Fandom: Harry Potter
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers. No copyright infringement intended.
Title: The House of Potters (Where All of Your Dreams Come True)
Beta: o_glorianna (Thank you!) I picked through this some more, therefore all the remaining mistakes are completely my fault.
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Angst
Word Count: ~9000
Status: Complete
Summary: Obsession with Harry Potter draws out the worst in some people, but it makes Draco Malfoy reveal his hidden qualities.
Warning: NOT FLUFF! Rating is for violence, prostitution, slavery and sexual exploitation. None of it is overly explicit, but it's mentioned happening (mostly) in the background. This story touches the problem of organized prostitution but it's sprinkled with magic and Harry/Draco loving. The warnings don't apply to Harry/Draco relationship (that part is fluffy! :D)
Note: This story features Crazy!Draco (and Pining!Draco again. Slap me, if you wish!) forgive him, he's crazy for a reason. Don't be too scared of the warnings, I don't think this is the Darkest Dark in Darkville. It really depends on how much you're personally disturbed with the theme.

I AM FIC-ed OUT! Good timing too, the hd_worldcup stories will come rolling in now. Go Team Fanon!

I SUCK at angst! D: Doesn't stop me from trying not to suck.

---

The House of Potters

(Where All of Your Dreams Come True)

June, 2002

Harry collected the various magazines and newspapers from the floor and stacked them neatly on the coffee table. He really needed a housekeeper, or something. Lately, he’d been neglecting his household chores and staying outside too much, remaining after work and socializing with friends and strangers. People were very accepting of him and surprisingly Harry didn't mind it all that much anymore. It was nice to feel wanted.

This had been Harry’s life for the last six months since he broke up with his last girlfriend and officially gave up on dating. He didn't know why his relationships always turned complicated after a while, leaving him feeling trapped and miserable.

Now that Harry had simply stopped dating, things were actually going well. But there was just one little problem that prevented him from being completely happy — he was worried about the Malfoys, of all people.

The public had been more than a little displeased when Lucius Malfoy was released from Azkaban. People screamed corruption, but the truth was, there was simply no evidence that the Malfoys had been involved in the various murders of Muggles and Muggleborns.

But people had decided to take matters into their own hands and the Malfoys were attacked on several occasions. There was a whole organization dedicated to righting the wrongs as its members called it. As far as the Aurors knew, the organization was led by a Squib of Malfoy descent. Calvin Malfoy and his associates had kidnapped, tortured, and murdered several suspected Death Eaters and members of their immediate families. Calvin was most interested in revenge against the man who had supposedly disinherited him on the grounds of being a Squib. He was therefore dedicated to the goal of destroying his cousin, Lucius Malfoy. The Malfoys had requested protection from the Ministry, but the Ministry, fearing further accusations from the public, had refused to do anything constructive.

Harry had visited the Malfoys and offered his help but Lucius had rudely slammed the door in his face. Harry could do little more than shrug and walk away. But he was worried. Somebody had attacked Draco Malfoy recently and while the Aurors, Harry among them, had arrived in time to prevent a disaster, Draco had been severely injured.

There was something about Draco's pale face and his strong grip around Harry's waist as Harry Apparated them to St Mungo's that nagged at him continuously, and no matter how hard Harry tried to forget it, he couldn't.

Harry had asked Malfoy to be more careful and to not leave the Manor without protection. Amazingly, Malfoy had actually thanked him and promised to listen to his advice. Harry was still perplexed when remembering that conversation. Apparently, Malfoy was able to not be a git on occasion.

The doorbell rang and Harry happily abandoned casting Dust-Removing Charms and ran to the door, pleased with the distraction. He swung the door open and froze. There, on his doorstep, stood Draco Malfoy.

The first thing that Harry noticed was that Malfoy looked odd. His hair was mussed and his eyes were shining strangely. He was also scowling at Harry and swaying slightly.

"Malfoy?" Harry asked, bewildered. Suddenly, he felt nervous under Malfoy's glare and he wished that he had his wand near.

"Harry," Malfoy sneered and Harry realized that the blond was drunk.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh, for heaven's sake! I don't need this," Harry sighed. "And you said you'd be careful. Come on. I'll take you home."

Draco's sneer disappeared in a flash and suddenly he looked scared. "No, no. I don't want to go home. I want to stay here."

Harry stared in bewilderment. "Come again?"

Malfoy smiled widely. "All right," he exclaimed and forced his way inside.

Perplexed, Harry grabbed Malfoy's arm and pulled him back towards the door. "I don't know what you're up to, but you are leaving now." Harry virtually dragged the struggling blond outside.

Malfoy looked unhappy and confused. "No, no. Why?" he whined. "I just wanted ..." Malfoy tried to free himself from Harry's grip. He struggled to unclench Harry's fingers from his arm one by one, pouting when he couldn't make a single finger budge. If Harry hadn’t been so annoyed at Malfoy he would have laughed.

Harry looked at the pale face and stared at the blotchy red cheeks. "You wanted what?"

Malfoy stopped his struggles and looked at Harry with wide unfocused eyes. "You," he said promptly. Then he snuggled closer and peered at Harry with a strange expression that Harry had never seen on a Malfoy before. "You keep saving me. You must care," Malfoy whispered.

Harry was more than a little freaked out by now. "What?" he managed to breathe out, his voice much too high.

Malfoy licked his lips. "I want," he whispered, coming impossibly closer. "I think I'm in love with you," Malfoy said quietly as though he didn't really want Harry to hear him.

But Harry did hear him and froze in complete shock.

"But I don't know ... I've never been in love so ..." Malfoy frowned and then suddenly he pressed his lips to Harry's and Harry snapped out of his shocked state at once. Violently, he pushed the blond away.

"You're insane!" Harry gasped for air and touched his lips in bewilderment. Draco Malfoy was the last person Harry could possibly imagine showing up on his doorstep to kiss him. This was some strange dream. It had to be!

