Broken Toy

Warnings: Smut, language and smut…
Author's Notes:
The story continues… I wish I could post a little faster, but there are RL-matters to consider every now and then. *pouts*

But I hope you'll enjoy this chap as much as you liked the previous ones!

Ah, I almost forgot… There had been some of you asking me to mail about updates. Thank you very much, it made me blush with joy! Honestly!! If anybody else is interested, no problem, just tell me!

ETA: Beta'ed by ravenqueen55!

Chapter Nine

Harry leaned his flushed face against the cool door of the shower. His heart was still racing, his breathing fast. He prayed that his exit had been dignified enough. It had taken all of his self-control to leave the living room with slow, measured steps, while Malfoy stood there in all his glory. Actually, he had felt like running away as fast as he could.

He intently hoped that his hard on hadn’t been too plainly visible. The treacherous piece of flesh was still throbbing against his boxers as if it was ready to burst. But that thought was idiotic, wasn’t it? It wasn’t a question of Malfoy being able to notice it. Not after he had actually touched it.

A cold shower seemed to be in order. Harry smiled wanly. Contact with cold water seemed to become a habit these days.

With deliberate motions he undressed, throwing his worn clothes into the farthest corner of the bathroom. And he made sure that his hands didn’t come into contact with the… something Malfoy had left on them.

About to step into the cubicle, his eyes caught his naked reflection in the bathroom mirror.

That couldn’t be him. Those enormous, huge eyes staring back at him didn’t belong to him. The colour was all wrong, too. Harry had green eyes, not dark, almost black ones. His heart was pounding hard against his ribcage as he scrutinized his flushed face.

The sight of his lips made him gasp. Cautiously, he touched the bruised and swollen part of his face with trembling fingers. The skin was oversensitive; the contact of his hand did sting a little and made him flinch. The touch brought back vivid memories immediately. Harry could feel hot lips on his again. Hands were groping for him once more, stroking and caressing the naked skin on his chest and shoulders, driving him almost to insanity.

With a desperate moan Harry dashed toward the cubicle and yanked on the faucet to get the shower going. But instead of stepping under the cold water, he leaned his back heavily against the cubicle.

He closed his eyes, trying to fight this disturbing feeling of despair and strange longing he could not handle. His uneven breath turned to panting.

It had felt so good…

He let his hands run over his bruised chest, gently touching the spots where other hands had been only minutes before. He slowly turned around to face the cubicle, eyelids still firmly shut. Harry allowed his arms to encircle himself, with his hands slowly moving on toward his back, caressing his skin. Lovingly he leaned his hot cheek against the cool glass of the cubicle, rubbing it slowly up and down with gentle care. His lips searched for the other ones, only to find the glass warmed up by his own heated face. He didn’t care; he wanted – he needed - a kiss. Hungrily he pressed his lips to the unresponding cold material, imagining it to be Malfoy’s delicately chiselled features.

His panting turned into constant moaning, and the sound was drenched by the water pouring down. But that was why it was running, wasn’t it?

He couldn’t hold back any longer. His wand hand shot out toward his throbbing member. At last he allowed himself to touch the part of his body which he had so cruelly neglected.

Yes…

Malfoy’s palm was again rubbing the bulge in his trousers, teasing it with expert strokes. Long delicate fingers explored the length of him, trying to make out every vein on his penis through the thin fabric. His knowing hands were even able to pull Harry’s foreskin down and up again, as if the clothes between didn’t exist. Malfoy’s soft skin brushed against his once more; his hard nipples tickled and aroused Harry’s tense body beyond his wits. The ability to think rationally was long gone.

He had to come. Now.

Harry dashed toward the heap of clothes in the opposite corner, yanking his member with such ferocity it almost hurt. Getting down hard on his knees, he frantically pulled out his trousers.

There. It hadn’t dried up. His hungry eyes took in the still glistening fluid with wild satisfaction before he let his shaking fingers run through the sticky liquid, wishing it was still warm. Just two quick forceful last strokes were necessary, and Harry jerked off all over his own shorts. And he came heavily again, when he noticed how easily his come merged with Malfoy’s cream, as if they were one.

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

It took Harry some time until he could be sure he had returned to his usual, calm self again. Grinning heartedly, he poked his head through the living room door.

