Author's Note (READ ME!): Alright, just to clarify, my fic is not slash. Sorry if there were any of you waiting for that sort of thing...but it's not going to happen. I had a few reviews that brought up the subject, and I just thought I would enlighten you all on that. And about the last chapter...it was mostly for me because I love Harry/Ginny as a couple and I couldn't help throwing in a little romance and drama, even if it does nothing for the plot whatsoever, because that's just me. So, sorry if you hated it. :) Okay, moving on, here's the new chapter. It's worth reading, I promise. So enjoy.

Chapter 13

Curiosity and the Cat

My mother is dead. My father is dead.

They're...dead.

I'm an orphan.

Draco shook his limp blond hair out of his eyes as he paced back and forth in front of the tiny sitting room window, something he had been doing since 3 a.m. that morning. He had not slept, but instead had chosen different areas around the room to pace from one spot to another, the same thoughts running in and out of his mind. The previous night's rain had let up, and Draco peered momentarily out of the small strip of window that was not obscured by a fading green velvet curtain. He could see the sun beginning to rise beyond the clock building in the middle of the town square, illuminating the wetness outside.

It could not have happened. Could it? Did it really happen? Draco began to pace again, running a hand through his lank hair and drumming his camouflaged fingers softly on the windowsill as he went. He felt as though he were living in a dream; surreal and clouded. The past week had to have been a dream, there was no way that it could have really happened. He could not comprehend it, he could not absorb it. But he knew that once he did, the pain would be too much.

Just then soft footfalls were audible behind the door in the wall disguised by a bookcase. Draco stopped pacing at once and held his breath, keeping absolutely still. Suddenly, the bookcase door swung open and Wormtail crept out of it, looking this way and that before making his way into the sitting room, the door swinging shut behind him. He walked across the room, wringing his small, mismatched hands together and muttering quietly to himself, something he was always doing, Draco noted. As soon as the man disappeared over the threshold into the kitchen, Draco relaxed slightly and exhaled slowly. Wormtail had come through the sitting room several times that night, each time forcing Draco to freeze so as not to be spotted. He was only completely invisible under the Disillusionment charm if he held entirely still. There had been one close call around midnight during which Draco had accidentally kicked over a corner of the rotting hearthrug with his toe, but Wormtail seemed to have passed it off as something of little importance. Wormtail's numerous trips in and out of his bedroom led Draco to believe that he was not the only one who was unable to sleep that night.

Draco leaned against the wall papered with an ugly green and beige paisley pattern, sliding slowly down it so that he sat on the floor, resting his head on his knees and closing his eyes. He suddenly felt very tired and his head was so heavy; it was the first time he had sat down all night. He heard the soft sounds of Wormtail arriving back into the sitting room and making his way back through the hidden door and up the narrow staircase that led to his room.

He was so tired...

What seemed like about five minutes later, a sharp blow to the top of Draco's head jerked him out of sleep. His head was resting against the wall and his legs were sprawled out in front of him at an odd angle. Stronger rays of sunlight were now streaming through the gaps in the curtains, illuminating long strips of the floor.

"Draco," he heard Snape's voice hiss, barely audible. "You were snoring."

Draco's eyes snapped up and he gazed at the tall figure of Snape, hovering over him, dressed in a long black traveling cloak. He, Draco, said nothing, but hurriedly wiped the saliva that had accumulated at the corner of his mouth away and sat up straight.

"I'm going out," said Snape in the same low murmur, pulling his cloak tighter around him.

"What for, si—" Draco began quietly, but Snape cut him off.

"Don't make any noise, and stay here."

He walked swiftly towards the door, stepped through it, and shut it behind him. Draco heard the lock slide into place with a soft click. He scowled to himself. Stay here. As if he had anywhere else to go.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The air was brisk and unusually chilly for a day in July, Severus Snape noted as he stepped out onto the grey brick street, pulling the hood of his cloak up over his head, making sure to conceal his face. His limbs still ached considerably, and tiny stinging pangs, like needle pricks, hit him all over. He just slightly resented not being able to walk the street without hiding his face, but the satisfaction of killing Dumbledore was enough to make up for it. The old man had had it coming. The stupid, blithering, nosy old man. But now he was dead. As he walked, Severus smiled, something he had not done for days.

As soon as he was several steps out of his front door, Severus peered around at the houses from under his hood, making sure that there were no curious Muggles poking their noses through their curtains to look at him. He then turned on the spot and felt the suffocating sensation of Disapparation pressing in upon him, emphasizing the pain in his body.

