OK, I confess, this is NOT the final chapter! I really tried to get everything tied up in one go, but it was all getting a bit cramped and messy, so there will be another after this! Apologies for being misleading.

……

Ever the jovial dictator, Dumbledore decreed from the outset that he would be enjoying two retirement parties, and that any objectors would be mercilessly crushed with a strategic double-headed attack involving infuriating twinkly anecdotes and force-feeding with sugary snacks.

The first would be the predictable staid occasion organised by the Ministry in Hogwarts' Great Hall, attended by representatives from all the leading wizarding institutions across the world, as well as a generous smattering of political figures. There was to be a formal seven-course dinner, coffee, mints, port and ritual pipe-smoking, after a few hours of worthy speeches and a presentation.

The second would be Albus' own choice - a garden party in the grounds, to which all his students, friends and sparring partners - past and present - would be invited. There would be dancing, juggling, pie-throwing contests, a five-legged race and lots and lots of cake.

To Snape's chagrin, he received magically indeclinable invitations to both.

Gripping the sides of the washbasin to steady himself, he rested his forehead against the bathroom mirror and briefly enjoyed the feeling of coolness seeping into his skin. The previous day, Madam Malkin had demonstrated the straightforward, hassle-free method for tying his new bow-tie and fixing his collar so that it allowed the free flow of air and blood through his neck in less than five seconds. Almost forty minutes after beginning the operation unassisted, Severus was still closer to achieving accidental hanging than formal dress.

It was all Shacklebolt's fault, of course. With his perfect frame and attractive face, the gorgeous auror was capable of winning hearts even if wearing a house-elf's dirty pillowcase. Bearing this in mind as he dug out the old black velvet dress robe had always thrown on as a nod to convention, he suddenly noticed the garment's outdated style, the small burn on the cuff from when an over-excited Fawkes had burned during one Christmas meal, the way the hem was slightly too short for him now that he walked with his shoulders drawn confidently back instead of in the protectively hunched skulk he had worn all his adult life. There was no way a new outfit could make him as handsome as Kingsley, but purchasing something a little more smart would indicate that he was doing his best with what was available.

There was also the matter of not showing his lover up in public. It was going to be painful enough to endure the uncomprehending stares of those who knew that Kingsley could do much better in terms of partner, without knowing that he looked as shabby as Filch into the bargain. Personally, he liked to think had given up worrying about other people's opinions years ago, but there was the reputation of Hogwarts to consider now, as well as his own. The Deputy Headmaster had an image to present.

He leaned back and eyed the dickie-bow.

"This is your last chance," he threatened it darkly. The mirror sniggered.

…….

Kingsley had never seen Hogwarts looking so posh. Silver plated braziers blazed along the guests' path all the way from the gates, brilliant white flames leaping above their heads into the sky; hundreds of fairies, strung together on long silver ribbons, hung from the ramparts right down to the ground; inside every ancient surface gleamed with polish and gilding. He had the impression that even the spiders had been given a bath for the occasion.

At the entrance to the Great Hall, the New Headmistress and Deputy Headmaster greeted the visitors and showed them through to where the man of the moment was holding court in the middle of the throng, telling inappropriate stories about chamber pots and Uncontrollable Foam crystals. The eye-catching McGonagall tartan dated from the 9th century, when the need to spot your fellow clansmen across a misty glen outweighed any pansy Sassenach-driven concerns about style. Beside the alarming blend of Highland yarns sported by the youngest of the brave family's kin, Snape was a subtle vision in black and white tailoring.

"You look very nice," Kingsley told him, keeping hold of his hand longer than convention dictated. Snape's expression remained blank, though his eyes sparkled at Kingsley for a second.

"Thank you. I confess I was forced to seek assistance with the uncooperative neckwear," he nodded to McGonagall, who grinned as she shoved the chatty Malaysian Minister for Magic through the doorway in Dumbledore's direction.

"They're far easier to tie on others than on oneself, I understand," she said, digging the auror in the ribs. "Although, you should have been helping, not I. Taking care of Severus is your job, young man!"

