A/N: Hi, it's been a while hasn't it? This came to me while listening to the song on a train, so out came the pen Hope you enjoy!
Set roughly a year after the last book.
"I can still remember what his face looked like
When I found him in an alley in the middle of the night."
Nickelback, Just To Get High
Harry was having a bad night. Firstly, it was raining; rendering the hours spent straightening his unruly hair pointless. Secondly, he was alone, wandering the streetlamp-lit pavements. He'd been on a night out with Ron, Hermione and Neville, which had turned bad. Neville had abandoned them early on for two pretty witches. Ron, after more than a few too many, had gotten into a fight after seeing a guy try it on with Hermione. Between the stony, yet glazed face of Ron and the sobs of Hermione, Harry had sobered up faster than if he'd seen a stray Hungarian Horntail. After eventually coaxing them both into going home together, he had decided that a burger was well deserved.
Harry picked across the puddles, piles of rain-washed vomit, and stumbling people towards the kebab shop. His jeans were soaked to his knees, and the checked shirt he wore clung soddenly to his chest. The street was punctuated by small turn offs, leading to small car parks behind the shops. None of them had street lights, causing Harry to speed up whenever he got to one. Even after the fall of Voldimort, there were still bad people in the world.
Suddenly, Harry stopped dead and turned his head sharply towards the alley he had just past. A low moan could be heard over the rain.
"Hello?"
He crept slowly down the backstreet, looking for the source of the noise. A darker shade of black shuffled minutely in the corner. It moaned again. Harry's mouth fell open slightly as he gazed. He'd only heard a moan that pitiful from a victim of a dementor attack, but there were none of those here. His hand reflexed to his right hip, but came away empty. He'd become accustomed to leaving his wand at his flat when a drunk Ron would be near.
"Hello? A-are you ok?"
Harry strained to hear over the constant slap of rain on concrete. Nothing but a whisper of a cough was his answer; frail and barely audible. Unthinking, Harry ran towards the dark mass and fell to his knees beside it, a sharp pain ripping through his leg as he did. He ignored it.
"You ok? Come 'ere."
He lifted his hand towards the figure, squinting in the gloom. He untangled the unresisting frame of the figure to find a pale face buried amongst the arms. His heart twinged. This person, now he could see it was in fact a person, couldn't have been far from his own age. He touched the chin, and on meeting no resistance, he turned it to face him.
Even in the darkness his insipid skin could be seen, marred with grime, bruises and half healed cuts. His nose was pointed and covered in dirt, tracked by the raindrops running down his face. His hood slipped slightly to reveal glazed eyes, heavily hung with purple bags. Through his blonde matted hair they slowly focused on Harry's face. It broke Harry's heart. Slowly, he pulled the figure upright, gently wrapping his arm around the figure's waist, and his Harry placed on his shoulders.
"Come on Draco."
The two spun and disappeared, leaving nothing but a scrap of blanket and a sodden cardboard box.