Broken Toy

Warnings: Language and a little bit of smut
Author's Notes: It seems that Harry can't forget these empty grey eyes... He doesn't know why (doesn't he really), but he has to go back to the Restricted Corner and search for Draco Malfoy...

Enjoy!!!

ETA: Beta'ed by ravenqueen55!

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Chapter Three

Sunday night Harry wasn’t lucky.

He roamed around Laydown Alley, trying to retrace his steps of the previous night. But he simply couldn’t recall them. His mind was blank, he just couldn’t remember at what point the lot of them had finally turned off into the dark, narrow lane that led to the Restricted Corner.

After hours and hours of a tiring search, he gave up finally.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

This night he was haunted by big, empty grey eyes in his dreams.

Trying not to think too much about it, he swallowed down a potion at breakfast to eliminate his headache.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

On Monday evening, after dealing with his affairs at the Ministry in a hurry, Harry resumed his search.

He strolled up and down Laydown Alley several times, again with no success in finding the entrance to this blasted Restricted Corner. Just like he had failed to do the previous night. His right hand started to drum some hectic rhythm on his thigh. To spend his time this inefficiently made him feel nervous. And hot. He was perspiring more than usual – it did take time to get alcohol out of one’s system. But of course that was just nonsense. He had swallowed down a huge amount of sober-up-potion yesterday. The moisture on his skin that was dampening his clothes was simply due to the temperature. It was summer, after all.

He unfastened the strings of his cloak impatiently. Ridiculous, having to wear a cloak in summer! The season when any sane person would lie down leisurely beside a pond in the evening, letting the mild breeze glide over his body and simply relax. Next time Harry met the Minister he would tell her something about the style of wizards’ clothing!

It was ridiculous, anyhow, to run around aimlessly.

He had to put a stop to this silly behaviour right away.

Obviously, there seemed to be no way to find his destination without any help. He wasn’t the man who would hesitate after he had made up his mind. So Harry resolutely set his jaw, stepped towards the next group of whores and demanded unceremoniously what he wanted to know.

“Where can I find the way to the Restricted Corner?”

A pretty redhead let her gaze wander over his body with enervating slowness.

“You?” Her gaze was focussed directly on the fly of his jeans. “But why would you…” She let her gaze wander up towards his broad chest, his ribcage clearly visible beneath his sweat-drained shirt, “…want to know the way towards those perverts?” She flashed her eyes at him. “I could show you…”

“I don’t care what you are able to show me!” Harry was irritated. “The Restricted Corner, please!”

“And who are you?” The redhead showed her temper at once. “Trying to order me about?” Her eyes reduced to tiny slits, challenging him.

“I’m….” At the last moment Harry restrained himself from shouting ”Harry Potter” in her face. Instead, his eyes fixing her intently, he murmured quietly, “I’m the one who wants to know the way towards the Restricted Corner. Show me, now. ”

Instantly the redhead, muttering something unintelligible, turned and led him down the alley towards an inconspicuous-looking building. Ignoring the shaking hand of the girl when she pointed at the wooden door of the pub, Harry exhaled his frustration in a short breath. The pub bore no nameplate, but there was a tiny little flag with rainbow colours fluttering down above the entrance. Harry felt an urge to hit his palm against his forehead, hard. So obvious. How could he have overlooked such an apparent sign?

But he restrained his anger as soon as it flared up. He had to pay attention. The redhead was mumbling something.

“Just walk through the pub and go to the gentlemen’s.” Her gaze had become a bit unfocussed, and she was swaying slightly. “Move into the last stall and tap the wall on your right with your wand once. Just once, mind you, and concentrate hard on where you want to go…”

Sighing in relief, Harry placed a light kiss on the redhead’s smooth cheek and pressed a number of silver coins into her motionless hand. Hastily he released the spell he had put upon her and shook his head in disgust. He shouldn’t have done this. What had made him abuse his skills and put this innocent pretty little redhead under a spell like that?

Without looking back, he determinedly entered the pub.

Ignoring all the different odours meeting his sensitive nostrils, he pushed right through the cramped interior of the pub. He didn’t take notice of angry glares from left or right while he made his way. He didn’t even mind touching sweaty backs or hard chests in order to squeeze through the groups of men standing close together. And he didn’t bother when his bum was gripped in an unmistakable way every now and then. Nor did he yell when he felt a hand squeezing his crotch.

All this didn’t matter… The most important thing was to find the blasted bathroom.

After having to tolerate a wet kiss- this bloke had actually managed to slip his tongue into Harry’s mouth! - he saw the sign he had been looking for. Gentlemen.

