It was a warm August night, and the area was filled with the sounds of far-off traffic and rap music coming from a club across the street. People were walking on the sidewalk across the street, some entering and leaving the club.

She sighed and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. Contacts are so much easier, she thought. Becky had had a long night, staying over an hour after closing to restock books and put the newest novels on the shelves. The shop was quiet and Becky's arms, legs, and back were getting sore from the walking, carrying, and placing of books. All she wanted to do was go home to her rented-out room and sleep. A lone figure sitting at one of the coffee tables directly outside the shop caught her eye. He was twiddling what looked like a stick between his long, slender fingers. Becky watched him a moment longer, then put away the rest of the books for the night. She decided if he was still there when she was through she'd go talk to him. People are usually headed somewhere at this time of night... Not just sitting in some random place.

Finally, another half hour and two boxes later, Becky threw her hoodie on over her uniform shirt and checked her pocket for her knife, lighter, and pack of cigs. "I'm heading out!" she called to the seemingly empty bookshop. A grunt was heard from the back room, the only indication of another person, and Becky pushed open the door, making sure it was locked before she walked over towards the bench. The guy was still there.

"Um... Not to be extremely nosy or anything, but are you here for a reason?" Becky asked as she lit a cig and took a puff.

"Not really. Don't they have laws about age for that here?" His accent was British and cultured. He looked over at Becky with an amused smirk on his face. The boy was so pale he seemed to absorb the blue light from across the street and appeared blue himself. His hair, pale, platinum blonde did the same.

"Yes, they do." Becky sounded somewhat annoyed, but knew better. After all, she was the one who started the conversation with this complete stranger... even if he was kind of cute. She sat down next to him and studied his features closer. What was an English boy doing in New York at eleven o'clock, alone and in this part of town?

Silence passed and Becky's cigarette burned out. She tossed it down and crushed the lit end with the toe of her shoe, then took a closer look at the boy next to her. He looked about her age, tall and probably lanky. He wasn't a likely runaway, judging from his expensive looking Oxford shirt and black slacks. A long, trench coat like jacket sat in his lap and his hair was covering his eyes as he looked down at the ground in front of My Place. He looked exhausted and angry at the same time... Perhaps even a little scared.

"Well what's your plan then? Going to sit here all night? Wait... What happened?" Becky reached out and touched the guy's shoulder and looked closer at his face. There was a growing bruise on his high cheekbone and lower jaw, and a cut was on his lip. There were red marks on his neck. He flinched and looked away.

"I got lost," he hissed. Becky kind of got the hint that he thought it was none of her business.

"You don't sound from around here, I'll give you that. So what's the story, oh-mysterious-stranger?" He glanced back at Becky and then sighed and leaned back.

"My mother managed to convince my uncle to bring me here with him on a, er... trip and we got separated. Some punks mugged me but I didn't have anything anyway. To top it all off, I broke-" he cut himself off and glared at the ground.

"Going to finish that sentence?" Becky asked. He didn't answer.

"Well, I'm Becky and if you need a place to stay until you find your uncle, I don't think my landlady will have much to say about me bringing a dude to my room. You'll probably get a disapproving look though." Why am I offering a stranger my room? Becky could have slapped herself. But then again, what is this guy going to do? Perhaps steal a few unimportant belongings and attempt to take advantage of her. That wasn’t likely.

"I suppose I could take you up on the offer. My name's Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

Becky snorted, but managed not to laugh. Draco didn't look too pleased.


"Yes," he said, his eyes narrowed somewhat. Becky blushed slightly and felt a little bad.

"I'm sorry... That's a really different name. Kind of cool." Draco didn't say anything.

"Well, it's pretty close to midnight so if you're coming, let's go then," Becky stood up and walked down the walkway and towards a more neighborly-looking part of town. Draco hesitated, then got up and followed her.

"How old are you?" Becky asked as they neared the house she rented a room at.

