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The two men hugging the corners of the dark and silent street did their best to blend in with the night by dressing in dark jeans and hoodies. They stuck to the shadows as they peddled their drugs, but Voldemort knew who they were and he'd long known where to find them. They stood side by side against the shuttered storefront, talking in low tones, shuffling from one foot to the other.

Voldemort motioned for Avery and Macnair to follow his lead. He hopped out the SUV and strode across the street. Though he wore gloves, he didn't cover up his face although Avery and Macnair did. Voldemort needed to send a message.

The corner boys were engrossed in their riveting conversation so they didn't notice Voldemort and his men boxing them in until it was too late. When the taller of the two jerked his head up, Voldemort pulled out his gun and blasted one shot.

The tall one's head snapped back and then he crumpled to the floor. Macnair wrestled the other into a headlock, and Avery held the blade to his throat. He stilled, and Voldemort drew closer to him, in his face. He grinned,

"It's your lucky day."

The guy's eyes widened, looking extra wild in the streetlight.

"You're going to live. Please tell your boss that I accept his challenge."

He turned away then nodded over his shoulder at Avery who sliced a deep open gash on the man's face.


Macnair silenced his pained shout with a fist to the side of his head, and the guy collapsed in an unconscious heap on the ground. They were back in the SUV and driving on the road in under five minutes. The order had made their move. Now Voldemort had answered with one of his own. He wasn't waiting around for them to launch another attack. He'd make his next move and they'd know he wasn't to be messed with.

Harry looked over the papers on his desk, well aware of Sirius's eyes on him. He ignored his Godfather's searching gaze until he got to the end of the document then looked up.


Sirius grinned,

"You finally got laid."

Harry turned his gaze back to the papers,

"What makes you think that?"

Sirius scowled.

"I know you better than anyone else and besides you're practically glowing."

Harry laughed,

"I know you do, Sirius."

"Did you—"

Sirius stared at him, agape.

"Did you just laugh?"

Sirius slumped back in his seat,

"Who is this man? Maybe I should meet him, see if he's a saint or something because hearing you laugh is nothing short of a miracle."

"I'm not sleeping with anyone"

At least not yet. But he wanted it, though. He wanted Voldemort. Desire flared up in his heart at that thought. Damn it. He should be figuring out a way to end this dangerous affair not thinking about deepening their involvement by sleeping together.

"Whatever. Just...keep doing what you're doing."

Sirius's gaze got serious.

"I thought for sure you'd spend out the rest of your days as if you were dead. It's good to see you so alive and happy."

Harry chuckled again,

"I've always been happy."

Sirius shook his head and cleared this throat.

"I know you won't admit it but let's talk about what we're going to do about Voldemort. He killed one of our man. I can't get a hold of my guy otherwise he'd be dead by now, I swear to you."

And then Sirius snorted.

"I just may do it myself."

Turned out the bullets that flew at Voldemort the other day in Harry's parking garage weren't because of him. Sirius had yet to get in contact with their guy who did their contracted wet work. A relief for Harry, but it begged the question, who else wanted Lord Voldemort dead? Whose body Harry had paid to dispose of? Harry sighed.

"I hear he lost two in that fire you set at his building. You're even then."

Now Harry knew why Voldemort had been hurting when he showed up at his office. Why he'd smelled faintly of smoke. He hadn't said anything. But, why would he? Harry was the cause of all of it. And now that everything was put in place, now that the ball had already started rolling, there was no way to stop the explosion that was coming. Sirius gritted his teeth,

"I don't get why he left the other alive though. He slashes his face, knocks him out, but keeps him alive. Why?"

Trying to understand the way Voldemort's mind worked was a losing battle.

"Why don't you and the guys cool it? You're about to head to Moscow. Let's focus on sewing up that deal. The cops are going to come sniffing around. I want you out of the way."

Sirius shook his head,

"Yeah, okay. But I don't think the answer is to cool down. We should be heating things up, making that bastard sweat. As pale as he is, he looks like he belongs in the cold. I think he won't be able to stand the heat."

Sirius laughed at his own joke. Harry never really felt any negatives emotions towards his Godfather until that moment. He wanted to say something to shut him up for talking about Voldemort that way. Harry rubbed his temple. What? What was happening here?

Sirius's phone rang and he answered.


His eyes bulged and he stared at Harry as he growled into the phone,

"Don't you dare lie to me!"

His expression turned thunderous.

"Bloody hell!"

He hung up the phone and tossed it onto Harry's desk.

"They got the shipment."

He jumped to his feet.

"Someone tipped off the police. They intercepted the container."

Harry leaned back in his seat,

"Damn it!"

That shipment of weed headed to Moscow was their way to lock up a gun distribution deal between the order and the Russians. That shipment was payment, guaranteeing The Order, the exclusive sale of the Russian's weapons. Marijuana in exchange for guns. The biggest damn coup. Down the drain. That deal was now worth nothing,

"It's him. I'm telling you, I don't know how, but it was him."

Of course, it was. Harry wanted to know how and where Voldemort learned that information. He wanted to know a whole lot of things. Harry finally asked

"Anything on that shipment, in the paperwork to trace back to us?"

Sirius started shaking his head before Harry finished his question.

"No, nothing. We're cool."

But he was angry, his face, his stance,

"I should go, make some calls before this thing hits the press."

And it would. A big haul like that, Harry would be surprised if it wasn't the lead story on the five o'clock news. He motioned to his office door and spoke firmly,

"Go on. Talk to who you have to, let them know we can fix it. Because we will. But don't make any moves until we speak again."

Sirius didn't speak so Harry stood.

"Sirius, you heard me? No moves until we speak again."

"Yeah. I heard you."

Sirius picked up his phone and as he turned to go, Harry pulled him into a tight hug and whispered in his ear,

"It's all going work itself out. No rash actions, no hasty decisions. Let's hold off on bringing in your friend for now."

He tapped a finger to Sirius's temple.

"We think things through. The reason we're still here while all those other bastards are long gone is because we think."

Sirius extricated himself from Harry's embrace and walked out the office,

"I know, Harry."

We think. Harry sat at the edge of his desk. Was that what he'd been doing, getting involved with Lord Voldemort? Thinking. Where had his brains been from the instant he'd gazed into Voldemort's eyes? Harry snorted. He knew damn well where his brains had disappeared to.

He powered up his laptop and began doing searches for any word on the shipment the police had confiscated. He didn't find anything on it, but a headline froze his fingers.

BREAKING: Head of London's Drug Gang arrested. Questioned in suspicious fire.

Damn it. Harry clicked on the video link even though his brain screamed at him to look away. The video was of Voldemort being arrested, at a cemetery it looked like, about an hour or so ago. The accompanying article was short and didn't state anything Harry didn't already know about Voldemort. Of course, he did learn that Voldemort was arrested in connection to the death of his two workers who'd died in a fire. And he was being held downtown.

Harry picked up the phone and began dialling. He'd long stopped questioning why he acted before he thought when it came to Lord Voldemort,


"Neville, It's Harry."

Neville Longbottom choked in his ear.

"Harry. Well. Well. How are you?"

Harry smiled.

"I'm good, but Neville, I'm afraid this isn't a social call."

He paused then said,

"I'm in need of a favour."

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