"Possibly," Malfoy agreed, staggering a little but not falling down. He grabbed Harry again and looked at him with a heated gaze and Harry realized that Malfoy was actually serious. "I want you," the blond said, looking feverish. "I want you. You must want me too, don't you? Tell me."

Harry shook his head quickly, too shocked to speak.

"Yes, yes you do. You keep saving me," Malfoy repeated. "Why would you do that? After everything that has happened, you're always worried about me." Malfoy smiled a little. "Always rushing to my rescue ..." Malfoy grabbed Harry firmly and kissed him more forcefully, thrusting his tongue into Harry's unwilling mouth and pushing one leg between Harry's thighs, backing him towards the wall.

Harry struggled, but his limbs felt heavy and he was starting to feel dizzy. Malfoy was kissing him in a way that Harry had never been kissed before — with undisguised passion that threatened to consume him. Harry made an inarticulate noise when Malfoy grabbed him by the hair and tipped Harry's head back, continuing to kiss him possessively. Harry felt like he was on fire and he almost gave in, but then one of Malfoy's hands grabbed Harry's arse roughly and Harry began to panic again.

As Malfoy held him against the wall, rutting against him, Harry decided that he had enough. He pushed Malfoy away again and this time the bastard really did fall down.

Shaking with humiliation and some irrational fear, Harry glared at the shocked blond sitting in the dirt. "I don't want you. I have never wanted you. I will never want you. Now go away. I never want to see you again." With that Harry walked back into the house and slammed the door behind him.

This was by far the most terrifying thing that had happened to him, and he had died once, for Merlin's sake!

Harry stopped shaking only after three glasses of Firewhiskey and a long hot bath. But he was still upset so he barricaded himself into his home and refused to respond to owls and Floo-calls for the rest of the day. When an urgent owl arrived from the Ministry, Harry was still too furious to make any sense of the blurry letters on the parchment.

That was why Harry only learned of the latest news from the Daily Prophet. The title glared at Harry's shocked face.

ATTACK AT MALFOY MANOR: THE END OF THE MALFOY LINE?

Phrases like 'Narcissa Malfoy murdered in her bed' and 'Father and son missing, presumed dead' swam in front of Harry's vision. Shaking and swallowing down bile, Harry made it to the door and immediately Apparated to the Ministry.

Ridiculously, the first thing that came to his mind was that now, Draco Malfoy would never kiss him again. For some reason, that knowledge was more distressing than Harry thought possible.

***

December, 2005

Harry seethed with anger. He fingered the wand in his pocket, wanting nothing more than to pull it out, burst inside, and curse everyone in there. Bastards! How dare they?

"Harry." Ron gripped Harry's bicep and held tight until Harry relaxed and released his wand. "You don't have to do this," Ron whispered. "Either one of us could go in there. It doesn't have to be you."

"No," Harry said firmly. "I want to cast these charms myself. It will make me feel better." That probably wasn't true. Harry couldn't imagine ever feeling better. Knowing that this place existed was enough to sour his mood for an eternity. He knew that some people still worshiped him after all these years. Harry had received propositions that had shocked him to the core, but this ... this was too horrible to even contemplate.

"Fine." Ron blew out an exasperated breath. "Just don't do anything stupid. Cast the charms and wait for us, all right?"

Harry nodded, not looking at Ron but at the large man standing in front of the ordinary looking backdoor of a small building.

"Harry," Ron hissed. Harry turned to look at his friend and found worried blue eyes staring at him intently. "I don't think you should see this." Ron looked away and kicked a bit of dirty snow with his foot. "Merlin knows I don't want to see it."

Harry gritted his teeth, more from the cold than anger. "Just be ready to move in," he said shortly and steeled himself before walking towards the building.

Ron cursed and kicked something else but Harry didn't turn to see. Instead, he took his wand and hid it in his sleeve.

Harry's warm breath misted in the cold as he walked straight towards the man standing rigidly with a scowl on his face and his arms crossed in front of his chest. Once Harry was closer, his gaze immediately caught a small sign above the metal door. Curvy letters proclaimed, 'The House of Potters: Where All of Your Dreams Come True.'

Harry lowered his gaze to the man glaring at him suspiciously. "What are you doing here?" the man barked.

"I was just getting some fresh air," Harry claimed, gripping his wand. With a murmured incantation, a ball of red light whooshed towards the man who blinked a few times and then shook his head. Harry hoped that this small charm would be enough to stop the man from questioning him further.

"A smart arse, are you?" The man sneered and reached with one big hand, grabbing Harry by the hair. He opened the door and pulled Harry inside. Harry struggled against every instinct in his body that urged him to fight back. Instead, he allowed himself to be manhandled down the narrow staircase and dumped unceremoniously in front of a double door. The man waved his wand and the heavy chain that was wrapped around the door's handles fell to the floor. "Get in," the man ordered. "And what's the deal with the glasses? Nobody likes them."

Harry panicked just for a second. "The glasses were a special request. Authenticity and all that."

The man laughed. "Sickos." He raised an eyebrow at Harry and Harry quickly turned around and pushed the door open.

It worked — he was in.

Upon entering, Harry expected to be assaulted with the deafening sounds of some wild music — the kind that you usually hear in clubs — and a large crowd, complete with the smell of sweat and alcohol. But this wasn't quite like that. There was music and it was loud, but not loud enough to drown out the other sounds. Sounds that Harry wished that he couldn't hear. There were cries of pleasure and pain, moans and whimpers, pleads for more, pleads for release, and pleads for no more pain. But the most horrible part was that most of these sounds were uttered in Harry's own voice.

Harry lifted his head to look around fearfully. He thought he knew what to expect but actually seeing it ... Harry decided that Ron was right — he shouldn't have come here.

All around him, in every corner of the large room, wherever Harry looked, were Harry Potters. Some were dressed in leather, some in women's clothes, some in Hogwarts robes, but most were completely naked. Harry looked with horror at the faces of the other strangers. They all had a Harry or two at their sides. Harrys were being kissed, swirled on the dance floor, bent over tables and chairs, on their knees with cocks in their mouths, in cages, in chains, getting whipped and cursed with horrible curses that Harry didn't even know existed.

