After ten minutes or so, Kingsley gave up banging on the door. Severus was locked in his room and obviously not coming out. It was late, and in the sudden silence Kingsley could hear his own blood rushing in his ears as he leaned against the cold stone wall. He remembered the corridors of Hogwarts seething with life and mischief when he had been a boy, so it was oddly eerie to see them this deserted now.

He meandered up from the dungeons and outside into the warm summer night, flopping down on a large wooden bench and trying to process all the new information about Snape's past. Trying to weaken Severus' mental barriers enough to get close to him was proving very difficult. He could not shake the unpleasant feeling that he had been used earlier on, then cast aside when he was no longer needed. But that was not strictly true - he was needed now, if only the stubborn man would admit it.

He was starting to wonder whether all of this trouble was worth it, when he noticed an enormous figure looming across the lawn in front of him, brandishing some kind of oddly-shaped weapon as he called out in a thick Somerset accent;

"Who's that?"

"It's Kingsley. Evening, Hagrid."

"Oh, hello there!" The groundskeeper strode over and plonked himself down on the sturdy bench, wincing slightly. He offered a sip from a broad, flat-backed flask, which Kingsley automatically declined.

"Why are you wearing a sling?" asked the auror. He also noticed that, since the outbreak of the war, Hagrid was never seen without his pink flowery umbrella. Good for him.

"Oh, this? S'nothin much. Got bit by a thestral. Was going to ask Professor Snape for some balm for it, but reckon he's got enough to think about right now."

"Hmm," said Kingsley. Far too much to think about, actually. He began to feel rather guilty about his earlier thoughts. From the corner of his eye he could see Hagrid studying him carefully, his crinkled black eyes no less sharp than Snape's.

"You know," he began, tapping his bandage while addressing no one in particular, "When you become involved with ferocious creatures, you often end up getting hurt." Kingsley sat still, preparing himself for a speech about thestral husbandry. The giant continued. "But what you got to bear in mind, is they don't mean no harm. They only lash out if they feel threatened, it's self-defence, see?"

"Yes," agreed the auror a little hesitantly, not certain he was talking about thestrals anymore.

"You just got to earn their trust, until they believe you're not a danger. Then they automatically come to you for comfort when they're upset," he absent-mindedly pulled a sleepy ferret out of some deep pocket and began stroking it. "And of course, when you get to that stage, they'll fight to the death to protect you, too."

"You're a very wise man, Hagrid," Kingsley commented at last. The compliment was shrugged off.

"I know a thing or two about fascinating creatures," he sniffed, taking a big swig from the flask before letting the ferret run up his capacious sleeve. He leaned forward and gave an enormous wink. "Specially them as I've watched since they was little." Kingsley matched his grin.

They discussed Harry Potter for a while, which made Hagrid sniffle and blow his nose as loud as a foghorn when he recalled lifting the screaming, bloodstained baby from the rubble of Godric's Hollow and flying him all the way to Surrey sixteen years ago. Eventually, they got round to the newer developments of the war, though Kingsley was careful not to say too much, the groundskeeper's lack of discretion was legendary, after all.

He was mortified not to have noticed the silhouette's approach in the darkness, and later used the excuse of Hagrid's loud voice, and being unnaturally relaxed because he was inside Dumbledore's domain and hopefully safe from anything really unpleasant. He had no notion that they were no longer alone until Hagrid finished a monologue concerning the innate cunning of Malfoys with a friendly;

"Evenin', Professor!" Kingsley leapt out of his seat. He was supposed to be one of the country's finest dark wizard-catchers, yet he had allowed a very dark and frequently dangerous wizard sneak up on him unawares. Again.

"Good evening, Hagrid," said Snape gently. "Did I frighten you, Kingsley?"

"No!" he answered, smoothly but a bit too quickly. He supposed it was all right really, he was dealing with the sneakiest thing that both the Order and Slytherin house had to offer. Severus looked vaguely disappointed.

"What have you done to your arm?" he pointed at the sling, which now also contained a napping ferret. "Lumos. Show me."

"Sorry 'bout your dad, Professor," said Hagrid, as Snape deftly removed the ferret, passing it to Kingsley at arm's length, who held it gingerly by the scruff of its neck. It snarled at him, and tried to bite his fingers.

