The irony of fate wanted that Draco Malfoy should die on the Good Friday of Easter one year after his murderer had been killed. Easter was early this year and another hazard made so that the last Malfoy in the wizard world was buried on the anniversary, by exact date, of the battle at Hogwarts and victory over Lord Voldemort.

Maybe, reflected Snape, as he watched the huge crowd pouring out from the ceremony, standing a few steps behind Narcissa, ready to intervene if she needed assistance - maybe this was the reason the funeral was so well-attended. The wizard world had licked their wounds after Voldemort’s demise during an entire year. Kingsley Shacklebolt, the new Prime Minister, had worked to reorganise the Ministry. Voldemort’s followers had been caught, condemned and sent to Azkaban. People had mourned their dead during most part of the year. Draco Malfoy was Voldemort’s last victim and combined with the anniversary of the fatal day, it was as if the entire wizard community took the opportunity to make a farewell to the dark era, maybe to turn a leaf and start anew.

Among all those people, there were probably only two persons who were there for Draco’s own sake - Snape himself and Narcissa Malfoy. Draco’s personal friends as well as the relations of the Malfoy family were all in Azkaban for having participated in the battle on Voldemort’s side. Only Narcissa had been granted the privilege to leave prison and attend the funeral. 

There was no reception organised, no social event at all, except the ceremony and then the actual burial. Although Snape had taken upon himself to see to all the practical arrangements concerning the funeral, his commitment did not reach beyond that. He was not a part of the Malfoy family, only a godfather of the diseased and as such had no legal rights, neither were there any strict social obligations. He had done as much as his conscience told him to do, more than expected, in most people’s eyes. 

Some of those who lined up to present their condolences to Narcissa, also turned to Snape to acknowledge his contribution to the arrangement and his efforts, for those who knew, in caring for the dying young man. Snape unremittingly declined such attempts and gestured that he wanted no one to approach him. 

The only one who dared defy his dismissing countenance was Minerva McGonagall who walked right up to him and took his hand in hers and then leaned up to let her cheek touch his. For an overwhelming moment, Snape shut his eyes. He felt his legs start to buckle and he tried to gulp down the emotions rising in him, panicking over the difficulties he was having in dressing his Occlumency shields. Those that once had come up so automatically. McGonagall gripped his hand firmer and stroked the upper part of his arm quickly a few times with the other hand. He finally regained control over himself, but it felt like his face was drained of blood. 

”My sincere condolences, Severus. Please come and see me soon, or let me know when I can visit,” Minerva McGonagall said gently and released him. 

Snape could barely bring himself to nod. 

Only a small portion of the persons attending the ceremony, stayed for the burial. Among those who did, Snape recognised the Weasley family, almost complete with Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom at Ron and Ginny Weasley’s sides respectively. 

After the short procedure of lowering the coffin into the ground, people stayed on for a while in small groups on a gravelled round point at the outskirt of the burial area. Everyone went silent and parted way as Narcissa Malfoy walked past them, with aurors from Azkaban at either side. 

The once so elegant woman was a shadow of her former self. Her long blond hair had turned grey and her eyes were dull and full of pain at the same time. Snape wondered how long she would want to live on in that godforsaken place. She had not received a long sentence, but he doubted she would see the end of it. He said goodbye, promised dutifully to visit and saw her off. For just a few seconds her gaze changed and became wild and pleading as if she was going to ask him to liberate her and flee, but the surge subsided quickly and was replaced by the dead look she parted with. 

Snape did not really know where he was going to go or what to do, now that the funeral was over and he moved slowly towards the gate when he heard the indiscreet, rolling voice of Hagrid’s who had joined the Weasleys. 

”’Arry writes to me every fortnight when he’s away on his travels. Then there’re periods when I ’ear nothing from him for a month or two, but then he’ll write to me again and ask about magical creatures and their whereabouts,” said Hagrid. ”Very interested he is, visitin’ a lot of different places in the Southern part of the world.”

”So Harry has parted on a never ending vacation and doesn’t even send us a post-card,” Ron said bitterly. 

”I’m not sure it’s to be considered a vacation, Ron,” objected Hermione. ”And even if it was, he earned it, right? He suffered so much those last few months of the war. He was ill, remember, at the end? It was not only Voldemort’s visions. He had those chills and he often spoke about wanting to go to warm places.”