"Crucio!" The familiar curse caught Harry's attention and he looked over to see a naked Harry Potter pressed face first against the wall and bound with chains and leather. He didn't scream and Harry guessed that he was gagged because otherwise he would surely have cried out when the Cruciatus Curse constricted all the muscles in his body and caused the whip wounds on his back to reopen and bleed.

Nauseated, but determined, Harry turned towards the door and concluded that they were placed near the middle of the south wall. This was good enough. Quietly, with his wand in his sleeve, he cast a few charms on them and then looked around to see if anyone had noticed. There were many guards around, but also many people obscuring their view. Harry breathed out a sigh of relief. One down — three more to go.

He took a deep breath and moved to the west wall. This meant passing through the crowd that was dancing in the middle of the room. Looking down, Harry tried not to walk too slowly or too quickly. And he tried hard not to look around. He had already gathered enough material to give him nightmares for life.

A Potter in a garter belt and a lacy corset, with bright unfocused eyes, grabbed Harry’s elbow to break his fall. Harry stiffened and tried not to wince, but he felt his face heat up at seeing himself dressed in such a garment. But Harry’s embarrassment quickly turned into surprise. The garter belt-wearing Potter shuddered and gasped, and then his hair grew longer and breasts filled out the tight corset.

The girl, for it was a girl, looked up fearfully. "Oh, dear. Time's up. Must get a refill." She grinned happily, brown eyes looking blankly ahead of her. Harry knew that look. This was an unfortunate consequence of too much exposure to mind controlling spells. It affected Muggles even worse. And these people, these make-believe, Polyjuiced Potters were Muggles. Kidnapped and forced to serve wizards in this atrocious way.

The girl disappeared from Harry's view, heading in the opposite direction, towards the bar. Harry looked away, swallowed thickly, still fighting nausea, and continued his walk towards the middle of the west wall. There was a Potter there, splayed on a metal table with four men clustered around him. They were doing something that made the Potter in question scream and writhe in obvious pain, but Harry had no wish to look closely. Instead, he cast the second set of charms on the wall.

"What are you doing?"

Harry spun around to see a short but bulky man pointing a wand at him. But Harry had turned with a Confundus Charm on his lips and the man's face had turned blank instantly.

"Go away!" Harry snapped.

"Okay!" the man agreed with a goofy grin and trotted away.

Harry scanned around worriedly, but no one was looking his way. In fact, it seemed that everyone on this side of the room had turned to look at the screaming Potter. It seemed as though something truly fascinating was happening there, because a grisly looking man, who was sitting on a chair getting a blow job from a Potter in a plaid skirt, looked over with vivid interest.

Against his better judgment, Harry turned to look as well but the screaming suddenly stopped.

The silence was deafening. Harry realized that he was the only one still paying attention; everybody else had turned away and gone back to what they were doing.

Harry didn't doubt what had happened.

"Now you've gone and done it," one of the men said drunkenly.

"Oh, we'll get another one," a different voice replied, chuckling.

Harry had a sudden urge to scream and cast Cruciatus Curses all around. He hadn't felt such a strong desire to Crucio someone since the war. He gripped the wand in his hand; only the memory of a man being Crucioed a little further away prevented him from casting the curse himself. There was no point in lowering himself to these people's level. But this was too much. The thought that these innocent Muggles were being treated like this, were dying like this, because these poor excuses for human beings acted as though the Muggles were things, not people, made Harry boil with rage. They were using them for short-term pleasure but what they really wanted was to do these things to him. To Harry. But why — Harry couldn't fathom.

Harry stared blankly ahead and started to walk away, his legs shaky, barely supporting him. He felt as though someone had Confunded him. The way back was slow and torturous and Harry wished that the music was louder because he couldn't stand hearing the awful sounds anymore.

He dragged himself towards the long bar at the east wall. Most of the stools were empty and Harry collapsed onto the very middle one. Shakily, he cast the third set of necessary charms over the highest row of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey.

The bartender appeared out of nowhere and he threw a disinterested look at Harry, not asking what he was doing there nor offering to serve him a drink.

"Crucio!"

Harry winced and looked over to the north wall. The first thing he noticed was that the very middle of that wall was covered with booths, and for a moment Harry naively thought that they were loos. But soon enough he realized that it was where clients took their Potters to do what they wished with them, away from the public eye. There were many guards placed at the wall, one in front of each booth, to ensure privacy. This was a problem. Harry didn't know how he would cast the last set of charms on the north wall. Unless, of course, he walked into a booth with someone. But he had no way of knowing which one of these people would want privacy and not chain him up and torture him for public display. Once in the booth, Harry could easily curse them.

Thinking about it now, Harry realized that they had gone about this the wrong way. They should have sent somebody masked as a customer. But quite honestly, they didn't know that the customers had such freedom. This establishment didn't seem to have any rules. The Muggle-Potters were entirely expendable.

"Crucio!"

For fuck's sake! Harry clutched his wand, his hand twitching, but with the corner of his eye he spied the bartender giving him a suspicious look. Harry relaxed his hand on his thigh, not looking at the bartender, but trying to locate the man who liked the Cruciatus that much.

Surprisingly enough it was the same man and apparently the same Potter who had been tortured before. The man was buried deep in the Potter's arse and cast the curses whenever the battered body stopped twitching from the previous one.

Harry had a vague plan in mind. He would curse the abuser and then the booth guards. The moment he would cast the last set of charms, all of this would be over ... except that was just a tad unrealistic. Harry fancied himself a good Auror, but he wasn't that good. Not to mention, wasting time on cursing a single idiot would be a bad tactical decision.

The Crucio-loving man howled and shuddered and after a while pulled out of the twitching Potter. He slapped the abused looking arse in front of him and left, not looking back. Two guards appeared at the mangled Potter's side immediately, releasing him from the chains and half-dragged him, half-guided him towards the obscured place to the left of the bar. There were black curtains in place there that should have hid the room where they took the Potter, but they hadn't bothered to pull them shut and Harry could see what was going on.

