Save Me

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter! Not one bit!

Summary: NONMAGIC! After his parent's death, Harry is given over to his only remaining relatives. But his drug-addicted uncle sells him to a child sex-ring for drug money, leaving Harry alone in the world of prostitution, drugs, and abuse. After 19 years of being someone else's property, Harry escapes his dirty past. Can he hide from them for long? HPDM!!

Authors Note: I'm looking for a beta reader! Are you interested? Leave me a review and we can work that out! Now, about my story, if you enjoy it REVIEW IT! If there are some things you think I can work on, leave some NICE suggestions! Enjoy.


Rain beat down upon the windows of the old Honda Civic as it sped down the road, trying to make it home before it got too dark. James steered through the darkness, praying the rain would die down. His prayers went unheard as the rain poured faster and faster obscuring his vision of the road. Darkness settled around the car as they rocketed down the road. Lily bit her tongue, clutching the arms of her seat out of fear. Her stomach was churning endlessly, fearing the worst. Her husbands reckless driving had her on wits end. She turned her head towards her husband, letting out a whimper of fear. James turned to her, smiling lightly at her. Her stomach did not settle though, fear continued to eat away at her. Their son, Harry, slept silently in the back of the car, unaware of the grave danger they were in. Trying to wish away her fears, Lily turned to her slumbering baby, smiling at how angelic he looked. Reaching out her hand, she stroked his cheek, forgetting their terrible predicament and focusing solely on her only son; her little angel.

"Lily!" But it was too late. As she began to spin around, Lily was blinded by headlights and in that moment she knew why he husband cried her name. They were going to die.

The car had been headed straight off a bridge, only a small piece of road and bridge left before them. James slammed on the brakes, throwing the baby seat from the car and onto the street before them. In his last seconds of control, James swerved out of the way and directly into an oncoming car. The crash exploded throughout the night, bursting into a fiery mass of metal, car parts, and human flesh. Cars braked all around the hysteria, people getting out the cars to see what happened. A pregnant woman stumbled upon the crying baby, calling 911 at once. Two men tried to pull Lily's screeching body from the car but failed. James and Lily were already dead.


Bloody Child Services! We don't want the damn boy. Vernon Dursley paced about his living room, hands behind his back as he thought to himself. We already have too many mouths to feed! How am I supposed to buy my drugs with him here? I can't waste money on that…thing! Petunia rested a comforting hand on her husbands shoulder, fully understanding what he was thinking. She had heavy bags under her bland green eyes. Her usually vibrant skin was paled with random red blotches all over. Ever since her sister Lily had died, she'd gone back to using drugs to keep herself from feeling any emotions over the death. Having Lily's son Harry there was too much for her. She felt him as an ugly reminder of her sister. They needed to get rid of him and fast. They had their own son to worry about; they didn't need another child to care about. One child was already too much for them.

Vernon didn't care that Lily died, he was just happy to freely use drugs in his home now that his wife was using as well. Shaking his head, Vernon stepped away from his wife, searching the room for his blunt. He needed to clear his mind. He had to think of a way to get rid of the damned boy. "Petunia?"

"Hmm?" she shut her eyes as the high settled into her body. Dragging all her pain away and bringing her to a new place: a happier place. To a place where she was younger, a place where her sister loved and cared about her. The drugs brought her back to a time when he sister was proud of her; proud to call Petunia her little sister. It brought her to a place far away from the death of her only sister.

"I need something…now!" he knew she'd know what he meant and smiled when she handed the blunt over to him. Pulling out his lighter, he lit it up and took a long drag of it, letting out the smoke in one long breath. Clearing his mind, he settled back into a chair, the faint cry of their son fading from his mind. Petunia settled into the couch beside his chair, looking at him through hooded eyes.

It hit him in one swift motion. He knew exactly how he could get rid of Harry and he'd also get something out of it. One of the drug dealers he'd gone to was involved in a child sex ring. He could trade Harry in for drugs and wouldn't ever have to deal with the bloody child, ever again. "I've got it…I've got it!"

"You've got what…" Petunia lied down in the chair, staring up at the ceiling.

"I'll sell him…tomorrow…and get us more…goods!" Vernon's voice faded in and out as Petunia focused solely on the ceiling as it began to spin before her eyes. Her stomach clenched together in a tight knot and instantly she sat up, looking around for food. Noticing some open chips on the table before her, she snatched them up and ate the entire package.



