Kingsley arrived at the Ministry the next morning to find his desk, chair, filing cabinet and each individual item in his workspace had been enchanted to resemble black and white squares of newsprint.
Surveying the office, he noticed that everyone was suspiciously interested in their paperwork, that every face had a rigid expression and consistently failed to look up as he glared at them. A stifled giggle exploded out of someone and he heard Tonks hiss, 'shhh!'
"All right," he folded his arms over his chest and addressed the room. "What's going on?"
"Now, Kingsley, don't get cross," the metamorphagus chided. There were more giggles.
"Yes, sir," deadpanned Michael Ivetsy, "Let's not have words about this."
The door creaked open and Moody arrived. Kingsley was not too puzzled to notice that he appeared to have a spring in his limp this morning. He stopped dead on seeing the adjusted desk and burst out laughing – a sound the aurors did not often hear. They were reminded of a rusty saw gouging through a particularly tough plank of wood.
"Would someone mind explaining what this is all about?" Kingsley found it disconcerting that even Mad-eye was in on the joke. Hestia edged forward with the previous day's Prophet, open at the crossword page. All eyes bored into his face to await his reaction as he read through the clues, trying to make sense of whatever it was that was delighting everyone.
Then he found it. His name was a crossword answer. Good grief.
The aurors held their breath for his reaction.
"You bastards," he grinned at them. They cheered and threw things, laughing and congratulating each other on their collective wit and ingenuity, while Moody clapped him violently on the back.
"Now that's what I call fame," he leered, magic eye spinning as it noted down each and every team-member's amusement.
"You're very cheerful today, Mad-eye," commented Tonks, making no moves to change the desk back to normal, Kingsley noticed. Their boss' face contorted into an expression of extreme smugness.
"Might be because I had a date last night," he said, inexpertly feigning nonchalance.
Everyone froze with assorted expressions of horror, gaping as though they couldn't quite believe it.
"Who with?" asked Kingsley. Moody removed his glass eye and polished it on the corner of his robe with agonising slowness, thoroughly enjoying all the attention. He popped it back in and shook his head to settle it in the proper position, before assuming an almost-innocent little smile.
"Your sister," he turned and stalked away, leaving everyone staring at Kingsley again, no less shocked than before. He groaned and sank into his artfully chequered chair.
"I should have guessed," he sighed, as excited whispering broke out all over the office and at least one person was seen heading out of the door to spread the word to other departments.
…….
Severus felt almost daring. He had stretched out an old blanket on a shaded area of lawn and was updating his lesson plans out of doors, unusually conscious of the need to enjoy the weather as autumn approached. Not that summer was showing any signs of exhaustion yet - the air was still and the sun hot, the smells and sounds of the laziest season filled the afternoon as the Deputy Headmaster sprawled in his nest of annotated parchment.
He had no complaints about the dungeons. They had been his home for a larger portion of his life than he cared to calculate, the dark and the closeness making him feel safe. He could identify the location of every echoing footfall by the variation of sound in each different narrow corridor, could sense the use of dark magic inside the Slytherin common room from a particular corner of his private study, knew which portraits were trustworthy and which rejected his blood-treacherous authority. Once outside the sanctuary of those solid walls, the unexpected could creep up on him much more easily.
However, there was no reason to hide away now, with war over and his chances of survival greatly increased, so he indulged the sudden itch of restlessness which had driven him from the dingy safety of his precious lair and out into the open.
After a productive hour's work, Snape's alert peripheral vision picked out the tall figure of McGonagall strolling towards him, apparently also taking the opportunity to enjoy the sunshine in a light cotton robe and straw hat. He quickly suppressed the strange thought that she looked like a maiden aunt on holiday by the sea, knowing his amusement would make her ask awkward questions.
"Is there anyone sitting here?" she asked, indicating the only corner of blanket devoid of paperwork.
"Not unless Potter has nothing better to do than stalk me wearing his invisibility cloak," he replied dryly, not looking up. She huffed and sat down, deliberately kicking him in the ankle as she arranged herself into a ladylike sitting position.
"Have the two of you resolved your differences from the other day?" she asked sharply.
"Of course not. Don't be ridiculous," snorted Snape. Minerva heaved a sigh.
