As you all know this whole thing was for Loupgarou, who writes very hot Snarrys. I'm envious, but this was the best I could do.

And thanks more than a quarter mil to Stellahobbit, who kept the lines in line in this one. Here's lookin' at you, kid!

NOTE: I have decided I don't care for I do not plan on stopping my posting here, but am looking elsewhere for places to post. If any of you have any ideas of good sites for my stuff, please do let me know. I apologize for not having this up last week; the Nazis here BANNED me for a few days for dirty talk or something. So, if this happens again, please remember that I always try to post my stuff on my site, at least, which can be found at the author's info page, or you can always feel free to e-mail me and ask what's going on. Who knows? I might even send you the unfinished, rough-draft of whatever I'm working on at the time, if you're interested. I love you all dearly!

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Part 8: Nothing but Trouble

When I finally make it back to the flat, the kid's dressed like he's ready to hit the town. "Nice glad rags," I tell him. "You planning on going somewhere?"

He jumps a little before he realizes it's me. "I don't see why I should tell you that," he grumbles. "When you take off without even telling me where you're going, and all."

I laugh. "How about I tell you where I been, instead?"

He cocks his head, intrigued. "Yeah, all right, but make it quick."

I'm a little taken aback by that, but what the hell. "I think I can get your toy back for you tonight." That's the gist, anyhow. I grin at him.

He freezes. "What?"

I shrug. "Rumor has it Peter The Rat has your text, and he's selling it to Karkaroff tonight, for the tune of a hundred thou, at least."

His jaw drops. "That dirty rat! He was gonna double cross me! I'll kill him! Aw, dammit. I need a ciggy." His nervous hands shuffle around in his pockets, looking for his fix.

"You'd better watch that," I tell him, half in a daze. "You got some sort of oral fixation going there. Means you got too much sexual buildup, needing something in your mouth all the time."

He manages a brash smirk. "You gonna give it to me, take the edge off?"

"What—now? Wait. What the hell do you mean, he was gonna double cross you?" I ask, mind slowly catching up and passing my libido.

He kinda looks chagrinned. "Well…you weren't around, see, and he sent someone to talk with me. He said he'd sell it back to me. I'm supposed to meet him tonight, make the exchange."

"What?" Of all the stupid stunts to pull! I can't hardly believe he'd go and do something like that. "What the hell is the matter with you, agreeing to something that crazy?" Something else niggles in the back of my brain. "And what were you planning on buying it with?"

He looks totally unrepentant. The featherbrained little dolt. "Well, with the money we took from Karkaroff, at least in part. And some I got elsewhere. The rest I borrowed from Lupin."

"That's funny, 'cause I was with him not half an hour ago and he didn't mention it to me. He told me a boatload of other stuff, but that wasn't part of it."

He shifts from one foot to the other. "I asked him not to tell you. I thought you'd be mad."

"You weren't planning on telling me about this at all?" I'm horrified. The kid would be in way over his head with gangsters like these, and he just jumps in without backup. What a moron! "How the hell come you're paying good money for something that's rightfully yours, anyhow?"

Harry blinks those gorgeous peepers at me. "Well jeez, Boss! We don't want Voldemort to get his hands on it, do we? That's what Karkaroff's planning for it. And Sirius…would have wanted me to take good care of it. Anyhow, I can take care of myself."

"You can take care of yourSELF?" I'm aware of my voice creeping up a notch, taking on an edge of hysteria. "You have no idea what you're doing, you dumb little bunny! This isn't a game! These are mean guys with guns and fists and real bad tempers."

"I know that, Sev. I wasn't gonna go alone. If you hadn't made it back in time, I still would've brought Fred and George. They're on their way over, right now. We're supposed to meet Pettigrew behind The Pearly Shell at ten. Look; I probably wouldn't even have gone without you. Probably. But we can't let Karkaroff get it. We just can't! You gotta understand." He's giving me those wide eyes again, and I kick myself for ever getting involved with such a piece of trouble.

"You're gonna regret this," I tell him. There's a knock at the door, and in steps a redhead.

"You ready to go?" he asks Harry, who looks to me.

"We're both gonna regret this."

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We hang out at the club a bit, sneaking a peak at the action and getting an idea of the layout. I know the area pretty well, so I outline possible escape routes to the kid, who seems impressed. Stupid kid—he don't know what he's getting into. I hate dives like this. The crowd here wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire. Well, they might piss on you if you were on fire, but only if that happened to be where they planned on pissing anyway.

By nine thirty we're out back, with a twin at each end of the alley and my piece just itchin' to be in my hand. The itch gets worse when The Rat finally shows up. He's this kinda scrawny thing; you can tell he used to be a real porker, but now he's all saggy and baggy. He gives me and my boy an ugly little smile. He has this gunsel with him, all shiny and strong. I ain't impressed.

