Potter's Eleven

By Natasha Shaitanova

Chapter 3: "Three"

Disclaimer: I don't own Ocean's Eleven and I don't own Harry Potter. Life is sad.

Quick A/N: Je suis désolée une mille fois. Ok, my French sucks—I'm terribly sorry! I should have updated long ago…well…oh well.

"I'm bored," Draco commented dully, without taking his eyes off the road. His passenger merely raised an eyebrow at the unnoticed stop-sign.

"You look bored."

"I am bored."

Harry took out a wad of bills from his suit pocket—the money he swiped off the poker table. Rifling through the bills, he divided the stack in two.

"Half of it's yours."

Wordlessly, Draco stuffed the cash in his own pocket, before turning to glance at Harry. "Did you get the box of cookies I sent you?"

Harry smirked, "Why do you think I came to see you first?"

A longer pause settled over the occupants of the Ferrari as Draco swerved around another street corner. He turned on the radio to a soft alternative station, before the pointed stares of his companion urged him to speak.

"You barge in there, ruin my professional reputation, basically guarantee my career of robbing movie stars is over. At least tell me you've got something better for me."

"I've got something better for you."

"Small latte, extra shot please," Harry smiled at the waitress before directing his attention back across the table. Draco was already sipping his drink, pinkie thrust out, as he asked:

"So, how's Ginny?"

Harry glared, "Next subject please."

Draco took a gulp of his espresso to hide the grin: he still had it. "Alright, tell me."

"It's tricky. It's never been done before," Harry paced himself carefully, with artistic pauses highlighting his words. "Needs planning, and a large crew. No magic—if we let on we're anything other than muggles, we're dead. Good as dead."

"Guns?"

Harry shrugged, "Not loaded ones. It has to be very precise. There's a lot of security. But the take…"

"What's the target?"

Harry ignored him, "Eight figures each, at the least."

"What's. The. Target." Draco cut himself off as the waitress appeared, setting down Harry's latte. Seconds later, he was again staring down his old friend.

Harry took a deep breath. "When was the last time you were in Vegas?"

Scoffing, Draco raised an eyebrow and rubbed at the corners of his mouth. "What, you want to knock over a casino?"

Deliberately, Harry set down his coffee and looked up from under his long bangs. Shifting his glance around the café, he raised three fingers just above his cup.

Both of Draco's eyebrows went up this time and the espresso cup banged down on the tabletop. "Three??"

Harry slowly nods.

"H-ooh, damn," shaking his head, Draco downed the rest of his coffee and leaned his chin on his hand. Forget the movie stars.

The 40th floor of J.A. Kuehn & Associates was bathed in pure kohl as the three a.m. dark seeped in through the windows. The nightlife of downtown Los Angeles was bustling away down the street, but the building, cold for all the world, took no part in the hustle.

A pair of halogen flashlights broke the black air in one of the rooms as Harry and Draco riffled through cabinet after cabinet of blueprints. Or rather, Harry prowled through the drawers as Draco amused himself by switching the papers in the "Out" and "In" boxes. Finally, a set of blueprints was shoved under his nose.

"The vault of the Bellagio."

Draco made little hums and "oohs" as he scanned over the papers, chewing on a nail as he turned to the second page, "Well…if I'm reading this right – and I'd like to think I am – then this is probably the least accessible vault ever designed."

Harry nodded along as he looked over Draco's shoulder, poker mask in place.

"Actually, scratch that, I'm wrong," Draco grimaced, "This is definitely the least accessible vault ever designed."

"Yep."

Draco furrowed his brows, "You said three casinos…"

Flipping to the next page of the stack, Harry pointed at the graphics. "These feed into the cages at the Mirage and the M.G.M. Grand." He turned back to the vault prints, "But every dime ends up here."

"Bellagio, Mirage, and M.G.M…" Draco snapped his head to the side to stare at Harry. "Those are Severus Snape's places."

"Yes, they are," Harry paused a bit before adding nonchalantly, "You think he'll mind?"

