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Big Chicago	By : Samaelthekind Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 28031 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- 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.

Chapter List
- 1-Big Chicago
- 2-Part 2
- 3-Part 3
- 4-Part 4
- 5-Part 5
- 6-Part 6
- 7-Part 7
- 8-Part 8
- 9-Part 9
- 10-Part 10
- 11-Part 11
- 12-Part 12
- 13-Part 13
- 14-Part 14
- 15-Part 15
- 16-Part 16
- 17-Part 17
- 18-Part 18
- 19-Part 19
- 20-Part 20
- 21-Part 21
- 22-Part 22
- 23-Part 23
- 24-Part 24
- 25-Part 25
- 26-Part 26
- 27-Part 27
- 28-Part 28
- 29-Part 29
- 30-Part 30
- 31-Part 31
- 32-Chapter 32
- 33-Part 33
- 34-Part 34
- 35-Part 35
- 36-Part 36
- 20
- 21
- 22
Big Chicago Part 21...by Samayel

He was right. It itches like hell, but the pain is fading fast. It�s been three days since he left, but at least he sent a message.

Delayed. Unavoidable. Won�t be much longer. Love, Harry.

Eight words may not seem like much, but attached to a box of exquisite caramels and a dozen red roses, it�s practically Tolstoy�s War And Peace. He knew perfectly well how my next few days would go, and he sent these to take a little of the sting out of behaving so well.

Not that I really had all that much choice. Ron was busy too, and that meant no rides for a few days, even if my butt had been well enough to cope with driving around. Therese isn�t budging on my diet�and believe me�I tried everything, including mournful, puppy-dog eyes. I encountered the same level of robust success enjoyed by a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest.

Caramels, interestingly enough, aren�t all that bad for you, especially if they�re few in number. In this case, there are precisely four, but each one is a hand made masterpiece. These four little jewels of flavor cost approximately as much as a good pair of shoes. The smattering of sea salt across the top adds the final touch. When it melts in your mouth, sharp against the softness of the caramel, salty and sweet at the same time, it�s just pure heaven. Thank you, Harry. There�s a man who knows how to satisfy his lover�even from a distance!

I managed to paint a little more today, but I threw the canvas out afterwards. Didn�t flow right, didn�t feel right, didn�t take shape at all like I�d hoped it would. I�ll try something else later. In the meantime, keeping with the spirit of my visit to the irascible Doctor Snape, I forced myself to try some exercise. It isn�t so awful really, but after ten minutes I was perspiring enough to make the healing skin on my butt sting, and that was enough for me.

It hasn�t been all lounging in luxury either. Well, okay�it has been all lounging in luxury, but I still did something almost businesslike. Hermione called very briefly, via a secure line, and gave me permission to make an introductory call to Blaise when I felt up to it. Just something to prime him for a visit by me. She was still moving things into place online and offline before we�re ready to actually do this, and her time is very limited with Harry in the field, but at least she was able to spare a few minutes and coach me through some do�s and don�ts.

It was actually fairly obvious stuff, but I swear she should have been a teacher�because no one else could sound so smart and still be so stuffy about it. We�re the same age, but she make you feel like a three year old who just got caught with a hand in the cookie jar. I hate that, but I can forgive a lot for someone who slips me a hint that Harry is just fine and due back before too much longer. Nagging about my diet and exercise, even if Harry asked her to do so, on the other hand, is just a crime.

Funny thing, a diet for a person who isn�t over or under weight. Makes no sense to me, but here I am, trying balance out my system with foods that will beef up my overall health and demeanor. The pills Snape gave me help a little. I get morose sometimes, wondering about Harry, playing maudlin little songs on the piano and stewing in my own boredom. The thready, breathless sense of panic doesn�t come though, so I know the pills Snape gave me were probably worth it.

Oddly, I can�t quite get irritated about the TV news. The little things, like advertising a news segment �that could change your life!� and then saving that segment until the end of the broadcast. Anything to keep you hooked, and it is crass, but I just can�t quite care.

No news is good news. There aren�t any publicized killings attached to underworld figures, but every local homicide gets a lot of attention right now, even the �garden variety�, �run of the mill� personal disputes gone wrong. The mayor has described his confidence in the new FBI led task force, and this Agent Scrimgeour looks right at home in front of the cameras, implying that the lull in violence is probably linked to the rising presence of law enforcement and the intense scrutiny on organized crime in the area.

He�s full of it, of course. I know why there�s a lull. Harry was busy here, with me, and they were making plans for later targets while I enjoyed my time with Harry. Somewhere out there, Harry�s getting ready to make a move, or more than one, and then we�ll see who brags about a lull.

