Warnings for profanity and underage drinking.

Chapter Two - Jack Squat

"Do I know you?" the old man asked, startling Lauren out of her reverie. She was forced to look at the man, and was grateful that she did not recognise him. His greying hair showed signs of the black it once must have been, while his sagging jawline was still strong and aristocratic. His clothes were not half-bad, she surmised, as she took in his green silk waistcoat, embroidered with a darker shade of thread, and long dark brown coat.

"I don't think so," Lauren said, and began to turn away. She was not in the mood for conversation with the stranger.

He reached for her arm, gently, as if to stop her leaving. She paused, but did not look back. She pretended to be fascinated with Vauxhall Park, the gates of which were just across the road. It was tempting, but the lack of streetlights in the park made it a dangerous place to be. She was not yet old enough to use magic outside of Hogwarts without the fear of being found out, and she would not jeopardise this chance she had.

"This is no place for a girl like you, not at this time of night," he said, softly. She didn't particularly care what he thought. "Do you have a place to be?" he asked.

Lauren immediately grew wary. Strange men in dark streets did not often ask girls if they had a place to stay out of the kindness of their hearts.

"Yes," she said, adamantly, hoping he would believe her.

"I see," he said, in a tone that suggested he'd spotted the lie. "I'm sure I recognise your face."

Lauren refused to turn and look at him. She was not here to be seen, to be recognised.

"Yes, I'm sure my nephew has a photograph of you in his bedroom," he explained, and Lauren saw her chance. She fixed a broad smile onto her face before turning to look at him, steeling herself and her courage against his curiosity.

"I don't doubt that, I reckon I decorate the walls of a few boys I know. I'm quite popular," she said, hoping the hint of innuendo would unnerve him. Instead, he smiled a little as he looked at her.

"You're the Potter girl," he told her, and Lauren's face dropped. If she wasn't branded a Pureblood extremist by those who saw her mother's blood in her face, she was branded the centre of the pity party as the Potter girl. She always toed the line between Potter and Devine as far as anyone else cared, and apart from her brothers, James and Simon, she was desperate to be rid of both legacies.

"I'd prefer it if you didn't call me that. And anyway, who are you?" she asked, no longer on the defensive as her mood swiftly changed to attack.

"Just Lauren, then?" he asked, though he didn't leave room for an answer. "I'm Alphard, Alphard Black."

Lauren's face fell as her heart flew at double speed. It would be just her luck that the first face she saw whilst attempting pathetically to rid herself of that world belonged to one of them; one of the ancient and noble families. Of course it would be a Black. Alphard saw the look on her face, and offered a nervous smile.

"It seems you've met my sister," he said, and Lauren had indeed met his sister. Sirius' mother left an impression on everyone she encountered, and outside of her closed circle, it was rarely a pleasant one.

"Leave me alone," Lauren said, backing away from him slowly.

"They're my family, yes, but don't forget about your own family, child. We are more than a name, are we not? I have a house, around the corner, if you would like a warm bed for the night. I won't tell a soul," he told her, and as much as Lauren wanted to believe him, it would take a lot more than kind words on a dark summer's night for her to trust.

"I know how family works, but you're not the same as me. You see, I just got out. Tell me, when are you next having luncheon with dear Walburga? Or the Rosiers, for that matter? What about the Malfoys?" she spat, and turned on her heel.

She ran as fast as she could, in the only direction she saw hope at the end of. She turned south, away from the park and down towards the residential area. She hoped, beyond hope when she considered he could Apparate, that he would not follow her. She was just some kid on the street, and she didn't need his pity.

After a few minutes of following the road round, she turned a corner by a sign that read, "Heyford Ave." and had to pause for breath. As a Quidditch player, running had never been her strong point, but there was no sign of the Black, at least. Lauren felt relief wash over her for a moment, before she realised what she'd just done.

From Vauxhall Park, she knew her way North, up to Piccadilly and Diagon Alley, she did not know her way South. For all intents and purposes, she was lost in a city she did not know as well as she would have liked.

She looked around at her surroundings, taking in the large houses that lined the streets. They were colourful, even in the dimness, their bricks a light ochre with ruddy accents around the edges of the bay windows. At three stories in the centre of town, they were practically manor homes, which filled Lauren with a sense of dread. Houses like these reeked of money, and attracted the sort of magical families that Lauren was so desperate to avoid.

It was then that Lauren noticed she was being watched. In an upstairs window, the curtains of which were stained and hanging loose, a shadow of a man was staring intently down at her. He was gone as soon as she'd seen him, but she knew he'd been there. If it wasn't for that haunting frame, she'd have sworn the house had been empty. It was certainly the most dilapidated of the row.

When she'd left, mere hours ago, Lauren had felt smart and street-wise. She'd felt old enough to cope. Fifteen years seemed like long enough to be alive before you ventured out alone. As fear crept up her spine and a fierce shiver took hold of her, she realised for the first time in years that she was still a child. She began to walk away from the shabby house, walking back down the street the way she'd came slowly. No matter how scared she felt, she was used to the feeling by now, and she would not let it show.

