A Twisted Web We Weave
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Snape
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
45
Views:
27,582
Reviews:
119
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Snape
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
45
Views:
27,582
Reviews:
119
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
A meeting of strangers
A/N I have a headache, I need a drink and this bastard of a story won\'t go away so I had to repost it. This time around it is finished, complete and all done, when I update will be determined by when I\'ve got time. There\'s a touch of Draco/Harry, Draco/Harry/Snape as well as Harry/OC. If you don\'t like any of these pairings piss off cause I don\'t need you kicking my arse right now....you don\'t have to review if you don\'t wish but I do appreciate it knowing someones reading my story..
Enjoy.
EDIT 1/10/05 Disclaimer - *walks around doing impression of tight arsed mod\'s.* You\'ve heard it all before so here it goes again, I don\'t profess to own any of the characters or plot coincidents with the Harry Potter series written by JK Rowling, contained within this story. All dirt, sex and other profanity is made from the sick genius of my own and while I use for my own and others amusements the character of JKR\'s stories, I do neither profit monetarily or legally from anything contained within these pages. All relative warnings related to this story are clearly indicated and should you be reading this story and take offence I accept no responsibilty having warned you thorughly before undertaking the project. If you sue, you won\'t make a dime so don\'t bother. RIFFRAFF.
CHAPTER 1
In the darkened corner of a seedy little bar in south Kent he sat quietly nursing his warm beer. In his black cloak, his leather boots and his worn leather gloves he looked no more out of place than the other inconspicuous criminals sitting around him. Yet he was different from the rest and all those not wanting confrontation avoided him. Where they carried side arms, handguns and bullets, he wore only a slim leather pouch on his waist, inside it a flimsy length of wood. Yet the pain a gun could bring to another living being was insignificant compared to what his unassuming 9 ½ inches of red cedar could do. He was far better equipped for this world than all of the men in the bar combined and even if unconsciously they all knew it too.
He was a regular here in this little cubical, closest to the window to see outside, closest to the back door for escape and out of the way of any unwanted attention. The warm red glow of the cigarette dangling from his lips occasionally illuminated his face beneath the hood of the cloak but never enough for anyone to identify him. Not that it mattered. He was a king amongst commoners and that alone demanded him respect.
The bell above the entrance jangled lightly as a gust of icy cold air swept through the bar. The quiet conversation died down as everyone turned to glance at the new comer. Like the man he was meeting he too was dressed in a cloak, the hood pulled down low so that only the flickering silver of the collar about his neck was visible. The stranger paused in the doorway and glanced around before spotting the man he was meant to be meeting and slowly gliding his way over to him.
“You’re late.” Was the side remark as the stranger sat down opposite his newest investment. The stranger smiled from beneath his hood, although all that was visible was the rotten, yellowed teeth hidden behind the cruel twisted lips.
“Time matters not to me.” Was the cool reply as the buxom woman tending the bar brought them over two more warm beers and reluctantly pushed the tray onto the dirty table between them before retreating back to the safety of her bar. “Have you signed the contract?” When the woman had gone the stranger spoke again.
“Indeed, I sealed it myself yesterday evening.” A thin trail of smoke filtered up into the rafters of the bar from beneath the man’s hood, as he reached up to adjust his cigarette.
“Good. Then he doesn’t suspect.” The stranger coughed deeply into his hand, his chest wheezing a little as he took a deep breath in after the fit had passed.
“Not a clue.” He laughed bitterly as he inhaled again on his cigarette, the warm red glow illuminating the piercing emerald gaze of a hardened man beneath the hood of the cloak.
“Then everything is in place?” The stranger continued intent on hearing that his plan was going accordingly.
“Aye, I leave tomorrow morning on the train from London.” The stranger nodded slowly, the pair of beady dark eyes, which caught the light beneath his hood, glowing with positively evil intent.
“So simple yet so affective.” The stranger whispered again coughing strenuously into his chest.
“And my payment?” He inquired casually as he butted out his cigarette on the tray lying between them. When the stranger had finished coughing he reached into his robes drawing out a plump, red velvet bag that he tossed carelessly onto the table. Putting his beer down, he reached for the bag and undid the gold cord holding the bag closed. Easily he inspected the goods with in before re-tying the bag and stowing it into his own inner cloak. “And the rest?” He inquired pointedly watching as again the hooded stranger flashed his feral grin.
“You’ll get when the job is done.” He hissed determinedly.
From outside a flash of colored lights caught his attention and turning from his company he glanced out of the window.
Law enforcement.
Like rats scurrying away, the bar began to empty, guns were stowed beneath benches and floorboards while illegal gambling tables were hidden beneath tablecloths and illegal drugs down trousers and under beer mats. He however didn’t move and instead slowly drained his beer as his company rose from the table and wrapped the cloak tighter about himself.
“Don’t disappoint me.” The words were barely audible above the racket before the stranger swept out of the backdoor and was gone, leaving him still calmly sitting in his regular seat. Not half a second later the door to the bar burst open and several officers of the law came scrambling in, guns and badges drawn. It wasn’t unusual for this place to be raided but to the enforcements credit nothing was ever found. The officer in charge began his speech of no one moving and hands where they could see them. Knowing they were better off complying the patrons did as they were told, but he remained seated in his cubical until the officer in charge came to stand beside his table.