At least the rest of the news provides a certain comedy. It�s always amusing to watch one channel assert that it will be a long, cold winter, and that oil industry experts are raising prices because the rising demand is sure to pinch supplies, then change the channel and watch another report pronounce that rising climate temperatures will lead to a comparatively mild and rainy winter. I kind of admire the nerve it must take for people to lie that grandly in public. Every way you turn, you get exaggeration instead of information. Sure�I wish they�d all check their facts and not carefully engineer their science to match their agenda, but that isn�t really up to me.

Comedy aside, I am terribly restless. Without Harry around, and with my butt still itching and stinging, I haven�t even bothered with sex lately. It just hasn�t held the same appeal without him here, but my body is perpetually reminding me that I was spoiled rotten for awhile and that it rather misses all the attention lavished upon it. It announces this by plaguing me with nearly constant erections at all hours of the day and night. Not to mention a few absolutely wicked dreams that nearly caused something I haven�t experienced since I was twelve or thirteen. The last one was particularly nice, since it involved me dreaming of spearing myself on Harry�s lap and just hammering my way downwards until I came onto his chest�and then I woke up with come faintly trickling into my pajamas. That part wasn�t quite so amusing.

By comparison to previous days, I feel fairly good�not to mention desperately unfulfilled. Or perhaps just �unfilled�. Listening to violin concertos and reading Sartre in the den just isn�t an acceptable substitute for a good wicked fucking. I�m stiff in my pajamas, for like the thousandth time today, and just tired of waiting. I need privacy�I need a shower�and I need my �toy�.

Maria already finished cleaning the bedroom, not that I leave much for her to clean. I didn�t have much to take care of in prison, and I kinda picked up the habit of cleaning up after myself and taking care of the few things that are mine. It just goes against my instincts now to leave anything messy. Except the bathroom countertop. I love having everything I want or need within reach, and I want or need quite a bit.

At the moment, all I need is a rather serious toy from the closet and some lubricant. I let the shower steam while I strip, and I can almost feel a faint flutter of urgency. I really have no shame. It�s been days and days before that. After living with a sex drive that has been fed and nourished and gently nursed back to life, now I�ve been living like some celibate monk. Not fair at all, and now that I don�t actually hurt too badly for self pleasure, why should I deny myself?

God�even a finger working lubricant into myself is enough to make my prick go from semi hard to stone in a heartbeat! It really has been too long without so much as a quick jerk! Harry, Harry, Harry�if only I could borrow you for about five minutes, the hunk of plastic in my hand wouldn�t be necessary. Hell�it isn�t necessary per se, but as they said on Queer As Folk��It�s just not sex without something up your butt!�

It isn�t a lengthy process. The only thing that drags it out is my desperate attempt to delay letting my hand touch my cock. The slippery nudge of the thing between my legs, seeking ingress and slowly filling the emptiness. The hot water pouring down my chest while I bite my lip, trying to keep quite in case anyone is in the hall. Feeling that thickness moving slowly in and out of me, working against the place inside of me that cries out for contact. Maybe my skin hurts a bit when I back into the shower wall for support, but I just don�t care. I want Harry, I want to come, I want satisfaction and�and�

And then it�s over. I barely touched the head of my dick and my whole body clenched up while I came. I don�t bother sliding the toy free for a little while. I just loaf against the shower wall, sweating and a little dizzy in the heat. I needed it, but it�s so fucking hollow next to the real thing. At least the water and a bit of soap removes the lubricant and any trace of this little session. Little blobs of white sliding away down the drain�out of sight�out of mind.

That�s my evening. It�ll be me bundled in a bathrobe, watching a movie and some news before bed, looking at my roses and slowly devouring my candies. I really do wonder what Harry is doing tonight. Somewhere, out there in the night, he�s making things happen, none of them wholesome, and there will be hell to pay for whoever gets in his way.

-------------------------------------------------------------

�GOD DAMN IT! We just picked up a tail! Black SUV. They must have had people nearby but out of site! That cuts it! Do we hustle�or fight?�

Harry pulled the nine millimeter out of its holster and glanced back through the tinted bulletproof glass of the rear window. The SUV a few hundred yards behind them was gaining on them fast, and judging by the absence of lights or a siren, it wasn�t law enforcement. Ron needed an answer quick, to decide how to drive in this case. Fast escape and an attempt to outrun their pursuers, or cautious speed with an eye toward making gunplay easier for Harry.

