Thief is Such a Harsh Word, Harry
Apologies all round for the lateness (and any reviews I may have missed in replying to, I think I got them all but I'm not sure, sorry if I missed you). I'd planned to have this out a week ago, but it seems teachers think it a brilliant idea to keep the tests and homework running until the very last day of term, leaving aspiring young authors with no time on their hands. Though not really sure if I could call myself that considering that would mean I'd have to write something with my own characters. We'll see.
-CHAPTER FIVE-
Blaise carefully eased the door open and slipped in through the crack. He crept quietly across the room to the cabinet opposite the door. Slowly he pulled open the top drawer and looked inside. A quick rummage through the assortment of odds and ends in it proved his search unsuccessful. He pushed the drawer back in and opened the second as quietly as the first. Again, nothing. He continued with the same stealth until he closed the fifth and final drawer. He sat back on his heels with a sigh of relief.
"I take that sigh means you didn't find anything," said a voice from behind.
Blaise cringed. He cleared his throat, "Honestly Draco, I didn't expect to find anything." He reluctantly got to his feet and turned around. Draco stood behind him, arms folded with a look of amusement on his lips in anticipation for Blaise's myriad of excuses to weasel himself out of the wrong.
"You see, I heard from Finnigan that Flint's been telling people you've been holding out on us," Blaise paused to see Draco's reaction.
"Has he really? Still pissed we didn't let him in, eh?" he said thoughtfully. Marcus Flint had tried to join the Slytherins a year ago but Draco had turned him down. It had been nothing personal, although none of the Slytherins particularly liked the man, it was, as Draco had explained to him, in Salazar's rules that Slytherins were blood born, and no one was able to just join. Flint had refused to believe the rules still applied and had decided that the reason he wasn't being let in was because Draco hadn't wanted someone that may have given him a run for his money working along side him. Of course none of this was true, Flint was a hopeless thief, known only for his brutality. But ever since being turned down Flint had made it his duty to seek revenge on the blond and his brotherhood.
"I think he's trying to turn us against you again," said Blaise.
"And I just caught you rummaging through my drawers because…" Draco raised an eyebrow, "…you were trying to prove him wrong?"
"Exactly!" said Blaise.
Draco laughed.
"Ok, I admit, I thought you weren't here and so I decided to just check. I didn't really believe you'd been keeping profits from us. I was just curious."
"Fair enough," said Draco knowing he would have done the same. He sat down on the bed and lay back. "But, Blaise, please tell me you'll never attempt to rob someone's house. Honestly, has it never occurred to you to check and see if anyone's in the room before you enter?"
Blaise went slightly red, "You were watching me the whole time, weren't you?"
"Yep," said Draco grinning.
Blaise sat down cross-legged next to Draco on the bed, "You bastard!" he laughed, "Why didn't you bloody say something?"
"I wanted to know what you were up to. It's not everyday you find your best-friend skulking into your room."
"Bloody hell, I must've looked like a right idiot. But cut me some slack here, I didn't think you were home. I even checked to see if you'd left any profits upstairs, there weren't any from you so that and the fact that I hadn't seen you come in made me think you weren't here. Where'd you get off to yesterday?"
"Went to visit the king," said Draco staring at the ceiling.
"Oh," said Blaise, "and how is his majesty?"
"He's been reading mother's diaries again," Draco closed his eyes, "I don't think he's ever going to let her go."
"Well, that's how it is when you're in love with someone," said Blaise reasonably, "or so I've heard."
"You've been listening to Pansy too much," Draco muttered, "She's rubbing off on you."
"No, I haven't. That's just something everyone knows. When a loved one dies it's impossible to move on straight away," Blaise watched the frowning blond carefully.
"Seven years is a lot longer than straight away, Blaise. Besides, I've moved on. Why can't he?" Draco said firmly.
Without warning he got up from the bed and walked quickly from the room.
Blaise watched knowingly. "You shouldn't have to deny missing your mother, Draco," he said to the doorway.
