A/N: As promised, here is the next (longer) chapter that I uploaded only two days after chapter 11! ;)

Are you all packed? – H

No, I need help understanding how people put clothes into bags. rme – S

Harry snorted at the text message. "Rme" was Severus's favorite – and most used – acronym, which appropriately stood for rolling my eyes. About thirty percent of the man's texts ended that way, but the banker was getting used to it. Besides, the main point here was that Severus was packed and ready for their trip to D.C.

After finding out that his boyfriend (!) didn't enjoy going out to the movies or sharing dessert together, Harry changed his tactics and now tried to invite Severus out on more "intellectual" dates. They went to museums, poetry and book readings, parks, and wine tasting classes. Harry had been pleasantly surprised by how much he enjoyed their dates, and he knew that Severus loved them, so things were going pretty well. (Knock on wood.)

To celebrate their three-month anniversary, Harry had planned the ultimate trip to Washington, D.C. They were leaving the next night, and he couldn't wait. They'd be going to history museums, art museums, parks, and at least five tours of the city and government buildings. It was an expensive vacation, but Harry knew it would be worth it. All he had to do was make it through this awful business dinner first.

"Important business, Big H?" Jordan asked, peering down at his iPhone.

Ugh. He hated that nickname, but everyone in Dudley's inner circle was called Big plus your first initial. He also hated Jordan, one of the executive board members, but now was not the time to reveal his distaste for the man. Instead, he just tucked away his phone.

"Just checking in on a client, Big J," he explained, barely hiding a wince.

Andy patted his left shoulder with added force provided to him from his fourth bottle of beer. "You're always working, Big H. You trying to show us up?"

"No, I'm just trying to catch up to you, Big A," Harry lied smoothly, pretending that the A stood for asshole instead of Andy.

"Don't think we haven't noticed your work ethic, Harry," Dudley said. Of the entire group, Dudley was the only one who didn't call Harry Big H. Clearly, Dudley thought he was the pack leader, and, more importantly, Harry's superior. As such, it was his approval Harry was waiting for most of all.

Harry bowed as best as he could from his spot at the bar. "Thanks, Big D."

Not a single person on this planet could convince Harry that Big D didn't stand for Big Dickhead. Not a single person.

"Yeah, you never used to hang out with us before, Big H," Eddie noted from Harry's right. Eddie was the last member of the executive board, and the person on the lowest totem pole as far as Harry could figure out. The scrawny employee was always kissing up to Dudley and desperately trying to keep his place in their group. It was sad, really.

"Well, I'm here now," Harry replied cheerily, raising his bottle of Bud Light up in the air. The others cheered along and clinked their bottles with his.

Harry chugged his drink as quickly as he could. Intoxication helped him suffer through these dinner conversations about their latest conquests (or, more accurately, how they tried hitting on girls and the lies they told themselves to rationalize why they still couldn't get a girl's number). It also helped distract him from their scents, all of which were some mixture of dog shit, skunk, and garbage dumps.

R U gonna pck ur g washington boxers/ – H

That was funny. He thought question marks were more curved than that… Whatever. Punctuation was stupid, anyway.

What? – S

Georg Washintdon – H

Or Big G, he thought. Hary snickered.

What are you talking about? I don't own any George Washington boxers. – S

How could Severus forget? These were only the best boxers ever!

Teh 1s I gaved u! – H

Potter, why would I ever accept such a ridiculous gift from you? – S

U have them in ur top ddrawer Check – H

First, I thought I expressly told you to STOP rifling through my things when you came over. Second, you have never given me boxers. Of any sort. – S

Uh oh – H

He'd just made a big mistake, hadn't he?

Yes, you've ratted yourself out. – S

Noooo it wsa suppoed to b surprise – H

What was? – S

Teh George wash boxers ;( – H

How drunk are you, Harry? Rme – S

Was ur surprise annie verse Harry gift – H

Rme Make sure you take a taxi back to your place. – S

Duh – H

Harry knew better than to drink and drive.

