Title: When Harry Met Draco

Chapter 1: The Worst First Date Ever

Disclaimer: Obviously I own nothing.

Other note: Any teasing in this story is purely fun. I'm not trying to offend anyone! And please stick with me 'til the end!

Harry Potter was bored. Extremely, excruciatingly bored. The braid-your-eyebrows kind of bored. And he was nauseated.

No man, straight or gay, should have to suffer through this, he muttered to himself, cringing at yet another glass-shattering shriek being emitted from behind the dressing room door.

When the door was swung open violently and hit the wall inches away from his face, he jumped and glared at the ginger-haired woman before him.

"Isn't this dress absolutely gorgeous, Harry?"Ginny Weasley squealed, twirling maniacally in front of him, trying to model, but looking like some kind of deranged ballerina.

He groaned. This was about the millionth item he had been subjected to, and frankly, he would rather her parade around naked than have to give his opinion on yet another article of clothing.

He didn't say this of course, but stuck with the same noncommittal response he had given every other dress, shirt, skirt, and yes, bra and panty set, that he had been shown throughout their shopping expedition. Sometimes it sucked playing for the other team.

"Mm-hmm," he answered, sighing and wondering what kind of idiotic logic would give women the idea that a man, who liked men and men's clothes, would know what the hell kind of heels to wear with garters and a boustiere or what kind of thong to wear or any other fashion crisis that women so frequently annoyed him with.

"Do you really think so?" she nagged, smoothing out the crimson fabric.

"Sure...it matches your..." Harry searched his mind for some bogus comparison, but only could come up with... "freckles."

Ginny was particularly sensitive about her freckles. Perhaps a bit too sensitive. She burst into tears and rushed into the dressing room, and Harry could hear her whispering fiercely to her shopping buddy and best friend, Hermione Granger, and could see the dress being ripped off and flung into the dressing room next to theirs.

He was going to get it now.

Harry's skull was nearly crushed again when the door was flung open, this time by a pissed Hermione Granger who stomped in front of him, wearing only her knickers and an old t-shirt.

"How could you say such thing to her? You know how sensitive she is about her freckles! And it's her time of the month besides..."

Harry crinkled his nose. That was just too much information.

"Listen Hermione, we've been here for three hours! You've tried on nearly half the store! I'm running out of things to say, and my arse has fallen asleep so many times it is in a comatose state. I don't think I'll be able to enjoy sex for at least a month!"

"Well you don't have to get so snippy. You're the one who wanted to come with us, if I may remind you."

"The only other choice I had was to stay at The Burrow and watch naked mud wrestling with Dean and Ron! God knows what goes on in that house while that's on the telly. The last time they watched it I found some rather disturbing stains on the couch when I returned to The Burrow that night."

Hermione put her hands on her hips. "Well, you could try something on yourself you know. You've needed a new wardrobe since you left the nudeness of your mother's womb behind."

"I like my clothes, thanks very much. They're comfortable, and friendly."

"It's pretty pathetic if the only things that are friendly enough to cling to your arse are a pair of pants."

"Hey! For you information, I'm just not interested in attracting anyone right now. They're are people who would cling to my arse if I really wanted them to!" he argued childishly, suddenly feeling self-conscious about his clothes and his lack of boyfriend.

"Suit yourself, but Ginny still hasn't found a dress to wear to the after-party of the after-party of her wedding gala, so you still have awhile yet. I would suggest finding something to amuse yourself with until it's time to leave. We don't want to have to carry your arse home on a stretcher."

With that, she marched back into the dressing room and banged the door shut.

Find something to amuse yourself with, ha, he said under his breath, the only two things he could think of being to have sex or shoot himself in the head, and neither of those were appropriate in a store with young children running around. He leaned back against the wall, banging his head a few times, wishing that he had stayed for the mud wrestling. Stains on the couch seemed like heaven compared to this.