�It�s past four in the morning in the middle of downtown Chicago. We just blew up a crack processing center. Fuck it. Let�s try to shake them if we can. I�d rather not leave a mess in the street if we can avoid-�

The staccato pop of semi-automatic fire cut off Harry�s words while Ron punched the gas pedal down to the floor. The heavy �tink� of bullets rattled against the reinforced frame of the Lincoln. Ron and Harry kept their heads low despite the bulletproof glass, since even high quality materials could be penetrated by certain ammunition or powerful enough weaponry. Ron cursed under his breath while making a hairpin turn, dodging a minivan in the lane over from them while the tires shrieked and Harry slipped a fresh clip into his pistol.

�Fucking prick bastards! You have any idea what I gotta do to fix bullet holes? You know how long it takes to do a repaint?! Assholes!�

A second burst of gunfire sounded as the SUV squealed into place behind them and steadied enough for the man hanging out the window to aim. Two sudden spider webs appeared in the bulletproof glass of the back window. Ron cursed anew while pushing the speed back up.

�FUCK! Fuckers! Fucking fuckers! I hate replacing glass! Can�t you just kill these cockroach fucks?! To hell with subtle! We�re doing eighty miles an hour and dodging traffic! This is NOT subtle! We hafta get the fuck outta here�with no tail�NOW!�

Harry sat calmly in the back seat, idly flicking his head back toward the SUV, then to the street ahead, then back through the undamaged portion of the back window.

�Okay. Let me slow them down for sec.�

The rear driver side window lowered at a button�s touch. Harry slipped the hand with the pistol out, then steadied himself carefully while the man hanging out of the SUV window yelled to his own driver and fired another burst, this time with bullets pocking the back of the Lincoln and smashing more webs into the back window. Harry grunted calmly while he aimed with all the precision he could muster. He paused while Ron weaved through stopped traffic at a light, ignoring the shrieking tires of suddenly interrupted traffic. Then he steadied his aim again.

Four shots sounded from the nine millimeter. The man hanging from the window of the SUV lost most of the top of his head, and two other bullets smashed through the front windshield of the SUV. The pursuers panicked, and a heartbeat later the SUV was screaming to a stop, twisting sideways, tumbling end over end into a jagged heap.

Harry pulled his gun and arm back into the car, straightened his shoulders calmly, and holstered the pistol. Ron brought the speed back down to just above legal, making a series of random turns and deliberately confusing moves to put them on streets unrelated to and far away from the ones they�d just been on.

�How�s that? Better?�

Ron smiled. The cool bastard was always so calm in the crunch. Trust Harry to ask that so casually after a gunfight at almost ninety miles an hour in the heart of downtown.

�Perfect. Let�s get under cover. Garage first. New vehicle. Back to base second. Nice grouping on those shots.�

�Thanks. Pity about that first one. My aim was a little off on that one. That reminds me. Pencil in a visit to Snape after the office. He�ll have to stitch up my arm a little. I know I�d have hit the driver on the first shot if that round hadn�t tagged my arm.�

Ron�s head whipped back around. Harry�s black shirt was torn in the corner, and wetness was visible down the fabric of his right arm�the one he�d had out the window. Harry was calmly applying a makeshift bandage from the black bag on the floor.

�Fucking Christ! Harry?! Are you okay?�

�I�m fine. Don�t sweat it. Just a flesh wound, buddy. We�re not even in a hurry on this. If they hadn�t been amateurs it could have been a lot worse. They just got lucky while my arm was out the window. I�ll deal with it later. Just get to the garage first, right?�

Ron had his eyes back on the road, shaking his head in amazement. Harry�s voice didn�t even waver. The man was cooler than ice. Shot in the arm and not a sound of pain. Just quietly rolling gauze around the quick bandage he�d slapped over it. Fucking incredible. Then a sudden thought popped into his head while they slid down an alley to put them onto the quickest route to the garage.

�Dee�s gonna freak isn�t he?�

Harry sighed. �Honestly, I�m hoping he�s so happy to see me that I can keep most of my clothes on while we say hello. With a little luck, I can make sure he�s really calm before he so much as gets a look at this. Maybe if I act blas� enough about it, it�ll rub off. Whatta you think?�

Ron chuckled. �Buddy�I think you�re screwed no matter how you slice it�in more ways than one. My money�s on you wishing that it was something easier to deal with�like Doc Snape catching you pissing in his coffee cup!�

�Hah! You�re probably right. Nothing to be done for it though. Somehow�being shot at isn�t nearly as unnerving as facing a ticked off boyfriend. Thank God he�s cute when he�s pissed! Who the hell am I kidding? He�s cute all the time, not just when he�s pissed off.�

They chuckled and joked, taking the edge off the stress while Ron eased the Lincoln down quiet streets toward the garage. Harry glanced down the street, staring at the road that led to a home he wouldn�t be seeing just yet. There were things that needed doing, and those had to be seen to first. Drake was probably sound asleep, alone, worried, sore and missing him.