Smiling wanly at a muscular wizard who had clutched Harry’s arse in such a tight grip he could have screamed in pain, he forcefully wriggled himself free and was able to open the door of the bathroom.

Conscious of every sound, his ears heard heavy breathing, little sighs of pleasure and that unmistakable thwacking rhythm of flesh hitting flesh out of one of the neighbouring stalls.

He shook his head again, hoping the gesture would help to clear his mind. His nostrils flared when he kicked the door of the last stall open with his foot. Desperate tasks lead to desperate actions.

This was an emergency.

He had to find him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

But again, Harry wasn’t lucky.

He did find the Corner, which hadn’t been too difficult. The walls painted in rainbow patterns seemed to spring right into his eyes.

But as intently as he searched, no man with long silvery blond hair and grey eyes was to be seen.

As was on Tuesday night.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

On Wednesday night Harry started to ask around.

“A slim young man?” – “With long blond hair?” – “Aristocratic bearing?” – “Slightly long nose, with its tip pointing a bit up?”- “Hair so blond it is almost silver?” - “About a head taller than I am?” - “Draco?” – “Draco Malfoy?”

No luck, nobody seemed to know anything about Malfoy. Not even when Harry put the Interrogating Spell on them.

On Thursday night he started to show around pictures of Malfoy, some he had found in the archive of the Ministry.

No one seemed to know him. No one seemed to have ever seen him.

But nonetheless he tried again on Friday night.

With no success.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Saturday night Harry went down early to the Restricted Corner. He simply settled down at the ground in a corner, hoping that he wouldn’t stick out too much. As a well-trained Auror, this shouldn’t be a problem. He just had to think about becoming unaware. Crouching down, he leaned his back against the cooling stone wall of one of the buildings, drew his legs up and encircled his knees with his arms. He was sure that nobody would notice him now unless he (or she, but a she wasn’t to be expected here, was it?) was looking closely.

He put his chin on his knees.

And waited.

And observed.

After an hour his back started to ache. He had been sitting in an unmoving position for far too long. But he was determined.

This night he would find him.

After two hours his feet had gotten numb. And he was annoyed because he constantly received offers of a kind he didn’t care about in the slightest. He had to work on this Oblivious Charm one of these days.

After three hours he was ready to yell at anybody who dared to ask him to come along for a quick fuck around the corner. He had difficulties with sitting now, as he couldn’t feel his arse any longer. There was just some cold, bloodless bit of flesh where his buttocks were supposed to be.

After four hours he was ready to resign. At least for this night.

About to get up and stretch his sore muscles, he froze. His eyes had caught a glimpse of silvery blond hair. Especially long blond hair.

Harry held his breath. No sudden action. Remain calm!

He squinted his eyes.

Yes. At last.

The tall, slim man he had located was walking leisurely along those irritating rainbow-coloured walls. He settled down exactly on the spot Harry had found him just one week ago. Harry cursed slightly under his breath.

Could it have been this easy? Maybe Malfoy just came here once a week. Maybe he was just a … whore who didn’t need the money this badly. Maybe Malfoy was just a pervert who needed all this for pure fun? Harry could have spared himself a lot of trouble.

Getting more and more angry with Malfoy and with himself, Harry slowly got to his feet. He stretched his muscles to make sure they would be under control when he needed them.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Malfoy never saw him coming.

He was squatting on the ground; his back slightly touching the rainbow-coloured wall; with his head cast down and his hair hiding his face like a silvery curtain.

Cautiously, and with great skill, Harry sneaked towards the spot where Malfoy was crouching. He knew he could do this. He was trained to accomplish this. Malfoy would never know where the hell he had appeared from when he suddenly stood directly in front of him.

Harry could see the blond’s chest distinctly now, his breath causing the ridiculous leather straps he was wearing to move up and down slightly. They were formed like an X in front of his bare ribcage, displaying his pale, hairless skin and rosy nipples. But thank Merlin Malfoy was wearing leather trousers to conceal anything else Harry really wasn’t interested to see.

Harry’s sudden appearance in front of him made Malfoy look up at once. Seemed like the prat hadn’t lost his instincts, after all.

Their eyes locked instantly.

Harry’s eyes burned with fire. His stomach turned when memories of uncountable humiliations and insults flashed through his mind; feelings of injustice and hurt he thought had been long forgotten popped up again and threatened to suffocate him. Images of loved ones, now dead, swam through his head, making him feel dizzy. He wanted to shout, to curse, to grab these idiotic leather straps, pull the git up to his feet by them, shake him hard, punch him right in his conceited aristocratic face, hit him violently enough so that he could hear the bones of his long arrogant nose crunching…

His rage was extinguished at once by the dead light in Malfoy’s eyes.