Malfoy was sitting on the sofa, his body tense. Unmoving, he stared outside the open windows, his face an unreadable mask. Of course he flinched when Harry addressed him. And of course Harry felt annoyed by it.

“Now did I mention that you don’t have to stay here in the living room? You’re free to walk everywhere about the estate. Do as you please, for Merlin’s sake!” Harry didn’t want to meet the grey eyes, but he forced himself to do it nonetheless. He even was able to smile reassuringly at the other, but Malfoy never turned around to face him. Instead, he cast his eyes down.

Relieved, Harry added with a cheerfulness he didn’t feel at all, “I’m off to see if I can lend Lance a hand with the barn. Won’t be long… Um, can you cook?”

The raising of Malfoy’s brows in incomprehension was answer enough.

“Right. Okay. As soon as I’m back, I’ll prepare something for dinner. In the meantime, well... Do as you please. Make yourself at home. Relax. Maybe you want to refresh yourself?” What the hell was he babbling about?

With quick strides he walked toward the French windows. He had almost escaped, when he heard a touching, small voice.

“Har… Potter?”

Harry stopped in his pace as if hit by an Impediment Jinx. He turned around slowly. Malfoy was still sitting on the sofa with his eyes cast down. With interest Harry noticed that Malfoy’s face and ears had reddened.

“Would you …” The small voice trailed away. Malfoy’s chest heaved a few times. “Could you please get rid of my… bruises?”

Malfoy’s gaze had shifted; he was fixing intently the vase with summer-flowers, standing neatly on the table. Evidently Malfoy had cleared away the mess they had caused. The dimwit must have searched for and found another vase to arrange the flowers in. The fact that Malfoy actually was able to carry out simple tasks with his own hands without any magic, just like a Muggle, was stored away in Harry’s brain at once.

“You see, it’s … it’s the duty of the … Owner to… restore the body, err, the appearance, I mean… of the Property after he was….he was…”

Damn! Malfoy’s face and throat were covered with red spots; his lips were sore, even partially torn open. There definitely was a bite-mark on his throat. Why the hell hadn’t Harry noticed before?

Hating himself, hating Malfoy, Harry jerked out his wand and cast the same spell on Malfoy he had used on himself only a short time ago.

“Episkey!” And he added, as an afterthought, “Tergeo!”, a spell which was, of course, unnecessary. Malfoy’s clothes didn’t need any cleaning. He was naked when they…

Stuffing his wand back into his hip pocket, he almost ran through the large opened windows, intently hoping that Malfoy didn’t catch a glimpse of his flushed face.

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

“Sorry, but I feel that I have to clean myself now.” Harry’s words were echoing in Draco’s ears. “I don’t think I like it.”

This had to be a nightmare, some kind of trick his battered mind was playing on him. He actually had tried to turn on the most decent person in the Wizarding world, in the most idiotic and clumsy way imaginable.

“Relax.” As if that was easy.

But it was. There was this secure hiding-place, and Draco hurried off into its shelter. Like a robot, he showered, soaped himself thoroughly, and towelled off. From far off, he could hear laughter, probably Harry joking with the twins.

He needed fresh clothes. There weren’t any in the bathroom, so Draco wandered into Harry’s bedroom. Eyes vacant, hands moving mechanically, he opened wardrobes and drawers. What to take?

Another round of merry laughter reached his ears. Draco grabbed a morning gown from the wardrobe, and wrapped it tightly around him. He consequently ignored the scent protruding from the soft material.

“You’re free to walk everywhere. Do as you please.” Cautiously placing one foot in front of the other, as if he was a somnambulist, Draco crept toward his room to lie down on his bed. It felt good to pull up his knees as close to his stomach as possible. And it comforted him a little when he wrapped his arms around his knees. Mercifully, he closed his eyes.

“I don’t think I like it. Do as you please.” Drifting into a dreamless sleep was one exercise he had perfected the last few years.

But this time it was different, somehow. There had been the passionate kisses, the wicked bites, the huge hard-on he could still feel in his hand. And Harry at his mercy, clutching his fingernails into his shoulders, begging him to go on, please, to never stop. But of course all of that couldn’t have happened, could it?