"Thank you. But I believe we were discussing your wound," he peeled back the bandage and grimaced. The wand light revealed a pattern of deep lacerations, just starting to heal over with unusual blueish star-shaped scabs. "Not too bad. I will brew something directly. Thestrals?"

"Er, two females were fighting over one of the males. 'Smating season. Fang got in the way and, well, he's too daft to defend himself, ain't he?" Kingsley looked around for the massive boarhound, but he was nowhere to be seen. Hagrid answered the unasked question with a grunt. "Hiding in the hut. Too scared to come out, the useless bugger."

"The salve takes thirty minutes to prepare. Shall I bring it to your hut?" asked Severus. Kingsley was intrigued to witness yet another fascinating new side to his lover, this caring nature unexpectedly surfacing to come to the aid of a clumsy, half-giant, outdoorsy Hufflepuff like Hagrid. Though he could not imagine the two going out for a drink, a mutual respect hung in the air. Much to its disgust, the ferret was also hanging in the air, and being of a supple mustelid disposition, it twisted back on itself and managed to sink a set of sharp little fangs into Kingsley's wrist. Kingsley gave a shriek and reflexively flung the little beast away from him.

"Nipper!" wailed Hagrid, leaping from his seat to recover his pet, which streaked away across the lawn and was swallowed by the darkness. Severus chewed his lower lip in an attempt to contain his amusement and seized the cursing auror's hand, inspecting the bite.

"It seems I should prepare a double dose," he deadpanned. Kingsley glared.

Back in the dungeons, Snape settled him onto a stool and began brewing. Transfixed, Kingsley watched the master at work, effortlessly controlling two steaming cauldrons as he weighed, chopped and ground the contents of a dozen or so sparkling glass vials. Eventually, the two potions were ready to be mixed and poured into ceramic bottles to cool, and there was no longer an excuse to remain silent.

"Almost ready," commented Severus, walking around the bench and nervously sitting in front of him. He took the injured brown hand again, and unnecessarily fiddled with the bloodstained handkerchief wrapped around the injury, before holding it between his own and heaving a great sigh. "I am sorry, Kingsley," he said. "My first instinct is to seek solitude when I am upset. I hope you did not take my isolation as a rejection."

Smiling broadly, Shacklebolt squeezed his hands as another of those coils of tension suddenly sprang loose inside him.

"I'm afraid I did," he confessed. Severus' eyes widened in concern as Kingsley continued. "But I should have realised that, and not come charging after you like a rampaging erumpent. You've had so much to deal with lately, I just wanted to help. Please, don't shut me out." Very carefully, he slid his other arm around the potion master's waist. Meeting no protest, he pulled him forwards into his arms until Severus' head was resting on his shoulder in a wonderful, comfortable hug. A few seconds later the thin body relaxed against him, and he reached up to stroke the soft hair, producing a musical hum of contentment.

"So sorry," he murmured into the auror's collarbone. "I have spent most of my life alone. I like knowing you are there for me, but it is hard to adjust after all this time."

A laugh began in the pit of Kingsley's belly and bubbled upwards, gaining resonance on the way, so that Severus felt its vibration even before the rich, deep sound reached his ears.

"You came to find me eventually," he chuckled, squeezing gently. "Thank you."

…….

Historically, Snapes were cremated rather than buried. Usually at the request of the shifty-eyed beneficiary of the will, in fact, and often before the Ministry had time to instigate any tiresome investigations. Tristan flouted tradition in death as he had in life, by being buried five days (and three post-mortem examinations) after the discovery of his body, in a magically sealed coffin which would not prove too difficult to re-open, should the need arise.

Magicoroner Grayling's final analysis had concluded that the fugitive had suffered prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus curse, the effects of which had caused his already weakened liver and heart to collapse completely. The liver was in such poor condition, he added, that Mr Snape would have been dead within six months anyway. The deterioration was most likely a result of decades of alcohol abuse.

The burial was attended by Severus and Mrs Figg, with Dumbledore standing between them to prevent any unpleasant incidents and Kingsley stiff and alert near the door, officially as a Ministry guard, in reality there as moral support. Mad-Eye Moody had refused to allow them to conduct the ceremony in secret, insisting that a few interesting people may have been unable to resist putting in an appearance. Kingsley was the only one to notice they way Severus had paled on hearing that suggestion, and had tried to reassure him in the corridor after the meeting.