"Sixteen." He answered shortly. He was still carrying that stick around. Becky was almost sixteen. Her mother disappeared one day, run off with the car and most of her father's money. Her father became extremely depressed and turned into, basically, a workaholic with no emotions, so Becky left. She rented a room, got a job (one of which she wasn't proud of), and still managed to attend high school. Well, when it was time for school, anyway. Right now was summer break, as it was early August.

"Me too." Becky walked up the steps and opened the front door with a grey key. A television was on in the living room. Draco followed her down a hall. A woman in the kitchen looked at him with a raised eyebrow and somewhat sour expression.

Becky took off her shoes and set them by the now closed door of a medium-sized bedroom. Draco stood at the door and looked around. He was definitely not used to a place like this.

Emerging from the bathroom a minute later, Becky grinned when she saw Draco still standing there.

"Sorry, o-great-one, but this is the best I've got. Make yourself at home. Hungry?" she asked, walking towards a mini-fridge in the corner. It took a few moments for Draco to answer. He nodded.

"Why are you being so... friendly?" He asked after Becky handed him a ham sandwich and coke. Draco inspected the coke closely.

"I know what it's like to be hungry, and it's not poisonous," Becky laughed softly and sat on the bed.

"I'm not poor. My family is rather wealthy, in fact." Becky ignored the comment. This guy was pretty touchy when it came to money.

"It's brown... and bubbly..." Draco observed when he opened the bottle of Cola.

"Don't tell me they don't have Soda in Britain," Becky finished her sandwich and went into the bathroom. The sink turned on.

"They might... I've just never had it." Draco sat on the bed and took a tiny sip of the Cola. He didn't think it was bad and ended up finishing the soda before he finished the sandwich. Becky came out of the bathroom, drying her face off with a towel and walked towards the closet.

"These should fit you if you don't want to sleep in those," she came out holding a pair of men's shorts and a white t-shirt, "And I have to go do something. I should be back in two hours, latest." He took them and changed in the bathroom. When he came out, Becky wasn't in the room. Draco turned on the television.

An hour and a half later, Becky came back into the bedroom, looking tired, disheveled, and sweaty. Draco had fallen asleep.

She walked into the closets and came out in sweatpants and a wifebeater. Without any other thought or action, she collapsed onto the bed next to Draco and drifted off to sleep.


The morning came with the blare of an alarm clock, one of which did little to wake Becky up. Draco, however, had a lovely beginning to his day. The alarm woke him with a stare, and that added to the sleeping body next to him equaled Draco sprawled on the floor breathing heavily. It took a while to compose him, having never been awoken in this manner. Finally, as the music was replaced with a man's voice, Draco stood up and inspected the alarm clock.

It was strange to him, even thought it resembled things he'd seen in his purely-magic life. Buttons and switches and a long cord out of the back, it was beginning to annoy him.

"Becky, turn this bloody thing off..."

Yawning, Becky responded to the shove Draco gave her.

"What? Oh... here," Becky said and took the alarm clock from Draco, turned it off, and stretched.

"I suppose we should look for your uncle... Do you think he would have contacted the police?"

Draco gave Becky a confused look.


With a sigh, Becky mumbled about difference in countries being pure idiocy, then took a towel into the bathroom and turned on the water to a shower. She forgot to close the door.

Now, as any other member of the male sex, Draco felt compelled to have a look. As any other member of the female sex, Becky felt something was amiss and caught him before he came in.

"I wouldn't recommend it."

"Recommend what?"

Becky shook her head in amusement and finished her shower.

"If you'd like one took, be my gust. I'm sure you can find a way to pay me back," Becky winked at him and toweled her hair dry when she came back into the room. Draco picked up a towel from the closet and took a shower himself. While he was in the bathroom, Becky decided to find out more about her guest and snooped through his clothing.

In one pocket was the broken stick he carried around. What was it? It was perfectly sculpted and even had somewhat of a handle. Was it glowing? Becky ignored it and checked the other pocket. A piece of par... A badge. Prefect? The paper had little writing.

