Had this ready on Wednesday, but wasn't able to upload till today, sorry guys, but here we are at last..

Thief is Such a Harsh Word, Harry

NOTE: Lucius Malfoy is severely out of character in this chapter. This is because I don't like the idea that Draco tries his hardest to impress his father and make him proud of him and still fails. Thus Draco is now the proud owner of a new and improved (well not really improved, just in my eyes, though the original Lucius is still brilliant) proud father.

-CHAPTER FOUR-

Lucius Malfoy rose from his armchair in front of the roaring fireplace by the third knock. He closed the diary, removed his reading glasses and placed both on the small table beside the chair. Rubbing his eyes he left the small drawing room and walked down the hall to the staircase. He took note that the knocking had stopped after the third rap and smiled, it could only be one person.

He pulled the front door open to reveal a young man, the spitting image of himself as he had looked twenty odd years ago.

"Father," said Draco nodding hello.

Lucius stood back to let his son in, unable to contain the smile that spread across his lips.

It had been at least a month since the two remaining Malfoys had seen each other. There was always a considerable amount of time between each visit, time in which Lucius always found himself longing to see and talk with his son again. Three years ago he had been eager to hand down his title to Draco and go into early retirement, he'd had enough of the rush and hard work of thieving, all he wanted to do was settle down away from it all. He'd had his run- a great run, and Draco had the making of a fine Slytherin leader, something he had always seen in his son. So he had easily given it away, knowing it was going into able hands, perhaps the hands of someone better than he. He had vanished from the thieving world that day and according to news from Draco, was presumed dead by many. Lucius left that world behind and moved into upper-London, into a home his dear wife had once lived in. But after leaving it all behind Lucius found himself longing to have it back, for the life he lived now was far less interesting and a rather lonely one at that.

Lucius shut the door, stopping more of the freezing wind to enter the house. Draco removed his coat and hung it on the stand by the door before looking up to find his father gazing at him, it was a tad unnerving. "Yes, it has been a long time, hasn't it?"

Lucius nodded and rubbed his eyes again. "So," he said eyeing his son, "I'm assuming by that look in your eye this isn't just a humble 'let's see how old daddy's getting on' kind of visit."

Both men began to laugh. Lucius let the feeling wash all over him; it felt great to be able to interact with another person.

Draco smiled at his father in wonderment, "You really must teach me how you know these things. I'm here, what, a minute? And already you know by the look in my eye I'm here for more than a general chat."

"I think you know enough of my tricks as it is and that's one I'm particularly fond of. Besides, you're already outdoing me in my old profession, I really need something I can have over you," Lucius began to lead the way up the stairs.

Draco smiled softly at the praise, "Fine, but answer me this."

"Mmm?" the older man pushed open the door to the drawing room.

"What look in my eye?" Draco sighed in content as the warmth from the fire took over his body.

Lucius turned round and looked at his son's face thoughtfully. "That one," he said pointing.

Draco rolled his eyes but walked over to the mirror on the wall all the same to examine this look.

"So what is it?" Lucius sat down in his armchair and watched the younger man.

"I have some questions," said Draco slowly, walking towards the chair opposite his father and sitting down.

"Why me?" asked Lucius curiously, "Surely someone closer to home would know the answer."

Draco shook his head.

"Ok then, what?"

"Did the Potters' have a child?" he asked outright.

Lucius sat up a little straighter, the feeling that always came whenever the Potters were mentioned flooded his body. It was the feeling of guilt.

"Draco, you know I don't like talking about this subject," he whispered looking into the flames.

Draco sighed as he watched his father, "Father, you can't blame yourself for something that wasn't you fault."

"It was my fault," the man said in a hoarse voice.

"We've been through this a hundred times. Riddle would've killed them anyway, them and a lot more. It's because of you lives were spared and Riddle is gone."

"We don't know that, he mayn't have harmed any of them. If I hadn't done anything they would still be here."

