Broken Toy

Warnings: Language and a little bit of smut
Author's Notes: So Harry “bought” Draco. I’m not so sure if he’s aware of the consequences… Does he know he owns a whore now? Always so impulsive; first acting, later thinking about it *grins*

Enjoy!!!

ETA: Beta'ed by ravenqueen55!

Chapter Five

“We’re not supposed to leave.”

Harry waited, but Malfoy had turned quiet again. Did Malfoy think that sentence explained everything? Harry searched the grey eyes in front of him, but they revealed nothing. On the contrary, Malfoy’s whole face displayed mild astonishment, as if the answer was obvious and Harry was too slow to get it.

Different thoughts were whirling in Harry’s brain. The only possible conclusion hit him like a blow.

“You mean that you and the other … hum … whatever … are not able to walk anywhere else? Are you trying to tell me that you have to spend each and every day and night here?”

Malfoy simply nodded.

Harry felt hot and cold at the same time. This was worse than anything else he could imagine. This was… he simply couldn’t think of any phrase sufficient enough to describe the conditions under which these men and boys were forced to live. The Restricted corner was nothing but a prison. No one deserved a life like this, no one! Not even a Death Eater. Although…

But Harry didn’t have time to ponder about something he couldn’t change. Not at the moment, anyway.

He creased his forehead, thinking hard and fast. Listing all known problems and finding a solution fast was an exercise he took part in daily.

On each of the previous nights Harry didn’t have any problems at all returning to Laydown Alley. He just walked through the back door of the pub, because he was free to leave. Malfoy obviously wasn’t allowed to do so. He was a whore. No whore was allowed to leave. Why? Presumably, because of the contract. Pickles had no problems leaving the Restricted Corner, Harry was sure. But as a pimp he certainly wanted to move his inferiors about. He was the master. And then it hit Harry. It was because he owned the contract; the blasted contract with which whores like Malfoy had manifested their living conditions.

But the contract belonged to Harry now.

Instinctively, Harry fumbled the paper out of his hip pocket and got his wand out. Holding the parchment and wand in one hand and grabbing Malfoy’s arm again with the other one he determinedly focussed on the solid wall in front of him. Concentrating hard on the pub behind him, he tapped the bricks with his wand.

Nothing happened.

Sweat was building up on Harry’s forehead.

He clenched his teeth together and concentrated hard again. He willed the stone wall to transform into wood, willed the door to appear. And tapped again.

Nothing happened.

“He’s mine, and we are free to go wherever I want to.” The thought just popped into his mind. With a shrug, he gave a flick with his wand, only slightly touching the wall.

The door was right there in front of his eyes, as if it had been there all along.

Harry pushed it open and shoved Malfoy through the entrance. He followed quickly and shut the door firmly behind him.

Grim-faced, Harry allowed himself just a short sigh of relief before stuffing the contract securely back into his pocket and indicating to the thunderstruck Malfoy to hurry ahead.

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

Once having arrived at Diagon Alley, Malfoy started to slow down once more. Resolutely, Harry reached for his arm again and dragged Malfoy along. Hell, Harry had been clenching the git’s arm so often during the evening, the man was sure to have bruises shining in all colours the next day.

But it didn’t matter. The most important thing was to get away. NOW.

Harry cursed inwardly. The fastest way to get out would have been to Disapparate, but that was considered rude behaviour in such a busy place, and no one dared do it in Diagon Alley. It would cause too much of a disturbance with wizards and witches Apparating and Disapparating constantly; it was an unwritten law. So the odd pair was forced to march all the way down to the Leaky Cauldron.

Harry sighed deeply when they finally stepped outside the bar and he was able to hail down a taxi.

Not caring about Malfoy’s unwillingness to get into the car (probably because the aristocrat’s son never had never been in a Muggle automobile before), Harry unceremoniously forced the trembling form to enter. He was too exhausted to be pleasant about it or to plead.

Once settled in the backseat, he ignored the heavy breathing beside him and shut his eyes.

Reaction was setting in.

Trying to get his own breathing under control, he crossed his arms in front of his chest and concentrated on calming down.

What had he done? What had he really been up to these last few days? The main idea, constantly in the foreground, had been finding Draco Malfoy.

And obviously he had been determined to buy somebody out. There was no denying that fact. Why else had he been carrying around that huge sum of money? Two thousand galleons! A little fortune. In his pocket. In this neighbourhood, for crying out loud! Yes, he definitely had been well prepared.

