WARNING: Rated M for a reason. Sexual scenes and implied drug use. Muggle!AU

Written for Anka7995's British Slang Prompt Challenge. My words were 'tea leaf' (thief), 'phut' (expired) & 'spongle' (high on drugs)

Written for Gamma Orionis' Original Character Boot Camp using the prompt 'evening'


These Nights

Sweat, tears and cries of passion was all that could be heard in the old hotel room that evening. Hands clawed at the dusty sheets as the intensity of the pleasure increased. Their cries became louder and louder, echoing all the way to the bottom floor through the open window. He bit down hard on her neck, pounding into her as fast as he could. Each thrust brought them nearer to the brink and her nails dug into his back until finally, they were both tipped over the edge. They both cried out as the feeling coursed through their body, reaching them from their head to their toes, pleasuring them to the core. His mouth explored the nape of her neck while her hands trailed further down his body, giving his bare arse a teasing squeeze. Her hips bucked, wanting all of him, and he groaned as he came, filling her with all of his passion and desire.

With a sweaty torso, and eyes filled with passion, they pulled apart, breathing heavily in the slowly disappearing light. A cool breeze was coming through the window now, and cars were beginning to turn on their headlights as the drivers headed home from work. In the small suburb just outside London, the Friday evening had well and truly sunk in, the majority of its people unaware as to what had occurred just hours earlier.

While the couple lay together under the covers of the old bed, just streets away, a shop owner and his family stood within the remnants of a jewellery shop. His family had owned it for one hundred and fifty years, selling engagement rings, wedding rings, and expensive necklaces to those who could afford it. All that was left now were a few items of worthless jewellery he would have just about given away.

"It's okay, dear," his wife said, a hand on his back in a gesture of comfort. "We can thank God it wasn't your life."

It did nothing to comfort the poor man, though, who had put so much of his life into that one little shop. It had been his family's living. Without it, he was worried they would have to sell their house to cover the destruction.

Back in the hotel room, the couple who'd distracted the other guests with their cries of passion were now counting their winnings as if it were money. They'd managed everything apart from a few objects. Diamond rings, ruby necklaces, gold wedding bands – they'd taken it all. And it had been so easy, too. The terrified old man had handed it to them in a bag. Please don't kill me, he'd begged. Like they would kill him. They weren't murderers. Just thieves.

"We'll take this first thing tomorrow," the young man said, stashing the collection back into the bag. The woman was helping him when a knock came at the door. They both froze, silent, the man reaching for his gun.

"Excuse me! Mr and Mrs Potter? Are you in there?"

No sound came – the couple remained deathly silent.

"Mr Potter? Sir, are you in there?"

When still no answer came, the knob on the door turned, and with a click, two people entered their room. Still stark naked, the young man leapt from the bed, using the butt of his gun to knock the first intruder unconscious. When the second saw the danger that she was in, she made to run, but he couldn't allow her to run away and tell. He grabbed her around the waist, dragging her into the room before her scream could attract too much attention, and knocked her out also.

The woman was also off the bed now, and also completely naked. They stared at the two hotel workers, deciding what to do with them.

"We can no longer stay here," the man said. "We leave right now."

"But… James…."

James shook his head. "No, we have no choice. We will find somewhere else to stay the night – another hotel. We can't risk it, baby."

The woman nodded, and she retrieved her clothes from the floor.

"Fifteen minutes," James told her. "Then we're out of here."

There would be people coming in search of their two missing colleagues soon, and when that time came, they would be gone, along with their bag of jewels.

Out in the streets, it was practically dark now, and few cars remained – all probably home safe and sound in front of the fire. The man, James, and his wife hurried along in the darkness, slipping down alleys and turning corners where they could. Few people looked their way, and those that did, quickly turned their cheek when they saw.

"In here," James whispered, pushing the door open to a dingy-looking pub at the end of one alley. His wife slipped through the door, and when she was safely inside, he followed.

The pub was very small, with only five tables to occupy the whole room. An old man stood behind the bar wiping glasses with a dusty cloth. He watched them warily upon their entrance, but soon lost interest. He was used to odd people in his pub. It was a common occurrence.