Draco Malfoy was having an equally horrific time in an upscale shoe store a few blocks away. He loved his friend Pansy Parkinson like a sister, but at times such as these, he wanted to wrap his hands around her throat and strangle her until she fell limply to the ground.

While he was smiling to himself over this secret fantasy, (and earning himself frightened looks from the other store patrons) he winced as Pansy kicked him in the shin.

"Must you do that to get my attention? I'll be black-and-blue by the morning," he said as he rubbed his sore leg.

"Well if you wouldn't keep drifting off, I wouldn't have to," she replied in a haughty tone. "What are you thinking about anyway?"

"Oh, nothing," he answered, seeing a ladder a few feet away and wondering if it would be possible to hang her from it with his shoelaces.

"What do you think of these to go with the dress I bought the other day? You know, the black one?" she asked, sticking her foot in front of his face to show him a shoe that looked identical to the ones she had just showed him.

"You mean the short, skimpy black dress that looks like it was made out of tissue paper? Cheap tissue paper?"

"It's a Versace, I'll have you know, and it cost me a small fortune," she growled as she took of her shoes in a very unladylike manner.

"Ah, Donatella. I know her well. She used to come to the manor in the summer for about a week or so...she's a very good friend of my mother. She used to bring a whole rack of dresses for the fall season, and she used to let Mama try them on before anyone else. And when they were gone, I would sneak in and take them and try them on with Mama's shoes and..." he stopped, realizing Pansy was looking at him with a very horrified expression.

He blushed and cleared his throat. "Well, they were very pretty, and I..."

"Riiiiiight," Pansy said, who looked like she was thinking about chucking him in the loony bin.

Draco sat back in his chair with a huff and crossed his arms in front of his chest. It wasn't his fault he had had a childhood fetish for women's clothing. Good thing that's over now, he thought, absent-mindedly squirming in the chair. Lace underpants were most uncomfortable sometimes. Well, almost over.

When Pansy had finally chosen a suitable pair of shoes that covered more of her than the actual dress, they continued walking down the posh London street, window-shopping, and in Draco's case, lugging Pansy's many purchases of the day. Why didn't I think to have the limo waiting for us he whined to himself. The driver wasn't available. Couldn't his wife give birth in the front seat, or something?

When they passed a nail salon, Pansy squealed.

"Oh, I've needed my nails done for forever Draco. Come on, let's go in."

If there was one thing Draco hated more than shoe shopping, it was manicures. There was a universal smell that nail salons had, with the polish and other chemicals floating in the air that made his stomach turn. Besides the fact that he was a man in a nail salon. Occasionally he would find a miserable husband that had been dragged along sitting dejectedly on a bench in the front of the salon, but when he sat down and tried to smile sympathetically, they usually looked at him funny and moved away from him.

Am I that flaming that even my sympathetic smiles make straight guys flee from me?

But there was no other man there today when he followed Pansy into the salon, and he didn't know if that was a good or bad thing. The smell that nauseated him so and which seemed to follow him for days after was still there, and wondered how Pansy managed to rope him into these outings.

Maybe you'll meet somebody Draco. Today is the day you'll find him.

If you came with me, maybe you'll find a cute shoe-salesman to date. They're usually gay, right?

He sighed. He had resigned himself to his single fate a month ago, saying that if he would ever sink to the level of desperateness to actually date a lowly shoe salesman, who smelled like leather and socks and had a strange fondness for foot massages, he just wouldn't date it all. And looking back at the past few months, devoid of any kind of romantic or sexual pleasure, he had certainly not failed himself on his promise. But even after this, Pansy's words still gave him foolish, false hope, and he cursed himself again for falling for them as he watched an Asian woman scrape some pretty nasty looking stuff off some lady's feet while giving a pedicure.

And men are supposed to be the disgusting, unclean ones? I think those foot scrapings could give an unshaved face a run for its money any day.

While Pansy enjoyed ordering the poor little girl who was giving her a pedicure around and watching her kneel before her like she was some kind of royalty, Draco was awoken out of a daydream by the sound of a door opening, and the obnoxious girly giggles that followed it. He glanced over at the door, only seeing a pretty redhead and a bushy-haired brunette shuffle through. But when he glanced back, his inactive libido slowly sprang to life when he saw the male confection following the girls.