Draco clutched his shivering body with more force. The drawling voice inside his head sounded familiar; and gave him comfort. “No need to worry. There will be another chance, trust me. Then you will play out your cards more cleverly. Just stay calm. Be patient. Relax.”

With a contented smile, Draco went off to sleep.

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

Draco was up early the next morning. It was shopping day!

When he entered the kitchen the table was already laid out for breakfast. The scent of fresh coffee met his nostrils, and the smell of fresh toast made his stomach rumble. He was hungry!

Potter was nowhere to be seen. Good manners demanded to wait for the host. To distract himself, Draco grabbed for a paper, lying discarded on the stove. It was the Daily Prophet, and the headline sprang directly into Draco’s eyes.

“FORMER HOGWARTS TEACHER ARRESTED”

The picture underneath showed a struggling Horace Slughorn being led away by two fierce-looking Hit Wizards.

Draco had to read the headline a second time until his mind was able to register what it was about. He hastened to read on.

“Professor charged with paedophilia. By Dennis Creevey.

Early Sunday afternoon, highly decorated members of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad surprised the honourable Professor Horace Slughorn (92) in an unmistakable situation with a minor. When the Hit Wizards broke into the flat of the former Hogwarts’ teacher by force, they found the innocent Martin P. (15) with a lead around his neck, chained like a dog to the chair of the Professor. As the youth was in both a poor physical and mental state, he was directly taken to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. The abuse of minors is considered one of the most severe offences in Wizarding Law. Having violated the International Code of Wizarding Protection of Dependents, Slughorn will have to face a life-sentence in Azkaban. It is said that the Magical Law Enforcement Squad was tipped off by an unknown source… Read more on page 7.”

With trembling fingers Draco put the paper down upon his knees, only to pull it up toward his eyes right away again. He couldn’t believe it. At last! The bastard!

He scrutinized the picture more thoroughly. Horace was struggling, all right. But the two Hit Wizards were holding on to him, one wrenching his arm behind his back. With a broad smirk Draco watched the twisting of the arm again and again. He examined the picture more closely. It was taken in Horace’s living room. Draco knew it so well… He could see the fireplace in the background, and the overstuffed bookshelves. And … But what was that? There was something else in the background, some kind of movement. Draco’s eyes reduced to slits. It took some effort to discern the hooded figure quickly escaping on the left side of the picture. Draco didn’t need to see the face. The shape of the man in the black robes, with a strand of jet-black hair peeping out from under the hood, was unmistakable.

Harry…

The hands holding the paper went limp, and the Prophet fell down to the ground.

Folding his hands together to stop them from shaking, Draco’s face lit up hesitantly with an incredulous smile. The urgent business… Harry’s sudden departure yesterday afternoon…

“Seems like Perfect Potter has developed a certain weakness… Profit on it, you sissy!”

Draco flinched, and hurried up to put the paper on exactly the same spot where it had lain before. Not a minute too early, for when he sat down at the table again, Potter entered the kitchen, smiling brightly, “Ready to do some shopping?”

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

And shop they did!

Draco felt awkward at first, being in a Muggle shop for the first time. But he soon forgot about being full of apprehension, once he took in the diversity of the clothes displayed. He couldn’t keep his hands to himself; he simply had to touch each and every piece of garment which caught his fancy. It had been so long since he had the chance to try on something decent. With each piece of clothing he inspected, the more Draco felt like a human being again.

But what to pick? What to decide upon? There were so many beautiful things… Draco’s stomach made a somersault when he felt a light touch upon his forearm, accompanied by a soft voice, “I want you to select some complete outfits. And when I say “complete”, I mean “complete”. Trousers, shirts, shoes, cloaks, socks, underwear, accessories, everything. As long as they’re decent, I don’t care. Okay?”

Draco looked Potter’s face up and down, trying to discover some evidence of him being made fun of. But he couldn’t. Potter was just staring at him. The touch on his arm intensified a little, and Potter added with the same soft voice, “I’m off for, well, about three or four hours now. There’s some, err, business I have to attend to. I hope this will leave you enough time to find whatever you might need and want. Okay?”