Tom Riddle held the small infant in his arms, brushing back the miniscule amount of hair the boy had to get a good look at his face. The face of an angel, he thought to himself. The infant smiled at him, his little emerald eyes beaming with pure obliviation. Tom lifted the baby up and rested him against his shoulder, letting the baby look behind him. Tom focused on the fat man and slim woman standing before him. They were dressed in ratty old clothes, their skin and hair dirty from lack of cleansing. Pathetic attempts at humanity. Smiling he nodded his head at them. The woman clapped her hands together, her eyes swelling with tears. She turned to her husband, hugging him tightly. The bulky man smiled crookedly at Tom, nodding his head out of happiness. Turning from Tom for a moment, he searched through his back pocket and pulled out a leather pouch.

"How much do we get?" Vernon asked, opening up his pouch, waiting for Tom to answer him. Why am I doing this, Tom thought about calling off their trade. He was still young; he could get out of this nasty business and have a real life. He couldn't get himself mixed up in any more of this shit. He'd already paid off his debts from high school; he didn't need to keep dealing drugs anymore. It's not that easy, you know that. Don't bother trying to fool yourself, he cursed his subconscious for being right. It wasn't that easy to just get out of the drug business. He had to go through with this deal.

"4 kilo's of cocaine and I can give you about 60 pills of E?" He offered. The deal was ridiculously unfair, of course the better side of the deal being in his favor. But it didn't matter, he knew the Dursley's were idiots and would go for the bet easily.

"Great…guess this pouch wont be any help…huh?" Vernon laughed coolly before putting it back into his pocket. When he turned around, Tom got a good look at his face. His eyes were blood-shot and he had big, reddish bags underneath them; he was high. Just like that slime, coming to a dealing already high." Uh…are we going to bring it home now or will you deliver it?"

"I will have the kilos delivered, but the E you can take now." Remembering that the child was still on his shoulder, he lifted the baby back to chest level to look into his eyes. The infant once again smiled up at him, pulling his tiny toe into his mouth. Adorable. Placing the baby back into the carrier, he picked up his briefcase. Rapidly, he unlocked it and pulled out a package. "Here, now get!"

Petunia grabbed the package and smiled up at her husband. She winked at Tom once before scurrying off, Vernon following behind. "Don't think of bringing another baby to me! This is the only one I'll ever except as payment!" Shutting his briefcase, he strapped the baby securely into his carrier, and then lifted the infant off the pavement. He looked around him, making sure he was the only one left under the bridge. Of all the places he'd ever dealt, he hated the bridge the most. Homeless people lived there at night, so their cardboard boxes and old broken office chairs littered the place. Empty food wrappers floated across the ground as the wind blew them. The place smelt of piss, vomit, and alcohol. The water lapping up against the grassy shore smelt of dead fish and old cabbage. All together, every time Tom had ever held a dealing under the bridge, he felt like he was going to vomit up his innards.

Dusting off his Armani suit, he made his way back to his car. He'd parked two blocks away, hoping no one would know what he was doing. He cursed himself for doing so now; he just wanted to be back at his penthouse. He wanted some alone time with the baby before his boss asked for him. He'd never had a child before and probably would never get to father one, so this was his only chance at fatherhood. He wanted to treasure it for as long as he could. And Tom knew exactly how long that would be; not long enough.


Marcus Hopkins lit a cigarette, fully ignoring the whimpering man before him. He strode across the room, opening the window up and leaning into the window sill. Taking a puff of his cigarette, he let his gaze fall upon Tom Riddle. The 25 year old had come to him with a child just that morning, like he was told to. But unlike most of their trades, Tom was not reluctant to give Marcus the goods. He in fact asked to keep the child, for a good amount of time. He told Marcus that the boy was still an infant, still pure. He begged to keep the child, until he was at least two years old. Obviously Thomas does not know his place. The brunette shook out of fear, running his hands through his hair as he awaited his response from Marcus. Classic Riddle move, Marcus laughed lightly.

"Now Thomas, do you know your place in this industry," Marcus took a long drag of his cigarette, awaiting his answer. Tom just nodded, his voice failing him. "So you know that asking such a big favor from me is far out of the question."

Tom's face fell, his eyes averting to the wall behind Marcus' head. He did not want to answer, but he knew better than not answering when he was spoken to. "Yes sir, I know. I'm sorry…he's just so young…I just wanted to wait—

"Now, now Thomas," Marcus pushed off the window sill and made his way to the middle of the room, mere inches away from the quivering man before him. "Decisions are not up to you," he blew out the smoke into the brunette's face.