Just as soon as the sensation had begun, it lifted, leaving Snape standing in a cool, rather darker, cobble stoned alleyway. A rotting wooden sign hung straight above his head, its hinges creaking as it swayed in the light wind, the words Knockturn Alley painted on it in crude, bold black letters. He turned left and headed down the alleyway. He hadn't been walking for more than a few seconds when a small, feeble old man approached him, his wrinkled face poking out from under his hood. He spoke with a weak, gravelly voice and a falsely winsome tone.

"Severus, is that you? How pleasant to see you around these parts again, you should come inside, have a cup of—"

"No thank you, Whilkes," said Snape, continuing to walk. "I'm on specific business today, just one stop to Madame Mercredi's then straight home."

"Of course," croaked Whilkes, bowing low as he stopped and let Severus walk on.

The air, it seemed, was growing chillier by the minute. Snape pulled his cloak closer around him, the effort making his arms ache. Grotesque items and hooded figures leered at him through the shadowy windows of the shops lining the street. Vendors hovering near their carts knew better then to try and approach him with their lies.

Finally, he reached a very small shop with windows curtained by deep red, moth-eaten drapes and a black wooden door was set in the brick wall. A tiny sign above the door in scarlet cursive letters told him that the shop was Madame Mercredi's Magical Ointments and Healings. Severus pushed the door open and walked inside. The shop foyer was void of people, but oddly enough, was overcrowded. Shelves upon shelves of odd jars and objects and spinning racks of powders and viles filled the store almost completely.

With difficulty, Snape reached the front desk which was cluttered with more pots and dishes filled with dead leeches and shimmering liquids. He found a small silver bell and tapped it a few times, waiting. After a few moments, a tall, beaky blond woman came from a door behind the counter, her formidable bottom making its way out first, followed by the rest of her. She was carrying a large cardboard box which was rattling suspiciously of its own accord and she was having difficulty getting it out of the door. Finally she managed to squeeze through the door, setting the box down on the ground as there was no room on the front desk, and turned, beaming brightly when she saw Snape, each one of her perfect white teeth glaring at him.

"Severus!" she positively shrieked and clapped her hands together, leaning towards him over the counter, her considerable bosom also making its debut. "How absolutely charming! It's wonderful to see you!"

"And you, Delia," said Snape forcibly, giving the woman a small, obligatory smile. He saw her open her mouth again, teeth glinting, preparing to say something else. No doubt she was going to invite him into the back for a cup of tea, which was the last thing he wanted to do. "I'm sorry, Delia, just a quick stop today. All I need is a bottle of essence of Juneflower, and then I need to be on my way." He was having difficulty averting his gaze away from his own reflection in her front left tooth.

Delia's bright smile faltered slightly and she straightened up again, turning to a shelf behind her. "Of course," she said, plucking a small, corked bottle filled with a thick magenta liquid from the top mantelpiece and setting it down in front of Snape. She smiled at him again. "That'll take the pain right away."

Severus wondered just how fast the news of his torture had spread, and he felt a stab of annoyance. He brought out several gold coins from the pocket of his cloak and laid them down on the counter, pocketing the bottle. "Keep the change, Delia," he said as he turned to leave the shop. God knows she needs it, he thought bitterly to himself as he caught one last glance at her tatty robes and pushed the door open, a sharp pain shooting down his arm.

The sun was higher in the sky now, casting a weak, filtered light down onto the streets of Knockturn Alley. Severus fingered the small bottle in his pocket, thinking longingly of the hot bath he would have when he got home. Just one drop of essence of Juneflower into the water, and he would finally be relieved of the stinging pain that covered his entire body. Snape turned on the spot, preparing to Disapparate immediately home, but just as he closed his eyes a rushed, excited voice reached his ears and made him pause.

"—the Potter boy is. Oh, the Dark Lord will be so pleased with me, pleased beyond words I expect. I will be honored beyond my dreams; you just wait, once I give him my information about that boy. I'm not going to say just now to you, but I'm sure the Dark Lord will be able to get there in a flash, I daresay he's been there before—" The man speaking gave a harsh, grunting laugh.

Severus recognized that voice. It was coming from one of two people standing naught but three feet away from him, both in long black cloaks. Lowering his hood, he advanced upon them.

"Hello, Watson. Rutter."