"Severrrus," she only rolled the 'r' in his name when she was particularly displeased with him. "Everything has changed. Everything. The world is a very different place now, as demonstrated by the fact that you, Mr Big Scary Disciplinarian, are out here sunbathing…"
"I am not sunbathing!" Severus dropped his quill in outrage. "I have been in the shade all the time. And you are one to talk, floating around in your beach-wear!"
"Don't take that tone with me, young man," McGonagall had certain ways of reminding Snape that she recalled perfectly the days when he was a mere slip of a child. Adopting the icy mask she wore when doling out detentions was one of them.
"Are you going to speak to me like that in front of the Board of Governors, Headmistress?" he scowled at her.
"No,"
she snapped impatiently. "Which is why I'm doing it now, while
we're alone. So, behave yourself."
"Fine," he sulked. "I
will if you will."
"Very well," she conceded, arms crossed. "Where were we? Ah, yes. You and Harry really need to calm down in line with this new, peaceful era of wizarding, otherwise the coming school year will be very difficult."
"As you say," he traced the pattern of the new burn scars beneath his right sleeve. "The world is a changed place. Values and customs that we have lived by throughout the war are now out of date - some of those teenagers experienced their most formative years under painful or downright dangerous circumstances. Potter and I need to dislike each other because everything else has changed. I do not really expect you to understand, but I feel that we both require at least one constant."
"Balderdash. You still have Hogwarts and, mercifully, you both still have most of the same people," she disagreed, but with less force than before.
Severus struggled to express some of the sense of disruption simmering quietly inside him since the battle and all the subsequent events.
"I cannot explain it," he admitted defeat at last. "I presume you have already spoken to your precious lion cub. What is Potter's opinion on this proposed cease-fire?"
Minerva pursed her lips and addressed her remark toward the lake, in the opposite direction from Snape.
"I shan't repeat his opinion," her sour face made him smile. "But I let him know that the use of such vocabulary during termtime will result in the loss of many points."
The thought of the brat swearing at his headmistress and former head of house on his account cheered Severus a great deal, though he knew Potter would be horrified to hear it. It would be unbearable to have the boy behaving well, listening when he was spoken to, or - perish the thought - trying to befriend him. Severus shuddered. The sight of the young hero smiling at him would cause unfortunate damage to the space/time continuum, Severus was convinced of the fact. As long as Potters and Snapes were sworn enemies then all was right with the world.
They sat in comfortable silence for a long time, until Minerva cast a sly look at him and asked in a suggestive tone how Kingsley was.
"I have not seen him," Severus admitted, turning back to his parchments. Her disapproving stare made him add, rather defensively, "We have both been busy."
"That, Severus Snape, is the most pathetic excuse I have ever heard. Relationships don't take care of themselves, you know. You have to put in some effort!"
"We are both grown men, Minerva," he grunted, not at all comfortable with the discussion. "There is no need for us to drool all over each other like soppy teenagers."
She flexed her fingernails carefully in a vaguely feline gesture.
"Might I remind you how upset you were last week when you believed his memory loss had ended things between you? It would be a dreadful pity to get through the trauma of amnesia only to have everything unravel due to laziness."
"I am not, nor have I ever been, lazy," he huffed, mortified at her interference, yet aware that he had chosen involve her when it had been convenient for him, so there was little hope of shutting her out now.
"Then go and see him," she smiled.
"Have you any idea how overworked the aurors are at present?" he shot back.
"Surely he is still on short hours as part of his official period of convalescence?" McGonagall was quite obviously enjoying his squirming. "How long has it been since you took him out to dinner?"
Snape stared, thinking back to the times he and his lover had shared throughout the summer, emotional scenes, intimate discussion, a fair bit of sex and some serious fighting, but not a single official 'date'. It had been impossible under the desperate circumstances; they were both key players in a much bigger game, in danger every minute of every day.
He mumbled something.
"Pardon?" asked Minerva, leaning forward.
"I said, I have not," the flush began somewhere near his collarbone and surged upwards until his face was glowing with the ugly pink blotches which assailed him when uncontrollable emotion managed to break through his habitual inert mask. Knowing that he was blushing only made it worse.
"You haven't ever gone out for a meal?" she teased.
"In case it escaped your notice, there was a war on," he snapped. "We were concentrating on staying alive."
"Well, you succeeded admirably and it's all over now," she reminded him mildly. "Perhaps it's time look to the future."
