A Boy Called Boy (ON HOLD)

Chapter 4: Twisted Logic

Lucius Malfoy was a very proud man. Weakness was not something he tolerated and he demanded respect and obedience from those important enough to come in contact with him.

His past was a mystery to those in his circle. No one knew of the Malfoy name 20 years ago. And this mystery drove countless mistresses to his bed. Some people believe that he came from a long line of French aristocrats while others thought him to be the heir of wealthy merchants from the Middle East.

No one knew of his dark past; living on the streets, stealing to get by, sometimes eating out of the trash so that he wouldn’t starve. It was a bitter and hard battle to the top from the lowest levels of society but he made it. He had learned to say what the big, ego driven men had wanted, building them up while stabbing them in the back. Yes, he learned how the world worked and what it was like to have all those stuck up pricks who spat on him in the past beg him not to destroy their lives.

No, he would not go back to where he had come from. It was not for the faint hearted, not for the weak and he knew that if the others of his social stand ing had ever found out, his entire holdings would cease to exist. They’d kick him to the curb so fat they’d probably get whip lash. They were very snobbish and didn’t like outcasts pretending to be a part of their circle.

This is why he went to such great lengths to ensure that no one found out. If any of those snooping bastereds got too close they’d find themselves living out of a box deciding which rat to eat that night.

He would not go back. Over the years he had acquired so much knowledge on how businesses were run that he couldn’t wait to pass on his skills with a successor; a son, his son. To build an empire in the Malfoy name.

When his wife of two years at the time had announced they were expecting, he had known it would be a boy; by the time Draco was born Lucius had already planned out his life step by step.

Unfortunately fate played a cruel trick on him. The boy had been born a scrawny thing, and had been prone to catching the cold at a pathetic rate. By the time he was eight Lucius had known that his dreams of ruling with this son were null. And with the complications that took place at the birth, Narcissa could give him any more children.

The boy became of no interest to him. He was weak. He showed no cares for the ruthless mechanics of business He had too much of a soft heart. Lucius had tried to do the fatherly thing and whip some sense into him but his spirit stayed soft.

By the time Nymphadora had come onto the scene and it looked like Draco had developed a backbone and started fighting back, Lucius couldn’t care what happened to him. He was such a disappointment that it pained him to look at the boy. He couldn’t believe such a waste had come from him.

And now as he gazed across the bitch’s new resting place as they threw dirt onto her casket, he couldn’t keep his lip from curling up slightly. He looked so pathetic standing there with his head bowed. Lucius didn’t feel any remorse that his wife’s cousin was dead. The wench was an annoying thorn in his side when alive and now she still is because of that will she left declaring that all her assets go to her loving nephew.

As the procession moved away to their respected vehicles to no doubt attend the reception being held at the Manor, Lucius saw his son’s lips move forming words that resembled “goodbye dear cousin”. As if feeling the wholes being drilled into his person, Draco glanced up and they both became locked in some silent battle. After a long moment Lucius’ eyes narrowed and Draco dropped his gaze before turning away to join the others. Lucius scowled more.

Weak.


^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^


The reception was held out doors at the back of the estate. A band struck up a slow tune and chairs and tables were placed under the awning along with the buffet table. Friends and well wishers, who were really just suck-ups trying to win favor by showing that they ‘cared’, well all stuffing their faces. The fact that a funeral just occurred seem forgotten. It made Draco sick.

He dad already shed all his tears for his cousin. He didn’t want to dwell on things that were beyond his control. He had learned ways of dealing with things he couldn’t handle, some that were not his by choice. Taking his mind away from a path he did not wish to go down, he took a deep breath and slowly released it.

His long-time friend, Blaise, was chatting beside him about the latest scandal; some girl who was caught in bed with her sister’s husband’s brother’s boyfriend. Apparently the husband didn’t even know his brother was…well a fag, or some such nonsense. He wasn’t really paying close attention.
Blaise was a good friend. Brutally honest at times and a total prick the next, but he was always there for him when Draco needed him.

Blaise, along with the rest of the upper-class society, didn’t think too highly of gays but he didn’t out right hate them. He was one of the few who, as long as they stayed away from his territory, were fine with them.

This was why he knew nothing of Draco’s near obsession with finding the boy Harry, which also happened to be one of The Alley’s street whores. He didn’t even want to think about the uproar this would cause if anyone found out. He still couldn’t fathom why he needed to see him again, he only knew that it wasn’t polite to drop a bomb that you were a rent-boy then go on your merry little way without so much as a by-your-leave; or a at least an update on how the boy’s owl was doing after being released from the vet. The owl whose medical bills he had paid for, he might add.

In the past few days he had had hired persons to find out where this boy lived but no one knew of any ‘Harry’ that worked as a rent-boy. And when it came time for them to ask if they knew of anyone fitting his description, they’d immediately close up and offered no further information.