Accustomed to masking their emotional reactions, neither wizard visibly flinched, though both sets of finely-tuned senses picked up the thrill of tension as it flickered through the other.

"Please go through, Auror Shacklebolt," Snape said evenly. "The seventh-years will offer you sherry or pumpkin juice. Dinner will be served at eight."

"Thank you, Professor," Kingsley replied, turning to kiss Minerva's hand to cover his reluctance to look his lover in the eye. "Good evening, Headmistress."

The hubbub of voices swallowed Kingsley as he strode into the room. All around, eminent witches and wizards were flattering their neighbours with unnecessary compliments, braying about their wealth and power, or simply exclaiming over the rich velvet hangings. Over the head table hung a tapestry Kingsley had never seen before at the school, clearly centuries old, depicting the four founders and their mascots, with Hogwarts castle clearly visible in the background, though looking much smaller without its later extensions.

"Fascinating, isn't it?" Molly Weasley saw him gazing in wonder. "They only bring it out for very special occasions. The preserving charms Helga Hufflepuff put on it are still intact."

"Incredible!" he agreed, automatically paying most attention to Rowena Ravenclaw in her simple blue robe, somehow managing to ignore Godric Gryffindor's enormous sword and flowing golden locks in favour of internal contemplation. He wondered if Slytherin's louche expression as he suggestively handled his big snake was the reason they kept the artwork away from impressionable teenagers. It was certainly putting impure thoughts into his supposedly more mature head, though of course that could just be Salazar's dark brows and long nose reminding him of another sensual pureblooded wizard.

He wondered whether Minerva was right, that he should be looking after Severus. The spy had never seemed the type of person who needed looking after. He turned back to see him conversing stiffly with an enormously fat man in a fringed suede robe and a Stetson whose laughter drowned out every other sound in the room. He clapped Snape on the back and called him 'buddy'. Even from this distance, Kingsley could see McGonagall was almost wetting herself with laughter.

"How is Percy?" he asked. Molly's face relaxed completely into a smile which consumed her whole body in one go.

"He's fine," she murmured. "He came round on Saturday and we had a long talk. Things have been difficult over the last few years, but I think we're going to be all right now. He said you helped him about the gay thing."

"It can be confusing at first," Kingsley said non-committally, the last thing he needed was the entire Weasley family on the warpath, thinking he somehow gave the kid ideas. "I just told him to talk to you about it."

He should have expected the hug, but it caught him unawares and his sherry jerked out of its glass and onto the floor, where it vanished immediately. The elves were clearly working overtime this evening.

"Thank you," there were tears in her eyes as she squeezed the life out of him. "It's my fault he feels neglected. It was so hard trying to keep the twins in line when they were little, I hardly ever spoke to poor Percy."

"Er, I'm sure you…" Kingsley began to feel slightly out of his depth now. Fortunately, the mother-of-seven was talking, not listening.

"I don't believe he thought I would mind about a little thing like that! Of course, he never knew about my brothers, screaming queens, the pair of them, and no one loved them any less for it, not even when Fabian used to go on holiday to San Francisco cruising for handsome black men! Percy is my son and nothing can change that! And I like to think I played a big part in smoothing the way for Severus' promotion too, shaking up those other fuddy-duddies on the Board of Governors. Honestly, some of them are a good hundred years out of date with their views! I'm so happy he is being rewarded for everything he's done, and that the two of you are settled together and not lonely anymore!"

Pushing aside a cocktail of mixed emotion on hearing about Fabian's other conquests and her implications about his life before and after getting together with Severus, he picked up something intriguing in her gush of speech.

"You spoke to the school Board about Severus?" he asked.

"You could say that," she chuckled, with a little self-conscious pride. "As Governor-in-Chief I was able to suggest it in no uncertain terms."

"You've replaced Lucius Malfoy?" The auror was beaming along with her now. "Merlin, he would hate that!"

A sparkle of malice crept into her cheerful expression.

"I know," she smirked.

For both wizards, the evening dragged on as a blur of rich food, insincere congratulation and hot air. Dumbledore openly dozed through Fudge's hour-long speech and Fawkes deliberately decided to burn up just as the Minister finished, diverting the token applause for the sweaty speaker to his own, more impressive entertainment.