As she walked away, Snape tried to muster resentment towards her to smother the shame and annoyance of having someone else telling him what to do, but as most of her advice had been perfectly sensible, he made a poor job of it. It was only half an hour later when he returned to his quarters to fire-call Kingsley and ask if he had a favourite restaurant that he realised Minerva was merely conforming to long-standing Hogwarts tradition.
She was Headmistress now. Meddling in other people's lives was part of the job description.
…….
Percy was already in the pub when Kingsley arrived and waved him over to a table in a quiet corner.
"Thanks so much for this," the young man smiled ruefully. "I won't take up too much of your time."
"Nonsense," the auror beamed, taking a long swig of beer and smacking his lips. "How's Bill, by the way?"
"OK, I think. He has excellent night-vision, but for some reason is completely blind during the day. No one understands why so he's letting them do all sorts of research and tests on him. He was always very patient," Percy explained. "Mum's fussing something rotten. She's also managing to harass Harry and Remus, though they seem rather glad of the attention."
He gave a small, wistful smile and Kingsley almost choked on his drink.
It was the first time he had ever seen one of the Weasley boys resemble their uncles, Gideon and Fabian Prewett, and the unexpectedness of it stole the air from his lungs.
The late identical twins had been, for want of a better phrase, mad scientists. Their expertise had not been limited to potions – they had spent their every waking moment inventing new spells, incantations, runic codes, and even developing new plants; anything which held their attention long enough to work at. Their huge talent quickly ensured they were incorporated into the special Developments Division of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, which basically paid them to adapt their creations into practical tools for the aurors to stay one step ahead of the Death Eaters. The Disillusionment charm had been one of their greatest successes, but the fact that literally hundreds of their ideas were still in everyday use was testament to the originality of their thinking. They had been a great asset to the Light during the first war against Voldemort.
Which was why he had them killed.
"So was there anything in particular you wanted to talk about," Kingsley shelved the past for the moment in favour of the present. He owed it to Fabian to watch out for his unhappy nephew. "Or was it just a bit of company you needed? I can give you an hour on any topic you like, then I have to go and change for dinner."
Percy looked at him, then stared deep into his beer, his ears turning pink with embarrassment, and suddenly Kingsley was on the alert. This had something to do with sex, he guessed, then scrutinised Percy properly for the first time and raised his eyebrows. There was something about his dress, his bearing, his mannerisms, so subtle that only the experienced eye would recognise it. How could he have failed to notice the telltale signs before? Not sex, he corrected himself, sexuality. He braced himself for one of those discussions.
"I heard a rumour, excuse me if it's not true, it's just something I heard and I mean no offence," he hastily got in the disclaimer.
"Go on," prompted Kingsley, trying to sound open and approachable, and not as though he already knew what was coming.
"Well, they say that you're…you know…gay," he stared at the table in mortification, as though the word was a kind of outrageous slur which would earn him a sound hexing. Actually, within the Weasley household, it probably would.
"That's right," Kingsley admitted the truth cheerfully. Relief flooded through Percy and he gave a nervous smile, though he sipped his drink to stall for time.
"How did you know?" he asked the auror at last.
"Pardon? How did I know what?" Kingsley frowned.
"About…your preferences, how did you know?" Percy's ears seemed in danger of spontaneously bursting into flames.
Kingsley doubted that he wanted to hear the real answer to that question, so gave the standard version of starting to notice good-looking boys more often than pretty girls, then trying relationships with both sexes and deciding that he was most comfortable with his own gender. He tried to give the impression that it was different for everyone, though.
Percy hung on his every word, nodded vigorously at certain points as though he really understood.
"And what did you parents say?" he asked when the stream of good advice ended, looking very worried.
"I honestly thought they would flip," Kingsley had to confess. "Somebody else found out and I was forced to tell them before they heard by chance, which would have made it ten times worse. I was dreading it, especially as my stepfather is a very traditional Jamaican man, with harsh views on that sort of thing. But when I managed to stammer it out to my mother she just pinched my cheek and told me that she'd known for years. Caesar never mentions it, but acts exactly the same as he did before, so it hasn't made any difference there." He couldn't imagine Molly or Arthur disowning him or doing anything unkind, though the twins would probably have a field day with a gift-wrapped harassment opportunity like that. "Your family love you, Percy, I'm positive they won't care."