This inability to find the boy had made him start to think that he’d imagined the whole experience and that he was battier (crazy) than he had previously believed; which was saying a great deal by his own point of view.

“…so the guy walks in to find boyfriend’s his sister-in-law with her legs in the air and his boyfriends face buried between the she-devil’s legs.” Blaise chuckled.

So lost in thought, Draco had completely forgotten that his friend was still talking and only managed to catch the ending.

Draco snorted, not seeing the humor in it. Blaise face took on a sly look. “Speaking of she-devils...” He let the comment hang as he gazed past Draco’s shoulders.

Draco stiffened. He knew that look; it could only mean one thing.

“Dracoooo.”

The pug faced devil herself. Forcing a smile on his face which he was sure was more like a grimace; he turned in time to find himself wrapped around the claws of the one person he had tried to ignore throughout the whole day.

Pansy Parkinson was not per se an ugly girl, rather plain looking really. But the sickly sweet voice of her’s that he was sure she thought was sexy, grated on his nerves.

“Darling I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” Her eyes narrowed a bit. “You haven’t been avoiding me have you?”

“Now Pansy, whatever gave you that idea?” Draco asked in a drawling voice. Blaise just chuckled from his left.

She frowned for a moment before she sent him a beaming smile, seeming to think nothing was amiss. Hooking her arm through his, she began to chat a mile a minute.

“Oh Draco darling, you must come say hi to my parents. They have been asking for you for quite a while. And the Griswold’s, you remember them right? Well anyway, they wanted to know…”

When would this day end? He wondered.


^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^


Sitting outside the balcony, the raven-haired boy peered through the curtains to the boy asleep on the four-poster bed, illuminated by naught but the bright light of the moon. Fast asleep, looking so peaceful in slumber that Harry almost felt sorry for about to be waking him. But something needs to be done.

The blond was asking too many questions about him and trying to find him. He was getting all his johns paranoid and the dealers suspicious.

For his own good he needs to stay away from Knocturn Alley. And if seeing him one more time will do it, then so be it. Because when his johns aren’t happy, Snape isn’t happy and when the dealers’ aren’t happy, no one’s happy.

Sighing he slid the bar aliened with the window sill he had placed their earlier up, so that it unlatched the lock. It opened with a soft ‘click’.

Stepping inside, he walked up to the blond taking extra care to tread softly and gazed down at the still sleeping blond.

Beautiful seemed a girly word to describe him but at the moment that was all that Harry could come up with to describe how the blond looked bathed in the moon’s glow. His face was utterly relaxed; chest lightly rising and falling and he looked so calm in slumber.

‘I wonder if he knows he snores’. Harry’s lips curled up at the corners. The boy’d probably have a stroke if he heard that.

His gaze swept the boy from head to his sheet covered toes. They passed once more over the blonde’s midsection and a sly thought came to him. He seemed unable *not* to tease him.

This is going to be fun.


^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^


The first thing Draco realized was that it was cold in the room. It was cold, and he couldn’t breath. Well he could but it felt like a brick was on his chest. He panicked for a moment before a quiet “shhh” calmed him some.

There was a rhythmic slap, slap sound that drew his attention to the vision in front or rather on him. Lazily he looked up and found himself face to face with twelve motherfucking inches of rock hard wood.

No really.

The thickest ruler this side of the universe was four inches away from his face and the stern set of the person on top of himself posed a somewhat amusing, sexy and very annoying figure. The boy of his dreams for the past few nights was sitting lightly on his chest, even though he had begun to think he’d imagined the boy since all his efforts to find him had failed. “What are you…,” Draco trailed off as he then realized what the boy was wearing.

If Draco didn’t know better he’d thought he was still dreaming, in school and was about to be punished for not handing in his homework or a Sunday school teacher had come to punish him for having dreams that involved a boy.

The boy was decked out in a ‘naughty professor’ outfit complete with midnight blue skirt suit, black heels shinning in the moonlight, hair slightly mussed, glasses set perilously on the bridge of his nose; eyes peering over the edge, looking very much like an angry college professor. He really looked like every schoolboy’s dream of his perfect professor, especially with that overhanging threat of getting spanked.

Then he became aware of one serious erection that wanted to drill itself out from his pajama bottom prison and apparently into…

He flushed. Fuck.

The boy glanced backward before turning back to face him with a grin threatening to show itself. “My, you’re a very naughty boy aren’t you, Mr. Malfoy. What’s this?”

// Sit a little further back and you’ll find out. //

The boy’s legs were spread before him, on either side of his torso but unfortunately Draco couldn’t see into the shadowed gap that the skirt presented for him. He felt a pang of disappointment.

“Oi, I’m up here,” the boy punctuated the statement with another hard slap of the thick wood against his palm, the grin in full bloom.

