Disclaimer: See Chapter One. Short version, if you recognize it from someplace else, it's not mine.
"Auntie Babs, you came to my birthday," shouted an excited four-year old Harry Potter. The little tyke slammed into her knees at a full run just as she crossed the house's threshold, almost knocking her on her ass. "Did you bring me presents?"
"Of course," Barbara Gordon, AKA Batgirl, answered, tussling his already messy dark hair. She handed him a medium sized box wrapped in Halloween themed wrapping paper, her traditional choice for Harry's gifts. "Be gentle with it, it's breakable."
With all the care a pre-schooler could muster, Harry carried the gift over to the table where other presents were. Afterwards, he ran outside to play with the neighborhood children under the supervision of the other parents at the party. The current game was tag, with most of the action happening between the short fat tree on the south side of the yard and the tall thin tree on the west side.
Barbara made her way over to Harry and Dudley's legal parental units who were in the kitchen, grabbing one of the alcoholic beverages laid out on the table on her way.
"Pamela, Harley, how's it going?" Barbara asked. After taking a sip, her eyes widened at how strong it was and she mentally limited herself to only drinking one every hour.
"Oh the usual," Harley Quinn shrugged. "I finally made a lasagna that didn't burn. Want some?"
Pamela grimaced behind Harley's back, shaking her head in warning.
"I think I'll pass, I ate a big lunch," Barbara apologized hastily. "Maybe next time. Committed any crimes lately?"
"What? Us? We're clean," Harley insisted unconvincingly.
"Harley, you know the deal," Barbara chastised. "You are honest with me and tell me every law you break, and the Justice League leaves you be."
"It's not like they can do anything," Harley complained. "We're all clean, according to the cops."
"Against Pamela Isley and Harley Quinn they couldn't do anything, not with Harry's magical witness protection service voodoo. But against Petunia and Vernon Dursley, they can cause trouble if they put their minds to it. Endless tax audits, building code violations, and HR complaints at Grunnings are the least of the underhanded tactics they could try," Barbara warned. "Now, I've been gone for three weeks, what crimes have you committed?"
"Geeze, it's like going to confession," Harley muttered. "Fine, fine. Let's start with the small stuff. There was like a dozen or two double parkings, speeding, maybe driving through a stop sign or two, I kinda lost count. I broke the arm of a stalker following me, two weeks ago I think."
"I embezzled $6,000 from Grunnings and did some regular boring corporate espionage against our competitors," Pamela chimed in with a smirk. "Half the money went to a reputable charity. You can check when I file taxes next year. And I framed one of the CEOs for sexual harassment, so with luck I'll be up for a promotion soon."
"Did he deserve it?" Barbara asked Pamela, suspecting she knew the answer already. Of the two, Pamela had fully embraced her self-imposed role of the domesticated anti-hero. Harley was more of a herd of cougars in a bag laced with catnip and cocaine.
"Mostly," she shrugged in answer. "His initiative would have increased the pollution of the factories by at least 50%, all for a one percent increase in profits. That and the way he talked about his secretaries made him a creep worthy of framing."
"Let's see, what else? Oh, yeah, I may or may not have knifed the tires of Sarah's minivan," Harley admitted. "But in my defense she did insult Ivy's rose bushes out front."
"Like Sarah's hydrangeas could ever compete," Pamela muttered indignantly.
"Oh, Frank ate at least four of Mrs. Figgs cats," Harley added gleefully.
"Five," Frank the giant man-eating plant shouted from the backyard. "There was a tabby that wandered by last night, I forgot to tell you. You'd think they'd learn, but their stupidity is my buffet."
"We had another black cloaked masked man die mysteriously in the backyard," Pamela said after a moment of thought. "Same as the others, same tattoo on their forearm, same mask. It was last Sunday, right?"
"He was juicy too," Frank called out. "Bitter aftertaste, but plenty of tender fatty meat."
"That's seven of them in all, isn't it?" Barbara asked, eyes furrowed.
"So far," Harley nodded. "I'd let you interrogate them to figure out who they are, but unless you can talk with the dead, we'll have to rely on Harry's magic protection to keep them from bothering us."
"How are your classes coming along?" Pamela switched topics away from the mysterious invaders. With luck, Barbara would get distracted before she pressed for their more 'serious' crimes. Not that she would make too much a fuss about the meth lab they had blown up while they were hunting for blackmail material on Sarah, but she'd rather not bring it up if she could avoid it.