"More than a little," Draco cocked his head to the side, considering, "Don't you think he'd have the vault all magicked up though?"

"Decidedly not," here Harry brightened up, "Remember, Voldie managed to break his wand, after which Dumbles and the Minister psychos pretty much drove him out of the country. Not intentionally. But regardless, he's magic free now—not that he had much of a choice."

"But?"

"But if he sniffed magic being used in the heist, I wouldn't put it past him to squeal to the Ministry just to blame everything on me." Harry paused, "He'd actually be right this time."

The doors of the elevator opened at the 40th floor and a hefty man in a security guard uniform stepped out, ducking slightly under the door frame. He leveled his flashlight at the wall before proceeding down the corridor.

OooOo

Harry rolled up the blueprints, shooting a fleeting glance at Draco. The other man seemed to be brooding rather heavily.

"You'd need at least a dozen guys, doing a combination of cons," Draco stated, digesting the plan.

Harry turned around, "Like what, you think?"

"Well," Draco mulled over his words," Off the top of my head, you're looking at a Boesky, a Jim Brown, a Miss Daisy, two Jethros, and a Leon Spinks. Oh, not to mention the biggest Ella Fitzgerald ever."

Draco looked sideways at his new partner, "Where are you planning to get the money to back this?"

Harry simply rolled his eyes, "Not only are we hitting three casinos, but Snape has a very long list of enemies. We'll get our bankroll."

Draco was still unconvinced, "But does he have enemies with loose cash and nothing to lose…Ah!"

"Aha," Harry grinned.

"Sirius."

The security guard walked cautiously along the hallway, speeding up as he heard voices and saw the lights coming from a room down the corridor.

"So…" Harry waved the blueprints at Draco.

"So, here's what I think," Draco crossed his arms. "You should take this plan, kick it around for a week or two. Sleep on it. Turn it over in your head. And then, never mention it to me again."

Harry scoffed, "Uh-huh…So, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that this is like trying to play poker on brooms in the middle of a thunderstorm."

"Really?" Harry pretended to be surprised. "I thought it was much harder than that—"

He was cut off as a bright flashlight beam was aimed at his face. Shielding his face with one hand, Harry scowled at the security guard, "Dammit, Oscar, lower that thing a little, would ya?"

"Sorry," the guard lowered the light and gestured vaguely around the room, "You guys done up here? Got what you came for?"

"Yeah, thanks a lot," Harry gathered the blueprints, "We'll just take these drawings home for the night, make a couple of copies. You mind?"

"Whatever you need," the guard replied slowly, his eyes too focused on the wad of bills Draco was taking out of his pocket. The latter peeled off a few and buried them in the guard's hand.

The blond gave a dashing smile, "Appreciate it."

Harry and Draco walked down the same hall the guard had stalked earlier, stopping at the elevator. The doors opened without sound, but Draco caught Harry's arm, stopping him from boarding.

"Why do this?"

Harry glanced around them, taking interest in the walls, "Why not do it?"

"Stop bullshitting around," Draco growled, "Answer the question."

Harry set his gaze firmly on his friend and took a breath, "Because yesterday I walked out of the joint wearing my entire wardrobe and you are cold-decking TeenBeat coverboys," he paused and leaned forward. "Because the House always wins. You play long enough, never change the stakes, the house takes you. Unless, when that perfect hand comes along, you bet big. And then you take the house."

Draco smiled crookedly and led the two into the lift. "You've been practicing."

Harry wrung his hands, almost worriedly. "A little…Did I rush it? I felt like I rushed it."

"No, no it was good."

The pair crossed their arms and legs in sync as the elevator doors closed. Draco chewed on his nail again and exchanged glances with Harry.

"What do you think Sirius would say?"

A/N: okay, I'm done. I'll make the next chapter sooner and longer—promise! This just seemed like the perfect place to end it.

Anyhow…please be dears and review! Please, with a sexy, chocolate covered Tom Felton on top! :)