Disclaimer: I do own the characters, they belong to J.K. Rowling. Also, the plot and dialogues are not mine either, they belong to Hajin Yoo.
So so so so so so sorry, I just had a major writer's block that lasted for months! And my exams are tomorrow but instead of studying, I'm posting this! . Hope you guys like it!
Chapter 4.
Come on! When I get through, you'll beg to give me the money!
Harry sits on the couch of the Slytherin Credit Union office; his posture is stiff as a board with his each of his hands placed on his thighs respectively; his brows knit and his mouth in straight line as he watches the main door, his mind is all geared-up. His back subconsciously straightens at the slight creak of the doors. But the person entering is not the person he is expecting.
'Why are you alone?' Neville asks, scanning the office as he walks near the couch that Harry is currently occupying. 'Where is everyone?'
As the surprise depletes, Harry answers with his eyes still on guard at the door 'Oh … I think they went to make their rounds'
After looking around another time, Neville finally decides to take a seat on the couch opposite Harry's. The awkward atmosphere causes Harry to shift slightly in his seat. This is the first time since they broke up that Harry and Neville are completely alone together and Harry isn't sure if he should mention about 'us' or not. The coffee table is the only thing that is physically separates them.
'I heard you said you'll have the money by today' Neville says, glancing at Harry. 'I just hope you're prepared to leave town' Harry looks away, his lips curl into a tiny pout in the small faith that everybody, even Neville, have in him. Though, he is still unsure if the old man decides to pay up or make havoc today. 'No, wait. I wonder if they prepared a casket'
'Does the boss treat you well?' Harry couldn't help his curiosity as the question slips through his lips.
Neville is dumbstruck by the question, especially Harry's tone which is nearing the area of concern. Harry maintains the eye contact between them until Neville breaks it, choosing to find his hands more interesting. 'At least, he's no dirty slut like someone I know'
Harry's chest tightens at Neville's words.
'Besides, he's rich, handsome' Neville decides to prattle on, hoping to get a reaction from his ex-boyfriend, 'and has a fantastic body. What's to complain about?' he comments boastfully as he stands up with an uncaring yet noticeable tone. 'Huh?' But Harry is silent.
Neville turns around only to find Harry's eyes are shimmering brightly and his lips curl into one of those smiles that a five year old makes when given the triple scoop ice-cream.
'What's with the face?' Neville asks, puzzled.
Harry says giddily 'Does he really have such a fantastic body?' He really needs to control his curiosity.
His question pushes one of Neville's red buttons; his face glowers with heavy magenta as a scowl place itself on his thin lips with a growl producing in the back of his throat. His fist plummets harshly at Harry's head the minute before the latter let out a yelp of pain. 'Die, you prick!' Neville growls, glaring at the groaning form in front of him. 'You shameless, sex-crazed dog!'Again, steams of frustration might as well be pouring out from his ears if his loud and heavy stomps on the floor aren't any signification of his anger.
But Neville's tracks stops abruptly at Harry's words. 'Well, I'm glad to hear that' Slowly and cautiously, Neville turns his head around; Harry has an appreciative smile swinging by his lips, his emerald eyes glistening amiably with his hand rubbing the bruised spot on his head, his glasses slightly fallen off the hook of his nose.
At the riveting sight on display in front of his eyes, Neville quickly let out a grumpy noise and turns his body back, facing the door again leaving a slightly puzzled Harry sitting on the couch. Neville brings his hand up to his lips, trying to keep the longing and yearning emotions that threatens to overcome him under control. I swear, Neville thought morosely, you can be so thick sometimes.
When Neville's hand is inches away from the doorknob, it clicks on its own. The door pushes itself inwards with the common creak noise. 'What?' Neville instinctively takes some steps backwards when a lone figure is revealed on the other side of the partially open door. 'Who are you?' Neville asks as a spectacled man in his 50s steps in, the black cap covering his hair is the same colour as his shades.
Upon Neville's surprised tone, Harry promptly stands up with his mind and position at the ready. 'Ah!' He walks closer to the old man that has come to be a great distaste of display in front of his eyes. The old man refuses to look up, his wrinkled face is covered by the hat and the shade does the same to his eyes. 'I hope you brought the money' Harry says boldly.
The old man reaches a hand into the inside of his jacket pocket; his face is still shadowed with only his lips in the sunlight fluorescent which doesn't give Harry much clue of his emotion. 'I have brought "something" alright!' His tone is audacious and furious and a gleam of light reflected from the inside of this jacket; he quickly strikes the knife to the nearest person to him.
'Holy!' Neville moves his body to the side with his hands covering his face, the knife cutting through air at the spot where he was just seconds ago. With a thump, Neville is sprawled on the floor as his body is hit against the wall. 'Neville!' Harry shouts, his tone is full of panic and alarm.
At the other's yell, the old man turns to Harry, who stands with his back slightly crouched and his eyes glaring indignantly behind his glasses. Even though the old man's eyes are blocked by the dark lenses, it's understandable that the feeling is mutual between the pair. 'How dare some thug like you derail my master plan?' The shining sight of the knife upon the light partially blinds Harry's eyes. 'I've been toiling on it for ten years!'
The old man raises the knife in the air, in a stance of ready to stab anything in his path. 'If I'm going down, I'm taking you with me!" he growls threateningly, advancing at Harry, who does what normal people would do in these situations; run like hell!
But the compact space of waiting area of the office leaves not much space for Harry to fun off. Harry could actually feel the movement of air behind him where the knife just strikes. 'Hey, calm down, mister!' He turns around to face the old man but luckily draws back in time to witness the knife slices the space in front of him. 'I said, calm down!' With full force, Harry connects his fist at the maniac in front of him, successfully sending off balance and crashing to the floor.
The old man seems shocked by Harry's action but Harry is beyond being polite with him anymore. Sensing his near doomed situation, the old man looks around and spots Neville, still against the wall on the floor. With a wicked grin, he approaches his new target with the knife at the ready.
Neville looks up at figure in front of him with fearful eyes. His state of shock paralyzes him and unprepared for the blow which is already coming.
'Neville!'
Neville heard the discreet sound as the pointy head of the knife cuts across skin but he didn't feel any pain; blood is oozing from Harry's palm whose position now is between the Neville and the old maniac. He crouches down in front of smaller boy, holding his hand up in front of his face as though some kind of shield.
Neville stares at the Harry, lips parted in shock. 'H … Harry' he tries to say.
'Ah, it's okay' Harry says reassuringly, his other hand gripping his wounded palm but the red liquid is still flowing, drop by drop as it taints the office floor.
The old man is already about to charge again, yelling furiously 'You old fart!' when a soft click and the usual creak of the double doors are heard just seconds before it's smashed open, revealing Draco Malfoy with his loyal employees behind him.
Harry's face immediately lit up at the intrusion.
'What's all this commotion?' questions the tall blonde.
The fumbling old man quickly redirects his weapon towards the head of the intruders, his movements hasty. Draco's attention is more focused on the blood on the floor in front of his newest employee.
'Boss!'
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