"The place will be under high-alert security monitoring. Don't worry about Voldemort showing up," he brushed back a straggling strand of black hair behind one of those delicately pointed ears. Snape looked startled, but did not seem to mind the casual touch.

"What? Oh, I am not concerned with him! Well, no more than usual. I am merely dreading what will happen if my mother shows up and sees Figg."

It was the auror's turn to look shocked.

"Is she likely to come?" he asked carefully. Really, discussing Severus' past was like tickling the proverbial sleepy dragon. Inadvisable and likely to result in unpleasant surprises.

"Who knows," sighed Snape miserably. "Just be ready for carnage."

"But surely your mother would not attack a helpless squib?" The sneer he got in reply made him shrink back a pace.

"Mrs Figg is as much a helpless old lady as Albus is a harmless old man. You must have noticed that she stores more than cat food in that confounded string bag. And one should never underestimate my mother's ability to nurture a grudge," his voice tailed off to a whisper. "While I was growing up, her hatred for my father knew no bounds. It is difficult to recall enough good qualities to be able to mourn him adequately."

Kingsley stepped forward again and was gratified to see his lover reach out for a hug. He supplied it easily, pleased that he felt able to ask for reassurance when it was required. He kissed him chastely on the forehead.

"It will come," he reassured the Slytherin. "Give it time."

Moody was the only one disappointed by the funeral's smooth running. In the event, no suspicious veiled figures lurked at the back, no one fired the Dark Mark over the coffin, no irate ex-wives were in attendance. The small party returned to Hogwarts for a quiet lunch, interrupted only by the arrival of a large snowy owl bearing a scribbled message from Professor McGonagall. Snape threw a dirty look at the bird for some reason Kingsley could not fathom, as Dumbledore opened the scroll and beamed at what he read there.

"Remus has regained consciousness," he declared, delighted. "Though apparently he is still very weak. Minerva seems to think that it would do Harry good to be responsible for lsome of his care."

"Ooh, what a good idea," piped up a red-eyed Mrs Figg. "That way he won't be left to wallow in his grief all summer."

"I'm not certain of their safety at St Mungo's," mused Albus. "They would be better off here, I think. Yes, I shall contact Poppy immediately and have Remus moved to our hospital wing."

"Any news of Bill Weasley?" asked Kingsley, impressed at Severus' lack of reaction to the arrival of new housemates at the castle. He made a mental note to discuss it later.

"The healers are unsure that his sight will ever return, but he's making good progress in other areas, thank goodness," replied the Headmaster, apparently just grateful that the young man had survived.

The meal continued in silence, as no one felt particularly in the mood for chatting. Kingsley was just saying goodbye before preparing to head back to work for the afternoon when the news came through.

A serious incident was taking place in Diagon Alley. Many people had been killed or injured. There was little information for the moment, but all Magical Law Enforcement personnel were required at once.

Kingsley and Severus exchanged glances, neither wholly able to keep the worry from showing on his face. The relatively small concerns of the last few days suddenly fading into the background - for a little while, the bigger picture had slipped from their minds, but now world events were back with a bang. The war was entering a whole new phase. Could two men in their positions possibly hope to come through this unscathed? Severus reached for his hand and squeezed it briefly. Kingsley squeezed back, trying to convey a message of calm and support, before heading for the fireplace, and the front line.

…….

A/N: Thank you for your wonderful comments! It's so lovely to hear that people are following this story. Glad you appreciated 'Mrs Figg the Scarlet Woman' as Sea Priestess described her – I think she's a very mysterious character (Mrs Figg, not Sea Priestess), and I always love hearing about the wild youthful exploits of older people.

Severus has barely begun to address his issues yet, bless him, some more agonising next time, I think. I am sorely tempted by a flying visit from his mother, but as he's barely started 'dealing' thus far, I'm not sure if it's fair to throw her into the mix too. We'll see what ferments in my nasty little brain over the next few days.

Thanks again for all your encouragement, A x

PS: I hope esmesqualor managed to access the fic. It's so frustrating when you get mucked about!