But then he had gone mad.

Harry had to swallow.

He had intended to set Malfoy free.

He hadn’t intended to take the git home. Had he?

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

When the two young men entered Number 12, Grimmauld Place, Malfoy was shaking like aspen leaves in the wind.

As soon as Harry closed the door firmly shut behind them, Malfoy leaned against the nearest wall and held his little trunk close to his chest, as if to protect himself. He closed his eyes tightly and held his head down, hiding his features.

A very submissive gesture, Harry mused. He was still amazed by the change in Malfoy. The arrogant boy he had known at Hogwarts definitely had disappeared. He had been prepared to handle a defiant man, he even had been prepared for insults raining down on his head the minute they entered his house. But not this.

Still wondering about how a person could change this profoundly, he touched Malfoy gently on his upper arm.

Malfoy flinched. Shit. Obviously Harry had touched him exactly on the spot where he had been gripping the now bruised muscles all evening. Harry cursed under his breath. But he couldn’t help it. They had somewhere to go.

Trying to be kind but being rude out of irritation nevertheless, Harry shook the arm of his former opponent, “Come on. We’ve got to leave.”

Malfoy opened his eyes with a start. “Where?” He was almost shrieking with terror.

Harry shook his head in annoyance. Where the hell did Malfoy think he was taking him?

“Home!” he answered simply.

The terrified features in front of him relaxed a little.

What had Malfoy expected Harry to do? Drag him in front of a jury in the middle of the night? Charge him with having been a Death Eater? That had already had been done, Harry could remember the headlines of the Daily Prophet well enough. And he also remembered the satisfaction he had felt.

Or had Malfoy expected some kind of revenge? That Harry would torture him for all the humiliations and insults he had to endure by Malfoy’s hands during his years at Hogwarts? Did Malfoy know so little about him?

That was the case, of course. Malfoy didn’t know anything about Harry. Nothing at all.

He smiled wanly and repeated slowly, as if talking to a terrified child, “Come on. We’re going on to my other home. Where I actually live. This place…” he looked around uninterested, “…I keep this place only to perform official duties. Or when I’m in town. It’s very convenient, you know. Right in the middle of London.”

Malfoy’s breathing became even and the scared look vanished from his face. But he still held his head down, much to Harry’s annoyance.

But for the time being, Harry felt relieved, and he continued, “We can Apparate immediately from here. Now, look. I will inform you about the spot you have to concentrate on and…”

“No!”

Exasperated, Harry almost lost his temper. “WHAT?” Disgusted, he fixed Malfoy with a hard stare. What on earth could be so terrifying about Apparating to a nicer house than Number 12, Grimmauld Place? Anywhere else was better!

Malfoy still held his head down. Harry had to strain his ears to hear the next words of the tall, once so proud man.

“I can’t Apparate…” he whispered. His tall figure seemed to shrink with every word he added. “Not any more… When I was convicted, they confiscated my wand… Broke it in two.” His voice was slightly shaking with humiliation. When he continued, his voice was so low Harry had difficulties understanding him. “I’m not allowed to perform magic any more…”

It took Harry some time to digest the information he had obtained. Malfoy. Not being able to perform any magic. Malfoy!

A few years ago he would have roared with laughter and delight. Not only to receive this piece of information, but to hear about the complete downfall of Malfoy from Malfoy himself.

But not today. Any feelings of satisfaction he might have once had were far from Harry’s mind. As were any other deep feelings. He had convinced himself effectively some time ago that he wasn’t capable of deeper feeling any more.

Without showing any emotion on his face, he gently touched Malfoy’s arm and shrugged his shoulders.

“That’s not a problem, Malfoy.” Harry continued to stroke the arm of the lifeless figure. “You just have to grab my arm for a change. I’m sure you haven’t forgotten about how to Side-Along?” He chuckled softly. “Unless you want to stay here. But mind you, it’s not a very nice place to stay in. It’s still haunted by dear Grandma Black. The front door’s locked, only the owner can open it, just for precaution’s sake. And there is just a little ration of food stored in the cupboards; I’m not here that often. So…?”

Harry didn’t have to wait long.

He saw Malfoy’s chest heave heavily once or twice. Hesitantly, he reached for Harry’s right arm, never looking up. But he held on to Harry’s upper arm in a tighter grip than Harry could have imagined possible.