"Hey, you girl!" a voice called from behind her, and Lauren squeezed her eyes shut tight before turning around. A young girl alone at night attracted far too much attention for Lauren's liking. She briefly wondered if Polyjuice Potion was the way forward.

The man stood before her was tall and skinny. He couldn't have been much older than Lauren herself, in torn corduroy trousers and a stripy brown jumper. His navy blue Doc Martin boots, scuffed and tarnished, were completely at odds with the rest of his outfit, but he had such an air of nonchalance about him that Lauren guessed he didn't particularly care. She stood and watched him as he made his way over to her with a lilting walk, as if he was slightly intoxicated by something.

"You look lonely," he commented, his voice a little hoarse as he reached her, staring with an unblinking intensity.

"That's none of your business," she told him.

"I'm not here to hurt you," he said, holding his hands out in front of him as if offering them to an officer for cuffing. "I'm Chris," he told her with a crooked smile.

Lauren couldn't help but smile a little as she watched him, carefree and easy as he was, but she still didn't trust.

"I'm Lauren, but I'm not sticking around."

"Lauren-but-I'm-not-sticking-around, eh? That's a cool name, but it's a bit long," he joked, and Lauren found herself laughing at the ridiculous way he said it. She couldn't place his accent. He was definitely fairly local, but he spoke with an accent she associated with business suits and firm handshakes, not with the ripped trousers and long, scruffy hair he wore like a fashion statement. "Look, I came over because you look like you could do with a little help. It's four in the morning, and you could probably do with a place to crash, right? Well, me and my friends are staying in that house over there, and we have a spare couch, if you fancy it."

Lauren was tired, but she wasn't that easily fooled.

"No, thanks, I'm alright," she said with a weary smile.

"You run away from home, by any chance?" he asked with a knowing smile, as if he could smell it on her.

"Maybe," she said, not wanting to give him any information he didn't need.

"So did I. A year ago, when I was seventeen. I found these guys, and well, we're all in the same boat, kid. This world is hard and shits like us don't get things for free. We muddle together, do what we can, have a laugh and keep each other company. Why don't you just come in and see? If you don't like it, you can leave. It's up to you, kid," he told her, and Lauren found herself wavering in her certainty. She probably couldn't do this alone, she knew. But she didn't know him: she didn't know if he was telling the truth.

She thought of Hogwarts, where she'd be expected to return to in a few months. She thought of her friends she was desperate to return to in one piece: Daniel, Lily, Sirius. Her brothers even crossed her mind, the Potter and the Devine. Most importantly, she thought of her wand. Her secret line of defence that would keep her safe among Muggles like the boy stood before her, ruffling his dark blonde hair with long fingers.

"Okay, I'll come see," she told him with a smile, and he smiled back. Lauren's last thought as she began to follow him was that she hoped his smile was genuine.

Bare floorboards and crumbling walls were the first things Lauren noticed as he pushed the squeaky door open. Even the dim light from the single bare bulb in the hallway illuminated the damp patches that crept along the ceiling and the corners of the walls. There was a musty smell about the place, a tell-tale sign of the building's age. Lauren wondered how long it had been empty before Chris and his friends had moved in. The sound of laughter and chatter echoed through to Lauren's ears from a door at the end of the corridor, slightly ajar. She drew in a nervous breath and followed him as he made his way through the house.

There were three people sat on rickety wooden chairs around a littered table.

"Guys, meet Lauren," Chris smiled as he introduced her.

A small brunette girl jumped up immediately with a grin, the battered and torn top hat she'd been wearing falling off her head as she did so. "Yay! A new person!" she yelped, running around the table to capture Lauren in an embrace. Lauren could smell alcohol on her, and while the hug seemed perfectly normal to the small girl, it made Lauren a little uncomfortable.

"Sorry, she's always like that," an older boy told her slowly with a thin-lipped smile. His auburn hair was kept much shorter than Chris', just brushing his eyebrows, and his skin was so pale that Lauren wondered if he'd become nocturnal.

There was another girl in the room, with a head of hair that was half-shaved, half-blue, although her natural blonde roots were clearly showing. She fixed Lauren with a heavily lined stare before offering a smile.

"Hi," she said with a small wave.

"So this is some of our rag-tag group. The rest are asleep already, lightweights," Chris commented as the brunette bounced down back into her seat, picking up her hand of cards.

"We just dealt a new hand, if you play?" the brunette asked. "Chris, you in?"

Lauren nodded, pulling up a chair as she placed her bag down in the musty corner.

"Drink?" the older boy asked from his seat beside Lauren.

"Sure," she said with a smile. She couldn't help but accept, and he handed her a bottle of cheap beer.

AN: Just a historical note - the place Lauren has just arrived in is a Squat, which were really common in London in the 70s, considered by many a right of passage, filled with hippies and punks alike.

The title for this chapter is a slight play on the word 'squat', but it's also an idiom that means 'nothing'.

Anyway, please leave me your thoughts :)