Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than the story line . All rights belong to J.K. Rowling

Chapter Nine

Harry leaned against a small, swank bar, looking out into the gambling room. It was big and spacious, with various small layouts along the wall. At the end of the big room there were three roulette wheels. The two outside ones were deserted; even the croupiers had been drawn to the crowd that had gathered at the middle one. In the center of the crowd Harry could make out Daphne's head. Her face was flushed and she had a wild, excited look about her. It appeared that she was on a winning streak.

On the fringe of the crowd the waiters were standing as well, watching her. All the build-up seemed to indicate a phenomenal run that Daphne was on. The barman behind Harry leaned on the bar and spoke softly into his ear.

"She's sure picking them tonight. She comes here a lot, and from the way it's been running for her, she's due to pick them. It's been a long time since this place's seen anything like that."

Two men emerged from the crowd around the wheel and approached the bar, excitedly. The barman moved over to them waiting for their order.

"Scotch and soda," the first man ordered. As the barman started to get his drink the man mopped his face. "Boy, I never saw such a run. Eight wins and two stand-offs in a row on that red. Betting a grand at a crack, too…"

The barman served the man his drink and took the other man's order. "A grand a crack, huh?" he asked. "I saw an old horse-face in Havana once…"

Harry moved away as the men took up their drinks. He slowly made his way over to the roulette wheel. As he reached the crowd he saw that play had stopped. The croupiers of all three wheels were now facing Daphne across the table. A mass of galleons, pound notes and chips were in front of her on the board.

"If you would just be patient for a moment, Madame," one of the croupiers was saying to her. "The table cannot cover your bet. Mr. Malfoy shall be here in a moment."

Daphne looked about, cool and insolent, though her face was flushed with excitement. "What kind of a cheap outfit is this?" she asked sharply. "I want one more play and I playing table stakes. You take it away fast enough, I notice, but when it comes to dishing it out, you begin to whine." She glared at the croupier.

"The table cannot cover your bet, Madame," the croupier repeated. He indicated her pile. "You have over sixteen thousand pounds worth there."

"It's your money," she said sharply. "Don't you want it back?"

"Look, lady," a man next to her started.

She wheeled on him, her look cutting him viciously. "Do you want another sixteen thousand of it?" The man fell back, discomfited. A door opened in the wall behind the table, and the crowd fell silent as Draco Malfoy came out of it. He sauntered up to the table, smiling and indifferent. He looked immaculate, his hands in his jacket pockets as the strolled to the table.

"Is something the matter, Mrs. Belby?" he asked. She was about to speak when he continued easily, in a courteous voice. "If you're not playing any more, you must let me send someone home with you."

"One more play, Draco," Daphne pleaded. "All of it on red. I like red, it's the color of blood," she said softly. Malfoy stared at her for a second. He smiled faintly, and took a large pinseal wallet with gold corners from his breast pocket. He tossed it carelessly to the croupier without opening it.

"Cover her bet in even thousands," he said in a low, soft tone. He turned to the crowd. "If no one objects to this turn of the wheel being for the lady alone…?"

The crowd was silent and breathless. Daphne leaned down and shoved the whole mass of her winnings savagely onto the red diamond of the layout and stood back. Harry could have sworn that she purposefully angled herself to give him a flash of very impressive cleavage.

The croupier leaned in without any haste and rapidly and skillfully counted the money, stacked it, and placed all but a few scattered chips and bills on the red diamond. The remnants he raked up and pushed them back to a point in front of Daphne. Then he opened Malfoy's wallet with the same deliberate skillful swiftness and drew out two flat packets of hundred pound notes. He broke the tape around one and counted out sixty bills. He added them to the unbroken one and put the remainder back into his employer's wallet. He laid the wallet aside as carelessly as if it were a packet of matches. Malfoy, though he watched the croupier, took the moment to pick at one of his nails in obvious disinterest. The croupier spun the wheel with one hand and snapped the ball into it with the other. He then drew back and folded his arms to see how this would play out.

Daphne watched the ball with rapt interest. Her face was flushed with excitement, and Harry noted with an investigator's eye that her nipples had stiffened to a point of visibility through her dress. Interesting, he thought as the ball spun around the wheel…

The ball and wheel both eventually started to slow, and Harry could hear the ball start to bounce along the slots in the wheel, but he was too interested in watching Daphne to pay much heed to the ball.

