It was night and Draco Malfoy was running away from Hogwarts, a place he knew he would never be welcome again. He stopped just beyond the school's boundaries, at its towering gates. The three Death Eaters who had been with him up to a few seconds before had Disapparated, and Fenrir Greyback had made it into the Forbidden Forest. Draco was greatly relieved by that. For no reason on earth would he have wanted to spend a single second more with that bloody werewolf.
He stood there in the dark, panting, his heart beating madly, not knowing what to do or where to go. He had no choice but to wait for Snape, who had remained behind to deal with Harry Potter. Draco's eyes opened wide when he saw Snape running towards him, chased by a screeching, infuriated hippogriff that looked horribly familiar. No sooner had Snape passed through the gates, did he grip Draco's arm and Disapparate, taking the boy along with him.
Draco felt that unpleasant feeling of horrible compression which accompanied the process of Apparation. After all those lessons he had been attending during his sixth school year, he was now able to Apparate on his own, but it would have been impossible to accomplish without knowing the destination. As soon as his feet touched solid ground, Draco opened his eyes and stared wildly around, trying to identify the new place. At his side, Draco felt Snape loosen his grip on his right arm. They were on the edge of a dirty river that wound between overgrown, rubbish-strewn banks. An immense chimney, probably an old mill, projected its ominous shadow on the surrounding buildings.
"What is this place? Where are we? Where are the others?" Draco asked Snape, a little disoriented.
"You'll see. Let's go, it's not safe here. Someone may have seen us," Snape said coldly before striding on.
"Where are the others? I'm not going anywhere, unless you tell me where you're taking me!" Draco protested and folded his arms on his chest, making it clear he was not going to move a single step unless he had his questions answered. Snape froze and turned to give the boy an annoyed glare.
"It's just the two of us. I'm taking you to your mother, now move!" Snape barked.
The mention of his mother convinced Draco to obediently follow his teacher up the bank. In a few quick strides, they reached its top, where a line of old railings separated the river from a narrow cobbled street. The road was sided by rows and rows of dilapidated brick houses, their windows dull and blind in the darkness. They entered through an alley between the houses into a second, almost identical street. Snape moved easily through that labyrinth of brick houses, and Draco was under the impression that his teacher seemed to know that strange place very well. They turned up a street, over which the towering mill chimney he had first noticed seemed to hover threateningly. Draco lifted his eyes to a sign on the wall and read Spinner's End. Snape stopped at the very last house, where a dim light glimmered through the curtains in a downstairs room. Snape muttered something under his breath and the door opened, letting them in.
"Draco!" Narcissa shouted as soon as they were inside. "Thank Salazar, you're safe!" She sighed in relief, standing up from a threadbare sofa, where she had been anxiously waiting for her son.
"Mother!" Draco happily shouted, and ran to throw himself in his mother's arms.
"Everything's gone well?" Bellatrix asked from a corner. She had been keeping her sister company.
"Yes," Snape curtly said.
"Then Dumbledore is..." Wormtail squeaked, stoking his left, silver hand nervously.
"Dead," Snape completed Peter's sentence, his face twisting in disgust at the man's stupidity.
"Oh, Severus, I don't know how to thank you," Narcissa said in a trembling voice, for tears of joy threatened to run across her beautiful face.
"Then don't... I've just done what I had to," Snape coldly spat from next to a rickety table, where he had hurried to pour himself a full glass of firewhisky.
"Oh, sure. Like you don't like the glory you'll receive by taking all the credit for my efforts," Draco snarled.
"Stupid boy! If I hadn't completed the mission for you, you'd now be a dead man walking, and the same goes for your family," Snape angrily hissed.
"Oh, and I suppose you did it all out of sheer generosity!" Draco sneered.
"I just kept faith to the vow I made to your mother," Snape whispered, his eyes glittering.
"Of course, the so-called Unbreakable Vow. You could have even broken it for all I care!" Draco drawled derisively.
"No, Draco. You can't break that kind of vow. If you do it, you die," Narcissa explained. Draco was a little taken aback by that unexpected bit of information. He somehow felt his animosity against Snape diminish all of a sudden.
"You'd better go now. The boy can sleep here tonight. They are probably looking for him, and the Order of the Phoenix doesn't know about this place," Snape said to the Black sisters after draining his second glass of whiskey.
"Snape is right. Let's go, Cissy," Bellatrix said pulling up the hood of her cloak.
"Good night, Draco," she kissed her son goodbye. "Good night, Severus," she warmly whispered, but did not dare approach him. He did not look in the mood for any kind of physical proximity or contact whatsoever.
"Wormtail, go take your things from your bedroom. Draco will sleep there," Snape ordered.
"What? And where am I supposed to spend the night?" Wormtail protested.
"Well, it shouldn't be that hard for a rat to find a hole to sleep in," Snape sneered and Draco smirked appreciatively.
"My Master sent me here to assist you!" Wormtail squeaked feebly.
"I don't need your precious assistance any more," Snape whispered and, by the stare in his eyes, that was his final word.
Wormtail knew it would have been pointless to argue, and honestly he was not that sorry to leave that gloomy, little house. He opened a hidden door, revealing a narrow staircase. He lit his wand and went upstairs, followed by Draco. They reached the upper floor where, on a narrow corridor, there opened three doors: two bedrooms and a toilet. A thick carpet of dust covered the floor and there were spider webs hanging from the ceiling. The place had all the air of being used on very rare occasions, considering its general state of neglect.
Wormtail beckoned Draco to follow him in the smaller bedroom. With a swish of his wand, he summoned his few belongings in a small bag, while Draco waited on the threshold. The boy gave a look around the small room, and was relieved to see the place had been cleaned up a bit. Wormtail left the room without even saying a word to Draco. He had always hated Lucius with all his snobbish, pureblooded superiority, and he probably thought his son was not that different. Draco stared with some relief at the retreating form of Peter Pettigrew, as all he wanted was just to be alone.