Tom coughed loudly, causing Marcus to cackle. "I know sir, I'm very sorry! I don't know what I was thinking…I wasn't thinking."

"No, you weren't," he took one last, long drag from his cigarette, letting out the fumes beside Tom's face. "But, I will grant your wish out of the kindness of my heart…and for a price, of course."

Tom winced at his bosses last words. He knew if he had gotten a yes, that would be the response, he just wished that he didn't actually have to hear it. Giving Harry up was hard enough, but for a price, he knew that Harry would suffer once he was inducted into the sex-ring. What have I gotten myself into? "Thank you sir, thank you."

"No," Marcus took his cigarette from his lips, grasping Tom's arm and taking the cigarette end and burning it out on Tom's arm. "Thank you Thomas. You will pay this off in two weeks of drug payments. Then you'll have to find other methods in getting money. No more accepting things aside from money for drugs, no more children. Especially none to live with you."

Tom winced from the burn on his arm, but he dare not cry out. He nodded his head in respect to his boss. "Thank you so much, sir."

No longer feeling the need for company, Marcus flicked his hand towards the door, "off with you now!"



Harry stumbled forward; his tiny legs letting him go as fast as possible. He bombarded his father upon arrival to their home. He'd been sitting in the living room, clad in just a diaper and blue shirt, with one of Tom's whores. Ever since he had been allowed to keep Harry, Tom had begun to whore prostitutes to roll in extra money to pay off his debt to his boss and also to keep Harry well cared for. The infant he'd once traded drugs for, was no longer a little baby, but a bubbly toddler with tons of energy and happiness. He bounced around at the area by Tom's feet, shoving a piece of colored paper up at him. "What's this little guy?"

"For you!" Tom took the paper reluctantly and examined it. It once was a letter he received from Petunia Dursley, but now had marker and crayon all over it. Harry smiled at Tom, his two front teeth shining. "Well look at that, your teeth are coming in perfectly." He smiled, dropping the paper onto a coffee table and scooped up the boy, holding him at eye level. "You weren't any trouble for Daddy's friend, were you?"

Harry shook his head violently, "No! I was good!" Tom smiled at his son's communication achievements. For a two year old, he spoke in almost perfect sentences, except he had a bit of a lisp. Tom didn't worry much about it through, he was sure that was something Harry would grow out of.

"He was good?" Melissa nodded without interest. She wore a pair of his sweatpants and her own white tee-shirt. Her usually curly hair was tied in a messy bun on top of her head and her face was clear of make-up. She looks beautiful when she isn't all whored up, Tom thought idly. "Have you had a hot shower any time recently?"

"Two weeks ago…the rest were all in freezing cold water," Melissa avoided his gaze, focusing on anything but him. "Look, if you don't need me to watch him anymore…I'll get going."

"You can stay if you want," Tom offered.

"Tom…you're my boss…please the last relationship I had with my boss almost had me killed…I'm not going to sleep with you and be your sex toy," Melissa finally looked at him. Her eyes were filled with fear as she waited for him to respond.

"Harry, go to your room and play with your toys, daddy will be right there," he placed his son on the floor and waited until Harry was in his room. "Melissa…I'm sorry if you got that impression from me…I'm not that kind of a person. I know that's hard to believe coming from….well…your pimp. I'm not in this because I enjoy watching you guys parade around, degrading yourselves. I got mixed up in this business and it's too dangerous to get out of."

"Tom," Melissa snorted in disgust, "You actually expect me to believe you? I've heard shit like that so many times, it's been too many to even keep track of! You're saying the same shit every pimp I've ever met has said. You're just making is sound classier."

"Melissa! I am not like the others. I care about all of you girls," Tom was truly hurt by her words. He knew his business was dirty and he despised being a part of it, but he had no choice. If he wanted to keep Harry as his son, he had to do it. He didn't want to fuck all of his girls, or any of them. He treated them like gold and never scheduled them to perform with any scumbags or infected people. He didn't force them to wear the most degrading clothes. He didn't make them work if they didn't want to. He loved his girls, he appreciated them. "Have I ever tried to get with you before?"

She thought for a moment, her eyes shifting to the floor, "No."

"Have I ever touched you inappropriately?"


"Do I verbally or physically abuse you?"


"Have any of the other girls ever said anything about me doing any of that to them?"

Her voice was soft, just above a whisper, "No, never."

