Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series, and I am in no way affiliated with J.K. Rowling. All of the characters you will recognize in this are sole property of hers.

Author's Note: It has been a very long time since I have written anything Harry Potter. I have never posted anything before, and I had never planned on posting anything. I have a friend who seems to be a pretty big HP slash fan, so I decided to graciously write this for her. I apologize for the quality of it.

Author's Note 2: May 01, 2005 I wrote this in June of 2004. I really like the story, so I've decided to post on (it is already posted at I hope this is enjoyed. This really isn't all that much of a serious story. It's merely meant for kicks and giggles. SHORT.

As the rain poured down in sheets over my frail skinny body, I thought back to the night which caused all of my pain. It was a great night. Don't take me the wrong way, it was a GREAT night, but it wasn't worth it. It was far from worth it. Who am I? Why, Harry Potter of course. Why does this tale matter? It doesn't, but sometimes you have to tell the world that you're nothing better than a cheap whore.

It was a cold night. The numbers were probably in the negatives, and I was freezing. It was the perfect night to be working the streets of Hogsmeade. Why did I think it was the perfect night? None of the other whores were out.

I dug in my ragged pocket and tried to fish out any remaining money that I might possess. I pulled out two sickles and figured that I might be able to catch a bite to eat at the local pub, The Three Broomsticks.

I started my long and tedious journey and began to wonder what happened to the once innocent 'hero to the world Harry Potter.' After my seventh year at Hogwarts, and final battle with Voldemort, I lost all zest for life. Maybe it was because I used my best friends to win the battle, and once they were dead, the wizarding world saw me for what I really was, a coward. A yellow bellied fucking coward. I wasted my fortune on 'booze and hoes,' which is the reason I, myself, was now a 'hoe.'

I grinned nimbly as the small and welcoming pub came into my sight. As I entered, I wiped the rain drops from my glasses and took a seat at the bar. The old patron of the pub, Madam Rosmerta, walked my way and stopped in front of me. She gave me a sympathetic grin. She ruffled my wet and shaggy hair and asked, "Business slow tonight, Harry?"

I merely sighed at the woman and nodded my head. As water flew over her and the bar, she asked, "How much do you have tonight?"

I reached into my pocket and grasped at the cold coins. I placed them on the bar and slid them towards her slowly. She grimaced at the old and tattered pieces and said, "Tuna on rye, dear."

I nodded and placed my head on the bar. I was nineteen years old with no purpose in life, and I was worse off than the Weasleys ever were. I shuddered as a cold blast of air hit my back. With a bit of a sneer, I turned to see who had opened the door to the pub and disturbed my self misery. My breath caught in my throat as the most beautiful man I had ever seen struted into the pub.

I gasped slightly as he shook the rain from his body with one shimmy. He had dark black hair, I could have sworn that it was blacker than mine, and he had these amazing grey eyes that shown with malice (and made him all the more handsome). He glanced at me, and when I saw a light of recognition run through his eyes, I flattened the hair over my forehead.

He walked towards me with the same strut he walked in with, and he neatly took the barstool next to my own. When I felt a thin piece of wood poke into my back, I groaned softly. I could not believe this was happening.

"Come with me, Potter," the man whispered so that only I could hear.

I sighed heavily when I recognized the deep voice of my 'high school nemesis,' Draco Malfoy. I moaned dejectedly and stood to my feet. I could act like I cared that he was kidnapping me all night, but for some reason, I was entranced by the man, who was sticking his wand where it didn't belong.

"Trying out a new look, Malfoy?"

"Shut it, Potter."

"I'll scream."

"Scream, and I kill you," he threatened as we walked from the bar. He had a new prisoner, and I had lost my meal. I was kind of pissed.

"Draco," I moaned in exasperation, "what do you want?"

He grabbed me around the shoulders and whispered something I could not comprehend. I sighed when I realized that he had apparated the pair of us to a cheesy looking hotel room.

I pulled away from the beauty and said, "Okay, really, Draco, what is the meaning of all of this."

"Well, Potter," he started as he walked to the bed and sat on the edge of it, "you still owe me."

My jaw dropped. "You. Can. Not. Be. Serious."

"Oh, but I can."

I dropped my robes to the floor to reveal tight leather pants and an equally tight button up black shirt. Draco cocked an eyebrow at me and said, "For someone who lives on the street, you have rather enticing clothing."

I slouched into the chair that was opposite of the bed and said, "You obviously have not heard of my trade."

"And that would be?" He asked after lying back onto the bed.

"Draco, really, I'm a male prostitute." I sounded exasperated. It was just what the man did to me.

A gasp. A loud gasp. He shot up and looked at me in shock. "You aren't!"

"Oh, but I am," I replied, mocking his earlier statement.

"How could you sink so low?" Even he knew that prostituting was low. It was low for me. Low for the man that became a Death Eater and gave up his best friends to only turn on his lord and lose it all anyway. It was really low.

I shrugged. There was my one weakness. I merely didn't care. "I needed money."

"But. . ." He paused. "Harry, I loved you."

This time I gasped. An equally loud gasp. It was a poker game. It was a dare. He didn't love me. "No, you didn't! It was a stupid game, Draco! You don't love me!" I stood as I screamed, and he jumped to his feet.

He started walk towards me, and I screamed, "You never loved me, Draco! You loved Ginny! You loved your mum! But you never loved me! Ever!" I stopped in mid-rant when his soft lips met my own.

I moaned, and Draco pulled away. He ran a hand through my hair and said, "That's where you're wrong, Potter. I did love you. I still do love you, and I intend to get the favor you owe me."

"Fine." I pretend that I cared as I pushed his thin frame back onto the bed, but I truly didn't. Any moment that I got to spend with that beautiful piece of man sexed hunk was a moment I treasured.

As he laid back, I straddled his waist. I pushed some of his dark hair from his face and whispered, "I'm going to blow you away, baby." Draco grinned up at me, and I asked, "Have you been a naughty little boy?"

"No, sir," he replied almost instantly.

I started to unbuckle his belt and said, "We'll have to change that."

As Draco walked into the bedroom we now shared, he sat on the bad next to me and gingerly placed his arm around my shoulders. "What are you thinking about baby?"

I sighed loudly and said, "The night we got together."

He grinned and kissed me gently. "It's all going to be better now, baby. We're in San Francisco. It can only get better from here."

FIN