It kept creeping back. The cold, irrational feeling that made the hair stand up on his neck. The itching, unmistakable sensation of being watched.
Impossible, Draco thought. He was alone, nothing but the dust and dirt of Snape's dingy house to keep him company. Even Pettigrew had fled, the spineless vermin. This was what happened, apparently, when you pissed off nearly the entire wizarding world. People left you alone. Alone.
But still, that nagging itch, like someone was peering at him through the high tinted windows of Snape's hovel. He looked up from his position on the couch, squinting through the meager light for any sign of the watcher. Nothing. Draco sighed. He closed his eyes again, recalling the words of the meditative chant Snape had taught him before he left. The words formed in his mind, and Draco opened his mouth to speak them aloud.
Crack.
His eyes flew open. "Professor!"
Snape fairly tumbled into the room, apparating, from the look and smell of it, from a Muggle slaughterhouse. He reached a hand out blindly for support, muttering curses.
Draco untangled himself from his blankets and rushed to Snape's side. He supported him the short distance to the couch, dropped him onto it, and stood back. His nose twitched and wrinkled at the foul odor. "Alright?" he asked tentatively.
Snape stared at his former student, his eyes hooded. "No," he responded shortly, and leaned into the cushions of the couch. "In my study, the green flask on the desk."
Draco nodded and rushed to Snape's study. The room was in utter disarray, since Draco had fallen a bit behind in his responsiblity for maintaining it, but Draco spotted the flask quickly nonetheless. He hurried back to Snape, unstoppering the flask on the way. "Here," he said, thrusting it into the professor's hand. Snape took it and drank greedily. He didn't seem concerned about overdosing.
Finally, Snape finished, coughing, and let the empty flask fall to the floor. "It's over," he said harshly, and watched Draco for a response.
"Over?"
"Yes. Potter's done it." He laughed, a terrible barking sound not much different from his cough. It occurred to Draco that he'd never heard Snape laugh before.
"What has he done?" he asked. But he knew.
"The Dark Lord is gone. Dead. Brought down by a teenager with a gun like some common --" Snape seemed to struggle for the word. "Muggle," he finished lamely, and Draco looked at him curoiusly.
"Gun?" he asked. His cheeks flushed as Snape gave him a withering look.
"A Muggle artifact," the professor explained. "It launches projectiles, like a slingshot, but with tremendous force."
Realization dawned in Draco, and he felt his cheeks heat again in shame. For all he'd been taught to hate and scorn all things Muggle, they'd managed the one thing no wizard in all his power and might could: the means to destroy Voldemort. He started.
"Draco?" Snape was looking at him oddly.
Draco stared back, mouth gaping.
The professor started to push himself up off the couch, concern written across his tired face. "Draco," he repeated, more slowly.
Draco waved him away impatiently. "No, no, I'm fine, sit down." He glared at his one-time mentor. "I just had a thought," he said bitterly. Snape settled back onto the couch, but his expression remained perplexed. "Voldemort--" Draco broke off, grimacing. The name failed to bring the fear it had only moments before. He felt instead a wave of revulsion, a disgust so profound it was biting. "Voldemort threatened to murder all the Muggles and rule the world, and here they were, just sitting on the means to finish him." He let out a short, bitter laugh. "Leave it to Harry bloody Potter to find the most humiliating way to crush evil."
Snape's lips curled into a small, bittwersweet smile that did not quite reach his eyes. "Indeed," he replied.
Silence descended over them, then, comfortable after the awkward exchange it followed. Snape drifted off to sleep some hour later, and Draco was just feeling his eyelids start to droop when he felt the familiar itching between his shoulders again. He stole a glance over his shoulder at the door, and this time he was sure he saw a flicker of something at the grimy window. His hand dipped into his robes, reaching instinctively for the wand hidden in their folds.
"Draco," Snape mumbled, waking at the shifting of the couch as Draco left it.
"Shhh." Draco crept forward, his wand now clenched tightly in his fist. "There, at the door window." He swallowed past the lump that had formed in his throat. "Something's been watching me," he whispered.
"Don't be ridiculous," Snape responded, and Draco heard the professor shuffling toward him. "There's no one--"
"I saw him," Draco interrupted. He stopped at the door and put one hand on the knob, raising the other with his wand, ready to curse whatever waited at the door. He felt suddenly ridiculous. Voldemort was dead and gone, vanquished by none other, of course, than the Boy Wonder. And here Draco stood quivering at the door of his disgraced professor's hovel, waiting to hex what would likely turn out to be a bloody owl or pigeon. He lowered his wand, just a little.
