Bring It On, You Asshole

By Cyril de Ciel

Warning: Foul language and attempted rape scene—not Harry, don't worry.

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Chapter 4

Harry wearily closed the door to his apartment, exhaling a tired sigh as he leaned back against the cool metal surface. After the explosive "chat" he and Bruce had hammered out between themselves in the taller man's office at the club, Harry had grudging agreed to be dropped off at his new place.

The silence between them during the limo ride was almost suffocating. Harry had studiously avoided looking at Bruce, well aware that if he chanced a glance at the brunet with the memory of Bruce's body pressing flush against his while the taller man pinned him against the wall earlier in the club still fresh on his mind, he would most likely drool and stare—and probably get down on his knees and submit willingly to those burning penetrating eyes too. Unbeknownst to the raven, Bruce himself had had a difficult time repressing the urge to grab the beautiful young man sitting quietly across from him and sealing his lips over Harry's, ravishing him until he was too dazed to remember his own name.

Both men had been internally relieved—and yet feeling strangely bereft as well—when the limo finally pulled up in front of Harry's new apartment building.

Harry could see his luggage neatly arranged to one side of the door from the corners of his eyes. They had already been moved here early this morning, and now that he thought back on it, he had thought that it had been a little strange for Draco to be so eager to have his things moved quickly into his new place. That little bastard must have known that I would strangle his neck once I met Bruce, Harry thought darkly. You wait, Malfoy, you'll get your due.

He sighed again and toed off his shoes before he stepped further into the apartment. Dropping his briefcase on the couch, he plopped down beside it as he looked around the loft. The furniture were new and expensive-looking, having been bought and moved by Draco's house elves—the blond would not take 'no' for an answer despite Harry's protests that he could buy his own furniture. The living room was spacious and no doors or walls separated it from the dining room, bedroom, and the kitchen. Across from the couches set in a square shape, a working desk was positioned near the large windows overlooking the city. There was a platinum thin television hanging from the wall on the other end of the living room. The kitchen was equipped with the latest modern devices and a pristine flat stove on top of black marble counters was located beside a large silver sink with an elegant glass faucet. From where he was sitting, he could see his queen-sized bed up on a podium with its covers neatly made; it was surrounded by rotating panels that could be slid shut automatically by the switch near the three steps leading up to the elevated bedroom. All in all, by the time he had fully taken in what his apartment comprised of, Harry was left staring at his new place with wide eyes and a hanging jaw, his gobsmacked face causing a giggle to escape from the house elf that had just popped in behind him.

"Mixy is seeing that Harry Potter sir likes it here!" squeaked the house elf.

Harry bolted up with a yelp of shock. "Merlin! You scared me!"

The creature's eyes welled up with tears and she began to tug viciously at her own ears in punishment. "Mixy bad! Mixy scared Master's friend! Mixy needs to be punished! Mixy bad!"

Harry hurried over to the wailing elf and gently but firmly said, "That's enough, Mixy! You just startled me, that's all. There's no need to punish yourself for my own inattentiveness!"

Wide teary eyes peered up at the wizard kneeling in front of the house elf, her sharp nails digging painfully into her soft-skinned ears. "Really? Mixy can stop?"

Harry nodded. "That's right. Mixy can stop." With an encouraging smile as the creature lowered her arms and sniffled messily, he asked gently, "Now is there a reason why you're here, Mixy?"

Mixy sniffed as she rummaged through the pockets of her uniform and extracted a neatly folded letter and a thick folder. "Master is be wanting Harry Potter sir to read this when Harry Potter sir is getting back."

He took the offered folded parchments from her hands with a smile. "Thank you , Mixy."

Mixy's eyes widened and she gasped, "Mixy is being thanked for doing what Master orders! Mixy is so happy!" With another wail, she disappeared with a soft pop.

Shaking his head in wry amusement, Harry looked at the parchment and folder in his hand. His eyes narrowed as he frowned. That coward, he thought with a mental scoff. Malfoy sending a house elf to deliver his message instead of telling me face-to-face…I bet he's scared out of his mind to meet me alone after what's happened. The little bugger… He laid the folder down on the coffee table and unfolded the letter, breaking the wax with the Malfoy crest sealing it shut.

The letter read:

Potter,

As you can see—I take full credit for getting your eyes permanently fixed with that potion I gave to you last Christmas—your apartment is fabulously furnished. Granger and I were in grudging agreement that the place that you chose is simply too revolting to even comprehend.