Harry had expected to meet hate, or disgust; at least arrogance. But there was nothing behind those grey eyes. Nothing at all.

Tentatively, the ghost of a well-known smirk spread on Malfoy’s face, and he nodded understandingly.

“Potter…”, Malfoy’s mouth twitched slightly, “so you’ve come at last…” He forced out some noise which sounded like a snort. “Somehow, I’ve been waiting for you...” Slowly, the expressionless eyes left Harry’s face, and the blond’s head bent down. “So now, let’s just finish it….”

At this point Harry got mad. He could never explain later on why he had reacted like he did. He just did.

Harry grabbed Malfoy rudely on his upper arm and commanded him through gritted teeth, ”Get up!” With all the strength of suppressed hate and helplessness Harry roughly pulled the taller man up to stand in front of him.

“Where are you living?” Harry barked.

When Malfoy didn’t react in time Harry shook the arm he was still holding with vehemence. “Where do you live? Where are your belongings?”

Reacting to the commanding tone of voice, Malfoy pointed faintly somewhere ahead.

“Show me!” This order made Malfoy move towards the entrance of the rainbow-coloured building at once. He led the outraged wizard obediently to the room in the basement that Malfoy shared with another boy.

What a filthy and dirty room!

Harry couldn’t suppress a shudder. Two mattresses were lying in each corner of the dimly lit room; two little trunks on each side, serving as bedside-tables. Untidy pillows and dirty blankets were stuffed into a crumpled heap beside the door. Obviously, they had been pushed out of the way to leave more space for activities on the beds. Not that the sight of them was inviting. Harry wasn’t eager to examine the sources of the various yellowish spots visible on the faded linens.

The only light that enabled Harry to observe the interior was a single candle, presumably shining by magic. Uncountable spider-webs were hanging down the walls. No wonder, spiders liked the dark, and since the room contained not a single window, they felt themselves at home. Ron would love this!

As soon as Harry stepped into the “room”, his skin was covered with moisture. And he was greeted by – he wasn’t able to define it in any other way - stink. Harry instantly screwed up his nose. His sensitive nostrils received all different kinds of odours at once, but the scents of mould, stale human perspiration and come were overwhelming.

Holding back nausea like the expert he was, Harry turned in an abrupt motion to the tall man lingering unsure behind him.

“Where are your belongings?”

Malfoy flinched and started to breathe in a somewhat strained way. “What do you want with them? There’s nothing you can take away from me, nothing valuable anyhow...” His voice trailed away.

“What the hell are you talking about? I just asked you to pack up your things!” There wasn’t much force behind Harry’s voice this time, just a slight note of irritation.

Reassured that Harry obviously didn’t intend to take his earthly possessions away, Malfoy did what he had been ordered to do and trotted towards his little wooden trunk.

When Harry had the opportunity to observe Malfoy’s backside for the first time this evening, he couldn’t help himself. He broke into a coughing fit.

Harry had assumed that Malfoy was wearing leather trousers. When he had seen him outside, Harry had been sure of this.

But nothing could have ever prepared him for leather trousers without any seat.

Harry couldn’t keep his eyes off the well-shaped, smooth round buttocks. With just one tiny little leather strap to separate the cheeks; the rest of the leather material was encircling the site like a round gift-wrapper.

Damn, the heat of the summer never seemed to fade these evenings. Even at night, temperatures were still high. Little rosy spots appeared on Harry’s stern face. But it was hot! He could feel the heat spreading through his body; little droplets of sweat were building up on his forehead.

The cheeks of Malfoy’s firm bum seemed to be winking whenever he moved around. And he moved around a lot.

Harry had to gulp several times. When this didn’t help to restore his composure, he abruptly turned his back on Malfoy’s exposed behind and barked out a harsh command, “And while you are getting your things together, search for some … decent pants, please!”

Malfoy whirled around at once. “What’s wrong with my pants?” He enquired, leaning himself coquettishly against the dark and damp wall of his home. He even had the cheek to smile at Harry’s turned back with half closed eyes.

“Your friends did like my pants, for sure…”

Everything in Harry froze.

The very next second, he turned around and was scrutinizing Malfoy through squinted eyes. Just in time to register the superior smile on Malfoy’s face when he added, “…and me…”

No reaction was visible on Harry’s features. But the clenched fists betrayed his agitation. And his pupils, widened with shock, made his emerald eyes appear to be almost black.

