Draco Malfoy Harry Potter
Slash Action
Multiple Eras
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire
Published: 07/16/2001
Updated: 12/01/2002
Words: 91,663
Chapters: 11
Hits: 102,985



Story Summary:
SLASH. London, 2003, and two old enemies have become partners in crime. But the wizarding world is out to disrupt Harry's none too peaceful existence ... sex, guns, rock n' roll, drugs and bad language abound in a fast paced romantic thriller.

Chapter 06

Chapter Summary:
In London's seedy criminal underworld, two old enemies have become partners in crime, but the wizarding world is out to disrupt Harry's none too peaceful existence. Guns, car chases, wizards, sex, slash, Slut!Draco and drug busts abound in a fast paced romantic thriller!
Author's Note:
Read on ... fearless bunnies!


Chapter Six - Terms of Endearment

The taxi pulled up outside Steve's Brighton flat just minutes after Harry's Mercedes saloon pulled away.

They left it to Remus to pay off the driver, and Cassie, Avon and Sher mounted the steps to the front door.

"Fucking hell," said Remus, joining them and stomping his feet. There had been a frost last night, and it was still perishing cold. "That man wanted a tip."

Avon looked puzzled.

"I recommended him a nice little bistro on the Tottenham Court Road," said Remus. "Does the most sublime fettucine al pesto. But I don't think that's quite what he meant."

Sher sighed. "Did he by any chance call you something rude?"

"Fucking Cockney wanker, if I recall," said Remus. "Sad really."

Cassie pressed the doorbell again. This time, someone answered.

"Yeah, what?"

"Um ... may we speak with a Mr Harry Potter please?" Cassie shouted into the intercom.

"No need to chew my ear off," came the angry reply. "I *am* still hung over, y'know. Anyway. No chance. Harry left about ten minutes ago."

"Shit," said Cassie.

"Ask him if there's any chance of a cup of tea?" asked Remus.

Cassie pressed the 'talk' button again. "Any chance of a cup of tea?"

"Fuck off!"

"I'll interpret that as a no, then," said Remus grumpily.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Ron sat quietly on the back seat of Harry's car as they sped north towards London. Harry drove, being sure to carefully exceed the speed limit slightly all the way. Draco sat with Ron, all the while keeping him covered with the handgun. The three drove in martyred silence - not a word was said until Ron's phone suddenly decided to go off as they were driving through Tooting, stuck in heavy traffic.

"May I answer that call please?" said Ron.

"Not a fucking chance," was Harry's reply. He answered it himself.

"Ron, this is Hermione. Look ... I'm really sorry for calling you late last night, but I was in a right state, and I've calmed down now. I'm staying with Angie until this blows over, she's been great ... I've tried calling Ginny but she's taken the phone off the hook, and all I've been eating Dairy Milk and listening to Celine Dion records ... and drinking too much cheap French plonk ..." Harry listened with an amused expression on his face, "... what kind of plonk was it, Angelina?"

A woman's voice from another room. "Hock. And it isn't French, it's German!"

"Thanks, so you see, I'm desperate. Ron ... we need to meet up ... I'm going all to pieces here, I mean, I'll end up putting on weight if I'm not careful and look ... are you in town today? Because I think we should meet up. If you're going into town tonight, I know it's a trek from Teddington, but would you like to go to Quaglio's on Old Compton Street ... or there's an All Bar One in Richmond now, isn't there ... or ... any good pubs in Kingston? Probably not. Look ... what do you think ..."

Harry said. "Hermione ... that you?"

"Ron ... well, who else would it be? Is Cameron with you? Can I speak to Cameron, or have you stuck him in front of Return of the Jedi again? Typical lax bloody parenting. Justin and Seamus took Tamsin and Amber to Legoland Windsor the other weekend. We should have done stuff like that ... we could have gone down to Chessington, or Longleat, or Hever Castle, or up on the London Eye, or something ..."

"Hermione," said Harry, pulling the car over to the side of the road and drawing to a halt, outside a twenty four hour supermarket.


"Shut up."

"Ron! That's not very nice ..."


"What? I should have known it was a bad idea to call you. I should have wallowed in my grief. Angelina has Bridget Jones on MDVD, so we're going to watch it and have a good weep ..."

"Ron cannot come to the phone right now," said Harry, very calmly. "He's busy," Harry tipped Draco a nod, and Draco pressed the gun deeper into Ron's side.

"Who are you?"

"An old friend," said Harry. "Look, Hermione. We'll be in touch. Go away now."

He put the phone down. Then turned round to look at Ron and Draco, who were sitting on the back seat.

"I think that proves it beyond all reasonable doubt," said Harry.

Ron nodded. "I rather think it does," he said.

"Have you anything to say for yourself?"

Ron frowned at Harry.

"Bones and Cardwell ... they were yours?"

Ron nodded.

"I thought I gave them a fairly clear signal," said Harry, clearly, in Draco's eyes, fighting to restrain himself from throttling Ron. "I don't want to be contacted. I'm happy where I am, thank you."

"I just wanted to see you again," said Ron.

"How sweet," mocked Harry. "Draco ... put the gun away."

Draco, however, did not move a muscle.

"Did you hear me, Draco?"

"I thought we *had* something," said Draco in a low voice. It grated like chalk on a blackboard. Harry shook his head.

