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If I thought Diagon Alley was bleak and lifeless, Knockturn Alley was about forty times worse. It was more crowded, but not with the right sorts of people. Everyone looked sketchy and suspicious. Suddenly, I wished I'd brought  a cloak to hide myself under.

The hairs on the the back of my neck rose, goosebumps riddling every inch of my skin. 

I could almost smell the Death Eaters here.

I pulled open my sweater slightly, checking if Celeste was still okay. The pygmy puff chittered, and I patted her, thanking Fred and George for letting me keep her. I'd already sent the supplies back to Grimmauld Place, but I kept the periwinkle pygmy puff close to me.

As I got further into Knockturn Alley, my stomach churned sickly. This wasn't a place for . . . normal people.

This wasn't safe. This was wrong, and Mundungus would definitely not be here. He wouldn't dare. He was too much of a coward.

I had to get out of here.

Spinning around, I began to retrace my steps, when a particular conversation got my attention.

"She was here somewhere. Said we had to switch posts. I didn't get a good look at her face, but she could've been faking the mark." 

My heart sank as I saw the familiar figure of Quinton Sapp walking down the moss-covered stone steps towards my location. I ducked behind a wall, stepping into an alleyway, and pressed my back flat against the the stone. "The Dark Lord's already bloody pissed at someone, and I couldn't make matters worse. Can you find her?" The person next to him must've nodded, because Sapp continued with a, "thanks," and "I couldn't appreciate it more," and ended with, "there's a reason you're his favorite."

Stomach in knots, I tried to control my hammering heart, listening for signs of a 'coast clear'. I heard the familiar whoosh of an apparation, and let out exhale—I hadn't realized I'd been holding my breath. 

Peeling myself from the wall and bent forward onto my knees, thankful I hadn't got caught. 

Without warning, the feeling of an icy hand wrapped around the back of my neck—the other on my mouth to keep me from screaming.

"Gerroff," I fought, my voice muffled, elbowing my captor in the stomach. He let go, and I whipped around, wand pointed, spell on the tip of my tongue. 

"The hell, Steele," Draco groaned, hands pressed against his abdomen. 

"Malfoy?" My eyes widened. "You're still following me?"

"Are you mad?" he said, completely disgusted at the idea. "You got reported on. You should be lucky Sapp came to me instead of Bellatrix. She would've torn you from limb to limb—she's quite advanced at the Cruciatus curse." His nose was wrinkled, wisps of blond hair falling into his grey eyes. He flicked them back into place. "Well? What are you doing here?"

"I was looking for someone," I rolled my eyes, twisting the ring on my thumb automatically. Draco's silvery gaze fell to my fingers.

"You're wearing the ring?"

"Of course I am. It helps me remember who I am." I tapped the crest. "Never forget."

Draco smirked. "Okay. Whatever you say, Steele."

I scowled, wrapping my sweater tight around me, although wary off the pygmy puff hiding in there. "I've got to go, Malfoy." I turned, starting to walk out of the dark alleyway.

"What for?" the blond boy called after me.

"You wouldn't understand. And," I looked over my shoulder, "if I told you, wouldn't You-Know-Who look through your mind and find all this information? I mean, if you don't tell him first. You helping me, other secrets."

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