-
Fred flinched in his seat at the sound of the three knocks on the front door. He closed the newspaper and walked to the window. Carefully pulling the curtain back a fraction he peered out. He was relieved to see it was not their guest from yesterday. He let go of the curtain and went to open the door.
"Harry," he said pulling it open, grinning.
Harry smiled back but to Fred he seemed slightly distant.
"What?" asked Fred slowly. Harry was staring at the door.
"I think," said Harry, a thoughtful furrow forming on his brow as he spoke, "that someone's tried to break in…"
He squatted down in front of the lock. Fred leant over him to have a closer look himself. Harry reached up and pulled a thin metal rod from the lock. He held it up to the light so Fred could see it more clearly.
"That sneaky bastard," muttered Fred in disbelief, taking the pick from Harry to examine it more closely. "No wonder he looked so guilty when I opened the door." He turned the pick around in his fingers. Harry was sure he was searching for something.
"But surely he's beyond something like that," Fred was thinking out loud, "Though who else could it have been?"
He turned around and walked into the house still inspecting the pick. Harry followed, shutting the door behind him with an amused smile on his lips directed towards Fred's behaviour.
He found the twin sitting at a desk in the back room holding the pick up to a lit candle. Harry went and stood over him wondering what Fred was looking for. The small rod was turned over in his fingers yet again. The redhead stopped the motion suddenly and leant forward bringing the rod right up to his eye. Harry watched as a satisfied grin spread across his face. "There…" he whispered.
Harry leant forward and took the pick from Fred, squinting at the place where Fred had been looking. At first he saw nothing, but then as he peered closer he saw it, a minuscule engraved… "A snake?" he asked.
"The Slytherin snake," Fred said triumphantly, blowing out the candle.
"So a Slytherin tried to break in?"
"Oh no, Harry," Fred grinned and turned in his chair to face the brunet. "Not just any Slytherin. The snake is the mark of Salazar which means this pick is very unique. Things that are marked are one of a kind and very few people hold them in their possession."
"So how do we know which of them owns this one?" asked Harry looking to Fred keenly.
"Simple. Salazar's things are passed down from a select person to another. From leader to leader, to be precise."
Harry's eyes widened. "So he was here. He was telling the truth when he said he'd spoken to you about Ron."
"Of course I was, Harry. Just because I'm a thief doesn't mean I lie… much."
Harry and Fred turned around to face the room's entrance behind them. There, leaning against the doorframe with a traditional Malfoy smirk on his face was none other than the young Slytherin leader himself.
"This sneaking up on people business is really quite something, the look on your faces," Draco pushed off the wall and walked towards them.
"How the hell did you get in?" asked an astonished Fred.
Draco rolled his eyes, "Surely you of all people can figure that one out. They're called locks and are really quite pointless if you don't put them to use."
Harry looked to floor realising the mistake was his own, while Fred shook his head in disbelief.
"You know, you thieves aren't really as devious as you're cracked up to be. Walking in already unlocked doors, where's the effort in that?" asked the twin.
"It's not our fault you people make it easier for us," said Draco. "And even if you had locked the door, I'd still've found a way in."
"Even without this?" asked Harry holding up the pick.
"Yeah, I thought you guys were useless without your picks," said Fred grinning.
"No, that's just Finnigan," said Draco coolly. "There are ways into houses other than picking locks."
"Yeah, like walking in already unlocked doors," laughed Fred.
Draco shot him a piercing look, "I can see how you and Finnigan make such great pals."
Harry frowned, lost. He glanced to Fred, "Who's Finnigan?".
The question received him a confused frown from Draco and a worried look from Fred. Draco was first to respond, "You don't know who-"
"He's just a friend," Fred cut in and shot a warning look at the thief.
Draco frowned for a minute more before realisation hit him. He began to smile slyly, "So none of them-?"
Fred shook his head forcefully hoping Draco would just shut up and leave.