"Draco," said Harry. "I thought you knew. I thought you ... I thought you were in love with me?"

"Not any more," said Draco.

"I got that impression," said Harry.

"I thought I was your first," said Draco, digging the gun even deeper into Ron's sides. "You were *my* first, Harry. I wanted you that night. What was it for you? I thought it was the same thing. But you'd been shagging this ginger pillock on the side, hadn't you? And you have the fucking nerve to tell me you aren't gay! Do you know how that makes me feel? Everything I believed about you! You ... you're a complete slut!"

"Draco ... quiet," barked Harry.

But Draco wasn't listening. "How many times did you fuck him? Eh? Were you fucking him while you were seeing me? It's the fact that you lied to me, Harry. That makes me mad. I may sleep around, but I don't lie ... I don't whine about not being gay ... how can ... how can you even claim that? Experimenting is one thing ... but I wasn't even your first! And I always thought ..."

"We did it once or twice," said Ron quietly. "*That* was experimenting."

"You don't deny it then!"

"Of course not," said Ron. "I know I'm not gay. But ... at the time."

"Fuck you," snapped Draco. "Fuck you both!"

"Out of my car," said Harry quietly.


"Out of my fucking car. Now."

"Fuck off!"

"Get out, Draco."


"Draco. You are fired. Your contract is terminated," said Harry. "As of now, I have no contact with you. Zip ... zilch ... nada. I do not know you. I have never known you. I am not involved with you in any way. From this moment you have ceased to be. You are an ex-employee. Do I make myself quite clear?"

"You can't do that! I have rights!" Draco blurted out.

"Not in this game," said Harry, cold as ice. "Never mind ... perhaps you'll find a nice club to work in," he spoke that last sentence with venom in his tone, almost spitting out the words.

"Harry ... please!" Draco began, knowing as he said it that Harry was right. Nobody ever left Harry's 'service.' It had never come up before ... and Harry was powerful. He was in with the best ... or the worst of them. He could call up enough firepower to take out a small, majority world country with two phone calls. He could make your life a living hell. Draco knew all this. And he knew that if he told anybody ... Harry could, and would, have him killed. He was looking here at a man with morals twisted and warped beyond recognition. How on God's earth had it come about?

"Out of the car," Harry repeated, a little more forcefully this time.

Draco removed the gun from Ron's ribcage, and levelled it at Harry.

"It isn't loaded," said Harry, quite calmly

"You're bluffing."

"I don't bluff. Get out of my car and I may not send a hit man after you, Draco."

Draco pulled the trigger.

Harry ducked instinctively. There was an ear-splitting bang, and the sound of smashing glass as the bullet pierced the windscreen. Several passers by on the pavement stopped. People were starting to point. People were screaming. You don't often get gunfights in Tooting ...

"Naughty boy," said Harry, pulling his gun out of his pocket. "You obviously worked out where I keep the bullets."

Draco's hands were shaking.

"I hate you! I absolutely fucking hate you!"

"You'd have died without me!" said Harry. "You know it. You know you need me. You know you love me because of what I can do to you. I can make you scream like none of the others. You love what I can do to you. And I know these things because I've seen you ... I've seen you begging me to fuck you again. I've seen these things. You need me, boy!"

"Fuck off!" yelled Draco. "I can get it from anyone I want! Not dirty little whores like you!"

"I'm the whore now, am I?" asked Harry. "This from the slut who conducted a long and sordid affair with one of my gym instructors in front of closed circuit cameras?"

Draco reddened.

"The videos were very entertaining, Draco," sneered Harry. "I bet you'd like to know what I was doing whilst I was watching them ..."

"Shut up!"

"I was sprawled, naked on my couch, watching them, Draco. Watching you ..."

"Fuck off!" Draco screamed, his hands shaking so violently he nearly dropped the gun on the floor. "You're lying! You're lying!"

Harry regarded Draco with a mixture of pity, and something else on his face.

"I'm sorry about this, Draco," he said. "Your lifestyle just ... isn't for me, I guess. It was nice whilst it lasted ..."

"You're as gay as I am ... and you fucking know it!" snarled Draco.

"That's not what you were saying the other day," said Harry. "You do realise, Draco, that I can have you arrested for rape. It only takes a phone call ..."

"You wouldn't dare ..."

"I would now," said Harry. He produced the other gun from the glove-box, and pointed it at Draco. "Now ... hop out ... there's a good little homosexual."

Draco just sat there, a look of defiance stretched across his face. Harry knew he should be feeling something ... but he felt nothing. Why? They'd had sex. Several times. It had been good ... hadn't it?

No! Fuck it! I'm not like that, Harry told himself. I have a life ... I'm normal. I got over it. This is his fucking fault ...

"Out of my car. I don't want to see, or hear you again."

Draco still sat there.

Harry pointed the gun at Ron. "Draco," he said, flipping the safety catch off. "Either get out of my car now, or I'm going to plaster Ron's brains all over you."

Draco took one look at Ron.

"You're bluffing."

"We've been through this," said Harry, quite calmly, as though he was merely socialising at some elite cocktail party. "I do not bluff."

He pulled the trigger ... though as he did it, he jerked the gun upwards. The bullet flew harmlessly over Ron's head, shattering the rear windshield.