Will u b there? – H

To watch you vomit all night? I think I've had enough experience with that, don't you? – S

Harry felt guilty because it was true. Dudley invited him out every day after work now. Harry didn't get drunk every night, but he typically let loose a bit on Fridays. On two or three occasions, Severus had waited for him to come back and stuck around until he knew Harry was safely in bed. He would pretend to be irritated and put upon but only softly chastised) at a volume that was not headache inducing. (It was Severus's little way of showing he cared.) Those were the good nights – except for the moments when Harry was puking his brains out in the toilet and had to take care of the mess the next day.

I'm sorry :) – H

Fuck. Was that the right emoticon?

I know. – S

Harry sighed. Harry didn't like talking about work with Severus because his stomach would always start to hurt whenever he even thought about the contract. It's not that he wanted to leave Severus in the dark, though. It was more that he was worried about what his boyfriend would think about his plan and didn't think he could face the man if things went pear shaped. As a result, he decided to be very vague about he was up to at work. Thankfully, Severus didn't ask any questions when Harry explained that he had late night business meetings, and Harry let the man think he was going over bank statements over a couple of beers with his coworkers. Ha! He only wished they were that productive…

"I mean, she was kind of hot, but she obviously had a few screws loose," Jordan was saying. "Why else would she turn down this?" He waved a hand over his upper body.

Harry took a sip of his beer to stop himself from saying "Maybe she didn't like the beer gut." His brain warned him that that would be the wrong thing to say.

"Didn't know what she was missing, Big J," Andy piped in, shaking his head.

"Yeah, it was her loss," Eddie added.

"She probably didn't think she'd be good enough for you," Dudley guessed.

There was an awkward pause before Harry realized it was his turn to offer his support. Like a bunch of teenage girls, each one needed to be consoled before he could move on. It was kind of pathetic, but he knew he had to just play the game.

"Totally, Big J. She knew she couldn't handle you. You were too out of her league, man," he lied. It was actually the exact opposite. The only thing appealing about Jordan was his net worth. Other than that, Harry couldn't imagine why any girl would be attracted to the balding thirty-year-old who drank too much and had way too much self-confidence.

Properly soothed, Jordan smiled. "You guys are right," he claimed brightly. "I can find someone better."

The guys clinked drinks and cheered again before guzzling more of their drinks. The bartender came to give them a refill.

"How about you? You got any good news?" Andy asked.

It took a moment to realize the question was directed towards him. Admittedly, it took him a bit longer to connect the dots when he'd had this much to drink. It was hard enough trying to follow along with the conversation. He tried to hastily come up with a good excuse for why he didn't have a girlfriend, knowing that the homophobes wouldn't take too kindly to hearing about Severus.

"Just enjoying the single life," he finally managed.

"Yeah, right," Eddie said with a scoff.

"We all know you're banging your secretary," Andy said, barely taking in Harry's clenched jaw. "Hey, man. You can trust us. Interoffice relationships are technically against company policy, but we won't rat you out. We're proud of you, Big H. I think all of us here would like to tap that. Would you mind sharing?"

Unfortunately (for Andy), Andy was too busy bumping fists with his buddies to catch the fist flying towards his faces. Before Andy knew it, he was on the ground with a throbbing eye and a mixed look of surprise, pain, and indignation. It was all Harry could do not to kick him in between the legs while he still had the chance. Instead, he rubbed his red knuckles and let the throbbing pain sober him up.

Meanwhile, the people seated at tables near the bar were whispering and pointing. Harry didn't like making a scene in public, but he wasn't quite willing to say that he regretted his actions. It was bad enough having to listen to them degrade women all night, but disrespecting his friend like that was the last straw. Sure, violence might not have been the answer. In the wise words of Jamie Foxx, blame it on the alcohol.

"What the hell, Harry?" Jordan yelled, hopping off of his seat next to Andy to help his fallen friend. "What's your deal?"

"We knew it," Eddie boasted, ignoring the glare Dudley was aiming his way. "We knew you were just pretending to be friends with us."

What?

