Thief is Such a Harsh Word, Harry
Before you begin this chapter I would like to point out being Australian I'm not exactly up on English currency- just basics, pounds etc; And I know that no ones really going to mind if it's all wrong because it's just a story but this is just something that annoys me that I don't know considering I'm trying to stay as close to the real thing as possible. So first of all, yes I'm Australian so the exchange rate stuffs me up first off, then there's the currency, then the era. I tried to find out the basic wage and cost of everything for the time to make this seem realistic but it's a lot harder than I thought. Everything's all over the place in prices and then you have the illogical 4 farthings to one penny, 12 pence to one shilling, Ten shillings and sixpence to half a guinea, Twenty shillings to one pound and Twenty-one shillings to one guinea- WTF?
So I've just gone with something that sounds kinda right and let's just assume this is quite a lot of money for the time. But a few facts for you all:
1d (one penny)Enough gin to get drunk on.
2d (tuppence)Enough gin to get dead drunk on:as the old advertising saw goes, "Drunk for a penny, dead drunk for tuppence."
Skip a lot of rubbish about men's silk ruffles and boat trips across the river- now to the real money:
£1 1s (one guinea)A fine beaver French lessons.
£2 (two pounds)Annual shaving and wig-dressing contract.
£2 2s (two guineas)A month's dancing lessons.
£5A silver hilted sword.
£5 5s (five guineas)A silver watch
£6Cost of a night out, including supper, a bath and a fashionable courtesan
-CHAPTER THREE-
Draco tossed the wallet onto the scrubbed wooden table as he passed it and headed towards the bookshelves that covered the back wall of the room. He picked up the candle and its holder from the small table next to the four worn green armchairs and lit it. The room immediately became enveloped in flickering shadow and light. He ran his index finger along the spines of the books searching for any that might hold some relevance to what he was wondering.
He let out a sigh and dropped his arm. That was one of the problems with a 'library' that held naught but books on thievery. Draco's brow furrowed as he swapped to a different shelf and began to read through the titles on that.
He was still searching the shelves when Blaise came up the stairs and into the room.
"You'll go blind trying to read in that light," Blaise told his friend. He waited for a response but Draco seemed too caught up in the books to have even heard. Shaking his head, he picked up a taper from the dresser and went about lighting the lamps around the room.
He turned to find Draco still at the shelves. "Draco?" he asked walking over and standing beside the blonde who was now staring intently at a book titled Notorious Thieves of our Times. "Ah, yes, read that one myself just last week, couldn't put it down." He grinned as a slim blonde eyebrow was raised and Draco turned to face him, also grinning.
"What on earth are you going on about?" Draco laughed looking at Blaise with a smirk on his lips. "You can't even read."
"Now, now," said Blaise, "Not all of us were brought up by the great Lucius Malfoy."
"I know, isn't it dreadful," said Pansy stepping from the last stair into the room. "Dresses well and reads, god, you're practically upper-class compared to us illiterate low-lives, Draco."
"She's right, mate," continued Blaise putting a hand on Draco's shoulder, "We better not lose you to the smarmy bastards. We know how their way of life appeals to you."
Draco snorted, "You think studying, getting a job and attending pointless social events with other upper-class snobs like myself, so my parents can organize the best marriage for me to some prissy girl appeals to me?" He rolled his eyes and went back to the books shaking his head.
"Thank god, Panse," said Blaise grinning at Draco's response, "We haven't lost him to the dark side yet."
"It's a relief on my mind, I must admit," Pansy smiled at Draco before gazing around the room. "Where's the money?" she asked tilting her head to the side and staring intently back at the blond.
"Table," he muttered waving an arm in the table's general direction.
Blaise caught Pansy's eye, his own glinting mischievously before they both leapt to the table both trying to get there first for there was a great sense of thrill that came with counting one's earnings.
"Ha ha!" Blaise yelled triumphantly, thrusting the wallet into the air above their heads.
"Bastard," muttered Pansy but was just as eager to see how much was inside.
Blaise poured the wallet's contents onto the table; all the coins that attempted to roll away to freedom were thwarted in their actions as Blaise's hand came crashing down on them.
He carefully counted the coins and folds of paper into his palm. "Our red-headed friend has done us proud."
"How much?" asked Pansy.
"Twelve pound eighty," said Blaise with a sly smile. "No wonder he wouldn't give up without a chase."
"Mmm," said Pansy looking away from Blaise who had just muttered, "I think I'll count it again, just to make sure. What a snatch, he must've been saving for months…" She watched as Draco pulled another book from the shelf and flicked through a few pages. He slammed it shut and shoved it back onto the shelf frowning more than ever. It had been the fifth book he had looked at since she had come into the room.
She walked to one of the worn armchairs and sat down. "Draco, what are you doing?"