Tearing his eyes away from ‘down there’ Draco wanted to slap the boy for teasing him. He had always disliked teasers…wait what?

“Not that it isn’t a pleasure to wake up to a cross-dressing boy straddling me,” he said, “but how did you get in?” Recovering from his lapse in sanity and trying not to let his discomfort show, Draco gently but firmly pushed the boy off of himself.

Harry rose with the practiced ease of a professional who knows how to maneuver in heels and a skirt, he pointed to the open window before walking around the room, taking in the expensive décor; high heels hardly making a sound against the plush carpet. Harry leaned the ruler against the wall and continued to inspect the room, giving the blond time to catch his wits.

Sitting up and trying to calm his still pulsing erection, Draco took a deep breath and told himself not to feel anything for the boy before him.

Because the only reason he felt anything now was because he looked like a girl, that’s all. He was not a pouf! He really wasn’t.

//Oh shut up. //

Harry spun on his heel serious again, facing the blond who was in way over his head all to spend more time with him. “You need to stop looking for me.”

Okay Draco kind of expected that.

Looking up somewhat reluctantly Draco asked incredulously, “That’s it? You came all this way in a skirt to tell me that?” He tried to divert the conversation from the fact that he was almost stalking a boy he met for a couple hours one day. It was really pathetic when you think about it. That goes to show you he doesn’t think clearly with this boy.

Harry squirmed. He realize that it seemed stupid to travel so far just to say that but he felt that what he had to say would have greater impact in person.

“And really, why are you wearing a fucking skirt in the first place?” It was more of a delay tactic than a real question. It was pretty obvious why he was wearing it.

“I just got done fucking a guy that had a thing for his college professor,” Harry snapped; getting irritated that the point off his coming here was getting lost.

//Ouch//

That made Draco’s gut clench for some reason he couldn’t explain as a foreign emotion rose up. He ignored it. “I bet you loved taking it up the arse for him didn’t you,” he sneered.

“Who said I was the one on the bottom?”

For some reason that made didn’t make him feel any better.

// What the hell kind of teachers did that guy have?!//

Shaking his head in frustration Harry said, “But my johns’ preferences are not the issue here. You need to stay on your side of The Alley. You’re disrupting some very powerful peoples’ business and people start getting suspicious when one of the ‘money’ starts asking around for a whore.”

Harry hated being referred to as a whore, but it was what he was. A whore and everyone took great pains to remind him of that fact. But he got use to it; you had to if you hoped to stay sane.

And Harry himself was a little ticked off at the blond. *He* was the one getting blamed for all this. They saw it as his fault that one of the ‘money’ was coming around their territory.

It’s not his fault that the blond didn’t know what he wanted and chose him as his *experiment* partner, or that’s how Harry saw it. That was the only reason the boy would go looking for him. Which else? The blond was a serious closet case.

Plus his coming around was just not good for any of the businesses. Some of his johns were prominent people who didn’t want anyone finding out their ‘dirty little secret’, and when the johns weren’t happy his pimp wasn’t happy. And when the dealers became too cautious, the whole damn town became fucking unbearable.

And so here he was, skipping out on the rest of his *clients* to warn the ungrateful prat that if he liked his pretty aristocratic face the way it was, he’d stay over on his side of the Alley, and the prat was going on about his choice of work clothes.

He didn’t even want to think about what his pimp would do to him when (not if) he found out that Harry ditched his clients for the one person who was causing all their problems. Snape was going to kill him.

“I didn’t know you cared so much about me,” Draco said.

“Screw caring about you! I am the one who has to deal with the back lash. You need to stay on your side of the fence and I’ll stay on mine. You aren’t even one of the regulars that sometime come over to this side.” Harry was fuming. “ So if you don’t want any problems you should stay away.”

Draco snorted. “Are you trying to intimidate me? I am a Malfoy and it takes a lot more than a boy in a skirt to do that.”

“Why are you so focused on the fucking skirt?!” He fairly shouted, wanting to slap him. Damn the blond!

‘Why indeed?’ Draco wondered. But he had to admit...it was an intriguing sight to behold. He wondered if the boy went the whole nine yards. Just what, for purely curious reasons you understand, was under the skirt.

Blowing out a huge breath and physically restraining himself from strangling the blond, Harry tried to stay calm. It was just like one of these upper class pricks to ignore the issues that they thought was of no consequence to them.

Sighing, Harry turned toward the still open window. “This is harassment you know; just putting that out there.” He sounded petulant.

// Boy please you know you want me //

“If you want me to leave you alone, go out with me.” Now there was some twisted logic.

Harry turned back with an incredulous look. “Go out with you?”

“Yes, as in you and me outside of this room; it can even be on your ground if you prefer. Not a date,” he added quickly. He wasn’t gay.

Harry stared at him for a long while. “But…why?”