"Well, this is interesting," said the blond.
Harry watched the pair closely, trying desperately to follow but failing miserably. He suddenly wondered something that seemed very clear by the way the pair were interacting. "How long have you two known each other?"
Draco turned around and smiled at Harry as Fred's face filled with even more panic.
"Ever since the twins opened the-"
"Harry," Fred said loudly over the top of Draco. "Just give him his stupid pick so he can leave."
"That's not very good hospitality," the opportunity was too good for Draco to miss, "I would've expected better from you Fred. I mean, I've heard the service at The-"
"GET OUT!" yelled Fred. "Just take your bloody pick and leave!"
Draco laughed, his eyes glinting. "Surely this isn't how you treat your customers?"
One look at Fred's face made it clear to Harry that Draco was skating on thin ice, but the blond seemed to be enjoying it. Harry was finding it rather fascinating watching the two even if he still had no clue what they were talking about.
"Customers?" he asked.
Fred let out a grown and put his head in his hands.
Draco bit his tongue to stop himself from laughing. "Yes Fred, do tell Harry about your wonderful customers. I think my damage is done." He winked at Harry and Harry couldn't help but grin. "If you will Harry," said Draco holding out his hand.
For a second Harry thought Draco was implying that he take his hand, then realised Draco was referring to the pick he still held. Shaking his head slightly and cursing himself for thinking such stupid things he placed the small pick onto the thief's hand. Draco's fingers snapped shut around it and he quickly pocketed it.
"Fred, I think you have some explaining to do," the blond gave the redhead a nod good bye, flashed a charming grin Harry's way and walked from the room, hands in his coat pockets.
Fred looked up to find Harry eyeing him questioningly. "I will explain. It was going to come out sooner or later. I guess we should tell everyone, maybe not mum and dad though." Fred looked thoughtfully out the window wondering just how his parents would react to the news.
"Tell everyone what exactly?" asked Harry.
"George and I…" Fred began.
"Where is George?" Harry asked suddenly.
Fred sighed, "He's at…he's…"
Harry frowned. He had never seen Fred look so stressed and unsure of himself.
"Christ. We knew this would happen one day. One slip of the tongue and our whole world would come crashing down around us," Fred said dismally. "Mum and Dad are going to kill us when they find out."
"But what if they don't have to find out?" Harry said quietly, a strange twinkle flashed in his eyes.
"It'd be good, Harry, but think about it. You practically know, it's only a matter of time before everyone else does," Fred looked glumly out the window. Small flecks of water began to sprinkle against the glass and gradually run down it.
The mischievous twinkle spread from Harry's eyes to his lips, "There seems to be one key step missing from your prediction. You see, what happens if I say nothing?"
"If you say nothing…" Fred whispered under his breath whilst watching a drop of water trail down the window.
Harry's grin broadened as the usual spark in Fred's eyes appeared and he leapt from his chair, grabbing the brunet by the shoulders grinning an equally as large smile.
"If you say nothing! Genius!" Fred cried. He dropped his grip on Harry's shoulders and eyed him warily. "You promise to tell no one?"
"He won't tell a soul and I'll make sure of it."
Fred didn't even bother turning around, "I thought you'd left."
"Hasn't Seamus told you never to assume things?" Draco walked back into the room and perched himself on the edge of the desk, swinging his legs absentmindedly. "Lovely house you two've got. Though personally I think the dining room could do with some work."
"Why didn't you leave?" asked Fred but without any anger in his voice, just plain curiosity.
The blond rolled his eyes, a trait Harry noticed he was fond of. "It's raining. Surely you can't expect me to walk home in the rain."
"What was I thinking?" said Fred casting an amused smile at Harry, who was smiling thoughtfully at the thief.
"So now that the anxiety's gone about Harry running off and telling your charming younger brother, I think you owe him an explanation," Draco leant back on his elbows on the desk. "I'll help."
"How much do you know?" Fred asked curiously.
"More than you think."