Honestly, Potter, what sane bloke would want to live in that cramped, low-class shack? But of course, that was a rhetorical question seeing as how it was you who chose it. You, Potter, not only possess an awful fashion sense, it also seems that your living standards are in dire need of a reconstruction itself.

Hence, we picked a much more suitable living quarters for you. You can thank me later with copious floods of gifts.

Now then, don't forget that you start at 7:00AM sharp tomorrow. Don't be late and, Merlin's beard Potter, do wear presentable and tasteful attire and try not to embarrass me seeing as how I am the one who recommended you for this job. (Ha! More like forced it on me, you prat! Harry scoffed mentally.)

The folder included has Mr. Wayne's schedule for the first couple of weeks—courtesy of Mr. Fox. Once you've settled down and gotten used to your position, you will be the one responsible for creating Mr. Wayne's schedule, making appointments, setting up meetings, etc. The folder also includes a list of people with personal descriptions you should familiarize yourself with. They are important clients who you will have to deal with as Mr. Wayne's new personal secretary and bodyguard—some are to be friendly with, others are to be denied any contact with Mr. Wayne.

One last thing, rumour has been going around the past few months that a vigilante who calls himself Batman roams the streets of Gotham City. He's described by those who have seen a fleeting glimpse of him as a "tall, well-built individual in a black Kevlar suit with a mask in the shape of a bat". However, it is not him that you need to be wary of. Gotham City is very much like Knockturn Alley. It is teaming with thugs and ruthless gangs. That's why I strongly advise you to stay indoors once night has fallen. Despite being an ex-Auror, I know that being the reckless and idiotic Gryffindor that you are, you attract trouble like bees are attracted to nectar. For Merlin's sake, I do not want to read about your demise during a gang fight in the morning paper. It would ruin my breakfast and breakfast is my favourite meal of the day.

And do try to tame that rat's nest you like to call hair before you clock in tomorrow, alright?

Malfoy

Lord of the Most Noble House of Malfoy

Reading the last sentence had Harry rolling his eyes. Did he really have to add in his family title in the end? He sighed in resignation, but could not help the small amused smile that appeared on his face. Malfoy will always be Malfoy: a pompous (but secretly loyal) prat.

Deciding to look through the folder later—alright, so he was a little wary of its apparent thickness—Harry placed the letter down on top of it and stood. He made his way to the immaculate kitchen and opened the fridge. Basically empty. There was nothing to eat inside the fridge besides a carton of eggs and a jug of milk. He closed the door with another sigh. Guess it was time for a quick shopping trip.

Glancing out the window, Harry noted that it was getting dark out but the sun had not fully descended below the horizon. He bit his lower lip indecisively for a moment as he considered Malfoy's warning about the dangerous streets before he knelt by his luggage. He was too hungry to wait until morning and he was not in the mood for take-out delivery. He wanted some homemade cooking. With a wave of his wand, he enlarged the bags. He rummaged through one of them and retrieved a pair of silver daggers. Strapping them to his forearms, Harry straightened and headed for the door. He would just make a quick trip to the grocery store a few blocks away and hurry back home.

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Harry was on his way home with bags of grocery in his hands when he heard piercing screams rend through the evening air.

"HELP! SOMEBODY HELP!" The sound of a woman crying and screaming had Harry taking off at a run without hesitation. "HELP US, PLEASE!"

Harry skidded to a halt outside of a dark alley and without another thought, plunged in. The sight that he came upon had his blood instantly boiling in rage. Two small children were cowering behind their young mother who was clutching her bleeding arm. They were surrounded by four snickering men who were advancing upon them with sinister leers, smacking their makeshift weapons of crowbars and rusty pipes ominously against their palms.

"It seems like we're getting lucky tonight," one of them grinned. He licked his lips and shared a look with the others. "The mom looks nice and tight. It'll be a snug fit for us, don't you think boys?"

The other three men nodded and laughed cruelly. One breathed in deeply and rubbed at his crotch with a deep moan, "God, I'm already hard and aching. I can just get off the scent of their fear."

"Shall we start fuckin' then, boys?"

The one closest to the woman trying to shield her children with her body cackled perversely, ignoring her pleas, and reached out a groping hand. "It's time to play and fuck, bitch!" He suddenly yelped girlishly when a dagger sliced through the air, forcing him to yank his hand back as he stumbled away to land gracelessly on his bottom.

The four would-be rapers stared in shock at the silver dagger embedded in the dirt in front of the woman. "What the fuck?"

"Leave the woman and the children alone."

They whipped around and saw Harry standing at the entrance of the dark alley, grocery bags held in tight, white-knuckled fists.

"And who the fuck do you think you are?"