The Potter was turned towards the wall and then healed with charms, though Harry could tell that the charms were done poorly because there were still angry red imprints on the man's back. They shoved him a potion — to suppress the effects of the Cruciatus, Harry supposed — that the Potter drank obediently and then, with a casual wave of a wand, the Potter was dressed in trousers and a shirt.

"You have an hour," a guard informed the Potter. Both guards left the room and disappeared into the crowd.

Harry couldn't tear his gaze from the shivering man who looked like the spitting image of himself. The man crouched down and rummaged through a box placed on the side. Shakily, he pulled out more clothes. He put on some shoes, a jumper and a vest as well as a warm jacket, as though he thought he was shivering from the cold instead of over-exposure to the Cruciatus Curse. The man walked over to the curtains and stopped as a violent wave of shaking overcame him. Harry had stood up to help him, but stopped as the man's body started to change and Harry realized that the Polyjuice must have stopped working.

Black hair turned to blond and pale skin to paler and Harry stared, feeling something clench his insides. The man walked closer and sat on a stool little further away and Harry recognised him easily. His blond hair was longish and unevenly cut, framing the painfully thin face that Harry hadn't seen for years. He looked so much different, older and drained, but there was no mistaking Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy was still shivering, his hands balled into fists, as he tried to prevent them from twitching. His body was practically lost in many layers of clothing and his face was shadowed by the locks of blond hair that fell over his eyes. Malfoy squinted at the bartender and to Harry's surprised, Malfoy smiled, despite a twitching muscle in his jaw. "Firewhiskey?" Malfoy said hopefully.

The bartender shook his head. "Galleons," he countered.

Malfoy laughed, sounding just a bit crazy. "Now where would I get those? Put it on the tab."

The bartender shrugged and reached for the Firewhiskey. "As you wish. That tab of yours is just getting you into trouble. You'll never pay your debt if you keep this up."

Malfoy tried to shrug but he failed, as the post-Cruciatus tremors convulsed his body. He reached for the drink and took a small sip, clearly savoring it, and intending to drink it slowly. He grimaced at the bitter taste and then closed his eyes and sighed. As though he felt that he was being watched, Malfoy's eyes snapped open and he turned to look at Harry.

Gray eyes widened and Malfoy chuckled, blinking rapidly as a nerve underneath his eye trembled. "Love the glasses! Nice touch," Malfoy praised, looking extremely amused.

Harry couldn't manage to form a reply. Instead, he just kept staring. Harry had looked for Malfoy for years and only given up recently.

That horrible day when Malfoy had appeared on Harry's doorstep, the Manor had been attacked and Draco Malfoy had returned home to find his mother dead in her bed. A surviving house-elf had told the Aurors that Draco was then kidnapped by 'many vicious looking men.' For a time, Harry had believed that Lucius was kidnapped as well, but that wasn't the case; he had appeared at the Ministry a few weeks after the disaster and told his tale.

Lucius had returned home from a trip and found his wife dead and his son abducted. He had tracked down his wife's killers and murdered them himself. For that he was sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban. Draco Malfoy's fate remained unknown, but Lucius was convinced that his son was alive and had insisted that Draco hadn't run away, as the majority of the Wizarding World believed, when no body had been recovered. Initially, Harry had believed Lucius and searched far and wide, but there was no trace of Malfoy. The organization of Squibs and Muggleborns, which was deemed responsible for the tragedy, had disappeared as well. They had achieved what they wanted. Eventually, Harry had been forced to conclude that Draco Malfoy was indeed dead.

Apparently, Harry had given up too soon.

"Love the look too," Draco continued, taking another sip of his Firewhiskey. "Very Potter-like. You know, that 'It's a wondrous world' look." Malfoy grinned. "You wouldn't know obviously. You are a Muggle after all. But let me tell you, it's very ... very ..." Malfoy waved his twitchy hand around and scrunched up his face. "Authentic!"

Malfoy was ginning merrily and sipped some more Firewhiskey but then frowned unhappily when he realized that he had already drunk it all. He looked at Harry again. "You are a bit dim, aren’t you? Well, obviously with all the curses they cast around here. No wonder. No wonder. I think I'm getting a bit crazy, you know? Well, with me being a wizard and all it doesn't really affect me, does it? But they are good if I'm good, aren't they? They don't curse me as much, do they?" Malfoy was talking so quickly that Harry didn’t have time to respond at all, which was probably a good thing because he was too shocked to talk anyway. Draco trembled again. "Too much Cruciatus today. It makes me nervous," he said sadly and almost apologetically as though he was aware that he sounded crazy and felt embarrassed for it. He frowned at Harry. "Why, why aren’t you working? You're just sitting here looking like Potter. That's just not natural ... well unless you're Potter."

"That's what I'd like to know," a gruff voice behind Harry said.

Harry's hand was wrapped around his wand when he turned, but he froze when he saw five men standing behind him. One was a guard and the other four ...

Even though Harry hadn't seen them clearly the first time, he still recognized them as the ones that had killed the Potter on the metal table recently. Obviously, they were now looking for another victim. Harry felt a shiver pass down his spine. He couldn't curse them all and the guard already had a wand pointed at Harry. Out of the corner of his eye Harry could see two more guards by the booths looking over with interest. Harry's stomach turned and he felt his heart thumping furiously and he almost wondered whether everyone could hear it hammering against his ribcage.

"You’re wasting Polyjuice, sitting at the bar?" the guard asked incredulously. "While these nice gentlemen are waiting."

Harry swallowed and made a plan. He would jump behind the bar and turn to curse the bartender then ... he would be revealed and trapped there, thusly ruining the entire mission. This was not good. This was not good at all.

"Come on!" the guard snapped as the four men leered in unison.

"Don't worry. We'll entertain you," one of them said.

"I ..." Harry said, gripping his wand. Bugger it! He was not going anywhere with them.

