Tattered Souls

Beta: None

Warnings: AU/AR, Angst, Dark!, SNC, NCon, UST, WAFF, Anal, M/M, SoloM, Yaoi, S&M

AN: The prologue is my teaser. It will wet your appetites, I hope, for what will follow. It is not meant to be long. Please be patient with me, seeing as I haven’t a beta and I’m not quite ready to take one on just yet. I am beta’ing myself. Scary. The chapters will hopefully be lengthy enough to keep you satisfied from one update to another. I’m not going to promise an update every second Tuesday or once a week, but I will do my best to keep it regular. If you think I’ve abandoned you, please feel free to email me. If you would like to be on an email notification of updates, please let me know your email address. I suppose I should feed you my prologue now, yeah?

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“If you aren’t even suitable for the simplest of tasks, how do you think you will ever receive the dark mark?”

“I’m sorry, sir. I will try harder.”

“You will not try harder. You will accomplish. Our Lord does not care for people who merely try. Succeed or die, boy.”

“Yes, sir. I understand, sir.”

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Porcelain skin became reddened as the young wizard wiped the tears from his face for the third time in the past hour. This room was the only safe place for him to express his emotions without being caught. The silver blond prince was no longer the confident striding teenager he had once thought himself to be, but a broken doll, tossed aside by an aging companion. As time moved forward, he seemed to be moving backward. Backward towards a time that wrecked havoc over his emotional strings and forced him from the magical world he once adored. It forced him into a place he’d never thought he would have ever been. The muggle world.

The room was a dark, damp area in which he found himself huddled often. Though no larger than a common closet, the small sanctuary was a blessing from his most recent group. Quite frankly, Malfoy was spoiled compared to the others in his predicament at the moment. He was allowed a private room, a blanket, and even a small florescent light. Who would allow the beautiful Malfoy image to be mingled among common filth? Not that this Malfoy had any pride or honor left in him. He might as well be considered a common variety whore, without the benefits.

One could say that he was residing in Brighton and Hove. Well, Hove, actually. He was working along side illegal foreigners at the pier, although, it couldn’t actually be considered working. During the days he would do little things like pick up trash and service the workers. During the night, he was taken back to Hove where he was forced upon by around seven men a night. He would be brutally pushed to the ground and taken advantage of for hours at a time until each had his fill before being locked in the small sanctum, awaiting the routine the next day. Every night pushed the blond back into his past, back into the days that he missed so much, yet repressed.

From birth, the former Slytherin had been training the Dark Arts and considered himself something of a prodigy. It wasn’t until he was faced with the Dark Lord that he felt his Noh mask shatter. His father had never encouraged Draco, in hopes that it would strengthen the boy for the meeting with the Dark Lord, however; the boy was no where near prepared for what came with his the failure of his first mission. At first, the were only tortures through the Cruciatus curse, but in the end, the Dark Lord found himself wanting to use the lithe frame for something more. It was then that he became the Death Eaters personal slave, entertainment at meetings, if you will.

Although no stranger to sexual behaviour, it was difficult on the wizard. He was treated like an animal, leashed to the throne and told when to perform, when to sit, when to eat. Even Crabbe and Goyle were smart enough to know how degrading it was to be forced upon in the center of a room wearing nothing but a collar and a leash. It was when Harry Potter finally defeated Voldemort that Draco could try and regain his composure, however; time proved to be against the blond. There was no room left for the Malfoy arrogance and no pity for his pureblood. The options before him nearly all pointed to Azkaban or a stooge for the ‘good guys.’ Unable to face either outcome, he exiled himself from the wizarding community, leaving his wand and titles behind. He had no where else to go.

While wrapped his blanket, willing himself to relax and rest, the door to the room was forcefully thrown open. The sudden immense light filling the small previously dark area caused Draco’s pupils to contract and temporarily hinder his vision. A strong hand had taken hold of the small arm and pulled the fair creature to his feet before he had realized what was happening. “Time to go!” a rough voice exclaimed, as a black bag was pulled over the silver eyed man’s head and pulled shut. It was time to be sold again. Of that, Malfoy was certain.

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“Shut it, Ron!” the raven haired man said, walking away from his childhood friend. “Just leave it alone. Go home to Hermione and live in your nice and peaceful delusion.”

The red head rolled his eyes and grabbed Harry’s shirt, pulling him towards his lanky frame. “Listen to me, Harry. You have to stop this. Just because you are bored now that the war is over doesn’t mean that you need to be doing stupid shit like this!”

Since the defeat of Voldemort, Harry had become restless, unable to avoid the media and far from able to entertain himself. Everything had taken a grey tone after what was deemed his sole mission in life was complete. What was a rich young wizard to do after completing the only task expected from him? Donate it all to charity and then start from the bottom? It wasn’t as if he could just walk into Hogwarts and ask for a teaching position, and although the Auror line of work may have been his first choice in school, it was far from his ideal job now. It seemed as if they were only used to clean up the left ever mess, and then what would they be? Lent as stock boys for Zonko’s? Harry would pass.