"Never mind, Cornelius," Albus awoke just in time to carefully pocket the ugly bald chick wriggling on the tabletop. "The eyebrows should grow back in due course."

Severus did not spend much time with Kingsley, being busy with his Deputy's duties, but as yet another bottle of port circulated around the table, he managed to whisper that all the entrances and exits, false conversation and fancy costumes made lent the evening a theatrical atmosphere.

Kingsley laughed and agreed, glancing round at the unlikely cast of characters.

…….

Enter pretty black middle-aged woman with an enormous afro and shimmering golden robes; accompanied by a suspicious-looking man with a wooden leg and crazy magical eye.

Saffron Shacklebolt: Ah, Severus! Finally I get to chat to the guy who has made an honest man of my little brother! Welcome to the family!

Snape:(with consternation) Madam, I…

Mad-eye Moody: (with confusion): Hold your hippogriffs, does this mean me and him are in-laws now?

(Snape and Moody stare at each other with mounting horror.)

Snape: (Looking wildly around the hall, then fixing on someone miles away.) Please excuse me, I believe I have spotted some underage drinking in the far corner.

(Exit Snape, at speed.)

…….

(Enter two read-haired youths, in matching dragonhide robes which are so bright they scorch the very retinas of all who dare approach.)

Fred Weasley: (Cheerfully.) Kingsley!

George Weasley: (Offering his hand to be shaken, which Kingsley almost takes but pulls back just in time.) The main man!

Kingsley: Hello, lads. How's business?

Fred: Rushed off our feet…

George: With orders for all the victory parties…

Fred: And the weddings…

George: So many weddings! Seems like everyone's at it…

Fred: Since the war finished. Love is all around…

George: For you as well, Percy says!

Fred: Ooh, yeah! How's old Snapey?

George: So sweet that he's finally getting some.

Fred: Very brave of you to agree to spend the rest of your life staring at that hooter.

George: Does he call you a dunderhead?

Fred: Does he wear black in bed?

George: Does he take points for poor performance?

Fred: (Whacking his brother in the arm.) Fred! Behave yourself!

George: (Whacking him back, even harder.) Hoi! You behave yourself! And you're Fred!

Fred: No, you're Fred!

George: No I'm not!

Fred: Yes, you are!

(Fred and George fight until separated by kindly bystanders. Kingsley wanders off, sighing.)

…….

(A teenage boy with a scar on his forehead shaped like a bolt of lightening is sitting in a shadowy corner of the room, talking to a girl with bushy hair and an older wizard in a wheelchair. The young witch holds his hand tenderly, but not proprietarily. Periodically, the disabled man gives a violent twitch, or rolls his head spasmodically. Enter Snape.)

Snape: (In dripping tones of honey-glazed evil.) Potter.

Harry Potter: (Looking uneasy and holding the girl's hand tighter.) Sir.

Hermione Granger: (With real affection.) Good evening, Professor. Congratulations on your promotion!

Snape: (Suspiciously.) Hm.(Turning to the wheelchair.) Lupin. Feeling better?

Remus Lupin: (Executes complicated sequence of jolts and tics.) Yah.

Hermione: Sir, Harry has something to say to you.

Harry: (Glares at her.) No, I don't!

Hermione: (Glares back even harder.) Yes, you do.

Harry: (Sulkily, to Snape.) She wants me to say I'm sorry I hit you.

Snape: (Raises both eyebrows.) Are you sorry, Potter?

Harry: (Thinks about it for a long time.) I shouldn't have used violence. For that I'm sorry. But I still think you deserved it for being so bloody vile to people all the time.

Hermione: Harry!

Snape: (Wryly.) Your honesty is most refreshing. You understand that I am going to make your final year at this school as unpleasant as possible, in order to counterbalance the fawning adulation of the rest of the world since your defeat of the Dark Lord? And also because I enjoy it.

Lupin: (Makes a bastardised, rattly chuckling sound which is uncomfortable to hear.)

Harry: (Shrugging.) I wouldn't expect anything less.