"I already paid for him," Draco Malfoy said, his breath whooshing warmly over Harry's ear. Or maybe Harry just imagined that part.

The guard laughed heartily. "Get a grip, Malfoy. You're talking nonsense again."

"It's true! He's on my tab!" Malfoy exclaimed, gripping Harry's arm painfully and shaking him for good measure, as though that would prove his point. "I ... ask the bartender!" Malfoy insisted with conviction.

The guard looked past Harry and Harry didn't dare to turn and see what the bartender would do.

"True," the bartender said shortly.

The guard scowled at Malfoy. "You're not the brightest thing are you? You'll never pay off your debt."

Malfoy laughed, waving around wildly with his left hand and shaking Harry with his right. "And leave this fine ... fine ... establishment?"

Harry could hardly believe it when the guard growled and led the displeased party away.

Malfoy leaned in and whispered conspiratorially into Harry's ear, "Murderers." With that he moved away and sat on the stool again. "Firewhiskey?" he said hopefully, looking at the bartender.

"No," the bartender replied.

"Please," Malfoy begged shamelessly. The bartender sighed and poured him a glass. Malfoy downed it in one gulp.

Harry sat down on the stool closest to Malfoy. "Thank you," he murmured.

Malfoy waved him off, not looking at him. "They'll kill you sometime later, anyway. Plenty of Muggles around. It's harder to get Polyjuice and Potter's hair." Draco's voice hitched suddenly. "No, I guess that's not hard either. Should be. Should be a lot harder, but it's not, is it?"

Ignoring Malfoy's blabbering, Harry leaned in close, eyeing the booths and then Malfoy, and formed a brilliant plan. "I owe you."

Malfoy nodded. "Buy me drink."

"No, I ..." Harry considered, it did seem possible that Malfoy would be interested. "I owe you something else. You just paid for it." Harry tried not to squirm in his chair.

Malfoy turned his head sharply and narrowed his eyes. Harry half-expected Malfoy to refuse the offer in disgust. Whatever feelings Malfoy used to have for him, Harry wouldn't be at all surprised to hear that spending time in a place like this made him not want to see a Potter ever again. But Malfoy was blinking rapidly and he whispered, "True." Malfoy's gaze swept over Harry's features greedily. "I wouldn't mind. I wouldn't mind at all. I paid, didn't I? I haven't for a while, you know? It would make my week. What with the glasses and all," he said as though that made any sense.

Lost for words, Harry just nodded. "Let's find a booth," he managed finally. He hoped that Malfoy didn't want something terrible. For a minute, he was afraid that Malfoy would proclaim that he wanted to dress Harry in a skirt and tie him up and torture him, but Malfoy grinned angelically and grabbed Harry's hand, dragging him towards the booths.

The guard that stood there laughed at Malfoy even as he let them pass. "You'll never learn, will you?"

Malfoy's cheeks turned pink but he pulled Harry into an empty booth and closed the door behind them with a snap.

The moment he entered inside, Harry wished that he hadn't. The content of the booth was horrifying. Chains and whips and knives were terrible but familiar. Harry found himself staring fearfully at strange contraptions that he’d never seen before. They certainly looked painful. Harry steadied himself and gripped his wand. He should curse Malfoy and cast the final charms.

Harry spun around, intending to do just that, when he saw Malfoy frowning at him with an expression of such compassion that Harry was shocked into inaction.

"Don't worry. I don't like those things either," Malfoy confided. He lifted a shaky hand and gently, but awkwardly, stroked Harry's hair.

"You're very good. Very good. Some just don't manage, even with the Polyjuice. But you seem real," Malfoy murmured, coming closer to peer into Harry's eyes.

He held Harry's face in his pale, cold hands and stared for a long time. "Want to kiss?" he asked finally.

Harry nodded without even registering what Malfoy had said and only caught up when Malfoy pressed shaky lips to his. Then Malfoy was kissing him feverishly, like that day when Harry had rejected him. Malfoy's tongue was equally violent and the kiss was equally all consuming. Malfoy's hands roamed wildly all over Harry's rigid body. His movements were uncoordinated, too fast and too desperate to be pleasant or arousing. Or maybe Harry was simply too shocked to feel anything else.

Malfoy continued kissing him, first his mouth then his neck with hungry, sloppy kisses. "Tell me. Tell me you want me. Please," Malfoy begged, in the same tone that he’d used to get more Firewhiskey from the bartender. Now Harry understood why the bartender wasn't able to resist Malfoy's pleas. Harry wasn't sure how anyone could.

"I want you," Harry said quietly.

Malfoy shuddered and bit Harry's neck. "Again," he asked.

"I want you," Harry said more firmly.

Malfoy blew out a warm breath against Harry's skin and then suddenly he was gone. Bewildered, Harry opened his eyes, emerging out of some trance, to see Malfoy on his knees trying to undo Harry's trousers. His hands were shaking too much and he growled in frustration, pulling on the waistband fruitlessly. Not even trying to think about what he was doing, Harry reached for the zipper and undid it himself.

Immediately, Malfoy pulled Harry's trousers and underwear down and freed Harry's not quite hard cock. Unperturbed, Malfoy parted his lips and took Harry's prick into his mouth.

Harry gasped in half-shock at the sudden warmth and the slight burn of residual Firewhiskey in Malfoy's mouth. Malfoy flicked his tongue and relaxed his throat, sucking expertly, and it didn't take Harry long to grow hard in the wetness of Malfoy's mouth. Vaguely, Harry wondered what the hell he was doing. Why was he letting Draco Malfoy do this? Was it guilt? Harry had tortured himself with what ifs. Had he accepted Malfoy's offer on that horrible day, maybe Draco would have been saved from his fate. Had Harry at least reacted less violently and Apparated Malfoy home ...

Malfoy swallowed and sucked, moaning and humming, and Harry stopped thinking as he threw his head back. Soon, Harry's body seized up and he spurted hot pearly liquid into Malfoy's willing mouth.

