| Severus Spade and the Dame that was Harry Potter
I wrote this for the incomparable Loupgarou, who wanted someone to write a story with Sev as the detective and Harry as the dame. She said she couldn�t do it, but was sure someone could. So I did. Why not? I despair at ever being able to write anything as hysterical as Loupgarou�s works, but I gave this one my best shot. I�m working on getting a Beta for it (please, Stellahobbit!) but you all know how bad I am at waiting. When I want something, I want it NOW. And I want reviews on this baby. And I want them NOW. So, tell me. Is it silly enough? Is it smart enough? Am I even in the right time frame? It�s supposed to be in just�five?�parts, and part two is about a third done, and the very end is finished, so it won�t take much time away from my other projects. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Part One: The Persuasive Dish When I walk into my office Monday morning, I see a pair of big green eyes and think; �Uh oh. This dame is gonna be nothing but trouble.� Turns out I was right; about everything but the dame, that is. The boy�s as good-looking as any dame I�ve ever seen, with those pretty peepers, long thick lashes, sweet little bow of a mouth and the kinda thick, black hair most chicks would kill for. Wide, innocent eyes. Milky skin. A real ing�nue. You know the type. Oh yeah, trouble for sure. He�s dressed real swanky too, his suit cut to the latest fashion�a real double-breasted London cut�charcoal colored and open at the neck, letting me see he wears no undershirt. Nothing there but creamy skin. He�s dressed real nice, all right, but he looks kinda young to be hangin� around my part of town. I put him in his teens, not full height yet, slender body accentuated by the suit, and a face of flawless, smooth skin. I give him my best intimidating look. I�m usually good at that; a scowl from me�ll scare most kids silly. Not this kid. He just gives me this long, cool look, then dips his fingers into the inner pocket of that suit. I see that, and my revolver�s in my hand before I know what I�m doing. It�s instinct; see? It�s why I�m still around. Silently, he slips out a golden cigarette case. It has a lion engraved on the front. He doesn�t look even a little impressed with my gun, and it kind of burns me. I fight down the urge to give him a closer look at my piece. �Cute little thing like you shouldn�t be nosing around places like this,� I tell him, arching a brow and putting the .44 away. He slowly puts the cigarette to his lips and purses them around it. I dig into my pocket and get him a light. �Your parents know you�re out here?� I ask him. �Your mama finds out you been spending time on this side of the tracks, and you�re gonna get a spanking,� I inform him. He smiles at me, blowing a long cloud of smoke out. �Why don�t you just save her the trouble?� he suggests. I don�t say anything, but move around him to my desk and pull out a cigar and light up myself. Pretty soon the room is filled with thick smoke. �What are you doing here, anyhow?� I finally ask him. �Are you the S.S. on the door?� �Yeah,� I grunt. I have the initials S.S. on my door, right before the P.I. �Severus Spade, Private Investigator,� I introduce myself. He sticks out a slender hand. �Harry Potter.� I shake his hand, and he doesn�t let go right away. �I�ve got a case for you,� he tells me. I don�t know why, but there�s something about this kid that�s off. I shake my head. �I got plenty of cases already,� I tell him. �That�s not what the police chief says.� He smiles again, and inwardly I curse. Dumbledore, always passing me the pity case. Always using me to keep an eye on the underworld. Someday I�m gonna tell the old man where to get off. The kid sits in the seat across from me, crossing his legs elegantly. His jacket falls open, and I can see more of that skin. Yeah, someday I�ll tell him. But maybe not today. �What kind of case you got?� I enquire around the stogie. He licks his lips a little, and I almost forget to listen to the words. �Something�s been stolen from me. I want it back,� he says plainly. I like plain. Plain is easy. It�s right or it�s wrong, and it�s a lie or it�s a truth, but at least there isn�t any gray. I hate gray. �Uh-huh,� I say, leaning back in my chair, sweeping my hair back before putting my fedora back on, pushing it down over my eyes a bit, so he can�t see how closely I�m studying him. �What, exactly, are we talking about here? A jewel, some money, rare art, what?