Harry levelled the gun at Draco. "You did this to me," he said. "You. Only you. Thanks for the good times."

Draco ducked sideways, his outstretched fingers contacting the coldness of the door handle. He heard the roar of the gun going off again, a yell from Ron ... felt the swish of air over his head, and heard the sound of the bullet impacting the metal of the supporting pillar behind his head. The door clicked open ... the gun went off again, and Draco damn nearly wet himself ... he pushed desperately at the door, and next thing he knew he was sprawled at the kerbside as the Merc pulled off into the Sunday afternoon traffic, tyres squealing, rear door hanging open as it disappeared round the corner.

"Oh fuck."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Harry parked the car in a secluded corner of the car park at his warehouse. The warehouse, an ugly, grey box, stood at the back of a large industrial park in a deserted area of wasteland, strewn with broken blocks and concrete. Once the site, in Bow, not far from the gleaming, new glass towers of the Docklands, had been a cloth dying factory. Now the site was overgrown and wild, littered with burnt out cars and dead shopping trolleys. Urban regeneration had not got *this* far.

"You'd better get out," said Harry. He tucked the gun back into the pockets of his jeans, and got out of the car. It was bitterly cold, and drizzling.

There were four other cars parked there. An elderly Ford Escort estate; one window taped over with a piece of cardboard ... a Vauxhall Cavalier, minus its wheels, held up on cinderblocks, an enormous yellow Renault Traffic van and, looking very out of place, a rather swish new Aston Martin.

Two men strode across the concrete towards them, both thickset and balding. One wore blue, grease stained overalls, the other a cheap, mass-produced suit and round, NHS glasses. To Ron, they looked like trouble. He tried to keep calm. He tried to remember his training.

"All right, Harry?" asked one of them, in a Cockney accent so thick it was almost impenetrable.

Harry nodded curtly. "Snake, Herschel. This is Ron ... an old ... friend of mine. I'm just going to show him round the warehouse."

Snake spat on his hand, and held it out for Ron, who took it gingerly and shook it.

"Any friend of Harry's is a friend of mine," he said. "I'm Snake. I do cars."

Herschel nodded. "I run this side of Harry's London operation," he said. "Although the operation isn't confined to the capital. We have jobs on in Spain, Morocco and Columbia, as well as the Middle East."

"That'll do, Herschel," said Harry. "Look, Snake. We've had some trouble with the Merc."

"I can see that," observed Snake, looking at the damaged car.

"The windscreens, front and rear, are going to want replacing. I'll need new number plates, so you'll have to hack the DVLA database, Herschel, can you do that?"

Herschel nodded.

"And lastly, a complete re-spray. I rather fancy teal," said Harry. "Ron and I are going to use the office. Hold all calls. If Draco rings, tell him to get fucked."

Herschel nodded. "We're onto it," he said.

"Very good," said Harry.

Ron was led into the warehouse. It appeared to be deserted. It was lit by neon strip lighting, dotted randomly amongst the rafters. There were hundreds of cardboard boxes, stacked three or four high, and several other cars, most of them in varying states of disrepair. There was also a single, rusting fork lift truck.

"What's in the boxes?" he asked.

"Too many questions," said Harry. He stopped, and took a small penknife out of his pocket. Ron stepped backwards, alarmed, but Harry merely slit the sellotape on top of one of the boxes, and lifted the lid.

"Take a look," he said.

Ron looked inside. The box appeared to be full of videos. He took one of them out.

"Euro Sauna Boys?" he read. "Jurgen, Clint and Eric star in 90 minutes of hot Dutch action. Bondage ... hot ... Harry ... this is disgusting."

Harry smiled. "I know," he said. "Nevertheless, there is a market for that sort of thing, believe it or not. Some people are willing to pay good money for it. That's all I'm concerned with."

Ron slipped the offending object back into the box, and took out another one. The cover showed a woman providing a certain oral service to a horse that a horse wouldn't normally expect to get.

"People buy this?"

Harry nodded. "Sad horny twats. Come upstairs."

Harry led Ron up a flight of metal stairs, and into a small office. There was a desk, several filing cabinets, a computer and several telephones. From up here you could see every inch of floor space. Ron sat down in the proffered chair. Out the window he could see Snake and Herschel pushing the Mercedes into the warehouse.

The phone rang. Harry picked it up.


Ron didn't even attempt to listen in.

"Good ... okay. I'll do it," he said. "Victor, I want you to go down there and make sure he's okay. Take him home. I'll call him later. I have business now ... excuse me."

He set the phone down on its cradle, and then sat down on the other chair.

"I think I've established who you are," he said.

Ron nodded.

Harry looked up, removed his glasses, and polished them on his jacket.

"I'd give you a hug, or something ... but ... you know."

"You aren't going to kill me?" said Ron.

Harry shook his head. "No. I might kill Draco at some point. But not you."

"I was thinking about you," said Ron.

"Thought you might have been," said Harry, awkwardly.

"We ... have that trunk of yours," said Ron.

"Yes ... I'd ... um ..."

"Like it back?" asked Ron.

"Please?" said Harry.

"Um ... okay," replied Ron. "I guess ... I guess it was true then?" he said.

"What was?" asked Harry.

"You and Draco?"

Harry nodded.

"I saw the picture you drew of him."

Harry raised his eyebrows.