The door gave a sudden loud creak, then exploded inward, throwing a stunned Draco halfway across the room with the force of the explosion. He landed painfully on his arse and skidded, somehow, all the way to the couch Snape had just vacated. Snape, he thought suddenly, and sought out the professor in a panic.
"Forget it, Malfoy," an angry voice hissed, and Draco shut his eyes tightly against the familiar pressure of a wooden point against his temple. "You're finished."
Unseen bonds wound themselves around Draco, effectively binding him to the couch he rested against. He kept his eyes clenched shut. He opened his mouth to speak, but felt a rough hand clamp over it.
"Shut up!" the angry voice shouted, and now Draco recognized it. He'd know that voice anywhere, when it was raised in anger against him. He bit viciously at the hand. His attacker screamed and knocked him hard against the head with his wand, but the hand retreated. Draco opened his eyes.
The Saviour of the Wizarding World knelt across from him, swearing and nursing the bloody wound Draco had just inflicted. Despite the circumstances, Draco couldn't hold back a smirk. "So finish me," he said, his voice low and challenging.
Potter shook his head. "No. Not like that. You're going to Hogwarts."
"Hogwarts?" Draco asked, confused. Potter didn't answer, and Draco looked around the room, a cold fear settling in his stomach. "Where's Snape?" he demanded.
It was Potter's turn to smirk. He looked at something beyond Draco's shoulder. Draco strained against his bond's to follow his gaze. "You mean Ron?"
And sure enough, Ron Weasley glided into view, his lanky frame spilling out of ill-fitting, and very bloody, robes. Draco paled. "Wanker," was all Weasley said, and stood at Potter's side, arms folded severely across his chest. He must have practiced being Snape extensively.
"What--" Draco sputtered. "How long?" He stopped, bit his lip, and gazed fearfully at the men before him. "Where is he, really?"
"Azkaban," Potter answered. "He gave you up, you know," he continued. His voice softened, just noticeably. "That oath was useless, after your mum died."
Draco choked back a sob. "My mum?"
"Sorry," Potter said, but he didn't sound as if he meant it. Draco felt a sudden terrible feeling of deja vu sweep over him, but couldn't quite place it.
"How?" He had too many questions. He wanted to close his eyes against everything that was happening, retreat back into the daze in which he'd lived for the many months since he'd fled Hogwarts. He gritted his teeth, instead, and forced himself to choose among the hundreds of things he absolutely had to know. He looked Potter in the eye. "How long have you been watching me?"
Potter shrugged. "A while. One of us has, anyway. Hermione only thought of Polyjuice a while ago, and it was harder to get our hands on than we realized."
"So you've had Snape--"
"For weeks, yeah. Bastard took forever to catch, but it was worth it. The chase. He led us right to one of the horcruxes."
Draco shook his head, baffled. "I don't understand."
"So what?" Weasley said angrily. "You don't need to." He turned to Potter. "Harry, let's go. Hermione's waiting, and Mum and Dad..." He trailed off, glaring at Draco. "Let's just take care of him already."
Draco started. "You said--" He broke off, choking. "Don't kill me," he finally managed. "I'll do what you want, I'll-- Please..."
"Shut it, Malfoy," Potter said tiredly. "We've got to get you to Hogwarts, anyway."
Draco relaxed a bit. He spied his wand on the floor near where he'd been standing only a short while ago, before his world literally exploded around him. It looked distant and useless lying there.
Potter followed his gaze to the discarded wand and shook his head, slowly. His eyes didn't meet Draco's when he spoke again. "You won't be needing that."
Weasley, who had been digging around in the pockets of his robes, fished out something at last. It appeared to be a badge, of sorts. His nose wrinkled as he extended it out in front of him. Draco noticed, with some amusement, the image of a house-elf on it.
"Portkey," Potter stated, as if it needed saying.
Draco nodded. "To Hogwarts?" he asked tentatively. He still suspected they may murder or somehow maim him. At Potter's nod, he reached out a hand to the portkey, then paused and let his hand hover as another thought struck him. He stared at Potter. "Why go to all this trouble?" he asked quietly. "If Snape gave me up, why?"
"There was something we needed to know," Potter answered. "We had to get close to you."
"But--"
"Shut up, Malfoy!" Weasley shouted, but Potter shushed him.
"We'll explain later. For now, Hogwarts. I think you'll find answers to most of your questions there anyway."
Draco shook his head, mystified. He voiced the final coherent question he could think of. "What's at Hogwarts?"
Potter looked at him again, brilliant green eyes piercing Draco's as the world spun and refocused itself into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Potter's words carried all that blurry distance, echoing finally off the empty corridors. "The other horcruxes."
