[a/n: It seems Snape is confounding Draco's assessment of which tracker he would look for first... And I rather think Snape would be upset if any realized exactly how easy he was to wind up, simply by threatening one of his Slytherins.]
Severus Snape was a storm sweeping up from Hagrid's hut, a whirl of robes and a steady, cold glare on his aquiline face. Luna Lovegood saw him and stepped gracefully into a cubbyhole that only she knew was there. Slytherins stepped to the sides of the hallway, their faces paler than normal. A few Hufflepuffs were fool enough to be caught staring, frozen in fear. Had any wondered why Snape wished to teach the Dark Arts, they'd not have wondered twice after seeing him in a towering fury. Surely children ought to know the basics, the bare essentials of survival?
"Fred, George" he growled at the two, and despite their freckles, they paled at his icy tone. "Follow." And he strode, his long legs making even the tall brothers have to stride to catch up, towards the nearest empty classroom. "Blimey" one said to the other, in a voice so low that Snape felt rather than heard it. It was with a fierce pride in making even the irrepressable twins listen for once in their blasted lives, that he turned towards them, a twitch from his wand slamming the door behind them.
Snape stood, for twenty seconds, staring at the two - long enough for them to look guilty, of course. They always looked guilty, for they were always up to something. "Have you finally learned how to vanish a student?" Snape queried, his smirk looking deadly out of place on his face - his icy gaze entirely unmoved by his own quip.
"No, sir." One responded, while the other blinked.
"Have you lost someone, sir?"
They had both held his gaze, and he needed no Legimency to know when Weasleys were lying - they were far too emotional to conceal their thoughts. "Not a word, Weasley" he snapped, as he left them staring at each other in the room. Potter's bunch, next - surely they'd have some clue. Snape was trying very hard to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach that he had just given the Weasley's a fantastic idea for a prank. And as suddenly as that, one tiny corner of his mind began to work on a plan to get Slytherin the House Cup this year. For Severus Snape had played plenty of pranks in his day, and the twins were never ones to stop simply because it was a bad idea...
Meanwhile, most of his mind was on the fourth year Ravenclaws, Cho and Cooper, who he swooped down upon like a bat (surely it wouldn't be a fifth year or older student. they had Owls, and a bit more pride and dignity - even if it was Malfoy...). With his arms outstretched, he intimidated them into a small cubbyhole - stopping only to silence the room, before asking, "If I missing a stray Slytherin, where would I find him?"
Cho, with an innocent look on her face asked, "Under his bed, sir?"
Stormy-eyed, Snape's eyes flashed murder, as he said, "Ten points for your cheek. I am not the door to your common room, and I do Not Ask Riddles!" With a crack of his robes, he strode off, entirely forgetting to cancel the silencing spell.
The Library. Snape strode towards there, not expecting to find a captive child, but if the resident cataphract of a bookworm wasn't clinging to the library like a lamprey, that would be telling... No less quick and sure, Snape's steps nonetheless softened as he approached the library - Madame Pince was not to be trifled with, if you valued the company of books. And Severus Snape had spent many long years considering books better company than people. From a nook inside the library, he studied Hermione Granger, watching for any telltale signs of undue concern. Of nerves, he saw plenty - but that child was often a nervous wreck, nothing new there.
As he turned silently away, he stopped. There it was, the thought that had been tracing the edges of his consciousness, hiding just out of sight like some wild beast approaching a campfire. Two days, Snape thought, I am made a fool by my own mind. No children would, could hold a boy for two days. It was sheer folly - not because people would notice (Clearly they Hadn't, Snape thought uncomfortably), but because a captured boy was little fun. Capturing him again, watching him squirm - and flee in a panic, that was far more likely... Which meant that he was going about this all wrong.
An image surfaced in Snape's well-ordered mind, Draco with his hand raised in Herbology of all places... a slim, silver bracelet slithering down his arm. Snape snapped out of his fugue, and cast another tracking spell, this one on that rare heirloom that Snape wasn't supposed to know about - and certainly not that it held a tracking charm.
The charm pointed unerringly to Draco Malfoy's bedroom, down deep in the Slytherin dungeons. Lovely.
Harry Potter was quite a bit beyond frustrated, and trending towards irate. He had the perfect solution to The Malfoy Dilemma (as he had taken to calling it in his head), and it was completely impossible.
Why, oh why, couldn't Draco Malfoy have asked Hermione?
No, don't ask that, you've done that already.
Great, talking to yourself much?
But it would have been Perfect! All Hermione would have to do is find a telephone, call her folks, and get them to take Draco Malfoy in. Her parents wouldn't think anything of driving the length of Great Britain simply to help someone out - Hermione certainly never cared how much trouble it took to help Neville with his Potions.
Harry wasn't at all sure that he wanted to help Draco Malfoy anyway, though there was this vague and fuzzy feeling that he ought to. Whenever he tried to pull it into the light and look at it, it transmogrified into he ought not to help Malfoy, on general principle.
And then his thoughts would turn back to how easily Hermione could have fixed this. She'd have been home by supper!
Looking around for any distraction, any distraction at all, Potter finally spoke, "Tell me a story about what you were like, as a kid. What was it like being you?" He was circling the question he wanted to ask, and he knew it. Be direct, he silently cursed himself.
Finally, Draco Malfoy thought, as he looked up at Potter's voice breaking the steady clopping of the horses' hooves. Draco Malfoy liked silence as much as the next lad, but he could see that Harry Potter wanted... something. But what? Buying some time, he asked, "What do you mean?"
"What's it like growing up in a Wizarding family?" Harry Potter said, his green eyes flashing more emotion than any Slytherin would dare show to a possible enemy. Or really, any family at all...