"Exactly! Melissa, I care about you girls. All of you…I'm sorry you all got mixed up in this." He settled into the couch beside her, resting his hand lightly on her shoulder, hoping she wouldn't shrug him off. She relaxed beside him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Sorry to disturb this…cozy moment, but I have come to collect my prize," Tom jumped at the sound of Marcus' voice. He forgot the elder man had a key to his penthouse. Damnit he ruins everything, Tom cursed the other man mentally. Marcus cleared his throat when it appeared Tom wasn't going to stand. Instantly the brunette scrambled to his feet, rushing over towards Marcus, awaiting his command. "I granted you a gift and received no thanks. I know the boy turned two a month ago. Tsk, tsk, tsk, shame on you for not coming to me Thomas!"

Tom froze on the spot. He'd completely forgotten that he was to give Harry over to Marcus when the boy turned two. He mentally smacked himself for letting such a thing slip him. How could you be such an idiot? "I'm…I'm so sorry, I didn't mean—

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Marcus lightly shoved him, "you'll pay, don't bother groveling. Now, where is the boy? I found a customer who wants to play with him for a few hours."

"No!" Tom cursed himself for letting that slip. He knew the consequences of saying 'no' to Marcus, and they weren't good ones. He braced himself and counted down; waiting for the blow, but it never came. Opening his eyes, Marcus was no longer standing in front of him. Turning around, he saw Melissa motioning towards Harry's room. "Please, don't do this to him. He's so innocent. He's just a baby."

"We have customers Thomas, you know the deal," Marcus picked up Harry, his tan arms flexing as he lifted the slumbering child over his shoulder. Tom regretted sending Harry to his room, maybe if he hadn't; Harry would be awake and would be physically fighting to be with Thomas. Maybe if that happened, Marcus would regret doing this. But it wasn't happening, for Harry was fast asleep in Marcus' arms, fully unaware of his surroundings.

"Can't you wait until he's awake at least? He'll be so scared waking up somewhere he doesn't know. Please, let me say goodbye to him," Marcus strode out of the room hastily, trying to get out of there without anymore confrontation between himself and Tom.

"It'd a done deal Tom," and with that, Marcus was gone. Tom felt his heart swell and his eyes brimming with tears. He didn't care who saw him, for he was weak. He freely wailed like a child, clutching his heart as he fell to his knees. Raising his fists to the sky, he cursed God for letting this to happen. He'd lost his son for good.


Harry wrapped his arms around himself, cursing the little amount of clothes he wore. He hated dressing up like a girl, he always felt so exposed to the world in the short skirts he was forced to wear. Blushing as he walked past an elderly couple, he rushed down the dimly light street towards the bus stop. Just as he stopped to pull off his heels, the bus pulled up at the stop. He took out a pound from his purse and dumped it in the change box, pushing past people to take a seat at the back of the bus. His travel was a short one, but he hated sitting at the front of the bus, so he comforted himself in his seat. In no time the bus stopped in front of the gates guarding off his home. Hopping up from his seat, he rushed off the bus and to the call box at the gates. Home at last.

Ever since Harry could remember, his father was forced to pimp him to perverted old men. His father was in debt with Thomas Riddle, so Harry was his only means of payment, him and the other children Riddle had collected to be sex slaves. Now being thirteen, Harry had to travel to his appointments alone, his father having other matters to attend to than bringing him to and from appointments. He was seen as old enough to travel alone. Marcus promised to one day make up all this pain to Harry, and he believed him. His father had gotten into a lot of trouble with Tom and now, in order to pay him off, they lived in one of his many large estates so they didn't have to worry about paying rent, just paying off Tom.

Harry hated having to perform for these men. He didn't like taking his clothes off in front of them and letting them touch him, but he had to. He owed his father that much since he took care of him. His father loved him, and that was all Harry would ever really need. His job wasn't that bad, since all he had to do was perform a little bit and let them touch him, nothing too bad. But he'd heard from one of the older boys that when you got to be 14, you had to have sex with the men, or else they'd lose interest. Hopefully his father will have paid off Tom by then and they could live a normal life together. Together, as a happy family.

AUTHORS NOTE! Okay, if you're a little confused about Harry having three fathers, its simple. He really only has one, James Potter of course. But, in this fiction, James died when Harry was merely an infant. Tom Riddle is actually a good guy in a way in this fiction, yeah I know crazy. Tom raises Harry for two years, and he calls Harry his son because he wishes he was. When Marcus steals poor Harry away, he lies to him and then, well our story begins!