"Trying to find something," another book was pushed angrily back onto the shelf.
"Well obviously, but what?"
Draco sighed stepping away from the shelves and sunk down into a chair. "I don't know really. It's just I've had something on my mind and I don't think I can rest until I find out all I can behind it."
"Well," said Pansy slowly, "…what?"
Draco put his head in his hands and rubbed his eyes before looking back up at her, "Did you get a good look at the boy that was with our target today?"
"Not really, I was more concentrating on the redhead. Why?"
"Well, his appearance, I don't know, it just seemed… familiar. Like someone I should know."
"Have you ever met him before?" asked Pansy slightly confused.
"No, that's the thing. I've never seen him in my life. But it wasn't him, it was how he looked," Draco looked up again to see Pansy more confused then ever. "Forget it, perhaps I'm just losing it."
"No," said Blaise from the table. He stood up and walked over to them, "I don't think you are. It was the eyes. They were, I agree, familiar, but…I…really don't know why."
Pansy sighed dramatically, "Will one of you please explain what you're talking about?"
"Dark hair, green eyes, glasses- ring any bells?" asked Blaise.
Pansy sat back in her chair deep in thought. "Perhaps you've read about him," she said to Draco. "Well not him but someone like him- a relative perhaps?"
"No, that can't be right because how would I know about him then," asked Blaise.
"Blaise's right. But then…" Draco trailed off and picked up another book.
"You think he's a thief?" asked Blaise in shock. "Draco, didn't you see the way he was dressed, though I admit the hair could've done with some work, but look how much money his friend was carrying and he looked practically penniless compared to him."
Draco thought back to how disgusted he had been with the redhead's shabby choice of dress. "True, but anyone can look richer than that thing. But it was him that figured out what we'd done, no aristocrat's able to figure a plan like that out so fast, it was by far one of my better schemes. He must be one of us."
"And if it wasn't for him you wouldn't have had your well needed exercise Blaise, dear," smirked Pansy.
"So he figures out that we'd robbed his friend, big deal. That doesn't make him one of us," Blaise shot back.
"Then how do explain the familiarity?" asked Pansy, her smirk growing wider by the minute.
"For starters it didn't ring any bells with you, did it?" Blaise sneered at the girl, challenging her to come up with an explanation.
"Well…" Pansy said hopelessly.
"Actually," said Draco, Blaise frowned, the blonde's voice was different, almost disappointed, "he didn't know I was a thief."
"Well, there you have it everyone. Check and mate. There's no thief who hasn't heard of Draco Malfoy, if not by name then by appearance at least. It seems smart aristocrats- though few in numbers- do exist, and this is a classic example. Though of course," Blaise flicked a coin into the air and caught it again, "there are none who can outsmart the Slytherins."
"Point made," said Pansy yawning. "It's getting late, I'm off to bed."
Both boys watched as she disappeared down the stairs. Blaise looked over at Draco who was frowning at the bookcase again. "Don't lose sleep on it," he said getting up, "We need our leader to be awake for tomorrow's work, not dead after being stubborn enough to stay up all night just to figure out who some strange boy is."
Solo work was planned for the next day, which found Draco walking down a quiet street still pondering last night's thoughts.
Harry, his name had been Harry. But Harry who? A last name would help, probably explain everything. But just Harry, the name was useless to him on its own.
It was a nice name though, suited him.
He shook his head angrily. Who cared if it was a nice name? A nice name was all it was and no help whatsoever.
"Damnit Harry," he muttered to himself, "where do I know you from?"
He came out of the quiet street and onto a main road. Draco looked about his surroundings and realised it was the same street from yesterday. He caught himself looking around just in case the brunet was there again. He rolled his eyes at himself- the likelihood of Harry being in the same street at the same time for two days in a row was preposterous. Besides, what would he have done if he'd seen him anyway? Gone up to him- 'Morning Harry, I realise I did steal all your friend's savings just yesterday, but would you be able to tell me your last name because otherwise I think I may die from not knowing.'
It was true. Not being able to figure out where he knew this boy from was beyond irritating.
He told himself to stop thinking about it. It wasn't important, what was though, was getting some work done.
Draco pushed Harry to the furthest part of his mind as he searched for a good target. His eye was immediately drawn to a man halfway down the street. The flash of silver around his wrist and the slightly confused expression on his face was enough to convince Draco. The Slytherin took off down the street, carefully weaving his way though the crowd. He made sure to act casual, stopping three quarters of the way to help a young woman into a carriage.
She gave him a gracious smile. Draco smiled back causing the girl to blush slightly which made the blonde smirk. He gave her a wink before sighting his target again and ducking back into the crowd.
"Hang on, Hermione, tell the driver to wait, Harry and I are almost there."