"I think you should close your mouth now, Big A," the ringleader threatened softly, more concerned about silencing Andy than checking on his injured friend who was still moaning on the floor.

"No, Big D. Wasn't it you who said it was fishy that Harry was all chummy these past few weeks?"

"Jesus, Big E," Jordan cursed, reaching up to get his empty glass of whiskey. It now only had a few cubes of ice in it, which Harry guessed was why he pressed it against Andy's eye. "Shut the fuck up."

Eddie shook his head defiantly and pointed accusingly at Dudley. "You thought he was onto us! Now we finally have all the proof we need."

In a sense, he guessed that he could object, claim that he'd had pent up energy that had converted to punches with the aid of alcohol. He could suck it up and apologize to Andy. Offer to buy the man a drink and try to soothe things over. The guys may be willing to accept his apology and write off the fight as a one time mistake. But the thought of having to say sorry for something Andy had deserved made his stomach roll, and he knew that he just couldn't do it.

When it was clear that Harry wasn't going to defend himself, Dudley simply shrugged. "I guess the cat's out of the bag now," he mumbled, swirling his glass of bourbon around.

"I don't understand what's happening here," Harry admitted, which was only partly true. Obviously, he understood that he hadn't infiltrated the inner group as seamlessly as he'd thought. Nevertheless, he wanted to know what exactly had given him away and why this was happening to him. He had only wanted to do the right thing for his customers, for the community. Why couldn't his plan have worked for once?

Dudley studied him. "You may be ignorant, but you're not stupid," he said, the words sounding eerily familiar to Harry. "I knew it wouldn't take you too long to figure out there was something going on, but I was surprised that you decided to go about this in such a passive aggressive manner. I was sure you'd call a meeting and yell at us as soon as you found out. Who knew you'd try to sneak into our group? And then what was your plan, Harry? Before you knocked our And–"

"Hey," Andy protested, trying and failing to get a hold of the bar stool to lift himself up. Jordan grabbed his forearm to give him some extra support.

"I thought you just wanted in, wanted a cut of our profit," Dudley continued. "Now I'm thinking that's not what you wanted after all. So do you mind enlightening us? What was your master plan?"

Harry looked at Dudley then at Andy and Jordan scrambling on the ground and then at Eddie. They were in the middle of a pretty well occupied restaurant. That meant there would be plenty of witnesses. So they wouldn't try anything, right? He tried to predict what Dudley's next move would be but just couldn't. At the same time, Dudley contemplated the CFO's silence but didn't seem particularly bothered by it.

"I guess it doesn't matter. Whatever plan you had is now done," Dudley declared definitively. "You're done. You do realize that, right? I mean, you can report us to the police, but you'd probably just go behind the bars like the rest of us for being an accessory to the crime. Even if you did escape prison time, Godric's wouldn't have any business left. People don't trust banks as it is. If you actually give them evidence that their suspicions are actually right, then you can just say goodbye to your parents' precious bank. So do you know what I think you're going to do about this? I think you're going to do nothing. I think you're going to come to work on Monday and keep your trap shut. And if you really want to be a big help, you can start writing your resignation letter this weekend. We were already planning on overthrowing you, anyway. Why not speed up the process?"

The cockiness. The self-assurance. The smug look on his face. Harry hated it all. He was tempted to start another fight but knew that wouldn't solve any of his problems. What was important was that he acted as if his whole world hadn't fallen apart. He had to act like everything Dudley had just said was a lie. So he got up and walked over to stand in front of his archenemy, wearing a wicked smile. He placed a bruising hand on the man's shoulder and leaned into the man's ear.

Dudley was grinning like he'd won a fucking bet. Well, fuck him.

"You disgust me, you piece of trash," Harry spat, still holding his smile in place. "And don't you dare think this is over."

That said, he pulled back and went off to find his taxi ride home.

He didn't know whether to be happy or sad when he finally reached his front door and there was no one there waiting for him. Regardless, he took the moment alone to rest his forehead against the door.

He was fucked. Royally fucked. He really thought this would work. He had no Plan B.

…

Shit.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.