He was positively delicious. His tall, muscled physique was no secret. His snug t-shirt and jeans left very little to the imagination. Which Draco liked, because unless it came to ways he could kill Pansy, he had little imagination. This is what told Draco immediately that this guy was on his side of the fence, and could allow him to peruse the man further. He had the most arrestingly charming green eyes, sparkling behind a pair of square, black-framed glasses that Draco had to admit were pretty sexy in their own right. His full lips were pouting, probably because it seemed to Draco he was in a similar predicament...he was a shopping hostage.

Draco was really taken by the man's hair, which was the darkest black he had ever seen. It was long and thick, and pulled back into a ponytail.

In other words, Draco thought this guy was pretty damn hot, and from the looks of it, as gay as Draco's David Beckham photo collage.

Draco scooted over on his bench, hoping the man would sit down. He was not disappointed. The man flopped down on the bench and checked his watch, trying to summon some magical power to make time go faster. He, however, was disappointed in that respect.

When the man finally noticed Draco sitting next to him, he turned and acknowledged Draco, his eyes sweeping over him with a practiced touch. Draco decided that he would employ his no-fail sexuality test, because really, he would shag any man in tight pants at this moment.

Draco smiled his sympathetic smile, and to his huge pleasure, it was returned. In fact it was such a sweet smile that Draco found himself with a little bit more imagination than he was used to.

"So, you got dragged along on a shopping spree, as well?" the man asked, noticing the many parcels Draco was holding.

"Unfortunately yes," Draco answered. "Shoes, dresses, makeup, the whole damn thing."

"Then I'm not the only one who's conned into these things," the man replied.

"It appears not. Every time I promise myself I'll stay strong, but the idea of a woman getting her toenails clipped is just too alluring."

The man laughed understandingly and held out his hand.

"I guess we're of the same mind then. I'm Harry."

Draco hesitantly took his hand and shook it. "Draco."

When Draco let go of Harry's hand, he discreetly moved closer to Harry on the bench. But when he tried to smile flirtatiously, his stomach grumbled in the most unattractive way. He cursed Pansy for not letting him eat something this morning, and looked back at Harry, hoping he hadn't noticed.

He had however, and was giving Draco a goofy smile that was the most wonderful thing Draco had seen all day.

"Sounds like you need a bit of nourishment," Harry observed.

"I suppose so," Draco answered, trying to look anywhere but into Harry's eyes.

Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw Harry hesitate for a minute before saying,

"I saw an American-style diner down the street, and I've had a craving for a hamburger for the longest time. Would you like to come with me for a bite to eat?"

Harry's invitation was rushed and feeble, so Draco figured it had been awhile since Harry had picked anyone up.

Before he could accept the invitation, (even if it was to a DINER) his stomach growled again, even louder than before.

"I guess that's your answer," Draco replied, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Great. I'll just tell my friends and we can go," Harry said, getting up and walking over to two pedicure chairs his friends had sat it.

While Harry was letting them know what was going on, Pansy had begun to look curiously over in Harry's direction, her eyes showing definite approval in his appearance. When Harry pointed to Draco, all three girls looked over at the lone man on the couch, who was giving them all one of his dazzling smiles. Pansy, used to his charms, merely smirked and seemed delighted that Draco had managed to snare a man in a nail salon, and mouthed, "I told you so." However, Hermione and Ginny nearly swooned in their pedicure chairs, giving Draco a boost of arrogant confidence that he hadn't felt in a long while. When Harry returned, Draco stood, waved slightly to Pansy, and left with Harry for the diner.

As they were walking down the street, Harry couldn't remember a time when he felt more relieved to be outside. He had endured a shoe store and a trip to the florist, all wedding preparations, after the clothing store, and was ready for some male accompaniment. By the looks of it, Draco felt the same way.