Hermione: (Exasperated with both of them.) No! It wasn't supposed to be this way! There's no reason to squabble and hate each other now that the biggest evil of our age has been defeated! The world should be better now, happier. What on earth have we all been fighting for?

Snape: (With a surprisingly patient expression, considering.) I cannot speak for the rest of the combatants, but I myself was fighting to restore normality to our world. Normal life consists of disagreements and clashes of personality at every turn. Miss Granger, if you have somehow managed to live within the wizarding world for six years without noticing that its natural state is one of antagonism and struggle, then I am sorely disappointed by the general opinion of your being the brightest witch of your age.

Harry: (Through narrowed eyes.) Hey, are you having a go because she's muggle-born?

Snape: (Somewhat exasperated.) No. Merely her foolhardy supposition that the end of the war will spell love, harmony and fluffy bunny rabbits for evermore.

Harry: (Rather amused at hearing Snape say 'bunny rabbits'.) Just checking.

Hermione: (Filing his views away for later investigation and/or library research.) So does this mean you're not going to marry Auror Shacklebolt, Sir?

Snape: (Goes deathly white, then vermillion red, then back to white again, all the while making a sort of strangled effort at breathing.)

Hermione: (Either oblivious to his reaction, or pretending to be). Because same-sex marriage is legal in the UK now, though I don't think any witches or wizards have taken advantage of the new law yet. I thought it would be one of the first things on your agenda, making sure such a handsome man doesn't get away!

Harry: (Surreptitiously lets go of her hand and buries it deep in his pocket, lest she get ideas.) Um. Hermione...

Lupin: Nyyeatch! (Begins shaking all over, rolling his eyes wildly and writhing painfully. He flings his head back so hard he tips the wheelchair over backwards and waves his legs in the air. The others rush to right him, except Snape, who caught the werewolf's eye a split second before the dramatic spasm occurred and saved him from the hellish turn of Granger's conversation.)

Snape: (To himself, as he escapes in all the confusion). Merlin…

…….

(Kingsley and Severus try to catch a private word in a corner of the hall but are interrupted by a young witch with green and yellow hair, who is ever so slightly intoxicated.)

Tonks: (Beaming.) Hi guys! Aw, you're both looking dapper tonight! You make such a lovely couple!

Snape: (Tries to escape but is grabbed firmly by Tonks.)

Kingsley: Thanks, Tonks. (Warningly.) Why don't you go and say hello to Saffron now?

Tonks: (Swaying slightly.) Already have. Can't understand what she sees in Mad-eye though. Funny thing, innit?

Snape: Highly unlikely.

Kingsley: Don't be fooled. She may be better looking, but she's no less suspicious and calculating than him.

Tonks: (Stumbles forwards and steadies herself on both men.) Oopsie! Little bit too much port, I think. Couldn't help it, Fudge was being so boooring. I bet my teeth are stained purple. (Shows them.)

Snape: Delightful.

Kingsley: Yep, they are.

Tonks: Anyway, what was I going to say? Oh, I know. Odd couples! Some people said it was really weird when you two got together but I think it makes perfect sense. You're both serious, professional people who work very hard. Sure, Snape can be a miserable old sod but Kingsley can knock off his corners, now! (Slaps Kingsley hard on the shoulder.) I trust you to make something of him! So, have you started looking for somewhere to live yet? Or is Kingsley going to move into the dungeons?

…….

The panic swelled up inside Severus' chest, adrenaline making his body itch to do something drastic. Running fast and far until his legs gave out seemed like a great idea; or curling up into a tight foetal position and rocking until everything went away. In younger days, he might have punched his fist into a solid surface until either broke, or picked a fight in Knockturn Alley.

But everything was different now. A man in his position could not charge around like a volatile teen, lashing out at possibly-innocent bystanders to assuage his guilt. Nor, he supposed, was he permitted to head to New York and get banged by as many anonymous beefy bikers as he could take in a single evening, not now he belonged to Shacklebolt.