Harry nodded, satisfied. At last they could return home.

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

Feeling slightly dizzy, Harry tried to get rid of the aftershock of the Apparition as he always did by shaking his extremities. He hadn’t expected that his instinctive reaction would cause such an effect on Malfoy, who was still clinging to his arm.

Malfoy just fell down upon the floor of Harry’s tastefully decorated living room like a wet sack, his little trunk tumbling out of his arms.

Harry closed his eyes slowly in resignation but immediately opened them up again. Resolutely he leaned down towards the trembling figure in the shabby clothes and held out his right hand.

And was astounded when Malfoy at once jerked his body away when he saw Harry’s hand descending upon him.

Once again, Harry felt like a blow had hit him. What the hell made Malfoy react like this?

Blow. Maybe that was the keyword.

What had Malfoy experienced during the last months? Or, Harry reluctantly asked himself, the last years? It wasn’t something Harry could figure out right now.

He tried to speak soothingly, “Hey, mate. I just wanted to lend you a hand. To help you up.”

Still holding his hand out, Harry’s back started to ache. When would this git decide to get his wits together? He didn’t intend to hit him, nor did he intend to hurt him in any way, for crying out loud!

He just wanted to get this over with…

He was tired, he wanted to lie down on his bed, snuggle in his comfortable cushions and quilts and just go to sleep… And forget about everything and anybody and…

… was relieved when Malfoy held out his hand reluctantly at last. Letting out a small sigh of relief, Harry helped him up again. He couldn’t see the Malfoy’s face, though, as it was hidden behind the mass of his long blond hair.

When Malfoy was finally standing on his own two feet again, actually towering over him, Harry let go off his hand as if he had touched something burning. He couldn’t deal with the prickling sensation starting from his hand, running up his arm and wandering down to his belly right now. Restraining himself from shaking his hand openly to lose the lingering feeling of Malfoy’s touch, he buried both of his hands in his jeans pockets. He was shocked to feel a sort of shyness he hadn’t felt in ages.

Harry was at a loss at what to do next.

All of a sudden Harry was aware of the closeness of Malfoy’s body, and Harry retreated a step. He looked around him nervously.

“Well, maybe…” What the hell was he going to do now? Malfoy was here in Harry’s sacred refuge, a place only his best friends knew about. And why the hell was he this nervous? In his own living room?

Sweat was starting to flow out of his pores. Disgusted, he pulled himself together.

“You can sit down if you like.” Harry was relieved when he noticed he could speak absolutely normal, without any hesitation. “Pour yourself a drink or get yourself something to eat, if you are hungry.” He gestured around the room vaguely.

“If you don’t mind, I do need a shower now.” Suppressing the urge to run, he stalked out of the room, conscious that every move he made was followed by grey eyes.

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

Harry stood under the pouring stream of semi-hot water for a long time.

First he had tried to loosen his tension with hot, steaming water. But it didn’t seem to help clear his mind, so a cold shock seemed to be in order. When that didn’t help either, he finally resigned and changed the temperature to a more comfortable one. He was simply done in… And no wonder, after such a night. Such a week, he corrected himself wanly.

A good night’s rest, and he would be able to function satisfactorily again. Yes, that was it.

He stepped outside the cubicle and towelled off. Damn Malfoy. Of all people. He slowly started to dress into a black sweater and matching black jogging trousers. It was what he wore at home most of the time, to relax…

But he could loosen up later.

He turned off the faucet of the tub and left the room.

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

Feeling pleasantly relaxed, Harry hurried downstairs, taking two steps at a time, purposefully aiming his direction towards the living room.

“Malfoy!” he called out. “I’ve prepared the guest room for you.”

Still talking, he opened the door of the living room with a flourish. “And I let in a baaaa…”

Harry stood stock still in shock, the rest of his sentence forgotten.

On his sofa, his beloved, deep-blue, big, comfortable sofa where he had spent so many evenings, Malfoy had draped his completely naked body. Frozen in disbelief, Harry couldn’t do anything else but stare.

Malfoy had propped up his head on one hand, his arm leaning on the soft fabric of the sofa. He faced Harry with an expectant expression on his face, obviously having awaited him. His fine, long blond, almost silvery hair was caressing his pale shoulders.