It wasn�t the first time Harry had been wounded on the job. It was the first time he�d ever had someone who would be upset about it�and the first time his heart had ever thudded so desperately in his chest at the thought of his own mortality. He�d always lived for the rush of adrenaline, for the weird freedom that came of action instead of stillness. It was the first time he�d ever had something to miss dearly if he died. He was as cool as ice. A calm and perfect killing machine, unconcerned by the dead bodies left behind in the blasted ruin of a tenement basement full of rock cocaine, and unworried by the dead or wounded people in the SUV now miles away. However cool he�d been on the outside, for the first time, in the silence of his heart, he felt the fear of death. And felt it�because he was in love�and nothing could be more worth living for than that.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Blaise Zabini held his cellphone to one ear, trying to drown out the noise from the two idiots in the kitchen.

�Blaise here�what�s up? Dee? Hey�Dee! Glad you called. What�s goin� on?�

A clank from the kitchen distracted him for a second, followed by the raised voices of his so called guardians.

�Vinny, ya fuckin� mook! Ya stir it counter-clockwise. The other way!�

�Nah! That ain�t it, Greg! Yer gonna fuck it up! Too much oregano! Just a pinch, you dago shithead! A pinch, goddamit!�

Blaise huffed with irritation. �Hang on a minute!� He slipped a hand over the phone�s receiver. �HEY! I oughta buy a bra for you two tits! That�s my Mom�s spaghetti sauce you�re fucking with! That recipe goes back two hundred years! Shame that recipe and I�ll whack the both of ya! Now shut up! I�M ON THE FUCKING PHONE!�

�Sheesh. Sorry, Blaise.�

�Yeah. Ditto. Go on. Talk. We got this.�

Blaise moved for the privacy of his bedroom. Ever since Vinny and Greg had shown up, it had been chaos. They were good chums, and he trusted them completely in a world where that didn�t come easy, but still! Such a pair of fucking goombahs!

�Yeah. Sorry �bout that, Dee. Nah�that�s just Greg and Vinny making dinner. Mom wanted to make sure I was okay, you know, with what�s been on the news and all, so I had the guys start stayin� over for awhile. Just for Ma�s sake. Nothin� goin� on here. You okay?

Good to hear it! You know�I got Mom�s recipe for sauce here. Homemade pasta from the neighborhood. You could swing by if you like. You know, just for some eats and old time�s sake. Not tonight? Too bad�you�d be welcome.

Aw, shit�who the fuck am I kidding? Dee, lemme say this right now and get it out. I really feel like I owe you. I really do. Been thinking about you since you hit the club like a lightning bolt. I did you wrong, and I wanna make it up to you. Tell me you�ll come over some time. No pressure. Just dinner, some good vino, and talk.

I just don�t like the idea of you bein� shacked up with some old guy you don�t even like. Let�s you and me get something going like the old days, right? Doesn�t have to be overnight or anything�just a start, okay?

Yeah? You like that? Oh�can�t make plans yet, huh? Cool. But you�ll call, right? A week or two? Good enough by me. You won�t regret it if you do! Awright�take care of yourself. Ciao, baby!�

�Oh yeah. Go, Blaise, go! You still got the magic. Dee is back in town and he�s got you on his mind�even after all these years. Blaise, baby�you�re headed for the good life. Dee in one hand and a good drink in the other. Pure heaven!�

�HEY! Not the whole clove! Whattaya doin�, Vinny?! Blaise! It wasn�t me! He�s fuckin� it up!�

�Greg! You dumb bastard! You bumped my stirring arm! Not my fuckin� fault!�

�Yeah. Heaven. Those fuckin� palookas. Where was I?�

�THAT�S IT! I�m startin� another pot an� I�m doin� it myself! You guinea fuckin� wops! You call yourselves Italian!? How could even you two fuck up my mom�s sauce! Would you shit on a Caravaggio? Beat off on the fuckin� Mona Lisa? Never mind! You probably fuckin� would! Gimme that spoon!�

�Yeah�heaven. But Dee is comin� back. None too soon either! This house needs a shot of class. Fucking mooks.�

TBC!!!

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Big Chicago