Panting and finding purchase on the wall, Harry looked up to see Malfoy undoing his own trousers. He was hampered by the ridiculous amount of clothes he was wearing, as well as his trembling, clumsy hands. Without thinking, Harry reached out and undid them, pulling Malfoy's clothes down around his thighs.

Malfoy's pale cock didn't look disgusting and unappealing as Harry thought other men's cocks would. Harry had thought about doing this, sometimes, but had never actually dared to. Had never asked that handsome Unspeakable out, though he’d wanted too, never accepted random offers from men, though he’d wanted that too. Never dwelled on the kiss from Malfoy and thought about what it would be like if Harry had invited Malfoy into his house ...

"Not much time," Malfoy gasped, grabbing his own cock in hand and stroking it jerkily. Seized with the sudden desire to reciprocate, Harry fell onto his knees and stared at the angry red head of Malfoy's cock. Tentatively, he stuck his tongue out and licked delicately. Malfoy gasped and stroked himself faster. Encouraged, Harry licked him more firmly, closing his mouth around the head. But Malfoy was already groaning and hot, bitter wetness filled Harry's mouth.

Harry yelped, startled, and he choked and spluttered, feeling the semen dribble down his chin as another splash hit his cheek.

Harry looked up at Malfoy who was staring at him and shuddering. "Sorry." Harry felt the need to apologize and without thinking, spurred on by his own embarrassment, he took out his wand and charmed his face clean.

Immediately, Malfoy stepped back in horror and pulled his trousers up. "Who ...?" he gasped, staring at Harry's wand apprehensively.

Harry stood up, not knowing what to say, but a distant scream reminded him of what he should have been doing and why he was here. Zipping up his pants and turning around, Harry cast the final set of charms on the north wall.

Instantaneously, bright white light burst out from the wall and the sounds of multiple Apparitions were heard outside the booth. Harry turned around as Malfoy's eyes rolled back and he began to slide down along the door. Harry cast a counter charm at him but it did little good since it was too late, so Harry grabbed the blond quickly, preventing him from tumbling to the floor. Malfoy's head dropped onto Harry's shoulder and he mumbled to himself but Harry didn't understand a word.

"Harry? Harry!" Ron's panicked voice broke through the noise outside and, gripping Malfoy more firmly around the waist, Harry opened the door.

"Ron!" he called, looking around. Everybody who was inside the building had collapsed where they were due to Harry's charms. Harry hoped that the management that should have been on the top floor was affected as well. This was planned so that nobody would escape. There were other houses like this one, all over the world, though with different themes. But this was where the heads of the organization were located, at least according to the information they had.

Ron appeared in Harry's line of vision and he looked Harry over, apparently accessing his clothes to ensure himself that he had the original. Or maybe he was just scanning for injuries.

"Are you all right?" Ron asked a bit fearfully, looking around at the unconscious Potters all over the premises. Most of them were in awful conditions.

Harry nodded, gripping Malfoy a bit more tightly. Ron's gaze shifted towards the blond head on Harry's shoulder.

Ron raised an eyebrow.

"It's ... Malfoy," Harry said, suddenly possessed with an urge to lift Malfoy's head and inspect him more closely, to assure himself that it really was Malfoy.

Ron's eyes were wide and disbelieving. "He was a customer?"

"Employee," Harry said quietly. Ron looked at Harry again, still looking shocked. "Or a prisoner. I'm not sure. Looks like Lucius was right. Draco was kidnapped and kept alive."

Ron opened his mouth but then closed it and shook his head. "You should get him to St. Mungo's," he said finally.

Harry looked around at the chaos of too many Aurors trying to sort through the unconscious people, but mainly, they just stared around in horror. Harry felt his cheeks flame. He knew that nobody would tease him about this, the situation was too serious, but he still felt exposed and humiliated. "Are you trying to get rid of me?"

"Yes," Ron said through clenched teeth. "It's time for you to leave. You shouldn't have come here. Come on, the Anti-Apparition wards are down — obviously."

Harry nodded reluctantly, only willing to leave because of the shivering man in his arms who needed assistance. He encircled Draco's waist with his other hand as well and, with a last look in Ron's direction, Apparated away.

***

Harry crossed his arms and leaned his head against the wall. He had just come back from an exhausting talk with the Minister and even though, in the end, Harry had gotten his way, he still felt drained from all the arguing.

The door to his left opened and a Healer stepped outside. Harry righted himself and looked at the Healer expectantly.

"He'll be all right, Mr. Potter," the Healer said kindly, smiling at him and nodding her head. "Well, he will need time to heal. He's been through quite an ordeal. All of them have," she said sadly, referring to all the Muggles brought here today. "But he's still a wizard and therefore more resilient."

Harry nodded, feeling a little better. "And the rest of them? Nobody has told me anything yet," he added resentfully.

"A Muggle was dead upon admittance and several will, I'm afraid, have to be kept here until further notice. Their minds and bodies were too severely damaged. I'm not really sure we can help them."

Harry rubbed his temples — he’d expected as much but it was still painful to hear. "Can I see ... Mr. Malfoy?"

The Healer blinked but then nodded. "Of course, sir." She smiled kindly.

Harry smiled in return and tentatively opened the door to Malfoy's room.

The room looked gloomy. The only light seeped from the table in the far end of the room, where orange fire was dancing happily, trapped in an ornamental lamp.

Malfoy was sound asleep, breathing in time to a clicking sound that came from an odd device attached to his forearm with a wavy beam of white light. Occasionally, little yellow shiny bubbles erupted from the device, rushed through the beam, and disappeared into Malfoy's skin.

Harry sat on a chair by the bed and stared at Malfoy's pale face.

The mission had been a success and the Aurors had managed to capture the leaders behind the whole thing. The most important person — the person who had set up the entire organization — turned out to be Lucius Malfoy's cousin Calvin. That he had kidnapped Draco was no surprise; Harry had already determined that, but what left a bitter taste in Harry’s mouth was the irony of the situation — that the man and his followers who had prided themselves on righting the wrongs done by Death Eaters had ended up doing the same things that they’d accused the Death Eaters of. In the end, it was all about money.

