Authors Note: Second chapter is up & all that jazz. If I could get just one review I'd have the next and the next completely planned out. I really can't believe how far I got with just the first chapter. D

Please read, even if you don't want to review. Albeit feedback would be lovely.

(oOo)

As a little boy Harry was always afraid of the shadows. Not afraid, per say. It wasn't a feeling of "they'll brutally murder me and rip out all of my friends and family's organs, everyone he cared about", no normal bout of childish fear.

Because really, he'd never had anyone he cared about to be taken away as a child and living the way he had since age one was very much like being dead. He often had to sink back into the cobwebs and pretend he didn't exist.

The scared emotion was more along the lines of "this darkness will envelope me". Even as a tiny, dreaming boy Harry didn't mind his dreary life so much. He didn't ache to be the King of Surrey, let alone have the ability to save a million damsels in distress. In fact he preferred his quiet life of solitude and almost invisibility, though he'd never been able to deny himself anger.

Sometimes it was just easier to do what was already easy.

And the shadows were so complex and complicated, nothing close to easy. So when the Dursleys would leave Harry alone in the house (not that it would feel a whole not different when they were, minus the shouting) he would leave all of the lights on, regardless of how mad Uncle Vernon would get when he arrived home.

When they'd lock him in that god-awful cupboard he'd hold the flashlight close and think of jejune autumns spent on flying motorcycles (never letting his Uncle catch even a sliver of a whisper concerning such thoughts). Oh, how Harry would run, after shutting off the lights in the basement, up and up what seemed like mountains of stairs, slamming the door closed firmly behind him. Deep down he thought it was petty fear and he should get over it the way he did most other things. But he couldn't.

Sometimes it hurt to lie awake and bask in the cold and the darkness all around him with lingering daddy longlegs his only companions. The only sound to listen to was his heart beating slowly, softly in beneath his ribcage.

But Harry Potter knew from an early age he had a purpose that meant struggle and forgetting how to give up.

When he finally gained an identity, or more knowledge of his identity through Hagrid and met a world that knew him as more then a "freak boy", that fear just seemed to dissipate. And, Harry thought if he could have one wish, age fifteen listening to Albus Dumbledore tell him he was definitely no ordinary child, it would be to again be afraid of the shadows. Because what scared him most of all was that he was not one bit afraid for himself.

Because any fear was better than fearing fear itself.

(oOo)

Mother nature had a way of making the spring seem more like the summer than anything, or at least it did to some British residents who had never visited the States before and the few wizards who had never felt it necessary to not perform a cooling charm in public. The air was much more moist than any start of spring they could remember, humid and crackling against their skin, digging it's coarse fingertips into their once-smooth skin.

Shops ran footprints along the busy streets, loud and full of cheerful, bright decorations that could make anyone's head spin. Faces seem to greet every corner, sometimes they came with a wave and sometimes they were painted into glowers. It was somewhat well known that the U.S. consisted of many people of different backgrounds and opinions on how to appear in daily life.

Draco's perfectly chapped lips curled into a sneer as he surveyed the muggle library standing some twenty feet of his lean, slender figure. He eyed the funny-looking people lined outside of the entrance and fishing through the other buildings around it even more warily.

They dressed in slightly torn, dark clothes here and flowery sundresses there causing him to shake his blond head. Muggles really had no fashion sense whatsoever.

The Slytherin, sharply dressed himself, stepped up on the cement stairs, one by one and sent all those around him "back off" expressions. There was a strain in his right leg from pausing by the front of the steps and leaning on it for so long but he chose to ignore it and continue on his way into what he considered hell. Oh yes, a big step for one Draco Malfoy.

He found his long fingers curving around the door handle almost hesitantly as he finally reached the entryway. Someone a little behind him was tapping their annoying shoes with impatience and he was a bit too new at this to have the stomach to face them. So he just yanked the door open, scurrying in and away from the angry muggle, a look of pure relief etched across his face once inside.