Harry used this opportunity to steal a glance at Draco. He really was quite a handsome man. He was a few inches shorter than Harry, probably about 5'10" or so, and had shortly-cropped blonde hair that Harry recognized on a model from the front of a fashion magazine he had seen in a clothing store earlier today. He had pale, creamy skin, the most unusual gray eyes, and a perfectly sculpted nose that seemed to have come from an old Grecian statue.

Draco was a bit skinny for Harry's tastes, but seeing as how his only dates thus far had been Brad Pitt in Thelma & Louise and the body part at the end of his arm, he figured that he should just take what he could get. And Draco was certainly a fine enough taking to amuse himself with.

Sooner than Harry would have liked they arrived at the diner with the name of "Sally's Come and Go". Harry figured that the name was derived from the drive-through portion of the restaurant, but he couldn't help letting out a slight giggle as he read the sign.

It was decorated like a normal retro 50's diner, with chrome and red leather and a counter with stools. There were Elvis records and all other sorts of memorabilia on the wall, and the smell of hamburgers wafted from behind the kitchen door.

The stood inside the door for a moment, not sure whether to just sit or to wait for a waitress.

Their dilemma was quickly solved when a woman roller-skated up to them in a skimpy pink outfit.

"Hello, and welcome to Sally's Come and Go! Where would you handsome boys like to sit today?" the perky blonde asked, winking at them in a way that made women seem less attractive to Harry and Draco, if that was even possible.

"Uh...inside?" Draco replied, not seeing any other place to eat a meal.

"Good! And would you like to sit at a booth or a table?" she asked again, still as perky as ever.

"A booth?" Harry replied, thinking of his sore arse.

"In the front or back of the restaurant?" she asked again, her eyes twinkling less bright than they had before.

"The front?" Draco answered, wondering why the lady wouldn't just seat them somewhere already.

"On the right or left side of the restaurant?"

"The right, whatever, can we just be seated? Does it really matter?" Draco huffed.

"Well, there's no need to use that tone. We here at Sally's Come and Go like to make our guests feel as comfortable as possible," the blonde said stiffly, looking at them with a hint of menace.

Harry, who had had enough of hormonal women for one day, simply said, "Look lady, we have had the piss taken out of us a hundred times over today, and really would just like to sit and eat somewhere, whether that be in a booth or in the loo. Would you kindly give us two menus and seat us somewhere?"

The lady grabbed two menus and skated violently over to a booth in the front of the right side of the restaurant and threw them on the table. "I'll be back to take your order soon," she said through gritted teeth, skating back behind the counter.

Harry sat on one side of the booth and Draco the other.

"Has everyone gone mental these days?" Draco whispered across the table.

"Well, I've certainly never had such a thorough waitress."

"Well, she seemed a bit odd to me...did you feel it?" Draco asked, looking back at the waitress curiously.

"The look in her eyes was kind of odd...but maybe she was just having a bad day."

"You're probably right," Draco said, leaving those thoughts behind and striking up a new conversation with Harry.

Being seated where they were, they didn't see that very same waitress whispering frantically into a mouthpiece in a corner of the kitchen.

The waitress returned about ten minutes later and took their drink orders, a fake smile once again plastered on.

"Want to share a bottle of wine with me?" Draco asked.

"Wine? In a diner?" Harry said, thinking the waitress wasn't the only who had gone mental.

"Well, you know what they say, cheap wine makes you drunk faster!"

"Umm...sure," Harry said, thinking that a little alcohol could do just the trick right now.

"What kind of wine do you offer?" Draco asked, making the woman jump. Harry had noticed her staring out the window through their whole conversation, and was beginning to agree with Draco on her level of sanity.

"Wine did you say? We actually distill all of our wine right here at the diner!" the blonde said, still stealing looks out the window.

"At a diner?" Harry said, slightly bewildered.

"Perfect!" Draco said, throwing down his menu. "Distilling our own wine" usually meant mixing some kind of potent alcohol with white grape juice, and seemed a good choice if they were going to have to deal with this same waitress the whole meal.