Harry couldn’t stop himself. His mind was shouting at him not to, but his gaze wandered on, wanting to take everything in that was to be seen.

The completely hairless chest. The rosy nipples, standing erect. The exquisite muscles covering the bones of his ribcage. The extraordinarily flat stomach. The delicate, protruding hipbones. He wanted to force himself to stop, to stop this NOW… But his eyes continued to wander on.

Shy all of a sudden, he forced his gaze towards Malfoy’s feet. His eyes slowly wandered up perfectly shaped, hairless legs, taking in every muscle on his smooth thighs.

And with a sharp intake of breath, he finally took in what he had longed to see.

The light blond, full pubic hair.

So there was some body-hair at last, an incoherent thought flashed through his numbed mind. But his confused brain couldn’t be distracted by any earnest thought now, he knew what he really wanted to see…

The swollen erect penis, dancing slowly up and down on top of the flat stomach.

Blood was pouring into the excited member; Harry could see the veins on the shaft protruding slightly.

So deep was his shock that Harry’s body didn’t have any time to react. He didn’t blush, nor did he pale. He just stood there, frozen, his gaze transfixed to the gorgeous cock.

He seemed to be staring for hours. Hypnotically, he took in every single detail of the pulsating piece of flesh. All red and hard and powerful, so full of energy it seemed ready to burst.

When Harry saw Malfoy’s hand slowly reaching for his swollen member, stroking it gently, moving the foreskin up and down at a slow pace, rubbing his thumb leisurely over his glistening glans every now and then, Harry suddenly came to his senses.

What was he doing, staring at a man’s cock like this? Had he become mental overnight???

“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING???”

Bellowing at the top of his lungs, Harry turned around vehemently and violently knocked his head against the doorframe.

The sudden pain helped him immensely to get his wits together again. Without turning around, he quietly choked out, “Get yourself clothed. And I would appreciate it very much if you did it FAST.” Harry’s chest was heaving. “NOW,” he shouted harshly to stress his point.

For a few excruciatingly quiet seconds there was no sound to be heard. Then, finally, Harry heard some movement. This… this man was getting into his clothes again.

Relax. Just relax. He told himself over and over again, performing the breathing technique he had learned so well to soothe his temper.

He shut his eyes just for a second, got his mind blank and turned around.

Malfoy was standing fully dressed in the middle of the room, staring at him wide-eyed, obviously not knowing what to do or how to behave.

Harry fixed him with a stern look, and with satisfaction he saw the other one flinch. Unseen by Malfoy, Harry’s nostrils flared just once.

“Now I would like you to go upstairs, find the bathroom, and clean yourself in the tub.” Harry clenched his teeth. “And I would appreciate it if you did it NOW.”

At once, Malfoy moved and hastened past Harry, who hurriedly stepped aside to let him pass.

“And don’t forget to dress afterwards. I have laid out some pyjamas and a dressing gown in the guest room!” Harry yelled after the retreating figure.

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

Not until he was peacefully lying in his bed, the linen tugged tightly around his body, was Harry able to think again.

After Malfoy had flown from the living room, Harry had run into the kitchen and had held his hot head under the faucet of the sink. The ice-cold water came as a shock, but it had been exactly what he had needed.

He had let in his pets, three cats and two dogs, which had been waiting patiently for him outside the French windows of the living room. He had supplied them with food and fresh water, had given them their daily treat of cuddling. He had wolfed down two big chunks of chocolate and had drained the stickiness in his mouth with a glass of milk. He had wandered upstairs and had brushed his teeth. He had changed into his night things.

And never, not once, had he allowed himself to think about what had happened.

But now, lying in bed, he couldn’t hold back the truth any longer. The instant Harry had seen Malfoy’s naked body, he had been hard. And he had felt a hunger, a need so powerful it had taken his breath away.

He hadn’t turned around so suddenly because of disgust or embarrassment. He had turned around so that Malfoy hadn’t a chance to see the unmistakable bulge that was lifting the soft fabric of his trousers.

What the hell was happening to him? He was not gay. So why had he reacted this vehemently to the sight of a naked man? Malfoy, of all people! No...

He. Was. Not. Gay.

Hating himself, he grabbed for his twitching cock and started to jerk it slowly. In front of his mind’s eye, he let his gaze wander again over the beautiful, perfect, masculine body of Malfoy. And this time he didn’t turn around.

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

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