Confident of himself now, Malfoy let his hands run leisurely down his body, making sure Harry was watching every move he made.

Resting his hands on his crotch, Malfoy went on slowly, with a faint drawl recognisable in his voice, “Didn’t you know that those Weasel-twins and the Irish prat came back last Saturday? After you sent them off so effectively? I presume you … wanted to have me … for yourself?”

The smirk on Malfoy’s face drove Harry insane. The urge to grab the git by his shoulders and shake him long and hard was almost overwhelming.

The once so proud offspring of a famous family slowly started to stroke the front of his shiny leather trousers with his open palm. Harry was staring, fascinated at the bulge getting more and more pronounced every time Malfoy touched himself.

A teasing, very low chuckle increased Harry’s confusion. “Yes, they did come back. You really didn’t know?” The soft chuckle was repeated. “The Weasels took me from behind, one after the other, while I had to give the Irish-lad a blow job.” An exaggerated sigh of relief followed. “Aah, thank Merlin, they didn’t last long…”

Harry’s eyes popped almost out of their sockets. If Malfoy continued with his tale he surely would loose his temper. And he didn’t want this, no he didn’t want this, PLEASE, don’t let it happen…

His opposite went on to narrate without any humour, still stroking his thick prick through his pants. Narrowed cold grey eyes were boring into Harry’s flushed face.

“Then they changed positions. The Irish fucked me and I had to suck off those Weasels at the same time.”

Harry, his face an immobile mask, still stared at Malfoy’s hand, which continued to caress his outlined erect cock through his leather trousers.

“But as you can imagine, this wasn’t the end,” Malfoy sneered. “After they gave me a little time to recover, I had the honour to fuck one of the Weasels while the other was shagging me... Don’t know which one of them it was… Don’t care anyhow. - Then it was time to turn …” Harry could actually feel it when Malfoy bared his teeth. “And all the time, the Irish was beating my bum with his leather belt, wanking like a maniac…”

The blond uttered a high, unnatural giggle. Which made Harry automatically look up towards Malfoy’s face.

Dazed, Harry could detect a slight sneer around the sensitive mouth of his opposite, “But it did pay out well. I didn’t have to work for a whole week!”

The blond squeezed the front of his pants again, his long fingers encircling his crotch completely.

“So, now, Potter, tell me!” Malfoy’s pretty features contorted into an aggressive grimace. “What do you want to do with me – tonight?”

Harry closed his eyes tightly.

He couldn’t help clenching his teeth. He couldn’t help breathing hard. He couldn’t help flexing every muscle of his body. Fury was building up rapidly, starting from his stomach into his chest towards his throat.

He was beyond any reason.

His nostrils flaring, his head fuming, he felt like ripping the insides out of some people – tearing them apart – letting his hatred find a release –

Stop! Stop. Right. NOW. You know better.

With pure self-control, he pushed the thought of punishing his so called friends until they weren’t able to spell their names anymore out of his mind. Later. He would deal with them later…

It took him no more than five seconds to regain his self control again. Malfoy hadn’t registered a single bit of his inner struggle, as Harry was proud to notice.

Feeling like himself again, Harry was determined to wipe this detestable smirk off Malfoy’s face.

He squinted his eyes just a tiny bit and spat out, “Are you DEAF? Didn’t you LISTEN to me? I want you to grab all your belongings together. And I want it – now! - HURRY UP!”

With a swift and what he hoped to be effective motion Harry turned his back on Malfoy again. At the last moment he was able to register uncertainty on the smooth features. Fine. Casually grabbing the doorframe, he let out a sigh. It was a low sound, just like a whisper. Harry’s fingers clenched the wooden panel until his knuckles turned white. Yes. He was all right. Feeling just fine. He patiently waited, leaning against the doorframe, listening to the busy noises behind him. He was glad he could advert his eyes – and his nose – to the goings-on.

When his ears perceived a timid “I’m ready” Harry turned around.

He inspected Malfoy’s appearance. Okay. The blond wasn’t clothed as respectably as he had wished, but it would have to do. Some faded jeans, a washed out, once-white shirt, and some kind of grey cloak that would have even made Ron blush in his Hogwarts years if he had been forced to wear it.

“Let’s go.” Harry ordered and turned around to leave. And bumped directly into a piece of solid, burly flesh.

“Let’s go? Where the hell you think you’re going?” a deep voice asked menacingly.