The only other occupant in the room was a figure in the farthest corner. His head was down and his eyes staring into the empty beer glass in front of him. It was to him that James headed to.

"Sir," he said gruffly, and when the old man didn't look up, he glanced nervously to his wife. "Sir."

"You have the stuff?" the man asked, still refusing to look up.

James nodded. "All of it." He grabbed onto his wife and brought her forward, indicating for her to unzip the thick coat she was wearing on such a mild night. The woman did so, and she carefully placed the bag of jewels on the table in front of him. The bar owner didn't even look their way.

"Well done."

James stood there for a moment longer, waiting for more, and when it didn't come, he shifted uncomfortably. "Sir… our reward?"

And for the first time that night, the man looked up. He had a grey stubble on his chin and a long, thin nose to go with it. If one saw him in the street, they would not give him a second glance – he blended so well.

"Ah." And with a thin smile, he dug into a pocket and extracted some notes. "That should get you what you need, should it not?"

James nodded, thanking the man again, and then he was gone – he and his wife heading back through the dark streets of the suburb, back to their car, back to find a place to sleep for the night.

They found a place in an even smaller, an even uglier, and an even cheaper hotel. The room was barely larger than a shoebox, but it would do them until the morning, when they would return to their true home. The police would be on the lookout, and they needed to stay sheltered. Such a small place was not accustomed to so much crime.

"Rest up, baby," James said as his wife undressed to get into bed. "Tomorrow, we'll be okay again."

She nodded, smiling at him. "We always are," she said. And she rolled over to go to sleep.

Sirens ran through the streets, and the locals stayed hidden. They weren't used to so many things happening at once. But it gave the couple a chance to escape. They paid the fare of the hotel, and they left. London was where they needed to be. London would be where they were unnoticed.

The streets were not as busy as they'd hoped, however. A Saturday morning was when the people slept. They were visible there save the odd passer-by. They needed to move quickly.

"Down here, my dear," James said, and he grabbed his wife's hand to take her down a small street that was empty apart from them.

"James, are you sure?"

"Yes, darling. Yes. We're fine." They hurried along until a figure greeted to them. He was similar to the man the night before, but they were different. This figure had a mean look to him. Cruel. One who had spent a life filled with crime and prison.

"Well, well," he sneered. "It's my two favourite little tea leaves."

Without a word, James passed over the paper notes. "You know what we want," he said, and the man nodded, accepting the offer.

"This way."

The place he led them was filled with life. Men and women of all ages were cramped together in the small place, hidden from those who shouldn't find them. There was a man slumped against the wall with a bottle of cheap beer in his hand, but it was obvious that it wasn't the beer that had put him in that state.

"We're home, Jasmine," James said, and his hand trailed down her back, drawing her close to him. His tongue forced its way into her mouth and she responded with an enthusiasm they'd been missing for some days now.

"Get the stuff," she murmured.

He nodded, agreeing, and he turned back to the man who had led them here in the first place. "You got it?" he questioned.

"Of course." The man indicated for them to follow him again, and they obliged, eager.

It wasn't much, but it was enough to satisfy them for the night. And what a glorious night it was. Filled with substances of all kinds, passion and love, the two of them were finally home, their activity from the night before long forgotten.

Hands cupped Jasmine's face, and James pressed kisses down her neck. Slowly. Gently. Her eyes closed as she revelled in the feeling of the drugs coursing through her body, the man she loved right beside her and the joy of not having to spend a night – once again – in a prison cell. The places she and her husband had robbed, the places they had stolen from, to get the money they needed for their lifestyle, she could no longer count on two hands. The many identities they'd had, and the places they had been were beyond her memory. But as she lay there beside him, his body against hers, it was never something she regretted. It was never something she wished would end.

This life had chosen them, and it was nights like these, they was thankful for that.


I'm not sure of my thoughts on this. It was very much out of my comfort zone. And really, it had little to do with Harry Potter except one character, but it was what the prompts inspired. I was supposed to use the actual words in the fic, too, but failed with that. I managed one, and implied the other two. But I just couldn't get it to work. Anyway, if you read this, I hope you enjoyed it :)