It was quite possibly the largest collection of varied books and novels that he had ever in his life seen, he noted with disgust. Larger even than the one at Malfoy Manor, which was he thought with a sniff quite up to date in all it's advanced potions and complicated charms.

Glancing about with rapt attention he wondered for a moment if muggles kept any incognito books on witchcraft and wizardry, considering they seemed so keen on being a step ahead of the best library in all of England.

Curiosity getting the better of him he approached an elm wood counter off to the side, the sign "information" hanging on shoelace-like strings above it. He frowned and cleared his throat to gain the attention he deserved, being somewhat of a customer in the place.

A rather short teenage girl with tiny pink lips that moved in unison to help chew her wad of bubblegum in an aggravating motion froze in her reading of some "sex ed" book she was finding rather hilarious (it was written by a grandmother). She looked at him through irises hidden under heavy eyelids, fake black lashes fluttering up and down once fluidly to take in his appearance, "Can I help you?"

It was a clear, Baltimore accent that reminded Draco of where he was and why he'd never decided to travel to America before this. Their people were utterly incorrigible.

He ran his soft tongue over his front two teeth before bringing it down with a distinct "click", "I'm looking for a book on Wizardry?" came out in what was a low tone for him.

The small girl gave him a blank blue stare, twirling her hair on a uniquely shaped pointer finger; "Huh?" was the dull reply.

Draco slapped a hand to his pale forehead, before letting it swim with wrinkles of frustration. "I'm looking for a book of Witchcraft and Wizardry", he finally spouted, withholding a dark look.

She reared her head back at his hiss and popped an ugly pink bubble, also uniquely shaped, "Never would 'a had you down for one of those types, what with how your dressed. The Wicca section's just down that way."

'Wicca?' Draco questioned on repeat in his mind, turning to stalk to the vicinity she'd pointed to. 'The words these people come up with these days, I swear…' His grey eyes grew rounder and wider as he got closer to the section of the library he wasn't so sure he wanted to see anymore.

Once there he reached out and plucked a metallic silver glazed faded green book from the stout bookcase. The words 'Wicca Cookbook' were styled across the front cover, almost in an engraved design that really did remind him of most Wizarding books. From what he could see the many pages were edged in a shiny gold that could steal the attention of most children under the age of ten. And very likely Ron Weasley.

With a plump fingertip he parted the book from the middle to gaze at the bold black letters that lined its pages like a flood, sometimes remaining absent in the case of a new paragraph. He ran his eyes over every word carefully, trying to see if there was any sort of message the author had tried and failed to conceal from the reader.

When he had finished what little was there his brow furrowed with distinct confusion and he moved so his hip was leaning to one side, a hand resting just above his pelvis. After a few more minutes realization dawned on his face and he scoffed at the pure hilarity of it. A real Wizard destined to fall for a book of fake Witchcraft?

I think not.

Draco distributed the book back into the shelf, snorting with a hint of amusement at how stupid he had been just then. His eyes lingered for a moment on the attractive colors of the cook before he said aloud to himself, "Anything slightly pretty seems to capture attention with you these days."

'Namely', he thought privately to himself then, realizing he had spoken quite clearly to those around him, 'Kelpies'.

And it dawned on him that his entire reason for taking a portkey was not for a frivolous vacation as he has spilled out dully to his mother, but rather so that he could research what the Americans had on those fascinating creatures of the sea. It really had become an obsession for the Hogwarts student, tracing every word that might be of importance in finding the savior of the light.

What also occurred to him was that he could be feeling a false sense of a security, a reassuring hope so that he wouldn't lie awake in bed trying not to cry as the screams of civilians who had perished replayed again and again in his ears. As he fought to his own death, which, besides his mother and possibly what little friends he had, was the most significant to himself. He wasn't all for honesty but when it came down to it he was very up front and prepared to admit he was a selfish young man.