"Or they might still be dead," Draco said frustrated, "Father, whether you want to believe it or not, you did the right thing, something anyone in your position would have done. If there's blame to be laid on anyone for their death it's on Riddle."

Lucius took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He'd told himself the same thing a thousand times but still the feeling remained. He couldn't help but feel responsible for the death of Lily and James Potter.

He looked back to find Draco looking at him closely, concern splashed across his pale features. "Ok. You're right. It's not my fault," he lied but was thankful to see the look of relief fill his son's eyes. "What was your question?"

"Did the Potters' have a child?" Draco asked.

More guilt swept over Lucius but he pushed it away, "Yes, they did."

Draco was staring at him hoping for more. Lucius sighed and continued, "A boy. Your age. I can't remember his name…"

"Harry?" Draco supplied.

"Yes…yes, that sounds right. He wasn't there that night- they don't like having children at these formal things so I believe he was staying at his godfather's. After it happened I read somewhere that Black, the godfather, brought him down to England, the family had been living in their Scottish estate. Black wanted to keep him as far away as possible from it. But it wasn't long after that Black died…"

"How?"

"I really don't know, but the last I heard of young Mr Potter he was at boarding school."

Draco sat quietly thinking, not anymore.

-

Harry tried to ease his boredom by examining the carriage's furnishings.

"Harry?"

He looked up from the red cushioning on the seat upon realising someone was talking to him.

"It was him again," said Ron angrily, "He must be bloody stalking me or something."

Harry frowned, "Sorry, who are we talking about Ron?"

"That bastard who stole my money."

"Draco Malfoy?" asked Harry, interest suddenly spiking. "Where?"

"Hanging around outside Fred and George's," said Ron bitterly.

"Honestly Ron, for a thief he seemed quite charming," said Hermione, a faint blush appearing on her cheeks as she remembered the blonde winking at her.

"How on earth could a thief seem charming?" Ron asked staring at her flabbergasted.

"He stopped and helped me into the carriage when no one else glanced twice at me."

"He helped you into the carriage?" Ron yelled, "Who the hell does he think he is touching you with his filthy hands?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Some people are just kind like that, Ron and besides, his hands were far from filthy, something I really don't think you can talk about."

Hermione looked back out the carriage window as Ron stared at her completely thrown-off. "But he's a thief," he muttered angrily to no one in particular.

Harry couldn't help but notice the look of jealousy written across his friend's face and almost laughed as Ron looked at the palm of his hand and wiped it on his pants.

He followed Hermione's lead and began to gaze out the window. Night was slowly falling over London. He began to wonder as he frequently did on the trip back home, why Fred and George lived so close to lower-London and so far away from everyone else of their stature. He'd really have to ask them one day.

"Are you sure you don't want to come, Harry?" Harry looked away from the window to find Hermione looking at him, "I mean considering you are paying and all. I really don't feel right that we're spending your money and you're not there to enjoy a cent of it."

Harry smiled back at her, "No, this is my treat for you two. I don't want to be there like a third wheel or something."

Hermione smiled, "It's nice of you though, you really needn't have gone to the trouble."

"Well, you two were going out anyway, I was the one who suggested we go to Fred and George's yesterday if it hadn't been for that Ron would still have his money. So it was the only thing I could see to do to help my friends."

"Thanks mate," said Ron. "I definitely owe you one for this."

"Don't bother," said Harry looking back to the window, away from Ron and Hermione eyeing each other.

Harry looked at the street sign as they turned the corner, thank god they were almost at the theatre. He didn't know how much longer he could stand being in the carriage with the pair. They were his best friends, always had been, but now things were changing between the three and the change didn't seem to be coming out in Harry's favour. His ears suddenly picked up a playful slap as he watched a flickering streetlamp. The sound was closely followed by an attempted hushed whisper of, " Not in front of Harry." Harry tried to block out the subsequent giggle as he leant closer to the window.

"This is the street now," he said in the pleasantest voice he could muster.