"Good to see you again," he leers at Harry, who doesn't dignify him with a response. "You got the dough?" Harry nods, sets down the briefcase and nudges it over to the guy with his foot. Inside is about a hundred thousand worth of lettuce, more or less. "Well, that is nice," he comments. He peers into the shadows. "Can you top it?"

Karkaroff steps out, lookin' as twitchy and wimpy as ever. He dumps something at The Rat's feet. "I want to see it, before you pick the money up. More than two hundred large," he says confidently. "I've been saving for a rainy day."

Pettigrew laughs. "And it's about to start pouring." He gestures behind him, and the muscle man steps forward with a gunnysack. Pettigrew sticks a hand in, and out comes this clay tablet. I don't know why, but all this time I'd expected paper.

"Is that it?" Karkaroff whispers, entirely too much awe in his voice. I mean, damn! It's dried mud.

Harry jumps forward, and I have to grab him by the back of his shirt. "That's mine!" he snaps. "Goddammit, you two-timing, underhanded, yellow-bellied—"

One of the twins must've heard the commotion, because suddenly he's there at our side. Karkaroff is taking the tablet, but when old Red shows up, the whole place suddenly boils over.

Pettigrew's boy has a gun out, and Karkaroff is fumbling for one as well. I jam my hand into my pocket, but come up empty. I look up in shock, to see my piece in Harry's hand, and that kid's firing like a pro.

The text explodes, chips of prophecy flying everywhere.

Everyone is still a moment, just staring.

"You little bitch!" Karkaroff screams. "I want my money back," he snarls at Pettigrew, who shows his long incisors and shakes his head. Karkaroff starts fumbling for the gun again, and Pettigrew's kid is letting out a shot, and I'm grabbing my heat out of Harry's hand, and one of the twins is on the move…

In seconds, Karkaroff is lying dead at our feet. One of Harry's buddies winged Pettigrew's guy, then popped the Rat right in the kisser. I got my pea-shooter aimed right at the Rat. He just tries to snigger at me.

"George, see what he's got on him," Harry instructs, all business-like. "Fred, pick up the money." They go to work, and George looks up, smiling.

"Check it out—ice!" We stare at his hand, where a dozen or so nifty little, likely-hot diamonds sit. Suddenly, there are shouts at the end of the alley. The Rat takes off, and George only chases him a few feet before coming to a dead stop.

"Christ, someone called the bulls," Fred grunts. "Let's get out of here before they cop us." Well, my escape route came in handy. At least something went right.

I take the money from Fred, and lead them through the maze that is downtown. "C'mon, Kitten. Use your getaway sticks." I chew on it as we're slipping through the darkness. "I think someone called them beforehand," I say, not even sure why I think it. It's just instinct, and my instincts are really yelling right now. Too bad I'm too busy saving my skin to pay 'em any real attention. No one else answers.

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When we're back at my office, which was the nearest place I could think of, I collapse into a chair and pull the shades. If I take the cash straight to Dumbledore… I muse.

"George, go outside and keep an eye on things," Harry instructs. Good thinking; there's probably someone keeping an eye on us. I wish we hadn't let Pettigrew get away, but what the hell. The Chief is gonna be real pleased about what I uncovered. I grin and light up a self-congratulatory cigar.

Harry takes something from Fred, and I'm sitting there, picturing commendations and whatnot and watching that creep Goyle poppin' his knuckles and not being able to do anything about it. "Thanks for everything," the kid says, and plants a kiss on my lips. When I open my eyes, he's got a gun trained right on me. I put the cigar back in my mouth, staring. "You were a big help tonight, but it's kind of too bad you knew the layout so well. Made it impossible to leave you holding the bag. I'm sorry that it means I'll have to rub you out."

I spit and glare at him. "And here I thought you just wanted to rub me." It's all coming together—the fancy car, blowing money on a private dick, all that kind of shit while the will was still in probate. Man, have I been a sucker. "Did you kill your godfather?"

"Don't be stupid. But nothing was going to be legally mine for years. I just took what was already mine a bit early, and sold it. How was I to know Voldemort would offer more? Fred, hold his hands behind his back." The little minx slides those clever fingers along my jaw. "Draco and I were gonna give it to the Dark Lord. Now that the text's gone…maybe we'll head down to Mexico. But, well, Draco is rather boring. Why don't you drop the 'good boy' act you got going with the Chief, and join me instead?" Those green eyes rake down my chest, flicking up again to hold my gaze. Between the heat of his hand and the scorching look he gives me, it's a wonder the room hasn't gone up in flames.