Revivicus - Avada Kedavra

The water in the shower shut off. Becky hastily folded the paper back up and shoved it in the pocket of Draco's pants. She finished folding his clothes when he came out of the bathroom, nothing but a bath towel around his waist.

"Here," Becky handed him his clothes and left the room.

While she was out, Draco locked the door and looked around. The room looked bigger than it had when eh first came. Perhaps he was used to it. The trunk in the corner was his first investigation job. There were candles, books, some clothes, make-up, and other accessories and random objects. The smell of coffee wafted into the room as Draco headed to the closet. Clothes, shoes, CDs, and dirty laundry were all he could find. Then he searched the bedside table.

"Here we go..." He whispered to himself as he read the first page of the black notebook he found. He closed it and put it in his trench coat pocket, then changed into his clothes from the day before just as Becky knocked on the door.

"Come on out to the kitchen. The Tillermans are out until noon. I have the evening shift again so we have all day to look for your uncle."

Draco left the bedroom and followed Becky to the kitchen. She was at the table chewing toast and sipping coffee whilst reading the newspaper.

"Eat, clean up, and we'll go walking around," Becky said absently, her mind on other matters, obviously.

"Hoot hoot"

"An owl?"

"Of course!"

Becky watched, puzzled, as a suddenly rather ecstatic Draco opened the window and allowed a rather large eagle owl into the kitchen.

He untied a rolled up piece of parchment from its leg and gave it some toast. His silvery, grey-blue eyes hastily flitted back and forth as he read the letter with heavy intensity. He was concentrating.

"Well?" Becky asked, still extremely confused.

"My uncle..." he murmured, then crumbled up the letter and sat down, so hard he shifted the chair with his weight.

"Forget your uncle, I want to know everything. That little stick... thing. And the owl, too."

Draco gave Becky a somewhat dark look. She knew it was serious and he obviously didn't want to talk about it, whatever "it" was.

"He's coming here, and he's here for you..."


"He'll explain. Get me something to drink."

Becky looked at him apprehensively. Draco, Malfoy was it?, was too used to being treated like a prince. Her earlier suspicions of him not being a runaway were correct. Whatever his story, he looked pissed enough. Becky oliged. After all, she wasn't completely honest about herself. (Even to your readers)

"I'll have you know I’m not your slave. I'm just sympathizing," Becky handed Draco a glass of cherry Kool-Aid, "And this isn't poisonous either."

He took a sip, and just about choked when a man with the blackest of black hair and pale skin came walking in the kitchen. Draco shot Becky a glance that plainly read "stay quiet".

"You left me," Draco said icily.

"Believe what you want. Where's your wand?" The man asked.

Becky noticed no resemblance between the two men before her and questioned their relativity.

"Wand?" Becky asked skeptically. "And are you really his uncle?"

The man looked at you. He had black eyes... The hollow kind.

"In a way, I suppose. And yes, I said wand. The myth is true, then. Well will you come willingly or do I have to persuade you?" The man had a low voice, and he sounded bitter.

"What the hell? You haven't even told me anything and are already expecting me to leave with you?" Becky asked incredulously. Who was this stranger and what did they want? Better yet, how did he get inside?

"Perhaps I should apologize for being so rude. Then again, I don't find it necessary. I am Severus Snape, and I've been sent by my Lord to retrieve you, for some reason. Now, it is imperative you come with me immediately. I am already behind schedule," the man said, impatiently, rudely, disinterested. He also sounded a little fearful.

"I refuse," Becky said emphatically.

"I do hate being forceful, but you leave me no choice," Severus raised his wand in Becky's direction. "Stupefy!"

The red light flew over Becky as she instinctively ducked and rolled towards Severus, then kicked his ankle and had him on his back. Instantly, she grabbed a knife from the counter and held it to Severus' throat.

"What the hell was that?" She asked intensively, her eyes concentrating on Severus'.


That was the last thing Becky heard.

A/N: Using my name was so weird... Hope you enjoyed.

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