"It was good ... nice use of light ... and pencils."

"You're not just here to give my artwork constructive criticism, are you?" asked Harry.

"Er, no," said Ron.

"That's good."

"Can I ask you something?" asked Ron.

Harry nodded.

"How long were you and Draco ... erm?"

"Lovers?" asked Harry.

Ron nodded.

"A couple of weeks," said Harry. "If that."

"But you ..."

"After Hogwarts?" said Harry. "No ... nothing happened after Hogwarts ... until a couple of nights ago ..."

"But if you're gay ..."

"But I'm not," said Harry. "Leastways ... I don't think I am. Shit, Ron. I don't know what to think about myself anymore. It's just weird ... it's all so weird."

"You had sex with Draco Malfoy ... I mean ... were you completely mad?"

Harry shook his head, and leaned across the desk. "I wasn't mad," he said. "Draco may have been. He seduced me ... we made love a few times. I was scared of what you might say ..."

"But we did just the same," said Ron.

Harry looked up. "I ... that was experimenting, wasn't it?" he asked. "I mean ... it was once ... it was over quickly. It was messy and awkward and we didn't know what we were doing. I didn't think you enjoyed it."

Ron shrugged. "I didn't quite mean it like that," he said.

"Ron ... I was fucking my worst enemy ... and he was ... God, sometimes I think he still is, he was wonderful. Nobody ever held me like that before in my life. That was what I craved about it ... it was intimate ... nice ... calm. I think he loved me. I don't know if I loved him ... or if I was using him as some kind of a substitute for my parents."

Ron snorted. "The difference being your parents didn't try and shag you."

"That was uncalled for," said Harry. "Would you like some coffee?"

"No, thanks," said Ron.

"That's good ... I don't have any," said Harry. "I should've taken you to my other office in town. This is hardly the place for an emotional reunion."

He got to his feet and walked slowly over to the window ... there he stood for a good twenty seconds before he spoke again, rocking backwards and forwards on his heels, his hands clasped tightly together behind his back, like a Lord surveying his estate ... except the estate in this case was a warehouse full of pornography and a car ringing racket.

"Can I tell you something, Ron?" he asked.

"Go ahead," said Ron.

"I didn't think I'd ever talk to any of you guys again," he said. "You'd cut me out ... without a by your leave ..."

"We can be ... quite ... um ... bigoted," said Ron, remembering with a sudden rush of awkwardness what he had said to Jo that night she'd driven him home.

Harry shrugged. "I suspect that was more to do with Lucius Malfoy persuading the school governors that I had raped and corrupted his precious little slut of a son."

"Anyway," said Ron.

"Anyway," said Harry. "Professor McGonagall sent a letter to the Dursleys. Can you imagine how I felt on the train?"

Ron shook his head. "I can't begin to," he said.

"They're bigots, Ron," he said. "They live in Surrey ... they read the Daily Mail ... the two often go hand in hand. The Dursleys are the kind of people who think gay men should be castrated ... they think asylum seekers should be packed off back to whatever war zone they've just fled ... they think William Hague had some nice ideas ... they think Hitler was a good egg. And they believe whole-heartedly in corporal punishment."


"I knew what was going to happen to me," said Harry. "I didn't take that chance. I was meant to travel to the terminus ... King's Cross ... I got off at Finsbury Park. I ran away."

"I'm sorry," said Ron.

"I faked my death ... I suppose," said Harry. "Grew my hair out ... lived rough. Disappeared into London ... actually, it isn't that hard to do. London's a big enough place. If you know your way around it, there's plenty of places to hide. There was a gang of squatters I was with, we lived rough in Hackney for a while. Doing all sorts of stuff ..."


Harry nodded. "Don't get mixed up with that crowd," he said darkly. "It isn't good at all. I still trip from the LSD sometimes," he added. "Mushrooms ... coke. Not crack ... thank God, we didn't have money for crack."

"How did you get money?" asked Ron.

Harry looked down at the floor. "Stole, begged," he said. "Hackney is a rough area. Some of us ... well ... we sold ourselves."


Harry nodded.

"Plenty of custom," he said. "You can make a couple of hundred quid on a good night," he caught Ron's expression. "I know ... I know what you're thinking," he said. "But you get desensitised to it eventually. The violence doesn't matter. You learn to cover it up. You take a beating from a punter if you don't want to let him fuck you ... sometimes you're so desperate you let him fuck you even though you still hurt from the last time. You bear with it. You ignore it. The drugs helped ... of course, it didn't last ..."


Harry shook his head. "A punter accused me of robbing him," he said.


"Well," admitted Harry. "He was right. I nicked four hundred quid out of his wallet, I took his credit cards. I was a criminal ... a wanton little crook, a vandal, and a diseased rent boy ... fucking miracle I didn't catch AIDS."

"I take it he did something to annoy you ..." said Ron.

Harry nodded. "He was a wanker," he said. "He bought me in a doorway near Leicester Square ... that's where we worked ... more trade, if more risky trade. He took me to his flat ... and it was a nice flat. By the Thames, out in Chiswick. He said a hundred quid for the night, and he asked my name ... so I told him, Harry. He said something along the lines of, 'well, Harry dear boy. I have some things to show you.'"

"What kind of things?"