But that didn't mean he enjoyed the murder of others. That was, in fact, one of the things that scared Draco most in life. The possibility that he would come home to an empty house on day, that people would turn their backs on him because he wouldn't commit such an infraction.

Somehow, though, the idea of anything about Kelpies being out of existence, let alone included in anything rendered a fallacy, seem completely impossible. He got to thinking maybe an inquiry or two with that hideous Hagrid fellow might get him somewhere, seeing as the man had a large interest in dangerous creatures but then, he remembered, that fellow positively loathed him. And, he supposed, for good reason, too.

Yet while honest about his selfish nature, Draco was never one to admit he was wrong. All he did was poke fun at Potter and his lot because they were bloody golden children and it amused him to see their faces redden with anger. Some of the other Slytherins might find it a bit odd if he were to just ignore them or suddenly stop insulting them, as well. That played a big factor in his act of immorality.

Making his way back to the bubblegum-chewing girl he almost laughed outright, oh yes, immorality. His strides were quicker than before, more used to whatever reaction he might get and not quite so wary. It wasn't that he really, well, hated the muggles; it was more that he had never known anything else his entire life and they were a total different species to him. One his father had tortured a number of times he was sure.

This time the petite girl gave him a look of remembrance, "Couldn't find what you were looking for, eh? I occasionally stop by that section, though I agree with the other librarian that it's somewhat, er, "frivolous" and all that big-word stuff. There's not all that much to look at but I like, er, flipping through the covers and stuff."

Draco nearly ground his teeth together in annoyance, was that the second time she'd said stuff, was she still popping that same disgusting gum? Did all muggles have to put up with these types of librarians because he'd certainly never heard of such a kind before. Madame Pince was like Yule compared to this broad. He nearly shuddered at the thought of her working at Hogwarts, "No. I did not find your "Wicca" section to be satisfactory."

She spared him an astonished look, "Maybe you should get a job here, dude. I mean, you've got the big word thing down already. You, er, a local?"

The blond nearly unsheathed his wand from his dragon skin pants and jabbed it threateningly about her round pinkish chin but he restrained himself and merely sniffed in response. "Do I sound like I'm bloody from here, you prat of a girl?" he countered with surprising nonchalance, nearly wetting himself inside.

"No, you don't, actually. Are you, like, a Brit?" she finally asked, managing to sound at least slightly more intelligent than normal. Her bubblegum was still bobbing up and down in her mouth and she flicked it around and crunched down on it now and again.

Sighing in resignation, nearly admitting defeat, Draco just shook his head, trying not to sound too painful when he said, "Shut up. Just tell me where I can find a list of your books, savvy?"

She gaped for a mo', before blinking a bit too owlishly for his liking and rolling the gum back into the right side of her mouth for proper destruction. Cocking her head to the side so her earrings dangled like citizens that'd been hanged, the girl retorted, "Why didn't you just ask in the first place? I mean, I wasn't hired because of my looks, you idiot, I actually know stuff about libraries."

Right, he took into account that being the third time she had said "stuff" and ran a hand through his hair, which had been quickly becoming unhappy since he'd set foot on American soil considering the moist air. He nodded as if to say, "continue", almost at a total loss of words at how weird this library had turned out to be.

"There's a computer section over there where you just enter whatever information will be enough to find the book or books you're looking for. It's just off from the romance section, bordering on the restrooms." She winked, "Think you can find it, Brit?"

Choosing to ignore her before the situation became too hurtful for the both of them, Draco walked on towards the romance section with a huge headache erupting throughout his brain. He sincerely hoped there weren't more of those confusing female creatures on the planet because he certainly did not want to have to deal with them anymore than proved necessary.

(oOo)

Arriving at the "search" area, the first thought that drifted through Draco's mind was, 'What the hell is a computer?' Looking around, most of the other people didn't seem nearly as bemused as he was about the whole computer thing. They were all seated at what looked to be fat televisions as he'd learned they were called from Pansy who took Muggle Studies and quite enjoyed it.

