Pretty Boy

Chapter 8

The horse race had given everyone plenty to talk about. Unfortunately, it also brought on a host of unwanted questions. Harry was meddling his way through, though, not giving too much away and keeping his real profession a secret. Still slightly amazed, Harry held the check he'd gotten for Severus's winning ticket in a tight grip. It would pay his rent for the next five years. He wouldn't have to sell his body for a long time - maybe never again. The winnings would go a long way towards getting him some kind of education. Of course, he'd dreamed of some day going to school, improving his life and whatnot, but now he had the means to really give it a try.

The party afterwards in the clubhouse was what Harry had expected. It was comprised of a large group of snobby people congratulating him and making him feel worthless at the same time. Severus had mingling of his own to do, and he had reluctantly left Harry's side an hour previously. Getting tired of the stuffy clubhouse, Harry snagged a fancy appetizer and worked his way outside. Jack was still being groomed and photographed. The second place horse, the one Malfoy had been riding, was being ignored for the moment. Feeling a little sorry for the animal, because he had a bad feeling about what happened to Malfoy race horses when they didn't win anymore, he went up to the stunning horse.

He'd been patting the horse's silky nose when a familiar satin voice spoke to him.

"Congratulations - Harry, isn't it?" Draco asked, sidling up beside him. "We danced at the nightclub, didn't we?"

Smiling politely, Harry scratched the horse's belly and nodded.

"Yes, and it was really Jack's win. That was my first time flying," Harry replied candidly. Surprise fluttered over Malfoy's handsome features.

"With training you could be one of the best jockeys the wizarding world has seen. You know, I do give lessons occasionally. I could be your manager - should you ever be interested." Malfoy smiled predatorily and slipped him a business card. Harry glanced at it, noting that Malfoy's home number was printed neatly in the bottom corner. He didn't have to read it twice to catch Malfoy's hidden meaning. Harry inwardly snickered. If Malfoy could teach him something he didn't already know about casual sex, he'd be highly surprised.

All the same, he blushed at the praise and claimed he needed to go to the restroom.

Little did Harry know, but two sets of unfriendly eyes were watching him leave.

"Sir, who is he?" Peter asked Voldemort curiously. Just watching Harry saunter away from him was enough to make his fleshy hands sweat and his muddy eyes narrow with lust.

Voldemort surprised him by chuckling.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you, Pettigrew," said the handsome older man. Gray streaked his hair, and his blue eyes mingled with red to make a dark purple. He was sitting at a private table, watching his male supporters talk about politics and his female ones chat about fashion. It was hard to believe that most of them possessed some of the sharpest minds of the century based on the way they all prattled on. If he didn't need their support for his political aims, he would have hexed the whole lot of them.

But Severus. He never was the like the others. He was tasteful with his money - a hard worker and a shrewd mind. And amusing! Who else would have thought to dress up a squib street whore and watch as the elite of society gossiped endlessly about his mysterious origins?

Of course, he knew him the first time he set eyes on him. At one time, the boy had been one of his targets, but he really meant nothing to him now. He didn't have an ounce of magic in his blood, despite the fact that both of his parents had been magically powerful. His parents must be rolling over in their graves to see their only child falling in love with one of his biggest supporters.

"Please, Sir, I'm dying to know who he is," Peter sniveled. Voldemort smirked and watched Harry finally disappear into the clubhouse.

"He's a squib, Pettigrew. But even better, he's a common street whore. To make it even more amusing, I think the boy is falling in love with Severus!" Voldemort laughed amusedly, taking another sip of his expensive wine. Peter laughed automatically, but Voldemort could see the greed and lust completely take him over. Inwardly, Voldemort smiled. For a long time he'd been meaning to get rid of Pettigrew. He had no doubt that the fat ass would immediately try to harass the boy, and Severus would kill him without hesitation. It would all be overlooked. If anything, Severus might be thanked for doing yet another dirty job for Voldemort's campaign - that's how badly everyone secretly despised the rat. And, to reward Severus for ridding him of Pettigrew, he would go about creating a fake, more socially acceptable past for the boy. Women like Narcissa would only wait so long before they began digging the boy's past up. It could quickly turn into a very nasty scandal for his loyal friend.