Draco stopped in his tracks. That voice. He spun round. Emerging onto the doorstep of a home was the redhead. 'Harry and I are almost there.'
Draco was torn. He looked back down the street in the other direction. The man was crossing the road; he'd have to act quickly.
"Just get into the coach, I'll be there in a minute," the redhead's voice wafted down to Draco.
He looked back just in time to see a leg disappear into the carriage he had just helped the girl into. The redhead appeared again closing the front door and rushing over to the coach. He told something to the driver before climbing in and shutting the door. The driver gave the reins a flick and the horse began to trot. Draco watched as the carriage passed, inside he could make out the figures of the girl, the redhead and a third: Harry. The horse began to pick up speed and the carriage disappeared down the road and out of sight.
Draco shook his head suddenly, waking from the daze of staring after the carriage and looked back to where his target had been. Nothing. He skimmed the crowd on both sides of the road. There was no sign of the man.
"Blast," he muttered through clenched teeth.
No longer in the mood for finding and tracking another target, Draco began to walk slowly back up the street. Harry was back on his mind more than ever. What was it about him? Draco suddenly realised he had stopped walking, he looked up and found himself standing outside the house Harry and the redhead had come out of. A sly smile began to play on his lips as a plan began to form in his head.
Glancing around the street he took note that no one was paying particular attention to him. Hands in his coat pockets he walked purposely onto the doorstep and up to the door.
He rapped three times on the door before putting his hand back into his pocket. He listened intently. Silence. He wrapped his finger around the small lock pick in his pocket and calmly leant up against the door slipping his hand from the coat pocket and up to the lock. From his other pocket he pulled a small book. He flicked to a random page and began to 'read with interest' whilst he pressed the pick into the lock and began to push at the gears inside. He strained his ears, listening out for the click. A frown began to form on his head, there was a strange fumbling sound coming from the door. Surely he wasn't making that much noise…
Without warning the door swung open. Draco's hands flew behind his back and he quickly rearranged his face from a look of shock to that of dignity and self-confidence. The look didn't last long though as he took in the tall redhead at the door.
Both males realised they were staring at the same time but Draco was first to react, his original sly smile plastered firmly back on his face, and this time it was real. "Well, well, well, look who we have here," his eyes filled with understanding and a hint of relief.
"Great Scot," breathed Fred.
Draco's smile turned into a smirk, he loved making an entrance.
"Blimey," Fred said with just as much awe. "George, I think you'd better come here."
"Why?" came the reply from the other room.
"We, ah, we have a visitor," Fred yelled back not taking his eyes from the blonde at the door.
"And why aren't you capable of-" George stopped abruptly as he saw Draco, eyes wide.
"Yes, I seem to have that effect, don't I?" said the blonde.
The twins said nothing. Draco was left at a slight loss as to what to say next.
Although upper-class, both Fred and George Weasley were well known on the streets. A few months earlier the pair had satisfied a dream that had had for years. They had set up a small tavern in the lower quarters of London unbeknownst to their family. For what well-respected sons would tell their parents the past few years of study were being thrown away for a bar practically located in the gutters themselves? The twins had always been fascinated by the ease and carefree attitude the lower-class lived by and had always wanted to be a part of that world, away from the starched suits and rules of etiquette, the formal dinners and polite conversations. But unfortunately for the two brothers it seemed life was never going to go that way for them, or so they thought until they met an intriguing Irish fellow who went by the name of Seamus Finnigan.
Seamus had grown up on the streets of Northern Ireland and at the age of fourteen decided there had to be more to life, so with all his belongings, which at the time were nothing more than a pocket watch of his father's and the clothes on his back, he snuck aboard a ship on its way to England. Two years past before Seamus and the twins met and during this time he made a good name for himself amongst the other thieves and learnt all there was to know about the Londoners and their ways.
It was a muggy day in August when the trio finally came together. Upon first glance the two redheads looked nothing more than the average upper classer: looking and smelling of wealth. Seamus had felt they were the perfect targets and it wasn't often that you found aristocrats wandering around the lower quarters; luck would've had to have been on his side. The Irishman didn't realise how wrong he was until he found himself being held down by the pair.
"I believe you have something of ours," George said looking at the young man inquisitively.
"Do I just?" asked Seamus raising an eyebrow.
"Don't play innocent," said Fred, "Left or right pocket do you think, George?"
George eyed the coat. "Right."
Fred began to reach towards the pocket.
"Eh, eh, eh!" cried Seamus trying to twist away from the arm but finding it rather difficult due to the fact he had his arms pinned to the ground by the other brother.
"Squirmy little bugger, in'e," said George grinning.
Fred stuck his hand into Seamus's pocket and pulled out the two wallets as well as a wad of crumpled notes and various other valuables.