"No can do, Sweetheart," I tell him. "You're a hot little number, I gotta admit, but I ain't an easy mark, and I won't go to the pen for a pretty face."

He gives me a look that's a cross between a pout and a half-smile. I notice those beautiful lips are just begging to be kissed, and he reads my mind.

"Tip the velvet just once more, for old time's sake?" he suggests, and slides his arms around my neck. He sucks gently on my lower lip before slipping that silky heat into my mouth. I figure I'm about to die in any case, so I might as well enjoy myself on the way out. Our tongues make love to each other, and I feel him lean into me, and one of his legs kicks up behind him. Yeah, I'm that good. Finally, he starts to pull away, and I consider biting him. It sure ain't like he don't deserve it, but I control myself. What can I say? I'm a gentleman.

"It was nice knowing you, Boss," he tells me softly, and raises the pistol again. He aims it right at my chest, and those bright green eyes are shining with tears. Crocodile tears, I tell myself, but a moment later he lowers the gun. "I can't do it," he whispers hoarsely. He puts the snub nose away, giving me a mocking smile—only I can't tell which one of us it's making fun of. "Damn, baby, if you didn't get under my skin. I broke all the rules for you."

"Yeah? Same here, doll-face," I say to him.

He slides over to the door, one delicious hip after the other, and winks at me over his shoulder. "Don't follow me down any more dark alleys," he warns in a sultry voice. "You gonna let me and my loot be?"

I think of the more than quarter mil he's toting around, the very-stolen diamonds, and those nights at his place with his sweat as slick as extra virgin olive oil. "Nuh-uh. Wherever you go, I'm gonna be there. I'll bust your ass someday. Again." I give him a smirk, and damn if he doesn't give me a genuine smile in return.

"I'll be waiting for it. Fred? Make sure he's out long enough to give us a good head start."

As soon as he's gone, Fred spins me around to face him. The last thing I remember seeing is that large freckled fist, hurtling through the air towards my face.

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Epilogue

I wake up on the floor of my office, bruised and bloody. Eh, what the hell; at least I'm alive. I give myself a tentative examination with prodding fingers. Two ribs probably broken. Black eye like you wouldn't believe. I'm roughed up again, but it could be worse. There's a small stack of bills sitting on my desk, along with a note. For services rendered. Oh, that's peachy. The little sass.

I'm still alive. Damn, but I must be a helluva kisser. Things are looking up. I'm still alive and kicking, and there's a green-eyed knockout with a pile of greenbacks out there, just waiting for me to corner him. I decide tonight I'm gonna get me a bottle of champagne and a coupla steaks. One for my plate, one for my eye.

For now, I crawl into my chair and kick back with my hip flask, thinking of that dark-haired vamp and all the things I'm gonna do once I get my mitts on him. I raise the flask and grin. "Here's to Mexico, and dirty little scoundrels with big green eyes." I take a long swig. Yeah, the good-looking ones are always trouble. But like I always say—the ones that are trouble are the only ones worth it.

The End

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Now, I hope you all got my sly little nod to canon in this very au chap—you might have noticed; I had the prophecy shatter just like it should have done. I'm afraid I couldn't keep it too canon and still make it surprising, but I did try not to take too many liberties with personalities and such. Well, I did make Harry the Double-Crossing Dame, but this fic just cried out for that. I let Lupin have his demons and his morals, kept Hermione as the know-it-all and the Weasleys' as Harry's 'friendly place,' and even considered sticking Colin Creevy in as a paperboy standing on a street corner yelling 'Extra! Extra!' although back in those days it supposedly sounded more like 'Wuxtree! Wuxtree!' And I didn't work it in, but my original outline had Sev shooting Voldemort—just so I could say something along the lines of 'Riddled with bullets.' I love a bad pun.

Loupgarou1750—I just realized I kind of based my Severus mostly off of Indiana Jones. Sorry about that, I was going more for Bogart, but then hey, I imagine so would you. (Hee hee, I think that's a good little joke. You know, going for Bogart? Eh.) Anyhow, thanks for inspiring this funky little work. I had a lot of fun with it.

Those last two scenes were what I started with, and I built backward from there. I couldn't resist having an old-fashioned kiss where Harry's leg kicked up behind him, and a smug Severus saying, 'Yeah, I'm that good,' to the reader. It made me giggle. (I'm glad Stellahobbit liked it, too.) And this led me to snickering and putting in where Sev wakes up and realizes he's still alive and thinks, 'Damn, I must be a helluva kisser.' So those were the two bits the whole story sort of sprang from. Well, that and Loupgarou's brilliant idea to have a Hardboiled Snarry in the first place.

Anyway, I hope y'all enjoyed reading it, and please review as always. I hope you continue to read my other stuff—this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Starry