"Maybe. I've just always felt like the odd-one-out in the Burrow, as though I don't really belong there," he said quietly, and was silent for a few minutes. It was not hard to see what he meant, as being one of seven boisterous children, each with their own views and frustrations must have made for interesting family politics. As he was neither the eldest, the best-looking, the naughtiest, the baby boy nor the only girl, Percy must have found it difficult to forge his own identity. 'Being good' probably was not enough to distinguish him in such company. And nobody likes a swot.
"I could be wrong, of course, but I imagine they'll be pleased you chose to share this with them," or most of them will, he added to himself.
They were draining their glasses when the awkward Weasley began visibly preparing another difficult question.
"So is it really true then," his eyes glittered teasingly, looking exactly like Fabian this time.
"What's true?" asked Kingsley.
"You and Snape?"
The older man knew he should have expected this kind of thing from Severus' ex-pupils, but they had still not got round to discussing how to deal with it. The Order already knew, thanks to that dreadful mix-up with the note which had almost convinced Dumbledore that his spy had defected, so he supposed the information would have got around by now. At least Percy, given the subject of their recent conversation, should not be too scandalised by the potions master's sexuality.
"Severus and I have been seeing each other for a few weeks, if that's what you're asking," he answered.
"Really? But he's so nasty!" He bit his lower lip as he realised what he had just said. "Well, I mean, it's not like Snape goes out of his way to show people his good side. If he has one."
"He does," twinkled Kingsley, a little censure in his tone.
The meeting with Percy had exhumed some long-buried memories. He would have been a toddler when his uncles were murdered, Kingsley reflected, so he probably had no recollection of them at all.
Poor Fabian. The inventor had been so interested in everything life had to offer, thirsty for knowledge and so overflowing with radical ideas that he almost seemed to burn with enthusiasm. It was supremely unfair that people like Pettigrew and Umbridge survived while the Prewetts were killed.
With an effort, he wrenched himself back to the present. Out of the blue, Severus had invited him out for dinner, the new Deputy Head's hard-won confidence faltering slightly as he was forced to reveal that he actually knew no decent restaurants, not being one for socialising, except for his time on the New York scene years ago. It would be nice to see his lover after all the hard work of the last few days, and a pleasant way to distract him from his recent despondent thoughts. He wondered why he hadn't come up with the idea first.
…….
Greenwich was buzzing with life as Kingsley emerged from the Thames foot-tunnel and made his way to the Trafalgar pub. It was not the best restaurant in London, but sitting at a table in one of the huge bay windows looking out over the river always made him feel as though he were on holiday somewhere interesting, rather than merely across the water from his own apartment, so he often chose to eat there when the weather was good. All the bars and restaurants had tables outside, packed with noisy people enjoying the warm evening. Skateboarders clattered through the clusters of tourists and students milling around the square where the enormous Cutty Sark ship sat elegantly in its dry dock, three soaring masts and intricate rigging silhouetted against the sky. A pair of overexcited dogs were ignoring their exasperated owners' yells in favour of chasing pigeons round and round the fence protecting the ship.
Striding past the Pier and along the embankment, Kingsley wondered why he was feeling so nervous. It had taken him much longer than usual to get ready, fretting about the appearance of his muggle clothes in the mirror and completely changing the whole outfit at least three times before he realised that he would have to hurry to avoid being late. As he spotted the dark figure hovering outside the pub, he realised why. He had never been on a date with Severus before. They had slept together, fought together, got drunk together and visited each other's homes, but had never appeared together in public as a couple.
Tonight felt very significant.
Severus was unnerved by the crowds, though he forced himself to remember that every individual was probably a muggle, and even if they were not, he had little to fear from wizards now. He hoped the latter thought was true. No one paid him much attention as he stood alone outside the Trafalgar, eyes flicking quickly over each passer-by, unable to switch off the reflex which automatically scanned his surroundings for potential danger. He made a mental note to suggest that next time the auror wanted to eat in a muggle restaurant, he might consider choosing somewhere a little more secluded, though personally, Snape had no idea what was wrong with wizarding establishments.
He saw Kingsley approaching in the distance and frowned. His lover's appearance was the stuff of fantasy – wearing what Severus supposed to be the latest style of jeans and a fitted shirt – showing off his toned torso and drawing admiring glances from most of the females in the area. Snape was under no illusions about his own skinny body and alarming facial features, making him wonder properly for the first time since the upheaval of the last battle, why on earth such a gorgeous creature chose to waste himself on an ugly schoolteacher.