"He was a pervert," said Harry. "He had videos. Children. He only bought me because I didn't exactly look sixteen at the time. I told him he could fuck off ... tried to get out ... and then he just ignored me. He tried to lock me in the flat. I think he was ..." Harry tailed off, and looked at the floor.

Ron bit his lip. "Harry," he began.

"I ran ... I nicked his wallet and I ran. Well ... he called the police ... I got caught. Nobody listens to a little homeless whore, do they? Well, that's one thing I'll say for British justice, you always get a fair trial. I got banged up."

"Harry ... you can stop if you'd like."

"No ... I'd like you to know what your people reduced me to," said Harry bitterly. "Prison was cold turkey for me. It took a good month ... but it worked. I was off the drugs. I ... I enrolled on an intensive study course. Got me a GNVQ. When I got out. I borrowed capital to start up my first club. And," Harry looked down, and appeared to be conducting an intensive study of his hands. "I financed it on the side with a bit of ... well ..."


Harry nodded, and gestured to the warehouse, spread out below them. "It's five years later," he said. "I've made it. Nobody can touch me. I have made myself beyond the law. It's quite amazing, when you think about it ..."

"Don't you sometimes wish ..."

"At first, yes," admitted Harry sullenly. "I did want to be with my friends. But then Draco turned up ... begged me for a job, so I took him on as a runner. I thought that was enough ..."

"It isn't though, is it?" asked Ron.

"No," said Harry. "Draco was a very good partner for me ... business, obviously. He ran some of the dodgier stuff ... kept my nose clean ... got me out of some nasty scrapes ... he's a good lad."

"Want to make a phone call?" asked Ron.

Harry turned back from the window. "Yeah," he said. "Perhaps I should. I'd appreciate it if you ... didn't tell Draco about that ... thing. He doesn't know about it."

"Um," said Ron.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"You have been listening to fuck all, haven't you!" yelled Remus into the phone.

The reply was inaudible to the rest of the team.

"The whole fucking point," said Remus, "was that Harry *knew*. The *whole fucking point* was that it was quite fucking obviously a real fucking sting, any fucker with half a fucking brain can see that. Can't you understand that, you monu-fucking-mentally fuck-faced fucking fuckwit?"

The reply was still inaudible.

"I was not meant to be watching the fucking house. That was *your* job ... but instead you delegate fucking unnecessary operatives to that club! I mean, what the fuck is with you guys?"

Cassie and Avon shifted their feet uncomfortably.

"The fact remains that our team leader is fuck knows where with two armed and dangerous fuckers who will probably kill him if they fucking find out who he is!"

This time, the reply was plainly audible.

"I thought you *wanted* them to realise who he was?"

"One step at a time! One step at a fucking time!" yelled Remus. "Now I have to get onto Chevron again. We have to go back to London. Do you have any idea how fucking cold it is in fucking Brighton?"

"I *am* in Brighton, Mr Lupin."

"Well, that's not the fucking point!" Remus went on.

"Tell me where you are ... I'll send someone to pick you up ..."

"We have a hire car," said Remus. "And we know exactly where we are!"

"Where?" the voice had a hint of challenging menace to it.

"Somewhere in Brighton?"

The voice on the other end of the phoned sighed. "I've got Chevron's latest fix on you. You're in a pub..."

"I needed to fucking know *that*!" snapped Remus. "Look. Get onto London, get Chevron ... find Ron Weasley!"

He hung up the phone, and turned to the others.

"Anybody fancy another drink?"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Draco was just about to relax on the sofa with a glass of wine and a plate of pasta to watch Crossroads, when the phone went off. Sighing, for he had just spent two hours wallowing in a very pleasant bubble bath, and was in no mood for people to ring him, he got up, and answered it.

I hope to God it's just the magazine, calling about one of my articles, he thought to himself, as he picked up the receiver.

"Draco?" Harry's voice. Draco's heart sank.

"What do you want?" he asked, bitterly.

Harry sighed, greatly. The disappointment in his voice was evident, and briefly, Draco felt a pang of sympathy for his erstwhile friend and casual fuck.

"Look," said Harry. "I'm sorry. I said some things. I said some things I didn't mean ... I think ... you should maybe come here."

"You at the office?" asked Draco.

"I'm sending a car round to your flat," said Harry, not bothering to answer the question. "If you don't want to come ... I'll understand."

And fifteen minutes later, Draco found himself being ushered into a waiting car ... one of Harry's anonymous, black, German saloons with the tinted windows. It was parked on a double yellow line outside ... but the look the unibrowed driver was shooting a traffic warden, loitering uncertainly nearby, precluded any possibility of a parking ticket being attached to the windscreen.

"He wants to see you," said the driver. Draco realised with a sinking feeling that the driver was Horace; another one of Harry's homophobic minions. "Don't touch nothing. Don't say nothing. Don't do nothing."

"Breathing okay?" asked Draco.

"Be quiet, pouf," said Horace, pulling away from the kerb.

"Righty-ho," said Draco. He pulled out one of the leaflets from the seat pocket. There was a picture of a burning cross on the front of it.

"I said, don't touch nothing," said Horace.

"Well, can we have some music on?" asked Draco. "Anything except Kiss 100 ... and Radio 2."

"I *like* Radio 2," said Horace.