Because Draco thought he’d go crazy if he didn’t.

“Why would you risk your neck to hang with me on the other side of the Alley?” It really was a mystery to Harry. Was the boy just luring him out, to make him think that the boy really wanted to know him before turning on him? That must be it. Why else would he want to spend time with him? He’d had it done to him before.

But for some reason Harry just didn’t get that feel from the blond.

Draco admitted to himself that trying to find this boy he’d met for a few hours who turned out to be a whore and whom he himself has no clue as to why exactly he wants to see him again is a little eccentric, childish and * very* un-Malfoy like; but..

He felt that even though the boy did annoy him, rude, a simpleton and quite the cheeky bastered, he knew that there was something about him that if he didn’t figure it out now he’d regret it for a long time.

Harry’s voice was almost a whisper when it came out. “Why?”

Draco shrugged his bare shoulders and crossed his arms before his chest and in an uncomplicated fashion replied, “I want to see you.” And that was it.

‘Because he wants to see me,’ Harry thought and wondered if he’d heard wrong.

He wanted to pull his hair out at the boy’s arrogance but at the same time smile at the picture presented before him. The blond looked really...cute like this although he was sure the blond would take high offence at that.

His skin was still flushed from sleep; his eyes were slightly heavy lidded and his hair…there was no hope. It was sticking up in at some places and flat at others. And with his arms crossed before his chest, he really looked adorable.

“You arrogant prick,” he muttered shaking his head but he couldn’t help the smile that came to his face.

Seeing that smile made Draco unconsciously lick his lips, it made the boy seem younger and took away from the fact that he was probably more mature than anyone his age should be.

Harry figured it couldn’t hurt. It would give him the opportunity to work out the feelings seeing the boy had resurrected in him. Plus he reasoned that if the blond did indeed spend time with him on his turf, he’d come to his senses and realize that whatever he had in mind for the two of them to become, it wouldn’t be in his best interest. Especially since Harry was going to make sure that he thought so.

“Okay.”

Okay?

“You want me, you have me.”

Draco looked about himself. “What, now?”

“No five years from now,” Harry said exasperatedly.

Draco cocked his head slightly. “Sarcasm does not suit you.” He uncurled himself from the tangle of covers and stood up. “Ten minutes,” he said before going to a closet and retrieving some clothes. Seeing the raven haired boy staring at him Draco scoffed, “You don’t actually expect me to go out like this do you?”

Harry dragged his eyes away from the bare expanse of skin and the teasing sight of the low ridding pajamas to the blonde’s face. “Wha…?” He couldn’t have formed a proper sentence if you asked him to.

Raising a perfectly arched eyebrow, the blond snorted but thankfully said nothing. He went through the connecting door, which Harry guessed was the bathroom, and spent twenty minutes doing God knows what. Just when Harry thought he’d probably started sleeping in the tub, Malfoy stepped out.

And Harry tried not to stumble in his heels.

Dressed in a casual deep purple button down shirt, black pants and boots, the blond looked anything but casual. His hair was as immaculate as he had first seen him, not a strand out of place.

Before he could do anything stupid, Harry turned away from the tempting sight. He glanced down at himself and suddenly became self-conscious. Trying to play it off but doing a crap job at it by fidgeting, Harry got hit in the back of the head.

“What the..!” He looked down at the sac of clothes at his feet then back at the blond, holding his now throbbing head.

After watching the boy look from him to the bag of clothes and back again, Draco sighed. “You can wear those. As…interesting as it is to see you in that, I would rather not walk down the street with you wearing it.”

Caught somewhere between indignation (he didn’t think he looked that bad for a boy in a skirt) and deep gratitude, Harry gathered the clothes back into the bag, swung it over his shoulder and with his head held high, walked over to the open window.

Harry went out the window and over the ledge, holding on to the railing as he made the little jump from its edge to the tree’s thick branch, high heels and all. He had many clients that liked to feel less guilty about being a pouf and over time there was just about anything he could do in heels.

Turning and using the trunk as leverage he looked back at the blond to see him making no move to come.

“What? You change your mind?”

The blond didn’t seem to hear him, seeming lost in whatever that had captured his attention.

“Hey…Malfoy!”

The blond seem to snap back to reality. When he looked up Harry asked, “You coming?”

Draco, collecting himself, said, “Give me a minute.”

Turning back he went to his nightstand and rummaged through the drawer until he found the bottle he was looking for. Popping the cap Draco was about to take two when his breathing stopped a little.

‘No’, he thought with a little desperation. There was no denying the slight trembling in his hands that held the bottle and gripped the edge of the table. This couldn’t be happening, not now, not when he was doing so well.

If he took one a day and relied on his sheer will alone, he could make it a week. But he was running out.

He looked up into the mirror and could almost swear he saw someone’s smug smile.

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^