Draco gaped at the retreating figure, unable to respond. Potter had almost reached the door, when he turned around once more and added, “I almost forgot. I would like you to select a suit, too. Something to wear on formal occasions. See you!” With a shy attempt of an encouraging smile, Potter was gone.

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

It was fun to fill up the empty drawers of his cupboard with his new belongings. Draco still couldn’t believe that Potter had paid up for everything he had selected without even checking on his purchases. If he had known he would have picked up even more!

Fondly Draco stroked the soft material of his new silk boxers. It would feel like heaven on his skin when he wore those…

Skin! Heavens!!! He had forgotten about BJ this morning! And now it was almost afternoon!!!

He dashed over toward his little trunk and quickly tore the lid open. Hastily, Draco pulled out the flask he had searched for and unscrewed it in a frenzy.

Just when he was raising the flask upside down over his outstretched tongue, ready to spill the drop he needed, Potter entered his bedroom, knocking on the open door at the same time.

“Hey, your door’s open, so I thought I’d just…. WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING???”

The flask slid out of Draco’s hand, splattering its precious contents on the floor. Draco hastened to pick it up again, but Potter was quicker.

Examining the flask through narrowed eyes, Potter demanded with a dangerous low voice, “What. Is. This?!”

Draco jumped; the coldness of Potter’s voice made his blood freeze. He tried to respond obediently. His mouth opened, but no sound came out.

Piercing emerald eyes were boring into his. “I don’t care for any kind of drugs. You understand? Malfoy?”

Not breaking eye-contact, Potter raised the flask to his nose and sniffed cautiously.

Draco waved his hands helplessly. He found his voice at last, “It’s BJ! No drugs! I would never…. It’s just BJ!!”

“BJ WHAT?”

Now why did Draco have to explain each and every little thing to Potter? Suddenly Draco felt very tired. Resignation made him sink down on his bed. It was hopeless. Perfect Potter would never be able to understand. With a small sigh, Draco propped his elbows up on his knees and rested his hot forehead in his palms.

After a short while, knowing Potter was still waiting for an explanation, Draco started to tear at his hair. Although it was futile, Draco tried to enlighten Perfect Potter on a few facts of real life.

“Have you ever met an ugly whore on Laydown Alley? Or did you ever see an old, used up face on the Restricted Corner? Or some misshaped form?” Draco thought his own humourless laughter sounded a bit frightening. “Did you ever, just once, give a thought to the reason?” Draco heard a quick intake of breath. But he didn’t wait for an answer.

“We have to be attractive. And we have to make money. So, as soon as the contract is signed, the beautification potion is handed out. We call it beauty juice, BJ for short. There’s BJ, BJ+ and BJ++. What you’ve got to take depends on your looks, body shape and condition. If you’ve got a bony arse, pimples, a long crooked nose or lots of wrinkles due to age, BJ++ will turn you into a striking beauty right away -- I was lucky, I’m on BJ. One drop each morning, and my face will never show any sign of getting older. And it makes me attractive. My skin is soft, almost silky. My teeth are white and shiny. My eyes are bright. No body hair will ever grow again. Expect the silky hair on my head and the pubes, of course.”

An almost inaudible exhale of breath grazed his ear. Draco hadn’t noticed that Potter now sat next to him on the bed. Suddenly too conscious of the closeness of the other’s body, Draco found it hard to continue. But he forced himself to finish.

“BJ not only manifests our looks. It guarantees a constant hard-on as soon as our naked skin is touched. We can jerk off as often as it is demanded. We can never fail....”

The following silence didn’t weigh upon Draco’s mind very much. He knew what he had to expect. Any minute now Potter would shrink back in disgust. “Sorry, but I feel that I have to clean myself now.”

At first, Draco wasn’t aware of the arm loosely encircling his shoulders. He only noticed after Potter had started to talk with an extraordinarily calm voice, “Listen, Malfoy. I don’t want you to ever touch this fucking BJ again. Got me? No BJ any more. Never again. Unless -- unless you want to remain in the state you’re in?”

Draco shook his head with vehemence, unable to speak.

His shoulder was squeezed slightly. The bed shook a little when Potter stood up. Despite the warm temperatures of the summer’s day, Draco shivered when Potter left the room.

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

What do you think about it? Did you like it? Or hate it? Or whatever? Please leave a review and tell me! Thank you!