"Yes ... I rather thought you might," said Draco. He was alarmed to see that they weren't headed towards Harry's office in Knightsbridge, when Horace failed to turn right at Waterloo, and instead carried on heading down the A3 towards Battersea.

Horace stuck the radio on. It was Radio 2. 'Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round the Old Oak Tree' ... to be exact.

"Why are we going west?" asked Draco.

"Harry wants you to meet him at a friend's house," said Horace. "Speak again, and I'll give your address to Combat 18."

Draco didn't speak again until they pulled onto the gravel driveway of a perfectly normal suburban semi in Teddington. The house was half timbered in a crude attempt to make passers by think King Henry VIII had built it. In fact ... it had been built in the 1920s ... and those leaded light windows were actually made of UPVC. A huge Moss Security alarm disfigured the front of the house. There were three cars parked outside. One of them a Saab, one of them Harry's Aston Martin, and one of them a Volkswagen Beetle.

"Who lives here?" asked Draco.

"Fucked if I know," said Horace. "I was told to bring you here. Nothing more. Now I've got to fuck off again. Don't want to hang around here ... too many rich bastards ... sapping this country's strength ... bastard Commies giving all the best jobs to the Zionist horde ..."

"Horace ..."

"Yeah, what?"

"Shut the fuck up."

Pitying Horace for making such unstylish lifestyle choices ... and thinking that he probably needed a good shag to get him right again, Draco hopped out of the car, and watched sadly as it reversed quickly down the driveway.

He was a little alarmed to find that the doorbell played the Hogwarts School song when he rang it.

It was opened a moment or so later by a four year old boy, who, much to Draco's surprise, appeared to be floating a foot or so above the floor.

"Are you Draco?" the boy asked.

"Yes," said Draco.

The boy descended to the floor ... flickered, and then vanished. Draco, alarmed ... stepped backwards, and almost fell off the step.

"Mind out!" said the boot-scraper.

Seconds later, Draco heard the sound of running footsteps, and the boy appeared out of a side room. This time, he was holding a small broomstick. Draco observed that he appeared to be wearing a Chudley Cannons' hat.

"Hello," said the boy.

"Ungh," said Draco.

Someone else emerged from another room. This person was a tall, lean man with a curly thatch of brown hair. He was clad in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, over which he wore an apron with the legend 'My Gay Lover went to San Francisco and all I got was this progressive apron.'

"Hi," he said, in a well educated voice. "You'll excuse me if I don't shake hands. Covered in chilli."

"Fine," said Draco.

Someone else, a shorter guy wearing a grey turtleneck sweater and beige trousers, came into the hallway.

"I was just telling Draco," said the first man, turning to the second and slipping an arm gently around his waist, "that I'm covered in chilli ..."

The other man nodded. "I once chopped some chillies and then touched myself in an unfortunate place. Absolute bloody *agony* ... ruined our Saturday night, right?" he said in an Irish accent.

The first man smiled. "No sex please, we're making a curry!"

Both men laughed. Draco was just beginning to wonder if he'd got the wrong house, when the second, shorter man clapped his hand round Draco's shoulders, and pulled him into the house.

"You been clubbing, Draco?"

"Well ... last night ... yeah," said Draco, bewildered.

"You look very s-e-x-y," said the first man.

"Um ... thanks?"

Draco found himself being led into a large, well appointed kitchen, done up in that fake country cottage style that British suburbanites find so appealing. The worktops were solid looking pine ... there was an old fashioned porcelain sink and the glass-fronted cupboards were full of bright, primary coloured Ikea crockery. A small TV burbled happily to itself on the table, and in the oven, something was roasting.

"Have a seat!"

"Have a drink!"

"Have some nibbles!"

Draco found a glass of Sainsbury's lager being pushed into one hand, and a bowl of twiglets was slid across the table towards him.

Gingerly, he took one. It *tasted* like a twiglet.

"... are today's strongest link. You take away prize money of 500 Galleons. Severus Snape ... you leave, with nothing. Join us again, for the Weakest Link. Goodbye..."

The two men sat down opposite Draco, and regarded him intently. Draco pretended to ignore the TV.

"Um," said Draco.

He took another twiglet.

"How are you?"

"... think I should have won the Weakest Link. Everyone at work will be unbearable!"

Crunch, crunch, swallow.

"Fine, actually," said Draco. "Just a bit confused."

"... watching MBTV ... Britain's premiere wizarding band TV network. Later this evening, be sure to tune in for 'Who Wants To Be A Galleonaire?' and in the last in the current series of 'Pals,' we'll find out if Ross and Rachel finally manage to transfigure the annoying blonde one into a small slug, and at 10.30, it's Match of the Day, bringing you highlights of Portree versus Ballycastle ..."

"Oh ... I'm Seamus and this is Justin," said the Irish one. "You might remember us?"

Draco could barely speak. "Um ... I mean ... I thought, Ron and Harry?"

"They're in the sitting room," said Justin. "They asked not to be disturbed. I think it might be quite an emotional time for them ..."

"This your house?" was Draco's next question ... and he had no idea what made him ask it.

"Ours!" spluttered Seamus. "No way! We share a flat up in town ..."

"The life of a suburbanite is not for us, Draco," said Justin. "No ... this is Ron's pad.

"Then what are you guys doing here?" asked Draco, whose head was still reeling from what it was being forced to take in.