Her breathing had become harsh and jagged as her eyes were glued to the wheel. Her hands were slowly moving down her sides, and he noted that they stayed just a moment too long as they strayed down over the sides of her generous breasts. She was obviously aroused by this moment.

He smiled as he filed that fact away in his mind. The catch of her breath as she shuddered and clenched her legs together made his eyes flick to the wheel. He noted the position of the ball just as the croupier announced it.

"Red… odd… second dozen…" the man said in an even tone. Daphne laughed in triumph and spun around with a small squeal of glee. She stopped and watched as the croupier added the stack of bills to her pile and pushed it back to its spot in front of her.

Malfoy smiled faintly, his face otherwise expressionless. He took up his wallet and placed it back in his pocket. With a very faint nod to Harry he silently walked back to the door and exited the room.

*0*0*

Harry came out of the restroom and made his way to the check room. He gathered his hat and coat, and dropping a couple of galleons into a collection plate, he headed towards the door. As he exited into the night he buttoned his coat and walked down the steps towards the parking lot and his beloved corvette.

He made his way down a shrubbery bordered path, only to stop and look about. His face was intent. He listened as he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a pack of fags. He tossed it in his hand, and then, contemptuously, and somewhat regretfully, shrugged and thrust it back into his pocket. He moved ahead, quiet and stealthily. He paused and listened again. He was about to go on when the sound of a slight cough came from ahead of him. He pulled his wand and stepped quickly and soundlessly into the shrubbery. He silently disillusioned himself and waited.

Harry looked around, and quickly spotted his quarry. Ten feet away another man was crouched behind a shrub beside the path. He turned his head and Harry could see that he was masked. As he contemplated his next move, Harry's ears picked up the faint sound of feet approaching.

Daphne came around a turn in the path, clutching her handbag to her. As she passed the shrub the man stepped out quickly. Daphne stopped, but made no sound.

"I've got my wand on you, lady. Gently now, just hand me the bag." For a moment, Daphne didn't move. Then she drew in a deep breath as if to scream, still clutching the handbag. "Yell, and I'll cut you in half," the thug growled. He grabbed the bag, and opening it he thrust his hand inside. "It had better be here…"

"Hi pal," a soft voice said from behind him. The thug froze. His wand started to steal upwards slowly as he turned to face a smiling Harry. "Easy now," Harry said.

As Harry and the thug stared at each other two shadowy figures emerged from the shrubbery. One of them flashed his hand down and struck Harry on the back of the head with something he held in it. As Harry fell forward the second one started to move toward Daphne.

She let out a scream and fired a spell from her hip. At the same time a flash of red light shot from Harry's position on the ground. One of the thugs cried out in mingled pain and anger. In the distance people began to shout – it seemed that the noise had attracted some attention.

The three thugs spun on the spot and apparated away. Daphne crouched down beside Harry, helping as he tried to sit up. He held his head in pain as he did so.

"Agh… good thing I've got a thick skull," he murmured. As he did so parking attendants ran up, wands out. A beam of light from one of the wands played on them.

"What happened?" one of them asked. "Are you hurt?"

Harry stood groggily and swayed. "It's alright. Just a slight hold-up. The lady flashed too much money inside, and obviously someone felt that they were more entitled to it." He looked at Daphne. "Alright, Mrs. Belby?"

"Yes, are you?" she replied.

Harry nodded slowly, wincing. "Let's go, I don't like crowds." They got away from the curious onlookers and walked down the dark path towards the parking lot. "You got a car with you?"

"I came with a man," she said. "He's dead drunk, forget him. What are you doing here, besides playing bodyguard?"

"We both seem to have been doing a bit of that. Good work back there, by the way," he said softly. "Draco Malfoy wanted to see me."

"What for?" she asked.

"He changed his mind," Harry said. "He never did tell me."

"You're lying," Daphne accused.

"Alright, I'm lying," Harry agreed as they walked on.

They made their way to Harry's car. As they crossed to the little corvette, Harry paused. "Why are you trembling?" he asked. "Don't tell me you're scared, because I won't believe that."

"I'm not used to being mugged. Give me a little time," she replied.

"Mugged?" Harry said slowly. "That's all it was?"

"What else?" Daphne asked.

Harry studied the hole in her coat. "You always keep your wand in your coat pocket?"

"I feel safer if I do, considering some of the heels I go around with," she muttered.

Harry let out a laugh. "You're terrific," he said as he helped her into the car. He got in and started the engine.