"Only one class this summer, Cryptography Engineering," Barbara smiled, taking a sip of her drink. "I know most of the material already, but some of the more advanced encryption techniques are new to me. With one class, I can work on my thesis in my spare time."
"Mommy, Mama, look what I found," Harry yelled as he ran into the house carrying a foot long smooth scaled snake, a few shrieks from outside preceding him. "Her name is Rhaspie."
"I have an idea I want to run by you two," Barbara began after she closed Harry and Dudley's bedroom doors that night. The birthday was a success by all measures, and of those left in the house, only Harley, Pamela, and Barbara remained awake.
"That sounds ominous," Pamela said from her place on the couch, feet up on Harley's lap.
"I want to ask Zatanna to come by," Barbara probed, sitting down in the armchair across from the fireplace.
"Fuck no," Harley shot back immediately. "You're cool, for a hero and our parole officer, but there is no way I want one of the fucking big hitters of the Justice League butting into our lives. We've kept our noses clean, no, no, no, no fucking way."
"I'm not suggesting this for you," Barbara explained quickly. "I'm suggesting this for Harry. Zatanna can give him a magical checkup, see if there is anything he needs to do to help his magic grow, maybe give some pointers on learning how to control it. We learned today he can talk to snakes, what else don't you know about him? Plus, she might be able to figure out why all the tattooed guys keep popping up and dying at your house."
"As much as I love the extra fertilizer and Frank the extra meal, she has a point," Pamela shrugged.
"If we agree to it, and I mean if, then you gotta lay off of us. No more asking about what we do that may be technically illegal," Harley argued.
"I'll only ask about felonies," Barbara countered.
"Felonies ending with dead bodies," Harley negotiated with a smirk.
"Felonies ending in hospital visits, or any kidnappings," Barbara offered.
Harley looked over to Pamela, who shrugged and then nodded.
"If you tell us all about the computers you hack into, you got yourself a deal," Harley smiled.
"What, I don't hack," Barbara protested.
"Not even when you're working as Batgirl?" Harley smirked.
"That's different."
"That's the deal," Harley crossed her arms with a grin. "You spill the details of the good stuff you get from your hacking, we spill the goods on any big felonies, Zatanna gives Harry an annual magical checkup. Take it or leave it."
"Fine," Barbara pouted. "But only the good gossip, not the boring details and nothing that could hurt any innocent bystanders."
"Good enough for me," Harley smiled. "Your usual spare bedroom is all made up for you. We can talk more in the morning, if you want to stay over. Right now I'm going to drag my girlfriend up to our room and fuck her silly."
Putting words into action, Harley hefted her green skinned girlfriend over her shoulder and made her way to the staircase. Pamela locked eyes with a stunned Barbara for a moment.
"You know how she is," Pamela shrugged in resignation as Barbara stared on in shock, wide eyed and slacked jawed. She had to duck her head to not hit it on the stair ceiling as Harley carried her upwards to make good on her promise.
Three orgasms each later, Pamela covertly glanced around and leaned in to whisper in Harley's ear.
"She's watching through the door you left wide open, with one hand in her panties and the other up under her shirt. Should we invite her to join?"
"Nah," Harley whispered back. "I told you I caught her peeking in on us fucking last Valentine's Day. I've kept our door cracked wider and wider since then whenever she stayed over, and she always watches us fuck."
"I noticed, but we've never left the door completely open, or announced beforehand we were going to fuck before."
"She's a voyeur, no doubt about it, but I'm not sure if she's comfortable participating yet. She's probably still in the beginning stages of the college sexual experimentation phase, and she'd likely feel pressured or uncomfortable if we overtly offered."
"So we just let her watch? I feel like we should be charging her money for the show instead of paying her for babysitting."
"Based on how wet her pants are, she's gotten off at least once. We could give her a chance to get caught spying. If she lets herself be caught, we'll invite her in." Harley waited until Pamela gave her a nod of agreement before slowly sitting up and turning around.
By the time her eyes got to the open bedroom door a few seconds later, Babs was gone and they heard clumsy scurrying down the hallway towards the spare bedroom. With a shrug, Harley dived back into bed for round four and probably five.
Maybe next time Barbara would be ready.
As long as she didn't fuck bats too.