They entered the pub and took a window table, making small-talk about the weather and the view until Severus remembered something.
"Did you happen to peruse the crossword puzzle in yesterday's paper?" he asked, innocently sipping his wine.
"Oh, not you too!" Kingsley laughed, "My esteemed colleagues have been having fun with that." Snape smirked, then turned serious.
"I suppose they also know about our…friendship," he hazarded, not sure how to describe the month and a half of sex and comfort they two men had shared.
"Yes," the auror looked unperturbed. "Percy Weasley knew, too, when I spoke to him earlier. I don't want to deny it, but I suppose you need to be rather discrete because of school, don't you? I don't want your reputation to suffer because of me."
"Nor yours because of me," Snape was relieved at his lover's concern, though he suspected it was in his own interests not to make a big show of his sexuality.
"Oh, it's no big deal at work, the only thing that worries me is that you could potentially be in danger from dark wizards, as all the MLE next-of-kin are. There is a safety network with emergency portkeys and advice on how to stay safe from kidnap or attack," he caught the other man's sneer and chuckled. "Though I imagine you know how to defend yourself better than most."
"Indeed," he agreed. "I imagine that the best way to deal with any interest in our relationship would be to give the bare minimum of information if directly challenged, but to otherwise keep silent. I fear I have never been comfortable discussing my private life in any case."
"Sensible plan," nodded Kingsley, and was about to make another point when Snape interrupted him.
"You look very nice this evening," he blurted, apropos of nothing. "Everyone was looking at you."
"Thank you," he laughed, resting his brown hand over Severus' white one in a casual gesture. "Did I ever mention how sexy you look in muggle clothing?"
The waitress cleared her throat pointedly and they snatched up their menus rather self-consciously, ordering duck salad and baked trout without much contemplation. She smiled ruefully and glanced at Kingsley before muttering something about 'it's always the fit ones'.
After dinner, they took a dusk stroll through the park. It seemed like an oddly intimate thing to do, more so than their desperate private trysts during the war. Severus supposed this was because they were publicly declaring themselves to be a couple. He tried to recall the walks in Central Park with Anthony, years ago, and how it felt to present their union to strangers – had it seemed a natural thing to do back then? Or had the faint embarrassment he was feeling now been there in New York too, just eclipsed by the weight of subsequent traumas.
Not that he had anything to be embarrassed about, he reflected, glancing sideways at the handsome auror. If Kingsley chose to spend time with him rather than any of the pretty young things which he was more than capable of attracting, that was Kingsley's problem and Severus' good fortune. He knew that walking in a magical area, in front of people they knew would be a whole different matter, however. Was the wizarding world ready for the unpleasant Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts to openly flaunt a lover and declare that he needed companionship as much as everyone else? For that matter, was Snape ready for it?
"What's wrong?" the rich, deep voice brought him back to the present with a jolt.
"Nothing," he said quickly.
"Are you sure? You look worried," Kingsley stopped and turned to face him, trying to read his eyes. "Would you rather be at home?"
"I…" began Snape, not sure of the answer. Kingsley, mindful of the admiring looks his lover had been casting at his body all evening, put both hands on his tiny waist.
"Or would you rather be at my home, in the privacy of my bedroom?" he asked huskily.
Severus flushed and nodded, wondering why he felt the need to do so much thinking. He doubted that a Gryffindor would have agonised so much over the situation, preferring to just dive in headfirst and deal with the consequences later. It was a disastrous mentality during a war, but perhaps better for a time of love than his endless introspection. He allowed his cheek to be kissed before they apparated back to Kingsley's home across the river, ready to wash away his concerns with a flood of passion.
…….
An unnerving dream about his sister and Mad-eye Moody started Kingsley awake at four in the morning, so vivid he contemplated asking Severus to obliviate him.
Shuddering, he padded quietly to the kitchen and poured a glass of water, realising with some irritation that it would take a long time to get back to sleep. He wondered briefly whether he should wake Snape for a repeat performance, but decided it was probably rather unfair. Small snores filtered through from the bedroom. It was nice that he was able to sleep after the huge events of the summer.