He watched with pleased eyes as Pettigrew fumbled for an excuse and went waddling after Harry. Voldemort smiled proudly to see the bloodthirsty grin that Severus was shooting his way. Oh yes, Severus was a shrewd one. He was a political mastermind if ever there was one. Voldemort inclined his head to Severus and went back to watching Blaise Zabini try to get into Draco Malfoy's pants.

Company picnics really were the most amusing things.


Harry splashed cold water on his face and stared at his reflection in the mirror. He reached for a towel to dry off, and when he opened his eyes again, the beefy man from the nightclub was standing directly behind him, blocking the door. Harry turned, thinking the man wanted to use the sink he was at, but instead found himself suddenly pinned by two thick arms. The blonde man smiled nastily into his face.

"So Snape couldn't get anyone unless he paid them, huh? Well, how much to you go for? I promise, I'm good for it," Pettigrew said loudly, dousing him in bad breath. Harry suddenly had a flashback to a time where he dealt with men like Pettigrew every night. It hit him then that he would never go back to that life. Severus had made him up his standards and his expectations for himself.

Angrily, he made an attempt to slam his knee into Pettigrew's groin.

"Get your hands off me, you filthy bastard!" He warned, even though Pettigrew had stepped back to avoid the blow and then moved in quickly, pinning Harry's raised knee up against his chest and pressing their groins together. Pettigrew's hands had forced Harry's wrists together behind him. His pudgy lips were descending on Harry's protesting ones when Harry turned his head and spat in Pettigrew's face. His features purpled with rage, and one beefy hand came out of nowhere to slap him hard. Just as he let out a strangled cry, and as Pettigrew had ripped the front of Harry's pants open, the door to the restroom opened quietly and a wand was leveled at Pettigrew.

A blinding flash of green light lit up the bathroom, and an agonized squeal could be heard from inside. Harry could feel tears on his cheeks. Not only did the green light terrify him for some reason, but it occurred to him that Severus must have told Pettigrew what he was. When familiar arms tried to wrap around him comfortingly, he pushed him back and slapped Severus for all he was worth. Surprised, Severus stumbled over Pettigrew's fallen corpse and clutched at his jaw.

Harry searched the room quickly for a way out. He spotted the ornate fireplace, and the butler standing beside it holding a pot. Holding his bruised cheek, he rushed up to the surprised looking butler and asked if he could floo to a hotel room. The butler explained that all of the wizards and witches that stayed in hotel rooms opened up the floo in the fireplace to those that knew the room number. Harry quickly told the butler the information he needed, and stepped into the fireplace.

Severus exited the bathroom just to see the dying flames of the floo system.

"I trust a young man with black hair just went through?" He asked quickly.

"Yes, sir. Would you like to floo after him?" The butler asked politely. Severus nodded his head briskly and stepped into the green flames.

Moments later, he came out after Harry, who was throwing his few belongings onto the couch. Harry turned, face horribly bruised, and immediately started yelling at him.

"Was this just some kind of game to you? Why did you make me get all dressed up if you were just going to tell everyone what I was?! If I'd known, then I could have been prepared when that bastard tried to rent me in the fucking bathroom! Screw you and your money! I'm leaving," Harry half ranted, half cried. Wadding all his things into a messy armful, he strode out of the door and slammed it behind him. Severus sighed angrily, massaged his temples for a few moments, and followed after him. Severus caught him waiting for the elevator.

"I didn't tell him, Harry. I didn't tell anyone. Someone must have recognized you - most likely Voldemort." Severus waited with baited breath as Harry stared at him with hope coming back to his eyes.

The doors to the elevator slid open, and the operator asked timidly what floor they wanted to go to. Severus held his breath, extending a hand to gently hold Harry's elbow.

Harry turned his face from the operator.

"I'm sorry. I don't need to use the elevator." Severus smiled, though it looked more like a grimace, as Harry walked by him and back into the rooms, trailing some of this clothing behind him. He'd never been so glad to hear an elevator door close as he was at that moment.

A/N: * ducks flying fruit * Okay, so I know it took nearly three months for me to update, but I was out a computer for two of them and the other one I spent pouring over Goblet of Fire. I've got my computer back though, and hopefully I can start updating my fics again. I figure I'll finish this one up in about three more chapters. In case you were reading my other fic, My Big Fat Gay Wedding, I posted the final chapter to that one as well. Once again, I'm sorry for the delay!