Harry eyed the thief even more thoughtfully. Although Draco spoke with confidence and almost flippantly, the look in his eye gave the impression that what he knew seemed to something far more than just the tale of what the Weasley twins had been up to. At the same time though, whatever it was seemed to be tightly guarded within the silver armoury of the thief, Harry found himself more intrigued by the young man than ever. Draco's silver stare moved from the redhead and over to Harry. The latter looked away quickly, realising he had been staring for quite some time.
Draco found himself as interested as ever by the aristocrat's behaviour. From experience he knew people of Harry's stature to be the type to do anything for self gain, was this all a ploy so he could have something over the Weasleys? The thief ran a hand through his hair in thought. The young man before him seemed nothing like that, there was something so different to other aristocrats about him, something attractive. With the brunet busying himself with finding somewhere to sit and Fred sitting in his original seat humming and haring about where to begin his explanation, Draco used the time to have a closer look at Harry. The first time he had seen him had been brief and Draco had only had time to give him a quick glance. Last night had given him more of an opportunity, except for the fact that the only light he could see Harry in had been that of the flickering streetlamps and the moon itself- though there's nothing wrong with moonlight. Some of his best work had been done bathed in nothing but faint moonlight. Plus if his memory served him correctly, Pansy had mentioned once that walking in the moonlight with someone was considered by many, very romantic. Draco smiled lightly, finding it difficult to see how someone could think walking Harry home after holding a knife to his throat, while the moon just so happened to be shining brightly, was romantic. The idea seemed up there with Blaise's rubbish about the death of loved ones. Draco gave his head a tiny shake, trying to avoid thinking about that subject. He went back to inspecting Harry who had chosen to sit on the floor and was also sitting back on his elbows, like Draco, but with his legs spread out in front, watching Fred intently.
Draco swept his eyes over the young man before him and eventually found himself unable to look away from Harry's eyes. They were a brilliant shade of green; the colour of the rolling hills in the countryside Draco had forever longed to visit. Just like the countryside Draco found himself wanting to be able to fall deep into the emerald eyes and take in every aspect there and in doing so perhaps never leave.
Upon deciding now was a no better time than any; Fred glanced around at his audience. Harry seemed to be deep in thought looking out the rain-splattered window. He glanced over to the thief and a gentle smile came to his lips. He leant closer to Draco and whispered, "It's rude to stare."
Draco gave a sharp jolt and looked over at Fred, his cheeks tinting. "I wasn't," Draco denied.
Fred's eyes lit with amusement at Draco's denial of the blatantly obvious, "Of course you weren't."
Draco glared at him, but Fred noticed him glance briefly at Harry to make sure he hadn't noticed his embarrassment at being caught. Draco relaxed as he saw Harry was still looking out the window. That could've been awkward to explain- 'Draco, why are you blushing?' Fred would smile evilly 'Oh, it's nothing. I just caught him staring at you with a slightly distant expression on his face.'
Fred cleared his throat and Harry looked up, alert and ready to find out what this scandal the Weasley twins were in really was.
"Ok, I'm going to get straight to the point, there's no point in trying to skirt around it. George and I, we," Fred paused and Harry leant forward a little in anticipation. "We own a tavern."
Harry blinked, slightly disappointed, this had not been what he was expecting. "That's it? But that isn't that big a deal. I'm sure your parents wouldn't mind, your dad especially." Harry stopped Fred was shaking his head. "What?"
"There's more," grinned Draco, watching the redhead.
"Yes, it's not the tavern itself, well, it is, but that's not the part we're worried about. You see," Fred paused again wondering what was the best way for him to phrase what he was about to say. "Have you ever wondered why we live so close to lower-London?"
"Yes…" said Harry, unsure where Fred was going with this.
"The tavern's the reason. It's in lower-London."
"But lower-London's the…" Harry frowned. Both Draco and Fred were nodding.
"You own a tavern for thieves?" Harry asked in shock.