"Hands off, that's mine," yelled Seamus wondering why no one else was around at this time of day. This was thieves' territory, surely someone would be around to hear him yelling and come to help.
"Yours, you say?" asked Fred, he looked at George, "What should we do with this crook? Hand him over to the authorities?"
"Sounds good to me," said George.
"No," said Seamus, "I beg of you, I'll do anything, just not the police." The Irish boy grimaced at himself for dropping to the level of pleading with the smarmy prats.
"You know Fred, I think this young man is exactly the person we're looking for."
"I think so," Fred grinned, "You see…ah-"
"Seamus."
Fred nodded, "Seamus, we've come down here because we're curious…"
From that day on the trio had become good friends and Seamus had taught Fred and George everything there was to know about thieves: who to look out for, what makes you an obvious target and of course about the notorious Slytherins. In turn the twins told Seamus of their dream. Seamus loved the idea, a place where all the thieves in London could hang around and lodge if they wished, without running the risk of being recognised for who they really were- something which happened a lot when they tried to go to the local tavern. In early October Seamus arrived on the twins' doorstep announcing he had found the perfect location. It was an abandoned inn in one of the darkest parts of lower London, the centre of the thieving community, somewhere that suited Fred and George perfectly. The three did the place up and by the end of the month it was a thriving establishment. Fred and George became respected amongst the thieves, some of the few upper class that were given this honour. They were let in on tricks of the trade and told stories that no esteemed aristocrat could even dream of knowing.
But although being the most well-known place for thieves, a place all of them were proud to say they'd been, there were a few, a particular brotherhood to be precise who had never graced the twins with their presence. This was something the twins had always been disappointed by. So to find the leader of that particular brotherhood, London's most notorious criminal of the time, standing on their doorstep was not something either boy had ever counted on.
"So, that one who just left, your brother, is he? The one I, ah, robbed yesterday?" Draco smiled, nodding in thought. "Should've known he was a Weasley, but honestly I would've thought you two had taught him better. You do realise he was flashing money, I really couldn't have let him off lightly."
George opened his mouth to say something but closed it again.
Draco sighed; this conversation was going nowhere fast, deciding there was no point in skirting around finding the answer to what had been plaguing him for the past twenty-four hours he put his hands back in his coat pockets and put on a pleasant expression. "Your brother's friend, why do I get the impression I know him from somewhere?"
"Harry?" asked Fred finally getting over his shock and frowning slightly.
Draco nodded.
"You get the impression you know Harry?" asked George. He shot a look at his brother Draco found impossible to read.
"Yes, I think we've established that, now do you two know any reason why or should I just go and perhaps tell a few of your dear customers that I may have overheard a conversation that you two are planning to do us in when the time is right?" It seemed pleasantries weren't going to be the way to get the information he needed. He smiled cruelly at the twins' faces of utter shock.
"Well, I can see how you made leader then," said Fred in admiration, "that's down right nasty."
"You wouldn't though would you?" asked George mildly concerned.
"Dare to try me?" asked Draco.
"But they wouldn't believe…" Fred stopped mid-sentence, "Blimey, they would."
"So, Harry, who is he?" prompted Draco looking insistently at them.
George sighed and looked at Fred one more time who nodded, before answering.
"Potter," he said and walked back into the house.
"Potter?" repeated Draco raising an eyebrow.
"Harry Potter," said Fred.
"That's it?" the blonde asked frustrated. "That's all you're going to tell me? That means nothing."
"I think you'll find it does mean something to you Draco, I think you'll find it means a lot."
Fred smiled as realisation appeared in the grey eyes.
"The Potter's didn't-"
Fred just nodded and turned to shut the door.
"Wait," said Draco.
Fred turned back around.
"Thanks."
Fred smiled, never in his life had he thought he'd find himself being thanked by the Slytherin leader himself. "Anytime. Though I do have a question for you?"
"Mmm?" the Blonde looked at the redhead sceptically.
"Why have you never come to the tavern?"
Draco had to think about his answer, so few knew the true reason… though the two had just helped him ease his mind's suffering. "We have our reasons," he said slowly, "and we keep them to ourselves…"
Fred sighed; it had been the answer he was expecting.
"But," said Draco, Fred's eyes lit again, "perhaps sometime we may wave these reasons."
Fred grinned as the thief gave him a nod and vanished into the crowd. His first ever meeting with the Slytherin Prince and he had sure been something.
A/N: Well there we have it another chapter down. And I'm looking for suggestions as to what to call Fred and George's tavern. Anyone got any ideas?
As always any questions comments all appreciated and I'll get back to you with answers as soon as possible.
And now I'm off to bed with just 21 and a half hours till Australia play Brazil at the World Cup tonight- Midnight timeslot on TV- awesome. GO THE SOCCEROOS!
-Rogue