"I'll be right back," the waitress said, roller-skating behind the counter.

When she moved, Harry and Draco could see some of the other patrons staring at them.

"What's with the people at this place? It's starting to give me the willies," Harry said, scooting further into the booth.

"I don't know," Draco replied, "-but something is not right."

"So, where do you li-" Harry was cut off by the sound of the door being flung open and about 15 members of the London Police filing through the door and to their table, guns drawn. Looking out the window, Harry and Draco could see more officers outside guarding the entrances to the diner. The other patrons looked at them with horror.

Paralyzed with fear, they struggled to do as they were told by a burly police officer in the front, and put their hands over their head and knelt on the floor in front of their table.

Soon, their waitress skated in front of them with a gun drawn as well, and a shiny badge pinned onto the front of her outfit.

"You two are under arrest for illegal prostitution, the selling of narcotics, and the smuggling of exotic fruit," she said in a cool, authoritative voice. "I am undercover agent Sirius Black, and will be escorting you to the police station for questioning, and I'm sure, a quick trial that's your ticket to the grimiest jail in England."

As Draco cried, "What!", Harry realized "Sally's Come and Go" was a lot more than a diner.

"We have done no such things!" Draco yelled, looking back and forth between Harry and Sirius.

"Right, and I'm wanted for murder," Agent Black said sarcastically, earning titters of laughter from the police behind her.

"We've been on your trail for about six months. You sat in the right booth, ordered wine of all things, and match the descriptions of our perps exactly. Blonde hair, grey eyes, black hair, green eyes, it all fits."

"But why would I, Draco Malfoy, be a pimp or a drug smuggler? I have enough money as it is!" he argued arrogantly.

"Aha! You're a Malfoy are you? Our source said that a Malfoy was behind this scheme." She looked at Harry. "And I take it you're the Snape I was told about?"

"No! I'm Harry Potter!" he said angrily.

"Then what is the meaning of that tattoo on your lower back?" she smirked.

Sure enough, when Harry's pants fell a it off his skinny hips, a tattoo with the word SNAPE encircled with a heart could be seen. Harry winced.

"Well, I was in a very meaningful relationship a long time ago, and-"

"Yeah, yeah, save it for the judge," Agent Black said as she kicked the two men to stand up and handcuffed them.

"But can't you tell? We're both flaming homosexuals!" Draco screamed. "Why would we peddle breasts?"

"You don't need to like 'em to sell 'em," Black said. "How do you think I sold "Blair and Bush in 2004" bumper stickers for my sister awhile back?"

"C'mon, we want to let these other law-abiding citizens enjoy the rest of their meal in peace. C'mon, move it," a very huge man named Officer Goyle grunted as he roughly pushed Harry and Draco outside. Harry nearly rolled his eyes- he was skeptical to how many "law-abiding" citizens would be in a brothel, if even a hidden one.

They could hear Agent Black saying, "We got 'em," into her mouthpiece, and could see her roller-skate out to a patrol car that had sirens blaring and lights flashing. As onlookers gathered in front of the diner to sneak a peak at the commotion, Harry and Draco knew that they had never felt more wronged or humiliated in their whole life.

As they were shoved inside a patrol car, Draco whispered in Harry's ear, "Don't worry, I have an extremely good lawyer, we'll get this whole thing sorted out."

While Sally's Come and Go slowly disappeared from sight, the blonde's stomach growled again, and he realized he still had not eaten. Draco leaned back in his seat, and for the first time in his life, wished he weren't sitting next to a gorgeous man and was in a nail salon. This had to be the WORST first date he had ever been on, and once he had been taken to see Gigli when that was in the theaters.

While Harry and Draco were rotting in a holding cell, Pansy, Hermione, and Ginny were finished with their spa treatments, and wondering why each of their respective friends hadn't returned yet.

Having a reason to be together, the three girls stood at the front of the store by their bags and glanced out the window every few seconds.