But why would anyone be watching about other peoples' lives in the "search" area? More confused than he'd been before deciding to check out others' opinions, he whirled about seeking answers and bumped into a tall young man.

The brunette had a calming smile and looked to be in his early twenties with a crisp white shirt covering his upper torso, hardly clashing with his black dress pants and nicely crafted brown belt. Draco stumbled back from the body he'd just collided with and staggered to regain his balance. A hand on his shoulder steadied him and told him that the young man wasn't all that dangerous.

"Sorry about that. I wasn't watching where I was going, uh, my fault." said man insisted with a toothy grin, small white teeth flashing shyly from in between his thin lips. He smoothed out the shirt and asked Draco if he was okay.

Malfoy Junior nodded profusely, eyes fluttering open and closed blearily as he seemed to regain his sight. All right, so not all muggles were quite as confusing, unintelligent and obvious as the librarian girl had been, but that didn't mean he was ready to get buddy-buddy with the next he saw. "Perfectly okay. Just wondering how to use these contraptions over here."

The young man gave him a funny look before arching a slightly thick, light brown brow, "You don't know how to use a computer? I mean, uh – do they not have computers in Britain or –"

Draco cut him off with a sheepish expression, "No, I suppose they do have them, I've just never ventured into this section before, or found myself in need of a computer, did you call it?" His organs were tying knots around each other in anxiousness, he did not want to have to obliviate this guy and get the American Ministry on his back, if there was one.

"OH! Uh, silly me. Here, I'll just show you how to search for a certain subject then?"

He smiled in affirmation, following the newcomer in what he hoped looked like curiosity, he wasn't the best actor on this side of the world, albeit he had to admit he was a pretty good one.

Taking a seat next to the brown-haired man, his eyes bored into the monitor wondering what sort of purpose it served for muggles around the world. His fingers glided along its surface tentatively, afraid it might break from the slightest touch. Mr. Nice-American-Man talked on and on about entering through the keyboard which had letters Draco recognized printed across their square tops.

A few seconds later he was immersed in the world of the computer and thanking Mr. Nice-American-Man with a grin almost as broad was the formers had been earlier. Where a rectangular box said 'Subject:' he entered the letters 'K-E-L-P-I-E' and moved the mouse as they called it to click enter.

At first nothing happened and he wondered if he'd done anything wrong, flopping Mr. Nice-American-Mans instructions over in his head. Then all of a sudden the computer blinked for a split second and there was a small list of replies to what he'd typed.

"Kelpies: How They Came About."

"The Welsh Folktale, a story of Kelpies."

"Lock Ness and its grand Kelpie."

Draco observed with some disappointment that he'd read all three of these books already and these were the only results the computer seemed to find available at the two-story library. Had coming to the U.S. all been a waste of time? Besides realizing that the muggles that resided here weren't all stupid, that is.

He lifted himself off the chair, not bothering to push it in and moved in the direction of the exit, trying not to flinch when the librarian girl waved at him as he passed by.

(oOo)

There were a number of shops that caught Dracos interest at he strolled on by, wiping his sweaty hands off on his silky pants. But he didn't stop to look a round in any of them because he was a bit distraught by the entire computer incident.

A few people winced at his glower as he walked alongside or diagonal them, pushing their children behind them so not to witness this heart penetrating look. He barely noticed as he sidestepped so they could pass without tripping over his nicely polished shoes, still deep in thought.

The one place that did manage to hold his interest for more than three or four seconds was a large restaurant that held the title 'McDonalds'. Draco wrinkled his nose at the thought of McGonagle having a muggle husband a tad bit obsessed with hamburgers and other food that made hearts stop ever quicker than his glower.

He stopped just before it and gazed in at the large group of people that were waiting one behind the other for a chance to order their food and gulp it down. After weighing his options he shrugged finally and made his way into the fast food place. The door was heavier than the one at the library, seeing as it was made of glass and swung shut behind him with an audible snap.

