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Draco said, "I really, really hate you."

Harry had heard it before so he said, "Don't you dare," before Draco could cast an Impervious.

"It's raining," Draco pointed out.

"It's drizzling," Harry said, firmly, and fixed him with a look. "And I don't want to spend all of tomorrow explaining to the Ministry why I couldn't keep you from causing some sort of international magical commotion at a bloody American pop concert."

"You could always just explain that my twat of a boyfriend in consistently dragging me to events lacking in both taste and any modicum of class and the pressure finally caused me to go wholly mad."

"Or you could just get a little wet. Witchy tendencies or no, you won't melt."

Draco frowned. "I'm not a girl, which I should think you'd have noticed."

"Not that kind of witch. It was-- Nevermind."

Draco made a sound declaring his superiority and looked away, but he didn't cast the spell, so Harry counted himself the victor.


Somewhere toward the end of the song wherein the one with peach-fuzz on his head, bad acting skills and too much lower lip for his own good laid down on the catwalk and writhed for a bit, Draco leaned in and said, "You realize we're going to have to use magic this evening, right?"

"I said no, Draco."

"To get on the bus."

Harry stilled. "Huh."

"We'll be discreet."

"Do you even know the meaning of the word?"

"I have a passing familiarity. Enough to get us by."

Harry looked over at where the pop ingénue was having sex either with the air or himself or some complicated combination of both. "He is sort of. . ."

Draco performed an illicit touch of magic to clear Harry's glasses of the continued drizzle. "Look again. Nothing sort of about that."

"Fine," Harry said, sounding not all that put out, "but just this once."

Harry was always saying things like that.


Harry asked, "Why do I listen to you? Ever?"

The vaguely Asian boy with pretty serious guns leveled at both Harry's chest and Draco's said, "Shut up."

Justin Timberlake said, "When did you start carrying two guns? Because that's kind of overkill, man. I've seen how fast you can move."

A boy with his hair in a waist-length braid poked his head into the bus. "Everything okay? Because you didn't-- Whoa."

"We were just getting to calling," Timberlake said. "How's Jace?"

"Clearly you were the only target of this nefarious, er, plot." Despite the doubt in his voice, Harry could see that he had his hand at his back, the way Harry's hand always went to his wand when he was in trouble. That is, when he was in trouble and not afraid to move.

"You haven't asked them what they were doing on the bus, have you, by any chance?" the visitor asked.

"That would require him to talk," Timberlake said.

"He told us to shut up," Draco said, ever so helpfully, and if Harry could have killed him then without alarming Trained Killers One and Two, he would have.

"What are you doing on my bus?" Timberlake asked.

Oh, my boyfriend wanted to lick the rain off you, and sometimes I think with my dick. Harry took a breath, a slow one. "Is there anything we can say here that won't sound suspicious?"

"Not really," Trained Killer One answered.

"Then why are you asking?" Draco asked, sounding validly curious.

"Heero," Trained Killer Two said. It was soft, but it was an order. A request.

Harry tensed as Heero's hands tightened in their grip, wondering if he could Apparate before the bullet hit, wondering if Draco would think to, would manage to. Then Heero's arms fell and before Harry could see where they had gone, the guns were out of sight.

"Go," Heero said, and Harry wasn't about to argue, not even now that they had the advantage, but Timberlake asked, "No, seriously, what were you doing on the bus? Because I gotta tell you, you're not the average attempted intruder."

Draco, tactful as ever, said, "My boyfriend dragged me to your concert in the bloody pouring rain and I deserved a reward."

"It's drizzling," Timberlake said.

Draco sighed, clearly put upon.

"So you wanted. . ."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "You're not brain-damaged, are you? Because I don't shag the mentally slow or ill."

"He's fine, just bad at taking a hint. Or three," Trained Killer Two said. "That's why we put Heero with him. It's funny."

"Duo," Timberlake warned. It was clearly an empty threat. Duo was tiny, but Harry didn't doubt he could break Timberlake with one hand. Harry had known enough warriors in his life.

"Justin," Heero said.

There was a shift then, and something that Harry hadn't seen in Timberlake before, hadn't suspected was there, came to the surface. He tilted his head at Heero. "Tell me not to. Tell me I don't deserve it, or that I'm better than this, or--"

"Heero," Duo said.

Heero's posture loosened, but Harry wasn't fooled. He smiled at Harry, sharp and with teeth. "You must be something, to have gotten on this bus. But if he isn't returned to me whole in the morning, I will find you, and nobody you care about, nobody you know will want to live after that."

Harry nodded. Draco said, "Yes, yes," but he sounded like he meant it, which was impressive, given Draco's attitude toward Muggles in general.

Duo said, "C'mon," took Heero's hand, and left the three of them to themselves.


The buzz-headed one, whose name was evidently Justin, was an odd mixture of imperiousness and eagerness to please, an appealing combination of maturity and innocence. He called out a girl's name when he came, the sound broken and dead on his lips and Draco thought that perhaps Heero had his reasons for protectiveness, reasons beyond contracts and payment.

Draco would kill him if he came after Harry. Slowly.

When Harry finished sucking the last of the rainwater from the hollow of Justin's throat, when Justin's hand was just beginning to be dry and hot against the small of Draco's back, when they were sprawled on the floor of the bus, the vibration of the road oddly soothing beneath them, Justin said, "Next time, send a note. Heero likes written notification."

Harry laughed. Draco said, "We'll keep that in mind."

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