"Ah, excellent. Thanks again, Harry," said Ron getting up and opening the door. He stepped down to the street outside and held out a hand to Hermione.

"Yes, thanks again, Harry," she said taking Ron's hand.

"Have fun," Harry said as the carriage door swung shut. He let out a sigh. The carriage began to move on again, now on its way to Harry's home. Darkness had completely fallen and Harry noticed it was a full moon. He smiled, his agitated nerves relaxing, the moon always reminded him of one of his father's friends. I wonder what happened to dear old Lupin, he thought as the horse turned down his street only a block from the theatre. He tossed the thought away as he watched a lone figure walking down the footpath fifty metres up ahead. By the way they were walking they seemed very confident and knowing of the area, which was odd because Harry was sure he'd never seen the person around here before. He began to watch the figure more intently and his eyes lit with interest as the moonlight caught the person's hair lighting it a silvery blonde.

"Stop here," he called to the driver, quickly pulling on his coat and climbing from the carriage. He paid the fare and waited until the carriage was out of sight before walking up the street after the blonde. Harry frowned, he couldn't see him anywhere, he began to walk faster.

At last he caught sight of him twenty metres ahead, Harry began to close the gap. The blonde turned down an alley way and Harry followed suit only to find the alley pitch black and empty. He walked forward slowly, squinting into the darkness.

Without warning an arm was flung around him clamping his arms to his sides and something cold and hard was pressed to his neck.

"It's not safe to be walking the streets alone at this hour," Draco whispered into his captive's ear. "You really must learn to tread more softly when you're attempting to follow someone."

The hairs on Harry's neck prickled as the words were whispered, Draco's breath tickling his skin. Though at the moment the thought of how close the blonde was to his face was far from his mind. All Harry could think of was the blade against his throat. "Ok, please, just take the knife away from my neck," he managed to whisper.

Draco frowned. The voice triggered something in his memory. He slowly lowered the knife and let go of his grasp around the boy's waist. The figure turned around to reveal an incredibly white Harry Potter with his eyes shut, rubbing his neck and breathing heavily.

Draco's eyes widened as he was suddenly filled with thoughts of how Lily Potter had been killed- a knife to the throat. "Shit, I'm sorry," he said eyeing Harry warily and slipping the knife back into his coat pocket.

Harry managed to get his breathing under control, took one last deep breath and opened his eyes. "No, I shouldn't have been following you in the first place."

Upon seeing Harry was fine Draco began to gain his original composure. "Yes, now tell me, why were you following me exactly? Because if you're trying to seek some sort of glory by single-handedly catching me and handing me over just because I stole your friend's money, I really wouldn't bother. The police are having a hard enough time as it is." He smirked at the brunet.

"There isn't much stopping me from catching you right now," said Harry studying Draco carefully.

"True," said Draco, "but if your capturing skills are as good as your following ones, again, I wouldn't bother, but feel free to try." He held both arms out to the sides gesturing Harry forward.

Harry didn't move.

"Thought as much," Draco dropped his arms, most of his bravado dropping with them. "So why were you following me? Because honestly if it's about your friend's money I've already explained to his brothers he was asking for it."

"No, I know he was," Harry agreed.

"So why the following?" asked Draco casting a curious glance at the boy.

"I have my reasons," Harry said slyly, causing a grin to pull at the blonde's lips.

Draco laughed, "With that kind of response you could make a fine thief." He pulled a pocket watch from his coat and checked the time. He looked back up at Harry. "I meant it when I said it's not safe to walk the streets alone at night, even for you. Come on."

Harry followed Draco out of the alleyway and back onto the footpath along the main road.

"Draco?" he asked.

The blonde stopped, perplexed to hear the name come from the brunet and wondered how he knew it.

"What are you doing up here? I didn't know thieves ventured so far from lower-London."

"We don't," Draco said as Harry fell in beside him and they continued on down the street.

"So why are you up here?"

"I have my reasons," he glanced over to see Harry trying to push back an amused smile.

