oxford before you awoke this morning. But Anthony is dead. I ran to his grave." When Shacklebolt said nothing, he elaborated. "The cemetery is in a peaceful spot. I find it an oddly soothing place to be. I went to try and sort out how I felt about letting my guard down yesterday, and allowing you to see me at my most relaxed. Anthony was the only other person I had felt so comfortable with. I had no idea so many important things would happen if I took a day's break. I am sorry I bolted – I did not intend to upset you."

Kingsley's mind was racing. Severus had dropped his guard because he felt at ease, then had panicked and fled. His eyes were drooping now, no matter how hard he fought his fatigue, but there was much more he needed to discuss with the Slytherin. Emotions, boundaries, the future – if indeed he could envision one. Kingsley lacked the strength to handle it all for the moment. Outside the dawn was starting over Greenwich, the black sky beginning to turn blue, the silhouettes of the tops of the Cutty Sark's masts now visible in its permanent dry dock position. Mind wandering, he pondered the logic of taking a ship which had once been the fastest clipper in the world and trapping it in concrete for tourists to crawl over. But that was what progress did, the future changed everything, making the important aspects of the past irrelevant. He needed to proceed with caution, gently guiding Severus away from the old situation that had served him so well, and into the new, but his brain was currently too foggy for such a delicate operation. Snape read his thoughts.

"I should not have brought this up tonight. You are exhausted. I did not wish for you to retire while you were still angry with me."

Shacklebolt smiled, unable to suppress a yawn.

"I'm not angry with you. Will you come to bed?" Severus hesitated for a fraction of a second, before nodding shyly.

Too tired to even clean his teeth, Kingsley shrugged his robe onto the floor and crawled under the blankets. He was already half asleep ten seconds later when he felt something cold and bony snuggle against his chest, but managed to mumble;

"F'you start to get anxious, wake me up and we'll fix it together. Mmkay?"

The answer was a muted hum.

"Promise?" he insisted, squeezing Severus so hard he squeaked.

"Yes! Leggo! Can't breathe!" Kingsley relaxed his grip and fell asleep smiling, oddly content.

Feeling rather raw after baring his soul, Severus had the distinct impression that someone had taken his brain and vigorously shaken it, leaving all his thoughts drifting haphazardly around his skull instead of sitting neatly in their proper places. He felt those powerful arms holding him in place again, but this time, it felt rather…pleasant. Secure. He kissed Kingsley's sleeping smile and closed his eyes.

…….

A/N: Short chapter, I know, considering how long it took me to update!

Well, there's the beginning of an insight into one of the reasons my Severus acts the way he does. There will be more interaction between our two fellas next time, also developments with Harry, Voldemort and the others. Will Severus be able to cope with everyone knowing about him and Kingsley? Will he be able to cope at all? Will Kingsley stop being jealous of a dead guy?

Thanks to my luvverly reviewers! If you're still there, that is (sheepish grin).