"Why haven't they come back yet?" Ginny whined. "We can't carry these bags with our freshly done nails, and we can't walk to meet them because we can't put our shoes on!"

"Maybe they're off shagging," Pansy guessed with a smirk on her face.

"No, I don't think so. Harry doesn't usually do that on a first date," Hermione said.

Well, if he's spent more than five minutes in Draco's company, he could very well have shagged and been dressed up in women's underpants by now, Pansy thought, but didn't share this with her new companions.

As they waited, a collective gasp from the salon employees and a stampede to the window alerted them to some kind of happening.

They looked at the telly that had been turned up to top volume, and their mouths dropped open as they watched the footage.

"Notorious fruit-smugglers, drug dealers, and womanizing pimps Malfoy and Snape were arrested at 5:54 pm today at Sally's Come and Go, a brothel located in the upscale Chelsea district of London. According to Agent Sirius Black, who had been undercover as a waitress in the brothel for about six weeks and coordinated the arrest says this seemingly family-friendly diner had been a facade for about three years. Neville Longbottom, our senior reporter, spoke to Agent Black from the police station in Chelsea," an aging news anchor said while the telly showed Harry and Draco being hauled off into a patrol car.

"We're very happy to finally make this arrest. We've been trying to find these guys for months now, and once we found their center of operations, it was as easy as pie to reel them in," Agent Black said with a grin to Neville.

"Have you taken the supposed prostitutes into custody as well?" Reporter Longbottom asked.

"Yes we have, and they will be interrogated shortly after Malfoy and Snape, who are currently being held in a high-security cell in the basement of the station. We don't want these guys escaping!"

"Have you taken the fruit into custody?"

"We have, but they wouldn't talk!" Agent Black said very seriously.

"That's not what I...anyway, if found guilty of the crimes with which they are accused, what could their sentence be?"

"At least 25 years, but our lawyers are damn good, and hopefully the suckers will be in for life," Agent Black said with a disturbing gleam in her eye. "We simply cannot tolerate such a horrible misdeed as fruit smuggling! Think of the children!"

"Are these the only crimes they have committed thus far?"

"As far as we know. We are still investigating the disappearance of Scary and Sporty Spice, the former owners of Sally's Come and Go. We think that Malfoy and Snape may be related."

"Thank you for your time, Agent Black."

"My pleasure," she said, waving at the camera.

Hermione, Ginny, and Pansy stared at the telly like it had grown arms and legs and was dancing about the salon.

"Omigod! Like, omigod! Harry must have changed his name to Snape and become a pimp while we were having our toenails clipped!" Ginny said, still staring at the screen.

Hermione and Pansy rolled their eyes.

"You bumbling idiot, obviously this is all a huge mistake, because if Draco was a womanizing pimp, I would have gotten some a LONG time ago," Pansy said. "This sounds like something his family would do, but not poor Draco!"

"How could they get they wrong guys on an arrest as important as this one? Harry and apparently Draco too, have never been with a woman their whole life! The drug thing is believable, I've seen Harry do some pretty weird shit, but Harry could never sell it! He can't even sell himself!" Hermione fumed.

"We have to go rescue them!" Ginny said excitedly, nearly jumping up and down. "Powerpuff Girls, unite!"

"Uh, no," Pansy said, slowly inching away from the redhead who was skipping about the salon singing the Powerpuff Girl theme song.

"She isn't really this bad most of the time," Hermione whispered. "But I think she got high off the nail polish remover."

"Is that why the lady who gave me my manicure was babbling like a ninny?" Ginny asked, overhearing Hermione's comment and not being coherent enough to recognize the insult.

"She was speaking Vietnamese, Ginny," Hermione said in an exasperated tone.

"Well, they should call it Babblemese, because all I could make of it was blah, yah, blah, babble, won ton, babble-"

"Ok, we get it," Pansy said.

"But she's right, we have to go to the police station right away. That Black woman looked positively venomous!" Hermione said, worried for her friend.