"So you're walking all the way back to lower-London?" the brunet queried.

"Yep," said Draco.

"Christ. Why don't you just take a carriage?"

Draco rolled his eyes, "Sometimes I really can't understand how an educated mind can ask such a stupid question."

"Oh," Harry felt the heat rising in his cheeks and pulled his coat collar up to hopefully hide it from the blonde's eyes. "Sorry, I didn't think." Harry stared hard at the dimly lit path ahead, surprised at himself. "That was a stupid question, wasn't it?"

"No worry, Potter, I understand you lot don't see fit to waste your education when talking to someone like me."

Harry opened his mouth to apologise again, but paused, Potter?

The thief caught his eye, the silver of his own flashing in the lamp light, almost daring him to ask. Harry looked him over deep in thought before turning away.

"This is my home just up ahead," he said, nodding at a house which would have had to have been, in Draco's eyes, one of the best around, "and as I'm not planning on stalking any other thieves between here and my door step, as much as I've loved having the leader of the Slytherins as my chaperone, your assistance is no longer required."

Draco drew his eyes slowly from the house and back to the brunet, cocking an eyebrow, "Do you realise how much of a stuck-up prat you sound using terms like that? But as you wish- if my chaperoning assistance is no longer required then I'll be off." Draco stooped into a bow; "It's been a pleasure to meet you again, Master Potter."

Harry snorted, shaking his head, "Five years at boarding school surrounded by other rich prats like myself and not ending up talking like them is harder than I thought."

"Perhaps someone needs to teach you some proper English," suggested Draco.

Harry frowned and tilted his head to side, "Proper English?"

"English from the streets of the country themselves, not this posh nonsense you people pay to learn. Honestly, over half the country wouldn't have understood your last few sentences," Draco pointed out.

"Is that really so? I'd be willing to learn but where do I find a teacher of proper English?" asked Harry pushing his hands into his coat pockets.

"Here and there," said Draco with a grin on his face that made Harry wonder what on earth the blonde was thinking. "They're few in numbers, but perhaps if you're good and we meet again of course, I'll be able to find you one."

"Sounds excellent," said Harry.

"Great," corrected Draco. "Sounds great."

"Great," repeated Harry, grinning.

"So until next time," said Draco.

"If there is a next time," Harry pointed out.

"Oh, I've a feeling there will be," Draco gave a quick salute and began to cross the road before turning back. "Goodbye Master Potter, it was an absolute honour being your chaperone tonight."

Harry watched as he disappeared down the street, watching until he was out of sight. He walked the ten metres to his house and unlocked the door, amazed that the evening had taken such an interesting turn. It seemed forever and a day had passed since he had left Hermione and Ron at the theatre. It seemed like he had known the fiendish Draco Malfoy for years yet as he thought about it, it had only been just yesterday they had met. He wondered if Draco was right in thinking they'd meet again. Harry found himself hoping so for there was something that came to him whilst being around the thief that was never there around Ron or Hermione. And like all things that were connected with the Slytherin, Harry couldn't quite put his finger on it.

A/N: "Excellent" we all cry, at last some interaction between our two heroes (or whatever you want to call them). I've decided that thieves swear but not upper-class- they're far beyond that. Not words like 'fuck' just casual things that might've been around. Of course Ron is an exception with his 'bloody this and what-not'.

So there's another chapter down and I'm still on the look out for a name for Fred and George's tavern. (Why can't you just get off your ass and come up with one yourself? Pfff, I just churned out another chapter in two days, I can't do every bloody thing here) nah, if I don't get anymore suggestions I'll hit the books and find something I like that suits them. And thanks to the two people who have given suggestions so far. As to the rest of you- hang your heads in shame, you read my story which I pour my heart and soul into and you don't even have the decency to fulfil a simple request to come up with a name for a pub. May god have mercy on you all. But enough crap, any questions, queries, general suggestions, comments?- all will be replied to as soon as I can get back to you.

Until next time -Rogue