"You say that like it's a bad thing," Draco muttered, which earned him an apologetic expression from Harry.
Fred nodded again.
"And that's where George is now?" Connections were slowly being made in Harry's mind. "And how you know so much about thieves."
"Yep," said Fred.
"Well, it makes sense why you don't want anyone to know. Christ. What would your mother think? What would Ron think?" Harry sat thinking for a few seconds.
Fred was looking at him slightly worried.
"I've got to admit I'm impressed," said Harry.
Fred sat up straighter suddenly looking smug.
"How on earth did you do it? You'd need connections, surely."
"That's where Finnigan comes in," said Draco.
"Seamus Finnigan," said Fred answering Harry's questioning look. "He's a thief-"
"Obviously," Draco muttered under his breath.
Fred ignored the comment; "George and I met him a while ago and sort of hit it off. We've been friends ever since, he helped us get the place and do it up, spread the word amongst the other thieves."
The three of them sat in silence for a minute or two before Draco spoke.
"Tell him where it is," he suggested
"Why?" asked Fred, frowning at the blond.
"So he can find it," said Draco.
"And why would he want to find a place full of your sort?"
"Why not." Harry said, receiving him a grin from Draco.
"Why not, indeed," said the blond.
"Ok, then. Harry, there's a map of the thieves' district in the spare room could you…"
Harry was already on his feet.
Fred looked back to Draco, "I can see why he's curious to know where it is, but why are you so mind set on him knowing?"
"He needs to know how to get to where his English lesson are to be held."
"You're serious?" asked Harry coming back into the room carrying a large roll of parchment. "I thought you were kidding when you said that."
"Of course not, but of course if you aren't up for it anymore I can call it off, though your teacher will be disappointed."
"No, I'm up for it," Harry said enthusiastically.
"Hang on a sec," said Fred glancing between them both. "Why is Harry getting English lessons? Harry, you've spent the past five years of your life studying literature and grammar and all that other rubbish. Why are you getting lessons now and from a thief?"
"You've answered your question yourself," said Draco, "That's the point exactly. Five years learning rubbish. This is proper English and who else would be better at teaching someone about proper English than lower-Londoners?"
"Proper English?" Fred raised an eyebrow.
"Harry'll explain later," Draco said jumping from the desk and taking the map from Harry.
Fred turned his question to Harry who just grinned shaking his head. Harry came up to the desk examining the map Draco had spread out. He located the twins' home just on the outskirts of area.
"So we're here," he said placing a finger on the map, "so then where's the tavern."
"Right here," said Fred. He pointed to a street located in one of the darkest part of London, right in the heart of the thieving community.
Harry traced the path between the two points with his eyes and made sure he had it firmly planted in his memory.
"So, what's this place I have to get to called?"
Both he and Draco looked up from the map to Fred, who stood smiling rather proudly.
"The Scarlet Tuppence."
A/N: "The Scarlet Tuppence" Thanks to Lain-Iris for the Tuppence part (Tuppence- enough money to get dead drunk on). I was in shock at how perfectly it fitted the story. The idea was brilliant and I wish I could claim it as my own but alas I'm not that creative. Scarlet- Came down to we needed a connection with the Gryffindors considering we've already got the Slytherins. So, scarlet- red/crimson whatever- Gryffindor colours. Also scarlet- red- Weasley twins hair (shit connection, I know). But my favourite, Scarlet- the Scarlet Pimpernel. And although he wasn't a thief whenever I think of him I class him in with all the Artful Dodger's of books. He rocks. So there we have it, and thanks to everyone who stopped and took time to think of an idea. (Note: Guilt works).
I'm afraid that although it is the holidays (giving me endless time on my hands) I won't be able to update for a week as I'm going down south for this week. But fear not, it's a five hr drive, giving me ten hrs there and back where I can write another few chapters.
As usual any questions, comments, suggestions- I'm all ears and I'll get back to you as soon as possible.
Until next time, -Rogue