Standing proudly, he replied, “Listen to me, Ronald. There is nothing wrong with what I’m doing. A little fun never hurt anyone, and you of all people should know that I can’t just sit in some office all day, allowing myself to dwell over the past. Want me to go bonkers on you? Become a regular ‘ole Lockhart and all? Well I won’t do it. I’m not going to stop just because you and Hermione think my actions are some way of acting out or something.” Harry pulled away from his friend and leaned against the fireplace, a symbol that the conversation was over and the freckled male was no longer welcome.

With a deep sigh and a feeling of rejection, Ron shrugged and stepped into the fireplace. “I really wish you’d consider what you are doing here, Harry. If even your own friends don’t understand what you’re up to, mate, then maybe there’s a reevaluation needed on your end.” With that, he threw down a handle full of Floo Powder and was gone in a roar of green flames. In his wake, he left a lot for the hero to think about.

After the war had ended, Harry was recognized once again as the hero of the Wizarding World, but it was a fame he would have much rather lived without, but somehow felt was short lived. The raven haired wizard was still highly regarded and respected, but over time he was less of a news piece and more of old news. The hot news was now how the Ministry was cleaning up the war and making the community a better place. Harry seemed to just be the one to get ball rolling. Although he hated to admit it, the male loved the spotlight. No matter how much he had resented it in the past, now that it was gone, he felt lonely.

Taking a seat on his long leather couch, he put his face in his hands as Regina Spektor’s ‘Poor Little Rich Boy’ began to fill the room. “Poor little rich boy, all the couples have gone. You wish that they hadn't, you don't wanna be alone.” Just then, the door to the living room opened and in walked a tall brunette man. “Harry. A new shipment has arrived. I think you’d be interested to see what the muggles have brought to you this time.” Turning to look at his assistant, Harry couldn’t resist raising a brow. This was the most intriguing thing to happen in days.

Darius was a well built man of twenty four. During his days in Hogwarts, he was a Ravenclaw, witty and handsome. His brunette hair contrasted against his pale skin. Harry had taken him on as an assistant when he had met with him shortly after the war during a ball the Ministry had thrown. At first, he was taken in by the hazel eyes that seemed to dance in the candle light, but soon he had nothing but respect for the man, much to Darius’ dismay. Now, they lived together in what had been deemed the Potter Estate. Out of which, Harry conducted a bit of underworld dealings.

Imagine the savior of the Wizarding World conducting underworldly business from his own home. Of course, the alumni Gryffindor had always believed there could be no light without dark, and since he had removed the dark, he might as well stir things up a bit. No one seemed to have caught on to his schemes aside from Hermione who in turn informed Ron. It was a bit disheartening to have his friends think ill of him, but what was he to do? Become the perfect role model for the entire wizarding community? Ha. He was bored of that.

Casting a glamour over himself to resemble nothing more than another assistant to the Lord of the house, Harry followed Darius into the large sitting room; he nodded at the filthy muggles that sat upon his lovely furniture. “What have you got for us this time? The master was less than pleased with your last crop of used ingrates. You better have proven yourself better capable this time.” He was brisk and stood tall, reveling in the looks he received from the others. He loved terrifying these muggles. Perhaps it was a grudge he held against his aunt and uncle.

The men whispered amongst themselves before one finally spoke out as a squeamish looking man hurried from the room to retrieve the males they had brought. “We think that this group will be more than pleasing to you, Sir Chase. There is one in particular that we feel will be of great service to your master.” As he finished his short and less than confident speech, the squeamish man returned followed by a number of young males.

“Malfoy…” Harry whispered, warranting a look from his assistant but completely unnoticed by the others. This was a intriguing day after all.

AN: First, I would like to make a note about the “aging companion” I mentioned in the first real paragraph. The companion is not Voldemort or the Death Eaters, but more the wizarding community the way he had always known it. In a sense, I suppose that I mean that it was evolving past the things he once took comfort in, such as pureblood superiority.

Second, I would like to address my researching skills. If you are from Brighton and Hove, I hope that you do not take offense to anything I say, misrepresent, or boggle. I will admit that I am American and I know nothing of your town other than the little research I conducted before writing this. Believe me; I do not plan on continuing the use of the town for more than references in the future, so I swear, I love you. If you are from Hove, I hope I brightened your day a tiny bit with my secret not so funny pun.

Random, I wish to start out in 2003, rather than now so that the characters are not so old. Although this is an AU fiction, there are few rules I must force myself to follow. So when I say present day, I mean present day for the story. ^^

Overall, I hope you are ready to the story to begin!