"We're on a play date," said Justin. "Our little ones ... Tamsin and Amber. They're upstairs with Cameron, Ron's sprog ..."

"But if ..."

"We used a surrogate mother," said Justin, grinning. "Totally ethically unsound, of course ... but the kids are beautiful."

A second door into the kitchen opened, and Ron and Harry stepped in through it. Ron had changed out of the ill-fitting jeans he'd been wearing earlier, and now looked much more like the Ron Draco remembered, dressed in emerald green robes. Harry looked just the same, of course ... except his hair was all dishevelled ... his face betraying intense emotion through glazed eyes.

"Harry?" asked Draco, looking up.

"M'sorry," was all Harry seemed able to say.

Draco set down his glass on the tabletop, pushed his chair back and stood up.

"You mind?"

Harry shook his head tentatively. Next thing Draco knew, he had enveloped his friend in a hug.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," Harry repeated. He squirmed free of Draco's hands, and took a step backwards. Draco looked from Ron to Harry, and then back to Ron again.

Ron shuffled his feet nervously and looked at the kitchen floor.

"I think there's something you two need to say to each other," Seamus prompted.

Ron scowled at Seamus. Reluctantly, Draco stuck out his hand.

"Shake then," he said.

Ron looked up ... that scowl was still fixed on his face. Slowly, he reached out, and clasped Draco's hand.

Draco smirked. "Considering I gave you a blowjob last night ... you'd think we'd be talking quite amicably, really ..."

Seamus and Justin both looked at Ron with new awe. "Ronnie? Is there something you're not telling us?"

"I fancied Draco something rotten at Hogwarts!" fumed Justin. "You lucky bastard!"

Ron, to his credit, smiled back. "Just don't expect to collect from me," he said.

"I'll settle for that," said Draco. "Besides ... that isn't how these things work at all. And by the way, Weasley ... if I had known it was you ... I probably wouldn't have swallowed quite so readily."

Harry and Ron blushed to the roots of their hair.

What was on the verge of becoming quite a spiritual moment was interrupted ... suddenly and quite harshly, by the ringing of the doorbell.

Ron raised his eyebrows ... clearly he had not been expecting any visitors. He raised his wand in the air, and intoned some spell that neither Harry nor Draco were familiar with. Instantly, a swirling mist formed in front of him ... arranging itself into a representation of a young woman, standing on the doorstep and hugging herself in the cold evening air.

"Crap ... it's Hermione," said Ron. He turned to Draco and Harry. "I think you'd better hide," he said. "This could get heated."

Draco snorted. "Where?" he asked.

"Hall cupboard," said Ron.

Draco found himself and Harry being ushered through into Ron's spacious hall. The doorbell rang again. Hermione was getting impatient.

"In here ... quick!"

The cupboard had a sliding door, and although it appeared small, was actually very large inside, if you tried to ignore all the shoes and slippers you were treading on. Ron made sure they were both safely in ... and then slid the door shut.

A second later, the tiny space was filled with light, as Harry flicked on a cigarette lighter. Hanging from rails were a vast assortment of robes, some of them expensive, dress robes, some of them plain black ... and one set which looked like some kind of military uniform.

"Do you think he has some kind of fetish?" asked Draco.

"Shh," said Harry. He could hear Ron talking to Hermione on the doorstep. The exchange didn't sound too heated.

"We could get off whilst we're in here," said Draco, hopefully.

The door closed.

"Let me take your coat," Ron was saying. "Come through into the kitchen."

Harry heard footsteps outside, and a moment later, the door was edged open, and a coat thrown at them.

"Hang that up!" hissed Ron.

"That was quick," Harry heard Hermione say from the kitchen.

"I have a new house elf," said Ron, covering up ... lying again. Harry, who had of course been filled in on all the details of Ron's life up to that point, wondered vaguely if that was why they had gotten a divorce.

"Justin, Seamus," Hermione was saying. "How's the love life?"

"Constant," replied Seamus.

"He goes all night like a pile driver," said Justin. "I call him Seamus the Tank Engine."

"Can I get drinks?" asked Ron. "Shall we go through into the front room. Hermi ... you want to tell me what's been happening ..."

Hermione launched into her story, " ... when I phoned earlier and it wasn't you who answered. That made me so mad. But Ron, I'm scared of what your family might think ..."

There was a brief popping sound as Ron uncorked a bottle of wine.

"... must admit it was stupid," said Ron. "Shagging my brother in my sister's flat. You expected blessings, perhaps?"

"Ron, this wine is foul," Seamus cut in.

"Oh, shut up," said Hermione. "It has alcohol in it, what more do you want? Shall we go through?"

"Come on then," said Ron.

"Whose is the beer?" asked Hermione.

"Um ... mine," said Ron, quickly ... covering again.

Footsteps moved swiftly past the cupboard again. Harry felt a hand slowly unzipping his trousers.

"... might have been ... it was just a fling," Hermione was saying.

"And you have to admit ... Charlie is very sexy," said Seamus.

Draco kissed Harry lightly along the line of his cheek, all the while his deft fingers going to work on the buttons of his shirt.

"Come on," he whispered. "It sounds like we'll be here a long time ... you might as well enjoy it ..."

Harry sighed.