Ducking out into the entrance hall, an unexpected alcove appeared in the wall and he gratefully slid into its dark sanctuary. Since accepting the Deputy position, the castle seemed much more accommodating of his needs, offering up short-cuts and hiding places with reassuring precision. He liked to think it was finally accepting him as a permanent fixture.

He rested his head against the stone and took some deep breaths. Every person he had spoken to that evening had been hell-bent on interfering in his private life. It was utterly intolerable that the whole world believed they had a right to lecture him, discuss him, laugh about him – though he was self-assured enough to accept that no malice lay behind the teasing. Running a finger between the asphyxiating collar and his damp neck, he mentally stacked up the uncomfortable incidents and tried not to let his feeling of bewilderment turn to anger.

No one had ever cared about his personal life. The fact that he was now sleeping with Kingsley had suddenly blasted the doors off his bedroom and made their intimate moments a topic for public discussion. What next? Inches in the gossip column of the newspaper? Nosy questions from the students? Discussion at the dinner table about the kind of lubricant they preferred? He clenched his teeth so hard they hurt right down to the roots. It was no one else's business but theirs. Why couldn't everyone just leave them alone! If this was Peacetime, perhaps he preferred War – when people had far more important things to occupy their minds. War was easier to handle. He had spent most of his adult life embroiled in it one way or another, and it always became a simple matter of trying to stay alive. Now the enemy was not trying to end his life, just make it a living hell.

He remembered the initial feeling of horror on arriving at Hogwarts at 11 years of age and being expected to share his space and his thoughts with strange children. As far as he could recall, he had felt exactly as he did now. The nauseatingly wholesome atmosphere of boarding school, where he had to shower naked next to other boys, sleep amidst their snores and flatulence, listen while they talked during meals, wear his tie in the particular way which marked one as 'cool' not 'square' and generally be expected to act the part of a member of the community. The same community who were bothering him today.

He hated the word 'community'.

It stood for going with the flow, following the leader, believing popular opinion, and living up to the expectations of others, like a flock of mindless sheep. Snape was an individual – shy, awkward and a bit odd – then as now, so having to be part of the unremarkable crowd appalled him. Privacy was viewed as some kind of sin back then, but middle-aged Severus needed it as desperately as little Severus had, feeling violated whenever strangers breezily crashed through his personal space. It was an abnormality, a serious flaw of character, he had realised this during his first week of hellish public life at school; but nevertheless part of his identity. Other people might be able to share their every thought with the community, but not Severus Snape. Wrong or right, it was fact.

Footsteps nearby announced the end of even this brief moment of peace from harassment and Severus wished it was possible to apparate away, or pull out an invisibility cloak like Potter's. Perhaps he should look into acquiring one. He stood immobile, hoping the blasted intruder would not notice his hiding place.

"Severus?" The enquiry was soft, spoken in the rich, deep voice of the last person on earth Snape wanted to speak to just then. The little irritated intake of breath which escaped his still-clenched teeth was enough to give him away. "Severus? There you are!"

Kingsley's face appeared around the corner, his mild expression becoming concerned on seeing the other's tense posture. "Are you all right?"

A seething cauldron of potential plans bubbled in Snape's head as he pondered his next move. Kingsley was a wonderful man. Good, honest, trustworthy and unemotional. He deserved the truth.

Snape swallowed.

"Kingsley," he began, but had to stop when his tongue seized up. There was silence as he willed himself to speak.

"Yes?" prompted the auror gently. There was more silence. Eventually, Severus cleared his throat.

"Kingsley," he said again.

"Yes?"

More silence. The tiny drip of wax from a guttering candle on the other side of the hall seemed loud as an explosion to the two men standing together in the shadows. Snape summoned every ounce of his Slytherin courage and made a last attempt at communication.

"Kingsley?"

"Yes?" he repeated, with infinite patience.

"I'm so sorry. I can't do this."

…….

AN: Oh dear. They shouldn't have put off the 'little chat', should they? Snape is a firm believer in Sartre's maxim; "L'enfer, c'est les autres." And so am I, as another reluctant ex-boarder.

Thanks for reading! And for saying such nice things. Next chapter is already being tweaked, so shouldn't be too long! x