”That’s right,” said Hagrid. ”The night he parted, he was not well at all. I tried to retain him, because he did not look fit for travelling, but he refused to ’ear reason. Spoke a lot of nonsense, he did, ’bout being a murderer, ’bout having let people down… I tried to set ’im right, of course, but I’m not sure he listened to me.”

”No one thought of asking him how he was, after the battle,” Ginny murmured self-consciously. ”We thought only about ourselves. We were just relieved it was all over.” Neville sighed and put a comforting arm around her. 

Snape listened intently to the conversation and approached a few steps to make himself known and not seem to eavesdrop. The group of people parted slightly to include him in their circle, nodding at him and Arthur Weasley shook his hand. 

”There was something not right going on with Harry after the battle,” said Molly Weasley, ”but I did not realise until later on, as I was so wrapped up in… with Fred you know… There was that strange letter, we received - you remember me showing you, Ron - not long after Fred’s burial. We had a very small, private one, not like this…” she explained for Snape’s benefit. ”Anyway, Harry wrote to say that he would have liked to attend the funeral but that he had not been well. Then there was that strange turn at the end of the letter where he seemed to imply that maybe we would not have wanted him to participate anyhow and that we somehow held him responsible for Fred’s death.”

”I know that he felt bad ’bout Fred and he was goin’ on ’bout Draco too, that night when he left,” said Hagrid. ”Talkin’ a lot ’bout how you would never be able to forgive’im, Sir.” Hagrid addressed Snape who jerked his head up to meet the half-giant’s eyes. 

Snape had begun to breathe quick, shallow breaths and it was not only because of the realisation of what Hagrid said, but because, since a few minutes, he was aware of a magical presence, slight at first, but evident now, at least to him. No one else seemed to notice, though. 

”It’s been a year!” exclaimed Ron. ”Why doesn’t he come back? He should be over it by now, no? He didn’t even come to the Ministry’s ceremony to collect his Order of Merlin!”

”It all depends, doesn’t it, upon how he has been,” said Hermione. ”Maybe it has not been an altogether voluntary exile. And I’m really not sure, Hagrid, that sending him looking for ferocious magical creatures was a good idea.”

”It was the only thing I could think of,” murmured Hagrid. ”He clearly needed somethin’ to take his mind off from everythin’ that had happened and… he’s always been good with the creatures, always showin’ them respect and knowin' how to take’em…”

”What has he reported back to you from his travels?” asked Snape a bit hoarsely, because he was concentrating very hard not to betray his awareness of the familiar presence that he recognised from that night in Draco’s room at St Mungo’s. He was adamant not to scare the invisible wizard away. 

”Well, first there was this Occamy,” muttered Hagrid. ”I reckoned that as it is ’alf snake, it wouldn’t attack ’Arry…”

”Goodness!” exclaimed Hermione. Snape closed his eyes and when he opened them again the dark gaze bore through Hagrid.

”What else?” asked Snape.

”Then there was the Erumpet, in Kenya, and I believe he spotted a Nundu durin’ the same trip,” Hagrid answered reluctantly. ”I told’im specifically not to approach it,” Hagrid defended himself as reproachful gazes were riveted at him. ”He said t’was beautiful,” Hagrid finished lamely. 

Snape shook his head in disbelief. A Nundu! He could not even conceive of the stupidity to go looking for an animal like that. A gigantic leopard whose breath could kill!

”Has Harry not been in contact with you either, Professor Snape?” asked Hermione timidly. ”Harry spoke of you with great… appreciation… towards the end of the war. I had the impression that he and you got to know each other rather well.” 

Snape tried to breathe calmly and chose his words with utmost care.

”We… certainly overcame… our previous animosity towards each other,” he said slowly. ”And I must admit that I felt… betrayed… at first… when he left without a word - like all of you seem to have done in a way,” added Snape looking at Ron whose lips twitched. ”But I agree with Miss Granger - there might be an explanation to Mr Potter’s behaviour. He has not been in contact with me, but if he were to… to turn up at my doorstep, I would most certainly welcome him inside and try to… understand what has happened to him,” said Snape, looking over the top of Molly Weasley’s hat towards the spot behind her that so clearly radiated the characteristic magical power of Harry Potter.