"That's not my point," Ron was saying. "Oh, Lord ... Hermione, this puts us all in a very tricky situation."

Draco released Harry momentarily, and pulled his own T-shirt over his head. Then, in the dim light, he ran his hands down his flanks, and began to undo the leather trousers, letting them fall to the floor. Then Draco stepped forwards again ... and was just about to take Harry in his arms, when Harry noticed that they had gone very quiet outside.

"Hush ... hold it a minute," he whispered.

Draco did.

"What are you doing to me?"

"You said hold it," whispered Draco. "So I am ..."

"Right," said Harry. "A little less tightly, if you please. Good ... carry on."

"Fuck ... who do we know who drives a Jeep Wrangler?" asked Ron.

"Why?" asked Seamus.

"Because Ginny is just getting out of one outside," said Ron. "Hermione ... you'll have to hide. I'll put her off ..."

There was the sound of people moving hurriedly around outside. Draco slipped his arms around Harry's abdomen, and began to work his way down his chest, planting little kisses as he went. Harry moaned, arching his back ... relishing the sensation as Draco continued his journey southwards ...

The cupboard door was flung hurriedly open, and before either of them could work out what was going on, someone else had been shoved inside, knocking Draco forwards, and causing Harry to scream in pain.

"Fuck!" yelled Harry. "I think you've bitten it off!"

Hermione let out a frightened whimper.

"It's all right," Draco said ... " it feels fine."

"How can it be fine?" wailed Harry. "It's gone numb!"

"Ron ..." Hermione whimpered. "Ron ... there's two guys naked in your cupboard."

Draco turned to face her. Tears were pouring down Harry's face now.

"Seriously ... it isn't what it looks like," he said. "We're plumbers."

"Oh, shut the fuck up!" wailed Harry. "I'll never be the same again! I'm 23 and I'm a fucking castrato!"

"Oh my God," whimpered Hermione. It was, thankfully, far too dark for her to see what was going on.

"Thought there was going to be some kind of double dealing going on!" the voice of another woman ... presumably Ginny's. "I saw Hermione's car parked outside. Honestly, Ron! What the fuck did you let that bitch queen from hell into our house for?"

"I didn't ..." Ron's earnest voice.

"He always was shit at lying," said Hermione, to nobody in particular.

Draco remonstrated with Harry. "You are not a castrato. You are fine. Look ... feel that."

Harry sniffed. "Oh," a faint exclamation of surprise.

And with that, Ginny flung the cupboard door open.


Author notes: Sorry for taking so long with this part. The extra special good news is that Part 7 is well on the way to completion ... and Part 8 will be the final bit. So, coming up in the next part of Snitch! ... more Weasleys ... everyone has a go at Ron ... Ginny has a go at everyone ... Draco has a go with Harry ... and Remus gets the wrong end of the stick.

A million thanks go out to everybody who reviewed the last part. The list now runs to around a hundred ... so ... um ... here goes ... in alphabetical order too (wow)

Hugs and schnoogles to ...

Alan (do I detect this is the first slash story you've read ... your review sounds like it is?), alyssa g, Amber, Amy&Sheila, AngieJ, Anne, another rowan, AVK.

Banance, Barb LP, Bec, Becks, Belladonna Fait, Black Goddess, Brady.

C.A., Cali, Chitas no Miko, Chloe, Coqui, Crazy Slash Luv'n Chick, Crookshanks.

dagan, darkangel, delentye, Dr Branford, Dreamer.

elel88, Ema Lee, Emerald Rose, Erica, ex-LongLongHair (you had Bananaman in Oz? ... How weird!).

firebolt 7, FringeElement.

Gryffindor, Gwendolyn Grace (thanks for the con crit).

heidi tandy, Hermione Malfoy, Hillary Bean.

IckleRonniekins (I thought *I* was the only person who remembered Bananaman), Insane Kat.

jen, julian, Julianna Priest, Juniper, Just Silver.

Karina, karina305, Kathleen, Keieru, killaria, King Zoe, Kissaki, Kitten0013, kuzco.

Lady Malfoy, Lady Neptune, Lana Mavi, Leah, Lizyrd, Lizzy/Tygrestick, Luckfire.

Melpomene, Meriadoc, mima_w, Mina Jade, Mina, minx, Mirage, Moondragon, morgead, Moriel, Morsus, Myst, Mystery Girl.

Nayia_Potter, Nimo-chan, Nora, nortylaK, nosilla.


pantalaimon (to who I bow my head in shame ... Gordon the Gopher was indeed with Philip Schofield), Phyllia, Pilot 02, princess_katrina, Prongs, purpleatheist.

rave (she of the red bomber jacket), ReGina, Rhysara, Rhysenn, rinoastar, Rubicon.

Saitaina, Samantha K, Sarah Jane, sea, Serafina, Sheryll, siara, Sierra, Silverfox, Sivi, Soltian, Starling, strange charm, Sweetfires, Sylph (Gangster's Paradise was in our chart over here for, like, four months ... I definitely remember it).

Tanasia, Tani, Tazy Silverpen, Tessie, Truth.


water-nymph, wingedkeys, Wyn, Wynster McG (Right Said Fred were an early 90's British pop group ... 'I'm Too Sexy' is one of theirs).


Apologies to everyone who reviewed after this chapter went to beta! Thanks to you guys as well!