� He bites his lip. Very nice. �A prophecy,� he murmurs. �It�s an ancient text that came straight out of Tibet. It was my godfather�s. He recently passed away. In his will, he left it to me, but we couldn�t find it.� �How do you know he still owned it, then? Times are hard. Maybe he traded it for enough green to keep a roof over his head, food in his mouth, that type of thing.� The youth shook his inky dark head. �He would never have done that. It was too important to him.� �Yeah? What exactly is this ancient prophecy you lost, anyway? Why would anyone want to steal it?� �It�s a Buddhist text. Roughly translated, its title would be something like, �The Route to Agharta.� It�s never been dated; my godfather�s family has had it for generations, and never let anyone touch it. The museums alone would be aching to get their hands on it.� He turns the lights on in those eyes, and yeah, I can tell he wants something. Whether it�s me or the manuscript, that�s something else again. �Agharta, huh? Never heard of it,� I tell him. He gives me this cute, crooked smile. �It�s sort of like heaven, as far as I understand it.� �Oh, I can show you that right here.� �I�m afraid I�d never consider anywhere heaven, not with the loss of my godfather�s prized possession hanging over my head.� �And what if you got it back?� I kick my feet up on the desk, folding my hands behind my neck. �Well, that would be heaven, wouldn�t it?� I could swear his eyelashes fluttered. Subtlety is not young Mister Potter�s middle name. �You�re playing with fire, kid,� I mutter, not really caring if he hears me. Then, louder, �And if you don�t get it back?� �Then that would be hell.� �Nah, I could show you that, too. Much worse than not seeing Daddy�s heirloom again, I can tell you that.� I puff a couple of times, and watch a distressed look cross his face. �But I have to get it back! You don�t understand; I�ll die if I don�t!� �You�ll die anyway. Eventually.� Then the tears well up, and I know I�m a goner. Never could turn anyone down when they started the waterworks. �I�ve got money,� he says, sounding just a tad hysterical. �Fifty dollars a day, plus expenses. A car. A secretary. Name your price. I must have your help!� He leans over and presses his hand over mine. �Fifty clams a day, huh? Car�secretary�where are you going to get me a secretary?� I gotta admit, I could use one of those. Not for company�you might have already noticed broads ain�t my thing�but the filing doesn�t do itself, and the last one walked out on me when I missed her third paycheck in a row. Like I said, times are hard. He flushes, lowers his eyes. �Well, I was planning to offer to volunteer for the job myself,� he tells me, causing my eyebrows to shoot up. He gets all defensive. �Hey, I�m educated; I can file, I can answer the phone. I�ve got gorgeous short-hand.� �That I don�t doubt. All right, first five days up front, and I�ll do it.� This is a test. If he gives me the money right off, he�s desperate, stupid, or that map to heaven is bona fide and worth its weight in gold. He gets a slant on me for a long moment, and I almost smile. He�s not a dumb as he is pretty. �One day up front,� he offers. �And I�ll want to be kept up to date on anything you find out.� �If you�re gonna be around the office,� I point out, �you will be.� He nods, and we shake on it. I don�t know if I�m going to regret this or not, but as his silky palm slides across mine, I figure; what the hell. If nothing else, it�s bound to be quite a ride. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Oooohhh�I hope you like it! I�ve never watched Casablanca (why didn�t you smack me with this plot bunny earlier in the week, Loupgarou, so I could PREPARE!) or any other Humphrey Bogart flick�outside of Sabrina. I heard in real life he drooled really badly, and that�s why he kept that handkerchief around. That grosses me out, so I can�t watch him without getting sick. Please review and let me know what you think. Plot ideas would also be appreciated, as I only have a sketchy idea of the whole middle of this, although the end is finished. Tell me its good enough to keep! StarryGazer |
 |