Ron had found records of the business dating back several years. And Draco Malfoy's name had appeared in them three months after he went missing. Ron gathered that they wanted money, which Draco simply didn't have and he had been made to repay his father's so-called debt, because Calvin believed he’d been robbed of it. That meant that Draco had been doing this for the last three years and his debt had never decreased because, the records clearly showed, he was regularly paying for sex with the Potter look-alikes.

Malfoy was the only wizard in the midst of kidnapped Muggles and he was naturally not allowed to keep his wand, but quite honestly Harry wasn't sure how was it possible Malfoy had never escaped or at least managed to warn somebody about what was going on. Keeping a wizard imprisoned was no small feat. Azkaban wasn't famous for nothing.

Harry stared at the sleeping blond, feeling his own eyelids drop. He was weary and exhausted from not getting much sleep in the last twenty-four hours, so he closed his eyes and listened to Malfoy's breathing, feeling himself drift away.

***

Images of Harry Potters and Draco Malfoys being abused and tortured assaulted his mind, and Harry knew he was dreaming but he couldn't wake up. Panicked, he strained to open his eyes. When he finally managed to do so, a sharp pain rushed through his neck, making him wide awake.

Immediately, he noticed Draco Malfoy sitting up on the bed, hugging his knees and staring at Harry.

Harry opened his mouth to say something but he was at a loss for words. He didn't even know what state Malfoy was in. Malfoy had seemed half-crazy just a couple of hours ago, but now that the effects of the Cruciatus had passed, he didn't look twitchy or nervous anymore. He looked calm and pensive, though his gray eyes still seemed haunted.

"You snore," Malfoy accused.

Startled, it took Harry a while to find his voice. "You have no evidence," he joked lamely.

Malfoy looked around the room and then fixed his gaze on Harry again. "How," he cleared his throat, "how did you escape?"

Harry blinked, confused. "Sorry?"

"How – did – you – escape," Malfoy repeated slowly as though speaking to an idiot. Harry suddenly felt just a bit relieved to know that Malfoy was still, well, his prickly self.

"Escape from where?"

Malfoy frowned and gave him a dark look. "From the basement," Malfoy whispered. "They kept you there. So they could take your hair for the Polyjuice."

Shocked, Harry slowly shook his head. "No, I was never captive. My housekeeper was stealing my hair for years; I only discovered it recently," Harry said bitterly. "That's how we found out about this. She confessed everything she knew. They had been using all sorts of Multiplying Charms and even Muggle technology to ensure that there were enough ingredients for all the Polyjuice."

Malfoy closed his eyes as though he was in pain. "Oh," he said quietly.

"Why did you think I was capt —?"

"It doesn't matter," Malfoy snapped.

But Harry had already drawn an unbelievable conclusion. "Did they blackmail you with it? You thought you were ... keeping me alive?" Malfoy shuddered and looked away. Harry continued, "We found a Muggle in the basement and a stash of Polyjuice beside him. That wasn't me ... they tricked you."

"Oh," Malfoy repeated, staring at the sheets. "I tried to run away and then they ... I should've realized. They had questioned me with Veritaserum. They knew what to use against me." Malfoy balled his hands into fists.

"I'm sorry."

"I don't need your pity, Potter!" Malfoy spat vehemently, shaking now. The yellow bubbles started to erupt faster from the device on the side and they rushed towards Malfoy one after the other.

Harry kept silent as he waited for the bubbles to return to their regular rhythm. Harry had no idea what they were for, but it seemed wise to wait. He tried to think of something consoling to say, but he was too stunned. Was it really possible that Malfoy had gone through all of this for Harry? Did he truly love him that much?

Malfoy spoke suddenly. "Actually, I thought I was dead. And getting punished because of my hate for Muggles." Malfoy shuddered and lowered his voice. "All of them had your face and they kept screaming and dying. I thought it was some cosmic punishment. It was a bit much though."

"It wasn't punishment," Harry assured him quickly. "You did nothing to deserve that."

"That's what I thought, but they kept saying I did."

"They lied."

Malfoy made no response to that; instead he looked at Harry again. "Was that you?"

Harry gripped the arm of his chair. "No. I'm sorry. I said it was a Muggle—"

"No," Malfoy said through clenched teeth. "At the bar."

"Oh." Harry nodded, but then realized that Malfoy was staring at his lap. "Yes, that was me."

"Why did you do that?" Malfoy still wasn't looking at him.

Harry considered saying that he was only doing his job when he let Malfoy drag him in the booth. But truthfully, there was no need to accept a blow job or to try and perform one in return.

"Was it pity?" Malfoy asked, breathing heavily. "Did you feel sorry for poor little Malfoy?"

In all honesty, Harry didn't know the answer to that.

"Get out," Draco said quietly and when Harry failed to react he yelled, "Get. Out!"

The bubbles swirled around the beam, looking as though they were racing each other on their way towards Malfoy and Harry knew that it was time to leave. Suddenly feeling like a fool, Harry stood up and walked to the door. Malfoy needed time to get through this; Harry didn't know what he was thinking, coming here. Obviously, he was the last person Malfoy wanted to see. That was actually understandable. But first he had to say something; something he was sure was true even though he had only just realized it.

"I'm sorry I rejected you back then. The truth is, a part of me wanted to say yes, but I was too ... scared. What happened in that booth ... that wasn't pity." Harry frowned. "That was guilt and ... unacknowledged desires that don't really matter anymore." More quietly but with certainty, he added, "I don't pity you. Now that I know what happened — I admire you."

Harry didn't wait for Malfoy to scream at him again. He walked out and closed the door behind him, only daring to breathe properly then.

Further down the hall, a man was looking around, as though he was lost. When he spotted Harry, he swiftly moved in Harry's direction. Despite his age and haggard appearance, Harry recognized him easily.