Unsure of how exactly you ordered food, Draco stepped up to the line and got behind the very last person. He decided to leave the strain on his left leg this time seeing as his right was already aching just a bit.

The wait wasn't as long as he expected though it was quite a wait compared to the amount of time it took for food to magically appear on most plates in the Great Hall. He was sorely disappointed that these muggles couldn't be at least slightly more efficient. It was something worthy of a Gryffindor. Somewhere in the back of his head he suspected that Mcgonagle's husband really might own the entire business.

When it was finally his turn to order, after taking a long look at the menus lined above his head and keeping the employee that was handling him quite aggravated he decided on fries, a chicken fajita (whatever that was it included chicken) and some apple pies. The employee nodded, relieved that he had actually decided to do something other than stare blandly at the menus.

Draco glared at her as she tossed the tray roughly across the counter, causing the food to nearly collide with his chest the same way Mr. Nice-American-Man had. He held the tray just as close to his chest while trying to find a seat, though, almost suspicious of the other customers that surrounded him.

He was surprised to find himself bumping into someone for the second time that day, but caught his food just in time so only one fry happened to fall to the floor.

"Oh wow! I wasn't expecting to see you again!"

The blond glanced up to find Mr. Nice-American-Man staring down at him through his thick, rectangular spectacles. Surprise ran through his nerves as well as he considered how much of a coincidence it was to find this guy again. He scratched his nose briefly before replying, "The nice American man. Surprise, surprise."

Mr. Nice-American-Man laughed and picked some napkins off the ground that had fallen from Draco's tray. "Did you want to eat together then? You look a bit lost and I thought I might be able to help if you felt it necessary."

The man didn't seem to be lacking intelligence either. Draco gave him a pleasantly shocked nod, "Why not? I could bloody use some help." They made their way towards a two-person table and took seats opposite one another. "I'm Draco, by the way. Odd name and all that, yes I happen to know."

Another laugh escaped his companion's mouth, floating about the air before turning into silence, "Well, I like it. I think it's quite original compared to my name." he paused, "I'm Peter and I'm not really from Baltimore, either."

"Oh? So where are you from, Peter?" Draco asked, testing the name out.

"Manhattan. Manhattan, New York. Oh, uh, duh, New York." Peter shrugged nervously, "I don't see how you couldn't know that. It's the city of lights."

Funny that he really didn't know that. The blonde smiled, taking in the fact that he'd just about made the closest thing to a friend with a muggle than he'd ever thought. "I'm actually here to do research. I was hoping the American libraries might be more up to date than those in Britain."

Peter lit up like a lamp. "Research? Uh, woah. I'm a mad scientist. Research is definitely something I know."

Draco noted and pushed somewhere into the back of his mind for safekeeping that the difference between people from Baltimore and people from New York was that one kind said "er" a lot and the other said "uh". He wondered what people from California said between words. "Mad Scientist, eh? It's actually research for, a" – SHITE! THINK OF SOMETHING DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY –"novel that I'm writing. So it'll be in the fantasy area and not so much Mad Scientist-esque."

The brunette sitting across from him blinked once or twice before swallowing a bite of hamburger, "It's my girlfriend. She's always calling me a "Mad Scientist, yo" so the title just stuck in my head. Actually, speaking of my girlfriend, she's a novelist. I'm not sure she's written anything fantasy-wise but I think she might be able to help you."

He tapped his chin in thought, "Problem being she's still in Manhattan as of right now."

Draco liked New York from what he could see. Peter was a lot better than any librarian girl, so was it possible that New York might have the answers he was looking for? A small bout of hope rose in his eyes, flickering brightly in the fast food restaurant. "That might be a good idea, you know."

Peter looked a bit confused, "Uh, what do you mean, Draco?"

"So, how do I get to New York?" A devilish grin enveloped his features.

(oOo)

TBC, folks.