The man closest to Snape, the one who had been talking, stopped speaking at once and turned to look at him, a smile breaking out on his squashed-looking face.

"Severus, what a pleasant surprise. Haven't seen you around these parts in ages...What brings you--?"

"Do you think I might be able to have a word, Rutter? In private?" Snape interrupted, glancing quickly at the second, rather taller man. He scowled and skulked around the corner, hiding his pockmarked face beneath his hood. Snape looked back down at the short, husky man in front of him. "How about somewhere more personal? Ahh, yes." He made his way into the narrow alley between Madame Mercredi's and another abandoned shop, motioning for the man to follow him. He did, though looking extremely apprehensive, a false smile plastered onto his face. Severus pointed his wand around the corner and muttered, "muffliato" in the direction of the other man, just as an extra precaution. He then turned back to the man before him.

"Do you wish to kindly tell me what you were discussing with your friend Watson before we met, Celius?" Severus stepped closer to the man and looked down on him, having about a two foot advance in height.

"I—well, I don't think that's any of your conc—"

But Snape had caught Rutter by the neck of his robes and his wand had come out rapidly and was now pointing straight at the man's throat. Their faces were mere centimetres away from each other, and Severus could smell the other man's putrid breath.

"You'd do better to tell me," said Snape quietly. "I think you know that."

For a moment Rutter only sputtered, being unable to catch his breath, but Severus pressed the wand tip harder against the man's neck.

"Fine! Fine!" he gasped finally, putting his hands up in a surrendering position. "Harry Potter! I've found out where he is!"

Snape's heart seemed to skip a beat. He narrowed his eyes. "How?" Rutter struggled for another moment, but Snape pressed his wrist against the man's windpipe so that he could barely breathe.

"I'm—I'm an Animagus," choked Rutter finally. "A black cat...I--I was transformed, more than a week ago, spying in Diagon Alley when I spotted Potter's friend, the mudblood Granger girl. I followed her as far as I could then I stayed outside of the room she was staying in—The Leaky Cauldron. I saw her send a letter. I stunned the owl and read the letter—Potter is staying in his parents' old manor."

Snape loosened his hold. Was this really real? If it was, he had just stumbled upon the most brilliant stroke of luck he'd had in a long time. His eyes bored in Rutter's small black ones, and he could see than the man was not lying. But why hadn't Rutter gone and told the Dark Lord straight away? But Severus thought he knew the answer. Rutter was a slimy, self-concerned person, rather like Wormtail, ignorant and blind. He knew the Dark Lord would reward him for his information, but he wanted each of the other Death Eaters to see just how much he was getting rewarded. So, as the Dark Lord hadn't called the Death Eaters for another gathering yet, Rutter would have waited, waited until he could make a dramatic declaration and be rewarded in front of the entire fold. Snape scowled to himself.

"Is that all?"

"Y-yes," stuttered Rutter, his white-knuckled hands clasped tight over Snape's as to keep himself from being strangled by his own robes. "Now, if you would kindly—"

Severus raised his wand and held it to Rutter's forehead.

"Obliviate," he said, exerting more energy than he usually would into making the spell effective. He could not afford for anyone to find out about this.

As Snape released Rutter, the man looked slightly dazed for a moment and he swayed a little bit on the spot. Eventually, his eyes came back into focus and he looked around and up at Snape in surprise.

"Severus! My goodness, I haven't seen you around here in ages…! …but…wait a moment…Watson? I could have sworn I was just…? Well, no matter, you and I must have a good, long chat Severus, it's just so delightful to see you here—"

"Oh, not today Rutter," interrupted Snape. "I am sorry, but I should be on my way. I've got tea on the burner…"

And Severus wasted no more time, turning on the spot and feeling himself being squeezed into that tight, uncomfortable tube once more. All was black for only a moment until he felt his feet connect painfully with ground again outside of his own front door. He tapped his wand on the knob, his heart pounding rather quicker than usual, hearing the door unlock and pushing it open. His gaze swept the seemingly empty sitting room, and he called in his quietest voice, "Draco, get up. We're leaving."

Author's Note: Ummmmm, so if I've still any readers left, you may have noticed that I've altered this chapter a bit. It made more sense, I think. Sorry about the delay in updates, I've been extremely, unmorally and unethically busy. And I suppose I just needed a break from writing, but I think I'm back on the train again and hope to be hearing from you all soon. So for now just review: the good, the bad, and the ugly!