*0*0*

They were moving rapidly down the road. Harry was intent on the road, but Daphne seemed nervous. "So Draco had you come all the way up here and wouldn't tell you what he wanted?" she asked.

"That's right," Harry said dryly. "I'm still lying."

"Have you got a drink?" she asked suddenly.

"Sure," Harry said. While he continued to drive he leaned and took a flask out of the glove compartment to hand to her.

Daphne took the flask and made to put it to her lips. "I can't drink like this," she said sharply. "Stop the car." Harry complied and pulled to the side of the road. He turned to face her.

Daphne closed the flask and put it back into the glove compartment, slamming it shut. "I don't want a drink. Let's talk."

"Do we need to?" Harry asked. "The General paid me off today. I'm officially off the case."

"Are you?" Daphne asked.

Harry sighed. He seemed to make a decision. "Alright, what's Draco Malfoy got on you?"

Daphne lifted the handbag and slapped it. "This, for instance," she replied easily, "and tonight's not the first time."

"Which would make Draco Malfoy sore. So we'll pass on that and start over. What's he got on you?"

"Wittier, please, Potter… wittier," she said softly.

"I can't," Harry said. "I'm too old to learn now."

"But not old enough to out grow some of your other habits," she muttered.

"For instance?" he asked.

"Killing people," she said harshly. She stared at him while he tried to follow her reasoning. "So… you're a killer…"

"Does that mean Blott… or Derrick… or both of them?" he asked.

"Why not?" she replied. She looked at him and her manner suddenly changed. She spoke to him with a quiet and complete sincerity. "I wish I was sure you had done it. Then I could thank you – in my father's name. He still has his pride, at least."

"And you and your sister haven't." It wasn't a question.

"Astoria and me…" she started with bitter contempt, and then pressed on rapidly. "We're his blood. That's where the hurt is. That Father might die despising his own blood. It was always wild, but it wasn't always rotten." She slumped back in the seat and tears started to run down her cheeks. Harry leaned over and pulled out a handkerchief to gently wipe the tears away for her. As he did so his face pulled to within inches of hers.

"Move closer," she whispered. Harry stared at her. After a moment he flung the handkerchief away and put his arms around her. "Kiss me," she said to him. Harry moved in and their lips met. The kiss started out hesitantly, but rapidly gained in intensity as they could no longer deny their mutual attraction. After a very long time Harry raised his head and sat back.

"Where do you live?" she asked.

"Hobert Arms," Harry replied.

"I've never seen it," she said breathily.

"Would you like to?" he asked softly, wonder in his eyes.

"Yes," she whispered.

He regarded her for a few moments, then silently cursed himself for what he was about to do. "You never answered me, what does Draco Malfoy have on you?" Damn the detective…

She was motionless for a second, and then she pushed herself away from him and sat up violently. "So that's the way it is?"

"That's the way it is…" he said softly.

She took a moment to visibly control herself. She took out her own handkerchief and scrubbed her lips savagely with it. "Men have been cursed for less than this, Potter," she spat out.

"Men have been cursed for less than nothing," he replied. "The first time we met I told you I was a detective. Get it through your lovely head. I work at it, lady. I don't play at it."

"What makes you think that Draco Malfoy has anything on me?" she asked.

Harry sighed. "He lets you win a lot of money, then he has one of his thugs meet you in the back garden to take it all away from you. And then you're not even surprised about it. You didn't even thank me for saving it for you."

"Do I need to tell you what I think of you, Mr. Detective?" she snarled.

"You don't owe me anything. Your father paid me. If anything, I owe you for the kiss."

"Let me congratulate you on keeping your head," she said sarcastically.

"Maybe I didn't," he muttered.

"Take me home," she commanded. With a sigh, Harry started the car and drove on.

*0*0*

Harry entered his apartment and closed the door behind him. That could have gone better, he thought to himself. The only light in the room filtered in from a street lamp outside. He flung his hat carelessly towards a chair, evidently out of long habit, and started across the room towards the kitchen in search of a drink and in too much of a hurry to bother with turning on the lights.

As Harry approached the kitchen a light clicked on behind him. He froze momentarily and cursed himself silently. He spun around, his wand trained on the person that was there. Astoria Greengrass sat there in one of his armchairs, the one in fact where he had flung his hat. She held it up, smiling. She was dressed in a light green evening gown, more or less covered by a light wrap.

"What does the hat-check girl get for a tip?" she asked coyly.

"I'm trying to think of something appropriate," Harry replied grimly. "How did you get in here?"

