Her figure illuminated against the darkness by the soft glow of the moon and a handful of street lamps, Pat marched resolutely down the Alley. On either side of her, the windows of the shops were dark, their doors locked; Pat did not see them, as she kept her head down, her shoulders hunched against a chilly breeze that was creeping up behind her. She was still bitter over her argument with Anne, and inclined to feel very sorry for herself. As she neared the end of the Alley, she was greeted by the golden gleam of lighted windows, and the sounds of laughing, talk, and raucous singing: the Leaky Cauldron.

"Wotcher, lass? Fancy a turn of the skirt, eh?" A gangly, unshaven man who looked about forty, grinned toothily at her as his stooping comrade cackled.

"No thank you," said Pat shortly, not looking at them as she continued walking, her head held high.

"Wassa matter, poppit?" wheezed the second man, giving her a revoltingly sweet smile, "Still canned goods? Don't worry, it won't hurt…much."

The pair snickered unpleasantly, abandoning their haunt outside the apothecary and sauntering after Pat. Pat ignored them, not looking back, though she quickened her pace considerably, trying to make it to the safety of the Leaky Cauldron.

"Scared, lass?" called the first man, "Promise we won't be too rough…We'll be perfect gentlemen, take turns and everything!"

"Leave her alone, Fingers," called a voice from the shadows.

The pair stopped laughing immediately, their pursuit of Pat slowing. "S'at you, Abernethy?" rasped the second man.

"It is. Now leave her alone, she's with me," said Ty, walking slowly out of the shadows by the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron. He looked exceptionally calm, casually smoking a mahogany pipe, his other hand hanging loosely from his pocket.

"Begging your pardon, Abernethy," said Fingers, his lips twitching into a wry sneer, "Didn't know this one was spoken for. You'd best warn your ladies not to wander too far from home this late at night." He looked Pat up and down, grinning repulsively, adding, "Especially when they're as young as this one."

"I don't think I asked you for your opinion," said Ty coldly, "Now get back to Knockturn, where you belong. Cirrus is in, and he's looking for the pair of you. Not in a good mood either."

"Right," said Fingers, his face paling, "C'mon Brass."

Ty's eyes followed them as they disappeared into the shadows, his face set. Pat hurried toward him, feeling extremely relieved. "You know those two?" she asked, her voice sounding a little angry.

"Well enough," said Ty casually, taking a long draw on his pipe before continuing, "Crooks, the pair of them. Like to hang around here and try to mug unsuspecting passers-by. But they're so helpless, they usually end up in a body-bind before the night is out. Harmless, really."

"Ha, I'd hardly say harmless," said Pat, looking sulky, "I was alone, they could've done whatever they wanted."

"Pat, you weren't alone," said Ty, a slight smile creeping across his face, "I told you I'd wait for you. I was watching you the whole way."

"Nice of you to take your time intervening then," said Pat sarcastically.

"I know you can handle yourself, babe; got a wand, don't you? And in my defense, I do believe I did step in. Don't I get a thank you?"

"I suppose," said Pat reluctantly, "…Thanks."

"That's more like it," said Ty, putting his arm around her shoulders and kissing her, "Now I think we were going inside?" With his other hand, he pushed open the door, and he and Pat stepped into the warmth of the bar-room.

If the night outside had been cold, dark, and desolate, the interior of the Leaky Cauldron was just the opposite. As she stepped inside, Pat felt a rush of warm air wash over her, mixed with the distinct smell of ale. She had only a moment to peer around at her surroundings before she was ushered away from the doorway by Ty. They sat down together in a tiny corner booth, upholstered in worn burgundy velveteen, which curved around an equally small, round table that was bolted to the floor.

"Glad you decided to join me," said Ty, reaching across the table and taking Pat's left hand in his, then, noticing that she was still somewhat uptight, he added, "Not still worked up about what Fingers and Brass said to you, are you?"

"Wouldn't you be?" asked Pat in annoyance, her feelings of self-pity rekindled.

"Pat, they didn't mean anything by it, they were just playing with your mind."

"Yea, right," said Pat, thoroughly unconvinced, "I hardly think so."

"Oh come off it," said Ty, "They're gone, I'm here, and you're fine. All's well that ends well, right?"

Pat stared resolutely at the table, saying nothing.

"Patsy, come on," pleaded Ty, "I don't want you to be upset. You know I'd never let you get hurt."

Pat remained silent.

"Tell you what, let me get you a drink, you can settle down a bit, and we'll forget the whole thing, right?"

After a long pause, Pat shrugged half-heartedly. Ty took this for a 'yes.'

"Right. Oi! Ruth!" he called, beckoning to a homely-looking, platinum blonde barmaid, who stumbled toward them, notepad in hand.

"What'll it be for you tonight, Mr. Abernethy?" said Ruth, winking at him as she took a stubby-looking quill from behind her ear, gingerly licked the tip, and poised it above the paper.

"Glass of firewhiskey for me to start, and my girl'll have…" he trailed off, looking at Pat.

"Just a butterbeer for me, thanks," said Pat quietly.

"Suit yerself, miss," said Ruth, busily jotting down the order before bustling off.

Ty eyed Pat somewhat suspiciously. "You're really not yourself tonight. Can't be just those two who got you all shaken up. What's wrong?"

Pat shrugged. "Nothing important."

Ty shook his head. "If you want to keep everything to yourself, that's your business. But I'm not going to hang around if you're just going to mope about all night. You know if you want to talk, I'll listen…"

"Well…" Pat began, then sighed. "Things between me and Anne have been pretty bad," she conceded, "It's pretty obvious that she hates you, and she's convinced you're a 'bad influence' on me. She's threatened to kick me out if-"

"She threatened to kick you out?" interrupted Ty, raising an eyebrow, "Your sister threatened to kick you out?"

"Well…yea," said Pat, looking at the table.

"Well do you want to stay?" asked Ty.

"Not like this," said Pat, "Not if we're going to be fighting all the time, but-"

"Then leave!"

"What?"

"Don't wait for her to decide to boot you, just leave!" said Ty, "Don't let her walk away with the upper hand!"

"But I don't have anywhere to go! I've looked everywhere around here, and all the flats are either occupied or way out of my price range!" said Pat desperately, "And besides, if I leave Anne, I can kiss my job good-bye. I need that money, Ty!"

"Not a problem," said Ty, grinning coyly, "It just so happens that my cousin is accepting applications for a cashier right now. Our last girl just moved out to North Yorkshire, and Nathaniel's getting pretty desperate. You could get it in a snap."

"Really?" asked Pat curiously, lifting her eyes from the table, "That's great – but it still doesn't solve my accommodation problem."

"Come live with me."

"What!"

"Come live with me!" repeated Ty, "It's only an upstairs suite, but it's definitely big enough for two. We can be together, and you can get away from your bitch of a sister."

"I don't know…" said Pat uncertainly, "We've only been together a couple of weeks. Kind of soon to be moving in together…"

"Ah, don't think of it that way," said Ty dismissively, "Just think of it as one friend helping another friend out. You need a place to live, and I happen to have such a place. What could be wrong with that?"

"I don't know…" repeated Pat.

"Look," said Ty, putting a comforting arm around her shoulders, "If it gets weird, I will personally find you an alternate living location."

"You can't afford that!"

"I know I can't," said Ty, "But that's how sure I am that it'll work. Come on, what do you say?"