“Hood off sir.” The officer snapped sharply at him but he pointedly ignored him. “Sir, I’ll ask you again…” The officer never finished his sentence as a stream of red hit him square in the chest sending him stiff as a board, backwards onto the floor. Hell seemed to break out then, the other officers under the impression their commander had been shot and so opened fire themselves. No one it seemed heard the sharp pop as the hooded figure in the cubical disappeared into thin air, leaving chaos in his wake.
TBC>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Enjoy.
EDIT 1/10/05 Disclaimer - *walks around doing impression of tight arsed mod\'s.* You\'ve heard it all before so here it goes again, I don\'t profess to own any of the characters or plot coincidents with the Harry Potter series written by JK Rowling, contained within this story. All dirt, sex and other profanity is made from the sick genius of my own and while I use for my own and others amusements the character of JKR\'s stories, I do neither profit monetarily or legally from anything contained within these pages. All relative warnings related to this story are clearly indicated and should you be reading this story and take offence I accept no responsibilty having warned you thorughly before undertaking the project. If you sue, you won\'t make a dime so don\'t bother. RIFFRAFF.
CHAPTER 1
In the darkened corner of a seedy little bar in south Kent he sat quietly nursing his warm beer. In his black cloak, his leather boots and his worn leather gloves he looked no more out of place than the other inconspicuous criminals sitting around him. Yet he was different from the rest and all those not wanting confrontation avoided him. Where they carried side arms, handguns and bullets, he wore only a slim leather pouch on his waist, inside it a flimsy length of wood. Yet the pain a gun could bring to another living being was insignificant compared to what his unassuming 9 ½ inches of red cedar could do. He was far better equipped for this world than all of the men in the bar combined and even if unconsciously they all knew it too.
He was a regular here in this little cubical, closest to the window to see outside, closest to the back door for escape and out of the way of any unwanted attention. The warm red glow of the cigarette dangling from his lips occasionally illuminated his face beneath the hood of the cloak but never enough for anyone to identify him. Not that it mattered. He was a king amongst commoners and that alone demanded him respect.
The bell above the entrance jangled lightly as a gust of icy cold air swept through the bar. The quiet conversation died down as everyone turned to glance at the new comer. Like the man he was meeting he too was dressed in a cloak, the hood pulled down low so that only the flickering silver of the collar about his neck was visible. The stranger paused in the doorway and glanced around before spotting the man he was meant to be meeting and slowly gliding his way over to him.
“You’re late.” Was the side remark as the stranger sat down opposite his newest investment. The stranger smiled from beneath his hood, although all that was visible was the rotten, yellowed teeth hidden behind the cruel twisted lips.
“Time matters not to me.” Was the cool reply as the buxom woman tending the bar brought them over two more warm beers and reluctantly pushed the tray onto the dirty table between them before retreating back to the safety of her bar. “Have you signed the contract?” When the woman had gone the stranger spoke again.
“Indeed, I sealed it myself yesterday evening.” A thin trail of smoke filtered up into the rafters of the bar from beneath the man’s hood, as he reached up to adjust his cigarette.
“Good. Then he doesn’t suspect.” The stranger coughed deeply into his hand, his chest wheezing a little as he took a deep breath in after the fit had passed.
“Not a clue.” He laughed bitterly as he inhaled again on his cigarette, the warm red glow illuminating the piercing emerald gaze of a hardened man beneath the hood of the cloak.
“Then everything is in place?” The stranger continued intent on hearing that his plan was going accordingly.
“Aye, I leave tomorrow morning on the train from London.” The stranger nodded slowly, the pair of beady dark eyes, which caught the light beneath his hood, glowing with positively evil intent.
“So simple yet so affective.” The stranger whispered again coughing strenuously into his chest.
“And my payment?” He inquired casually as he butted out his cigarette on the tray lying between them. When the stranger had finished coughing he reached into his robes drawing out a plump, red velvet bag that he tossed carelessly onto the table. Putting his beer down, he reached for the bag and undid the gold cord holding the bag closed. Easily he inspected the goods with in before re-tying the bag and stowing it into his own inner cloak. “And the rest?” He inquired pointedly watching as again the hooded stranger flashed his feral grin.
“You’ll get when the job is done.” He hissed determinedly.
From outside a flash of colored lights caught his attention and turning from his company he glanced out of the window.
Law enforcement.
Like rats scurrying away, the bar began to empty, guns were stowed beneath benches and floorboards while illegal gambling tables were hidden beneath tablecloths and illegal drugs down trousers and under beer mats. He however didn’t move and instead slowly drained his beer as his company rose from the table and wrapped the cloak tighter about himself.
“Don’t disappoint me.” The words were barely audible above the racket before the stranger swept out of the backdoor and was gone, leaving him still calmly sitting in his regular seat. Not half a second later the door to the bar burst open and several officers of the law came scrambling in, guns and badges drawn. It wasn’t unusual for this place to be raided but to the enforcements credit nothing was ever found. The officer in charge began his speech of no one moving and hands where they could see them. Knowing they were better off complying the patrons did as they were told, but he remained seated in his cubical until the officer in charge came to stand beside his table.
“Hood off sir.” The officer snapped sharply at him but he pointedly ignored him. “Sir, I’ll ask you again…” The officer never finished his sentence as a stream of red hit him square in the chest sending him stiff as a board, backwards onto the floor. Hell seemed to break out then, the other officers under the impression their commander had been shot and so opened fire themselves. No one it seemed heard the sharp pop as the hooded figure in the cubical disappeared into thin air, leaving chaos in his wake.
TBC>>>>>>>>>>>>>>