Harry had asked the Minister for a great favor this morning. He had never asked anything from Kingsley before but that hadn't stopped Harry from feeling guilty. It was a big request after all, for which Harry knew Kingsley could get into trouble with the Wizengamot. But in Harry's mind this was the right thing to do. Kingsley had even agreed with that, but Harry knew that the public wouldn't.

The newly-pardoned Lucius Malfoy paused in front of Harry and stared at him for a while before he found his voice. "Where is he? Is he here?" he asked quietly, emotion coloring his voice, but Harry couldn't tell whether it was anger or worry. It was probably both.

Harry indicated the door with his head. "Yeah."

Lucius didn't spare him another glance, but instead burst inside the room, the door snapping closed behind him.

Harry closed his eyes, regretting a lost chance at something he never knew he wanted and hoping that at least Malfoy would be all right. One day.

But Harry was sure about one thing — Malfoy definitely didn't need him.

Disappointed, Harry pushed himself off the wall and walked away.

***

June, 2006

Harry collected various magazines and newspapers from the floor and stacked them neatly on the coffee table. He no longer had a housekeeper, nor did he wish for one. Lately, he was avoiding people like the plague. He kept in touch with his friends, of course, but beyond that it was work and then home. It was safer like this.

This was how it had been for the last six months since Draco Malfoy’s rescue. Harry had kept himself informed of both Malfoys' well-being. Lucius had found a job in the Ministry and a month ago, so had Draco. As far as Harry knew, they were living together in a rented house in Hogsmeade. Neither wished to return to the Manor, which was, of course, understandable.

Harry had seen Draco at times, and they had nodded to each other, saying polite hellos and exchanged inquiries of each other's health. Harry had hoped that Draco was being honest in his responses. The first time they saw each other, Draco said he was managing; the second time, he said he was fine; the third time, he assured Harry that he was well; and the last Harry saw him, he actually smiled and said, "I'm very well, Potter."

The doorbell rang and Harry happily abandoned casting Dust-Removing Charms and ran to the door, pleased with the distraction.

He swung the door open and froze. There on his doorstep, stood Draco Malfoy.

The first thing Harry noticed was that Draco looked good. He had filled out and looked healthy and relaxed. His hair was back to perfect. It was still falling around his eyes but in an orderly way.

Most importantly, Draco gave him a warm smile and there was no anger in his eyes.

"Draco!" Harry said loudly, shocked and pleased. And terribly nervous all of a sudden. He really wished he wasn't wearing his pyjama top — the one with the little Snitches on it. Draco's collected appearance disappeared at once and instead he looked taken aback. "It's good to see you," Harry added, forcing his tone to lower and his sudden excitement to hide itself in shame.

Draco nodded, apparently mastering his initial surprise. "Harry," he said carefully.

Harry smiled, though he didn't know why and he motioned for Draco to come in. "I was just ... um ... cleaning. Come in. I mean, everything is still messy. I just started. I usually clean on Saturdays." Harry wondered if Draco had cast a Babbling Charm on him.

Draco walked inside and looked around, before steadying his roaming gaze on Harry.

Harry looked at him expectantly, but apparently, Draco had no intention of speaking. "Um, did you want something? I mean," Harry said quickly. "Do you want tea or coffee or ...?"

"No, I’m fine."

"Oh." Harry nodded and bit his lip.

After more staring that made Harry dreadfully uncomfortable, Draco finally spoke. "I was wondering ... If you have nothing else to do." Draco cleared his throat. "Perhaps you would like to join me for lunch?" he asked stiffly. Harry noticed that Draco wasn't really looking at Harry's eyes but was merely pretending and staring at Harry's forehead instead.

"I'd love that!" Harry exclaimed, pleased. Harry had imagined that Draco would either hate him or turn indifferent. This development was as amazing as it was unexpected. Finally he would find out how Draco was really doing. And maybe, just maybe they could at least develop a friendship.

Draco seemed a bit worried and he focused his gaze on Harry's eyes with difficulty, small pink patches appearing on his cheeks. "I meant ... I'm asking you on a date," Draco clarified.

"Oh," Harry managed; myriad emotions passed through him, leaving him a bit breathless. What was left was pure wonder at Draco’s courage in coming here again with such a proposal after Harry had rejected him so brutally the last time. Draco's composed expression was slipping and his cheeks colored further. Realizing that he was making Draco uncomfortable, Harry hurried to answer. "I'd like that," he said quietly, though he wasn't sure why he suddenly lowered his voice.

Draco's expression cleared and he smiled, swaying just a little as though he was lightheaded from relief. "It is lunch time now," Draco said, trying to stop smiling but not really succeeding.

"I'll go change then," Harry said quickly, immediately moving towards his bedroom. He felt just a bit unsure whether his feet were touching the ground or not. For a moment it felt like he was flying. "Please, sit. Are you sure I can't get you anything?" he asked again, after he failed to think of something clever to say.

Draco nodded, still smiling, and Harry hurried to change. Considering Draco’s smart, put-together attire, Harry took out his finest clothes and shiniest shoes, and then put everything on in matter of seconds. He tried and failed to comb his hair so he just scowled at the mirror and walked calmly back to the living room.

Draco was still standing rigidly at the exact same spot.

"Ready?" Draco asked, a bit breathlessly.

Harry nodded. Draco smiled again and, in a spur of Gryffindor bravery or stupidity if you wish, Harry came closer — a lot closer — and tentatively pressed his lips to Draco's.

Draco stiffened and breathed in sharply, before relaxing and kissing back, capturing Harry's lips briefly before moving away.

"Are you sure about this?" Draco whispered.

Harry took a deep breath. "I want you," he said firmly. He kissed Draco again, more persistently but still gently, loving the feel of Draco's soft lips touching his. This was their first kiss — Harry was determined to see it as such.

When Harry moved away, Draco's eyes were still closed. Then Draco’s eyelashes fluttered and gray eyes bore into Harry's. Draco licked his lips and murmured, "Come on, we have a lot to talk about." And with that he took Harry's hand and led him toward the door.

The door slammed shut behind them, but neither cared.

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Fin

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