Kingsley wondered what had been troubling his lover over dinner. His mind had obviously been elsewhere and the auror wondered whether he ought to be concerned about it. Severus could have been lost in reflection on so many serious topics – the battle, his injuries, his father's death, Mrs Figg-the-strumpet, the fight with Harry Potter, his new responsibilities; probably a host of other things Kingsley was not aware of besides – it may not have been anything to do with their relationship. Yet they still had not managed to have a serious discussion about the future, or indeed, even about the present. It ought to be done soon, if only to reassure both parties that they were playing on the same Quidditch pitch. It would be awful to mess everything up due to some needless misunderstanding.
He was under no illusions about what is would mean to be the long-term partner of the man in the next room. Snape was stubborn, uncommunicative, anti-social and often downright nasty, as Percy had observed, though Kingsley was willing to put up with these traits for the sake of his first taste of stability for several years. Already, the piles of paperwork which he spent all day processing, detailing horrendous acts of cruelty and malice, affected him much less now that he could hold onto the thought of having someone to soothe his grief. Even though he did not see Severus every night and even though the potions master was not particularly sweet or nurturing when they were together, the simple knowledge that he was no longer alone seemed to be enough reassurance.
Sipping his water alone in the darkness, he mused on the miracle that had allowed them both to survive this far. Unbidden, the memory of Fab Prewett's smile, alive and well on Percy Weasley's face flashed into his mind, quickly followed by the memory of the inventor's hand wandering up his thigh. That was not something his nephew needed to hear about, though if Molly was aware of her late brother's penchant for young black men, he might already suspect. Gideon certainly delighted in teasing his twin about it.
Fabian had been Kingsley's first male lover – he had been Fab's last. By the auror's calculations, the Death Eater murder squad had arrived at the workshop no more than ten minutes after he had adjusted his clothing and sloped off back to the Ministry with the usual excuses about why it had taken him half an hour just to collect a consignment of Freeze Frame Flingers. At the time, the guilt of having missed the attack had been stifling. His teen arrogance insisted that he would have been able to make a difference had he been there to help them fight, despite Moody sneering that the only change would have been three body bags instead of two.
Everyone said he had made a difference this time. In fact, he was such a hero they were using his name in the Daily Prophet crossword. He snorted at his colleagues' silly joke that morning and shook his head. There was bound to be more nonsense over his relationship with Severus, once they got bored of winding him up about the puzzle or Saffron's date with Mad-eye, and he wondered how his taciturn lover would react to being a source of general amusement. Probably the time he had spent in the zoo-like atmosphere at Hogwarts had made him immune to such jibes, but he wondered if the same was true of the Board of Governors.
If it ever came down to a choice between his boyfriend and his career, Kingsley was not convinced that Snape would throw away everything he had worked towards for the sake of their relationship. Neither was he sure he would want him to.
Cursing the wakefulness which was provoking all these needless negative thoughts, he finished his drink and headed back to the bedroom. He reasoned that there was nothing to be gained in worrying about potential hazards in the future, when the present was nicer than it had been for years.
He slid underneath the covers and rolled carefully on top of his sleeping lover, sucking and nibbling at his ear until he stirred and wrapped his arms around him.
"What time is it?" he gasped sleepily, running one hand over Kingsley's bald head.
"Does it matter?" he slurped back.
"Mm. I suppose not," Severus sighed, contentedly. "I was having such a pleasant dream about Potter."
Kingsley stopped abruptly and glared.
"What?" he asked, incredulous and slightly perturbed. Snape licked his lips and pulled him back down for more kisses.
"I just gave Filch permission to manacle him to the floor. For a week," he grinned.
"You are so…" Kingsley struggled for the right word to adequately describe Severus without causing too much offence.
"Synonym of 'unpleasant', five letters, begins with 'n'," he whispered, soliciting a deep groan from a man who was completely fed up with crosswords. "You knew that from the very beginning."
Remembering the stranger times they had spent together, where Severus had been clingy and insecure in counterpoint to Kingsley's struggles with his own demons, he was glad that things were back to normal. He much preferred seeing scornful amusement in those lovely black eyes than the hollow despair haunting them before the battle.
"Yes, you have always been n-a-s-t-y," he spelled aloud, lazily stroking sallow skin. "But I wouldn't have it any other way."
…….
AN: I think the next chapter will be the last (finally!). At this point I'm envisaging a chat with Mrs Figg, the start of the new school term and the much-needed 'little talk' between Kingsley and Severus…uh-oh!
Sorry again for taking so long, thanks again for reading and I still love to hear your opinions! Love SN x
