SNITCH! COOKIE #1.
This
brief story was written to defeat writer's block on Part 5 of Snitch! … which
is coming soon. It was originally
posted only to the HP_Paradise list, but after consideration, I have decided to
post it here as well. Okay … so,
standard disclaimer applies – this be slash, which means gay storylines, in
this case, between Harry and Draco. If
this is not your cup of tea, or you think it's wrong, or whatever, that's cool …
I appreciate that. But please
appreciate that some of us don't share your point of view, and hit your
back button now! There's also implied
drug use.
This
is totally un-beta read, incidentally. I just need to post something J.
As
ever, everything is JK Rowling's, none of it is mine, we're just having fun
here!
FIXING THE DEAL.
The Pink Parrot was accessed up a short flight of
stairs. It was that kind of club. Inconspicuous, secluded, like. You wouldn't know it was there, if you
hadn't been told.
Harry was already sitting upstairs when I arrived
with the merchandise. Someone, some
tart in a tight fitting black dress was on the tiny stage belting out Ethel
Merman numbers. Harry looked relaxed,
easy, sitting with two of the lads on one side of him, and some bird I'd never
seen on the other. They all had shot
glasses, and a bottle of Jack Daniels was standing open, and half empty, on the
tabletop. A floating candle flickered,
illuminating their faces from down below.
Herschel looked at me funny as I sat down, and Harry
poured another round of drinks. The
bird was looking at Herschel, but he didn't seem to have noticed yet. She was wearing a well cut blue suit,
businesswoman, respectable. Shouldn't
be seen dead in a place like the Pink Parrot. Here you get all the queens and trannies up from King's Cross. It made our table, dressed to the nines in
sober suits, look quite out of place. I
couldn't take my eyes off Harry.
Herschel jerked the glass upwards. "Mazel tov."
He drained it in one go … Harry and the others drank
more sedately. Harry appeared to be
regarding me over the tops of his spectacles.
"
… there's no business like show business …"
Harry
leant in close. People were circulating
and mingling near the door, a cabbie, Arab by the looks of things, touting for
business.
Without
needing to be told, I opened the briefcase. Harry moved the glasses and the bottle out of the way without a word to
any of us, set the case down open on the tabletop, and inspected the contents.
"Beautiful,"
he said, presently. He sat back down
again, and lit up.
Herschel,
Snake and whoever the woman was inspected the cargo, pulling the little plastic
bags free from the lining, cupping the little pills in their hands.
"It's
totally legit, right?" I asked.
Harry
grinned, and tapped his fag on the edge of the ashtray. "No," he said. "You ought to know that by now, Draco. Nothing round here is legit. Else I'm a monkey's uncle."
Snake
grinned. "More whisky?"
I
shook my head. Snake poured me a glass
anyway. "I'm driving. Have to head up west. Pick up a delivery at Heathrow?"
Harry
raised his eyebrows. "Five hundred
grand the lot. Got that?"
"If
I'm followed."
"I'll
make sure you're not," said Harry. "You
see anything fucking suspicious, you ditch the wheels."
The
wheels were my brand new Golf Gti. I
was starting to think that Arab tout might come in handy.
"What
about my money?"
Harry
sneered, and tossed the bag of pills from one hand to the other. After a moment's deliberation, he said,
"I'll give you a grand the lot."
"Fuck
you! There's gotta be ten grand's there
if I'm a day!"
Harry
smiled. "I wouldn't get shirty with me,
you queer twat," a warning shot. Snake
and Herschel leered maliciously at me.
I
sneered at Harry. "What is it
then? Baking powder?"
"Dog
worming tablets," said Harry, smiling. "To me, they ain't worth shit. To the poor, drugged up arseholes over at Home, they're worth twenty
quid a shot."
I
did a quick calculation in my head. "That's almost fifty grand!"
"Like
I said, they ain't worth shit," Harry repeated. "Now be a good boy and run along."
I
threw back my whisky in one gulp.
"I'll
be off then."
"You
do that," said Harry.
"Someone's
going to rumble you, one of these days," I warned, feeling braver than I
actually am. I mean, I was armed as
well … we all were. But even I know
Harry never bothered to load our guns. Just his own. It was for show.
"What
they going to tell the police? The
nasty man sold me fake drugs?" grinned Harry. "Nah, I'm onto a nice little earner here. Come tomorrow morning, I'll have a new widescreen telly at home."
"Fuck
you, and your bloody telly!"
"Goodbye,
Draco."
I shook
my head, turned, and walked away. I
could feel Harry's eyes leering at my back. One of the young blokes at the door tried to grab my upper arm as I
walked past. I shrugged him off.
"Going
somewhere nice?" He was nice too. Armani shirt,
pressed slacks … overdone the aftershave a bit, but then beggars can't be
choosers. But I was on a double yellow,
and they're right wankers round King's Cross when it comes to parking tickets. I'd rather just get out of there.
"Fuck
off."
"Fifty
quid the night," he said, following me out the door. I pulled on my coat as we clattered down the uncarpeted stairs
and out the door, into the cold night air. Cars were gliding past, headlights blazing, tyres swishing on the wet
tarmac.
"Hand
job?" he asked, as I unlocked the car door and slipped into the driver's
seat. He ran his hand slowly along the
Volkswagen's roof. If there's one thing
I don't like, it's nasty little rent boys. Draco Malfoy is an altogether classier homosexual than that … ha.
"No,
it's fully automatic," I said … knowing full well what the bastard wanted, of
course. But sometimes I like to tease
people.
"Fuck
you!" He aimed a kick at my front wheel. And missed. I could see him in the rear view mirror, giving me the finger as I
pulled away from the kerb and flicked the radio on for a spot of music.
I'd
have had him otherwise. It's just …
I'd
rather have Harry.
