Intro

Draco tested the harness around his torso, pulling on the ropes with cold fingers. Even through the gloves, the chill of the night air was starting to seep through the leather, and he mumbled a curse word as he rubbed his hands together to try to warm them up. He needed his hands limber if he was going to pull this off, though the odds that his fingers were going to warm up by then were slimmer than a wallet after Christmas shopping. Still, he'd manage it – he always did.

Triple-checking the chimney that the end of his tether was wrapped around, Draco eyed his watch and nodded decisively, once. It was time. "Let's get this show on the road," he said to nobody, then walked to the edge of the roof and somersaulted gracefully off.

The somersault was more of a flourish than anything. Burglary jobs were becoming less and less of a challenge, honestly, and Draco had been considering a career change. The rush was waning, the payoffs were only so large, and the investigators were so inept that he wasn't even really afraid of being caught any more. Honestly, you'd think that the Scotland Yard would have at least one competent detective, but that wasn't the case.

He pondered this as he flew through the air, only for the rope to jerk, cutting his momentum off. It tightened on the edge of the roof, swinging Draco towards the window, and he braced himself as the soft soles of his boots slammed into the window frame. Giving himself some more slack, Draco lowered himself to the latch – a basic lock which he had open in a matter of seconds. And, just like that, he was in.

It was rather considerate of the owners of this particular residence to keep all of their jewelry in one safe, Draco mused as he crossed cat-footed across the bedroom floor toward the painting that concealed a wall safe. Really, how cliché could you get? The combination was child's play (if one were a larcenous child) and Draco was elbow deep in the safe when he heard a noise from downstairs. He froze, then heard the sound again – feedback from a radio, if he wasn't mistaken. The thought made him grin, and he deftly emptied the safe into his backpack. Usually he'd stop to sort out the paste pieces from the real gems, but though Draco liked a challenge, he also liked not being caught by the police.

Deftly sneaking back through the bedroom to the window, Draco was considering his escape route when the light flicked on behind him. A low, musical female voice demanded "Stop right there", and Draco obliged, turning to see who thought they were going to stop the Dragon from hoarding his treasure.

It was a short, rather curvy woman with a magnificent frizz of hair and – a gun, pointed straight at Draco. Or, rather, Draco's knee. A magnificent choice, if you'd asked him… a smart play. Either he'd get knocked out the window or have a rather difficult time of it when trying to escape. Once he'd ascertained how long he would have to get out of the way of a flying bullet, Draco really looked at the woman, from the firm set of her mouth to her deep brown eyes. He grinned behind his mask and gave an elegant bow to her, swaying slightly in the cold wind coming from the open window.

"Good evening, Officer," he purred, resulting on the woman's eyebrow jumping up her face. "How clever of you to watch the house. Have you been waiting long?"

"Come off of the windowsill, thief," she said firmly, her stance immovable.

"I think not," Draco drawled, cocking his head at her. "After all, I have a pressing engagement. So you'll forgive me if I just pop out?"

The woman's eyebrow climbed higher, and Draco heard more officers behind her, coming to back her up. "In the bedroom," she called, pinning Draco in place with her gaze, but Draco wasn't going to wait to be hauled away by the entire police force, thank you very much.

"My favourite place," he chuckled. "But, unfortunately, I cannot prolong our rendezvous. Another time, perhaps," he added, giving another bow, and stepping off the ledge, clipping his harness to the dangling tether as he did so. He twirled out of range of the window, hearing her low curse, and began to haul himself up the rope to the roof posthaste.

There was a smile under the mask. Ah, Draco loved a challenge. Perhaps, he mused as he somersaulted away over the rooftop to the sound of sirens, he would be seeing the lovely officer again.

…

Back at home in his luxurious penthouse, Draco straightened the impeccable cuffs of his shirt, mind not on the luncheon he was supposed to be attending for some charitable society or another but on the pursed lips of the female officer who'd actually cornered him on a job. That, recently, had become a feat in itself, and Draco was interested in seeing more of the woman … if it hadn't just been luck.

Charitable functions were good for one thing (among many, he was sure), and that was scouting out the lovely, expensive jewels that many of the women would be airing, each trying to outdo the other like glittering birds. Draco reminded himself to be patient, as he tried not to do more than one job per two weeks – more than that and he'd get sloppy, not do enough research, and then he'd get caught. Still, the sparkling gems were so very tempting…

He glanced towards his own safe, which was sunk into the floor and covered with a locking panel and an artfully thrown rug. He only kept the best pieces, even though it was incriminating – he couldn't resist. Perhaps one day he would sell them, but it would have to be a dire day indeed.

Pulling his suit jacket on over his shirt, Draco checked himself over once more before smiling at himself in the mirror. Off to the mundane workings of high society, he mused. Oh, how he preferred his night job.

As it turned out, however, this charity event turned out to be very, very worthwhile.

When Draco entered the room, letting his coat and hat be taken by some peon and waiting for his name to be found on the register, he was instantly transfixed by a large pedestal sitting in the center of the room. It was cordoned off by velvet ropes the colour of wine, and set directly under soft, glowing light. Based on the cloth draped over the pedestal, Draco could guess at what was under it, and he was suddenly so glad that he had come.

He mingled, as he always did – the charming flirt, catch of the century that nobody had managed to pin down. Draco was very aware of what a catch he was, the sole heir of a family which claimed to trace its roots back to Nordic royalty. However, he was also very uninterested in being tied down, let alone having to cease his nighttime wanderings. The Dragon was only getting started with the English upper class, after all.

Draco counted, eyes sliding over them as if he didn't notice them at all, at least 6 different security persons. His anticipation was mounting, until finally, finally, the group of chattering socialites was called to attention by the individual running the charity – something for children involving Christmas. He couldn't be bothered to remember, as his focus was solely on the pedestal and the treasures it was currently supporting.

"Ladies and gentlemen," called the organizer, whose hand Draco had shaken not minutes before. "This holiday season we are doing something rather special for our fundraiser. The pedestal behind me holds a priceless treasure, one that has taken an entire year to craft to perfection. Behold," she called, and reached out for the cloth, pulling it away with a smooth, practiced gesture.

On the pedestal was a necklace, but not just any necklace. Shaped like a snake that would coil around the wearer's throat, in its mouth was a massive emerald, diamond fangs holding it in place. Draco's hands absently drew the contours of the necklace, sure as everyone else in the room – he wanted it. The paltry jewelry that the other attendees were sporting paled in comparison.

"In three weeks' time," the organizer called over the sudden, excited murmurs from the crowd, "We will have an auction for this magnificent piece. Other contributions are welcome, of course…" her voice faded into obscurity. Draco heard nothing as he stared at the necklace, hands tightening on the rope, long fingers locked against the urge to reach out and grab it right there.

It's mine, Draco thought with certainty, and he could have sworn that the snake winked at him as he made his decision.

…

A/N:

Welcome to my holiday-cat burglar-dramione AU! Just to clear things up for those of you who are going what the heck, they're both non-magical people who live and work in London. Well, Hermione works – Draco is a socialite by day and a cat burglar by night.

I should be able to update every day (fingers crossed)!

I hope you enjoy this mishmash of stories, characters, and various cute clichés.

Happy holidays, all!

Isefyr