"But we can't go anywhere! What about our nails!" Ginny cried.

"Our friends are being framed for fruit smuggling and prostitution, and you are worried about your effing nails!" Pansy screamed.

Ginny's face was blank for a moment before she burst into tears. "Why is everyone being so mean today? First my freckles, and now this!"

"It's that time of the month again, huh?" Pansy asked Hermione, who nodded in response.

"Come now," Pansy said, trying to comfort an upset Ginny. "There's no need to be so emotional. Your nails should be dry by now, and think about how nice it will be to show them off at the police station!"

"Ok," Ginny sniffled, admiring her toes with much more love than was completely normal.

"What will we do with our bags? Our car is far away from here, and we need to get to the police station as soon as possible!" Hermione panicked.

"I know, I'll get a cab!" Ginny said.

"No, that's fine, we'll find some other way-" Pansy trailed off as Ginny ran out of the salon.

"Ginny wait! You've never hailed a cab before!" Hermione screamed as she ran after the redhead.

"Don't worry, I know what to do!" Ginny yelled back, before throwing herself in front of a passing cab. As she rolled onto the front of the car, the driver stopped abruptly and rushed out of the car.

Hermione and Pansy met him in front of the cab, where an unconscious Ginny lay sprawled on the ground.

"Well, she managed to get one to stop," Pansy said while shrugging her shoulders.

"Ginny Weasley, what am I going to do with you? 'I know what to do' indeed! You're not going to make it to your wedding day, and all of these clothes will have to be returned!" Hermione shrieked.

"I'm so sorry misses, she's only unconscious, I would be happy to take her to the hospital," the cab driver said, looking like he cared more about getting sued than Ginny's health.

"It wasn't your fault, and she'll come to soon. It'll be good to have her unconscious while we deal with the police. It wouldn't be good at all to have one of Harry's friends be high when he's been arrested for drug dealing!" Hermione said, getting more hysterical by the moment.

"Pull yourself together woman!" Pansy said as she shook Hermione. "The only thing we have to worry about now is getting to the police station as soon as possible! C'mon, let's get her into the cab, and then we'll make a plan."

With the cabby's help they threw Ginny into the back seat, grabbed their precious purchases, and sped off to the police station, trying to devise a plan to save Harry and Draco from the terrors of the English penal system and Sirius Black.

Far away in Amsterdam, both dressed in velvet suits, a boa, a large hat with feathers around the trim, and sporting a cane, Malfoy and Snape clinked their glasses in toast as they watched the news over the shoulder of the two women giving them lap dances.

"Move bitch!" Malfoy said, rapping the woman on the shoulder with the cane. "I need to see the telly!"

"Looks like we don it! That'll teach that nigga to show no disrespect to me!" Snape said, taking a swig from his glass as Harry's face especially decorated the screen.

"True dat!" Malfoy said. "Snapefoy Inc. lives on bitches!"

At The Burrow, thoroughly exhausted from their mud-wrestling marathon, Dean and Ron flipped to the news, lounging about the living room in only their knickers.

"Look Ron, Harry's been arrested!" Dean said as they watched the telly in complete shock.

"Omigod! Harry must have changed his name to Snape and become a pimp while we were watching mud wrestling!" Ron said in awe.

Dean looked at Ron for a moment before placing him outside, getting the Weasley's old Ford Anglia and running him over.

What will happen when the girls visit the police station? Will Dean and Ron also come to Harry and Draco's aid? Who's the "source"? And how are our favorite blonde and brunette fairing in their subterranean cell? Stay tuned to find out!

Note: The shoe salesman with a foot fetish was stolen from Sex and the City, and of course, the title was a play on the Tom Hanks/Meg Ryan movie "When Harry Met Sally". No fake orgasms in the diner this time though! (Although someone somewhere in this diner was having a real one!) Sorry for the stereotypes, but they're fun...

Reviews appreciated, but not necessary! No horrible flames...it's my time of the month:) But I guess I could tolerate nicer ones...