"Bet you can't guess," she answered.

"Bet I can," he replied. "You came in the keyhole, like Peter Pan."

"Who's he?" Astoria asked.

"A guy I used to know around the poolroom," Harry snarked.

"You're cute," Astoria giggled.

"And getting cuter every minute. How did you get in?" Harry asked again.

"I showed your manager your card. I stole it from Daphne," she said. "I told him you told me to come here and wait for you."

"Fine," he barked. "Now tell me how you're going to get out."

"I'm not going," she replied as she stood and slipped off her wrap. She certainly filled out the dress very well…

She looked at him, and it was a surprisingly honest, steady look. This was s a different Astoria – a puzzled, half-frightened girl who seemed to be waking from a dream – not sure she wanted to, but unable to help herself. Harry looked back at her, nastily. But, he did sense a difference, and his voice was surprisingly gentle when he spoke.

"Listen, Astoria, I'm tired. I've had a hard day's work. I like you, I'm your friend, and any other time I'd be tickled to death to see you, but not now. Will you please go home?"

"Are you really my friend, Harry?" she asked in a hungry, quiet voice.

"Sure…" Harry said.

"I need a friend, Harry… someone to…" she stopped, apparently confused, groping for words.

"Someone to what, Astoria?" he asked.

"I don't know," she said. She looked up at him, searching his face. As though Harry was a magnet, she slowly approaches him, still looking at him. She comes close to him, but she doesn't touch him.

"What is it in you?" she asked, almost to herself. "I'm afraid of you, and yet… There's something straight and hard… Harry, I wish I'd met you before… I long time ago…"

"Hey, hey Angel… what's all this?" Harry asked, trying to get it out of her.

"I don't know," she replied. "Why did you have to come?" she asked angrily. "I was alright, I was fine."

"And now?" Harry asked.

"I don't know," she said, almost in tears.

"Look," Harry said, "you and I want to go on being friends, and because of that you shouldn't be here." He moved and picked up her wrap, holding it out for her. "Be a good girl."

She moved to take the wrap, but ended up taking his hand instead. The wrap fell back to the floor. "Do you think I can be a good girl?" she asked in a sultry tone.

"It doesn't matter what I think," Harry replied.

Astoria brought his hand up to her lips and kissed it softly. "But don't you want me to try?"

"I just want you to get out of here," he said as he tried to extricate his hand from her.

Astoria clung to his hand possessively. "You've got funny thumbs," she said. "Can I bite it?" Before he can answer she raised his hand and started to put his thumb in her mouth. With a sharp, violent motion he pulled his hand away.

"Stick to your own thumb," he said harshly. "Hasn't it carried you alright through your life?"

"Alright," Astoria replied obediently. She raised her own thumb and put it into her mouth and sucked it in with a seductive look on her face. Harry picked up her wrap and approached her.

"Alright, now take your thumb and get out of here," he commanded.

"It's not my thumb, see?" she giggled. She removed the object from her mouth and held it up for him to see. It's the white queen from his wizard's chess set. There's a horrified look on the queen's face. Harry stared at her for a moment, then slapped the piece out of her hand and moved towards her. She took a step back with a frightened look on her face.

Harry stopped, seething with barely suppressed rage. "Get out," he whispered, his voice deadly cold.

"Maybe if people had done that to me more often, I would have been good now," Astoria murmured.

Harry grabbed her arm and hurried her across the room to his door. He jerked the door open and almost hurled her through it. He flung her wrap after her and slammed the door shut, then quickly cast the strongest locking charm he knew on it. He heard her rattle the knob and then heard her try to charm it open. Then she started hammering on the door.

He turned and crossed the room quickly while she still pounded on the door. He went into the bath and washed his hand savagely with soap and water. He was sweating profusely. The pounding continued. He examined his hand, and still he wasn't satisfied. He jerked open the medicine cabinet and looked at his innocuous bottles of mouthwash. What I really need, he thought, is carbolic acid. Not finding what he wanted he went back out through the living room and into the kitchen. She was still pounding on the door.

He found a bottle of firewhiskey that was about half full. He pulled the stopper out and poured the contents over his hand, flinging the now empty bottle away with a loud crash. He returned to the living room, to find that she was still hammering on his door. He found the chess piece and walked over to the fireplace. Conjuring a hammer, he proceeded to systematically reduce the piece to a fine power. Continuing even after the piece was gone, his blows at last drowned out the sound of Astoria pounding on the door…