"A passerby who is not going to let you lay a finger on that woman and her kids."

The man in the centre sneered and smacked his crowbar threateningly against his palm. "The fuck you are," he snarled. His eyes trailed over Harry's figure and soon, lust filled their gaze. "Well well well, aren't you a pretty boy. With that tight little ass, I'm sure we'll have a lot of fun with you too."

Harry dropped into a light crouch, his muscles coiled and ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. "Not on your life," he shot back coldly just as he glimpsed a black shadow leaping across the roof from across the street.

The four men charged with loud yells. Harry sprang into action. His two heavy bags slammed painfully head-on into the faces of two men, sending his grocery flying in all directions. There goes my dinner, he thought forlornly. He dropped into a smooth roll beneath a heavy swing of a metal pipe and then kicked out, slamming a man's knee out of its joint with a sickening wet snap causing him to scream in agony before the man cracked his head harshly against a brick wall.

Harry quickly dodged a swipe of a crowbar, his remaining silver dagger appearing in his hand as he brought it up above his head, blocking another downward swing. He flicked his wrist and easily slammed the crowbar out of another man's hands and knocked him out with a controlled blow to the back of his head with the hilt of his dagger. Just as he was blocking a kick to his chest from the third attacker, the quickly moving shadow he saw earlier dropped down from above them and flung the man he was fighting against head-first against a wall with a deep growl.

Harry saw the last standing man swinging his pipe at the back of the shadow and lunged, yanking his other blade out of the dirt as he moved. "Look out!" Harry slammed his back against the shadow's own armoured back and parried the blow with his daggers held above him in a silver cross. With a muttered curse as the attack sent tremors up his arms, Harry stumbled. Strong arms suddenly wrapped around his waist to steady him. Holding back a blush that threatened to colour his cheeks despite the current situation, Harry muttered a quick word of thanks before he regained his balance, the long arms falling away from his slim hips, and delivered a hard kick against the attacker's gut. As the man dropped his weapon with a wheeze, he knocked him unconscious with another callous strike of his leg in a high kick to the side of his head.

Breathing deeply and internally glad that his face no longer felt like it would explode in a blazing shade of red, Harry slowly lowered his right leg steadily to stand on both feet again. He sheathed his daggers smoothly back into their leather holsters and knelt slowly in front of the trembling woman and her whimpering children.

"Ma'am?" he said softly, keeping his distance in order to not frighten them further as he held out his empty palms in a soothing manner. "Are you alright?"

The woman shivered in fear and responded in a quivering voice, "W-We're f-fine." She slowly reached out shaking hands and took his offered hands.

Harry gently helped her to her feet as her children clung to her dirty and ripped skirt. "We should get that wound on your arm looked at. You and your kids should get to a hospital and make sure that everything is alright."

"Thank you," she whispered softly, her arms wrapping around her crying children in a protective embrace. She glanced over his shoulder and shrunk back just as Harry felt somebody coming to a stop behind him.

Harry turned swiftly and looked up to see a tall man in black armour that was moulded to his muscular figure like a second layer of skin, the broad shoulders and the powerful long legs had Harry swallowing his sudden spark of arousal. He barely kept himself from collapsing due to watery knees and making a fool of himself when a deep, velvety growl spoke, "The police have been notified and are on their way."

The mother nodded, clutching at her kids tightly. "Thank you," she said again but did not move.

Harry tilted his head slightly to one side, a curious expression on his face. "When I was informed that Batman existed, I admit that I was quite sceptical since I did not think that any sane man would voluntarily run around the city during the nights in a heavy suit." Harry flashed the masked man with a crooked smile. "I guess I owe you an apology."

"Try not to be out after dark again," the dark figure replied, seemingly ignoring Harry's comment except for the slight twitch of his lips. He nodded over to the four unconscious men lying propped up against a wall, bound tightly together with thick ropes. "They won't be waking up anytime soon. The police will take care of them when they get here."

Harry smiled. "Thanks."

Batman nodded once in reply.

Just then, the sound of sirens and flashing blue and red lights filled the air. As cops flooded into the alley, Harry calmly called out that they needed paramedics for a mother and her two small children and that there were four bound and unconscious thugs near the brick wall.

Accosted by two policemen and then, after inquiring if he was injured—which he denied—, they asked him to accompany them back to the police station for standard questioning. As he was led away, Harry glanced back into the alley only to find it empty: Batman was gone.

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A/N: Whew! What a first night in Gotham City for Harry! The fight scene in the alley was sort of hard to write. Hope you enjoyed it though!