Searching

By Dimgwrthien

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or affiliates.

This story is for my good friend, Thesquirrelette.

A deep fog blew through the alleys, rustling the leaves in a palpable wind. No moon hung in the sky, casting the village into darkness. A dog ran behind a building, the sounds of his paws hitting mud carrying around in the silent. A shutter blew open and closed, open and closed.

Harry had learned how to not jump at those sudden sounds. His ears were open for human sounds, anything from a footstep to the whisper of breathing. His wand was lit, casting a gentle light in front of him that bounced off of the walls.

Even with Voldemort gone, the Order of the Phoenix had not managed to complete their job. There were still the Death Eaters spread around the country, those still in hiding. There were two that Harry wanted to find personally.

Neither Severus Snape or Draco Malfoy had been seen since Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts. Even among the massive bloodshed of the battle that had killed Lord Voldemort along with too many others, neither were seen. Some assumed that they were the cowards, and that they ought to let them go. Another few thought they had died or been killed. Harry didn't want to believe anything of the sort until he found them both.

And he had.

He stood in front of a broken-down building with thick ivy and weeds crawling up the sides and corners of the bricks. It was a dirty street as well, something that wasn't too uncommon these days, but it seemed out of place. Harry tried to imagine either one being inside and failed. But he tried.

The door was unlocked. He couldn't tell whether someone had left it that way or if the metal had rotted away from the door. Even with his wand light, it was too dark to see much inside. Harry squinted, trying to see something through the darkness, failing. The only thing he could tell about the house was that it smelled. Smelled of rotting and death and decomposition. He traveled in further.

The first thing he felt was a hard block between himself and the rest of the house. It seemed to grip onto his shoes, so he aimed his wand down to see a hand. It didn't grip him, but sat there lamely. Harry followed the arm over the shoulder, finally seeing the face.

"Snape?" he hissed, ready to attack, but nothing came from the man. Harry carefully kneeled down, feeling around the neck, not feeling any sort of pulse. Snape's eyes were open, staring down Harry as though everything was his fault.

"Potter?" Harry heard someone whisper, and he looked back at Snape's lifeless body. The name was repeated again, causing Harry to look around the room until the light bounced off of something. Harry aimed his wand better, ready. There was only one person it could have been.

Draco took a cautious step forward, shading his eyes from the weak light. "Potter?"

"Malfoy," Harry answered, wand still poised. "Get over here."

Draco took a few more steps forward, eyes focused on Harry through dirty, over-long, blonde hair. Something about him didn't look right. It wasn't even the dirt smudged across the side of his face or the torn robes. Harry concentrated and figured out what it was. Draco didn't strut. He didn't snarl. He just walked there, looking helpless, nervous eyes darting around as though something would find him.

"What day is it?" Draco asked before Harry could say anything else. He stood only a few feet from Harry.

"The twelfth of June," Harry answered. "Get over here."

Draco didn't take another step. "What time?"

Without looking at his watch, Harry answered him. "A bit past midnight. What happened to him?" He motioned to Snape as he spoke.

Draco glanced at Snape, eyes lingering for a moment before he looked back at Harry. "I killed him. Last week, I think. He was -" Draco bit his lip and looked back at Harry. "He had his wand on me and was saying things. I can't remember - I can't remember anything."

Harry blinked at him, almost confused.

"What's happened?"

"What?"

Draco waved his hands a little. "Out there, Potter." His voice sounded snappish. "What's happening?"

"Voldemort's gone." Harry felt a bit of pride as he said it, but something seemed to sour his words. The consequence of winning? "I came here to take the two of you to Azkaban."

His face didn't move at all, the pale features showing no expression. He shook his head slowly. "I'm not guilty of anything," he whispered.

Harry studied the face, seeing the unhidden fear and distress in it. He looked dazed and confused, completely unaware. Harry took a step forward, ready to grab Draco to take him off to the fate he deserved.

Draco threw himself forward, wrapping his arms around Harry's shoulders. He shook slightly and made small sobbing noises.

"Tell me this is all over," he whispered into Harry's shoulder.

"It is," Harry answered, grabbing tightly onto Draco's shirt. Maybe Azkaban wasn't the best choice for him.