Harsh Truths

By Smiles888

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. He belongs to J.K. Rowling & Co.

WARNING: this fic contains lewd references, inexplicit sex between an adult and minor and other things.

On a typical, slightly overcast day in one of the seedier sections of London a tall regal man with long blond hair strutted confidently down the street. The obviously fine quality of his 1600th century style clothes was a huge indicator that he did not belong. He sneered at a cocaine dealer and the little urchin of a boy next to him causing them to shuffle a bit nearer to the end of their corner. After two blocks and a right turn he found himself in front of a shabby multi-story building. A weedy teen of maybe nineteen lounged against a nearby lamp post, keen and cocky eyes observing the out of place gentleman. Lucius Malfoy's eyes narrowed at the filthy architecture in front of him before he snorted in contempt and ducked inside.

Inside was in obviously better shape, but seemed to have recently fallen into disrepair. The Wizarding noble crinkled his nose at the filth, but continued to make his way into the dim room. Malfoy stopped at a wiped down counter with an older woman seated behind it. A nearby clock read Ten twenty-eight—right on time.

"I have an appointment with Jimmi. Which is his room?" The woman's face was blank, and for a moment Malfoy thought she might not have heard him despite the fact that there was only three feet between them. With a rattle and a bang she slammed a rusted key onto the cheap countertop. With a grizzly gap-toothed grin she asked him to return the key when he was done. With a look of disgust on his face Malfoy picked up the key by its fob and glanced at the room number. With a bit of surprise he watched the words: "room 8, floor 4 – Jimmi" appear and arrange themselves. Quietly he made his way upstairs.

Room eight's door looked looked just as rusted and beaten as every other on its floor and the floors below. With trepidation the regal blonde inserted the key and entered—a surprisingly clean and spacious room. The door opened directly into a small, well coordinated living area with a bed and fireplace a bit farther in. The colors in the room were neutral: mostly browns and pale greens with matching tasteful furniture.

The door clicked shut quietly behind him just moment before a lithe form, draped in frills, bustled out from behind a curtain to the left of the sitting room. The form, with its mostly androgynous features and obvious youth, was barely discernable as male. Bright aqua eyes seemed to glow an electric blue and stood out one the boy's pale skin. His lips were tastefully brushed with gloss and seemed to be a natural and appealing rosy pink. If Malfoy had to guess he would say the teen before him was 12—14 at the most, a little young but still perfect.

"My Lord, is this uniform to your liking?" A blush covered delicate cheekbones. Malfoy licked his lips as he surveyed the tight French maid outfit and skimpy ruffled skirt that exposed long, slender and pale legs. "I-I forwent underwear as per your request." Though a little obvious, Lucius smiled at the prostitute's attempt to look uncomfortable and confused. The rich gentleman seated himself and watched as the boy set the tea tray in his arms on the low coffee table. He watched as the child posing as a maid bent over the table and purposely swung his exposed privates to face his client. With a smirk Lucius reached forward and grabbed the slender hips before him. With a tug he had that delicious looking bare arse on his lap, planted directly over his painfully hardened cock… Time passed much more quickly after he was thrust into the boy.


A month and a half later McNabb was knocking at Jimmi's door greeted by the whips and flays set out on the coffee table. Several other minor Deatheaters followed after him up until a couple weeks before the school year started…

Lucius Malfoy straightened his collar and looked over his shoulder to the slender, love-bitten form spread out on the couch, maid uniform nearly ripped off his shoulders. The boy looked tired—not particularly sated or violated. The tangled mess of raven locks distantly reminded him of someone but he shrugged it off.

"I'll be back on the 3rd of September. Do you have a particular time open?" Lucius asked, checking that his wand was still in his cane, and inspecting it for blood after the earlier roll-played caning. Jimmi sat up, shaking his head. Blue green eyes watching Malfoy place a purple, velvet bag on the table next to the door, a bowl for keys not too far away.

"I'm going back to school. I won't be back until June. It would take a lot of convincing to drag me back here during Christmas holidays. My classmates and friends have no idea about my summer job. Seeing as you're one of my favorites…" A seductive smirk formed on bruised lips and delicate looking hands trailed up the larger, clothed chest. "If you are willing to make use of my services next summer and continue to refer me to other clients…Your next session will be on the house in gratitude." The boy's lips began to pout and he used the higher begging voice of his character. "Please my Lord! I'm willing to do anything!..." Lucius eyed the love-bitten lips and was tempted to ravish the boy again but resisted, any later and Narcissa would get suspicious. Instead he merely lifted an eyebrow and said that they would see where time led them before hurriedly sweeping through the door.

'Jimmi' watched him go; only moving to count the money when he had heard the door to the stairs swing shut. After being sure that there were exactly Twenty-four galleons in the bag he dead bolted the door and chalked in the missing rune of a locking circle painted onto the back. The gold coins clinked as they fell into the jar on the counter behind the curtain, the drawstring bag they'd been left in hung up nearby. With a sigh the boy reached up and took out the tinted contacts revealing emerald colored eyes. With a little bit of scrubbing using make-up removing soap Jimmi, the role-playing, underage prostitute with an abusive family and naïve friends became Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived—to be in a situation where his alias was more truth than lie.

Later that afternoon a stamp ridden letter from the Weasley's arrived at Number Four Private Drive. Harry was going to the Quidditch world cup….


Severus Snape listened with narrow eyes as his 'friend' described his newest toy. A boy, young enough to be one of Severus' students—possibly in the same year as Draco—obeying every perverse command, selling his virtue, his body. It took every ounce of Severus' experience as a spy and occulmens not to visibly recoil in disgust. He took a swig of Fire Whiskey to steel his nerves. Lucius laughed at his companion's serious face and poured another glass. When his laughter subsided he regarded Severus rather closely, taking in the teacher's tense shoulders. The hand with the full glass in it swung around and his heavily ringed forefinger extended.

"You know, I think I'll let you have my free session. You could use a good fuck. You've been married to your potions for far too long." Severus snorted into his half-empty glass.

"You know my tastes run closer to my age group. So unless you're offering your own body…" He trailed off suggestively. It was a long standing joke between the pair that he'd been morbidly bringing up since Lucius' thirtieth birthday—when he'd discover the man with a servant boy hired temporarily for the party. The blond man chuckled into his glass. Severus reflected that he had maintained the unhealthiest relationships in his life and screwed up the rest. Like his abusive/protective relationship with the Potter boy….

After another glass Lucius cleared his throat to continue on the previous conversation.

"If you give him an aging potion and instructions beforehand I'm sure your better half could get its act together and make good use of Jimmi's fine ass. You know what! I'll arrange everything; all you have to do is show up. Besides if I am to suggest Jimmi's services to our soon to be 'resurrected' lord we had better make sure the resident Legillimens checks him out first, discretion and all that." Lucius added a mocking tone to the word 'resurrected' showing how unfounded he thought the rumors going around were. Severus filed the glint of fear in his companion's eyes away for later contemplation. Both glasses were filled one last time and Lucius raised his up for a toast. "To the cure for blue balls and impractical dreams of immortality" The two chinked glasses and half an hour later adjourned to bedrooms many miles apart.


Harry Potter stared stoically at his reflection. The scratches on his face from the Triwizard Tournament's final task hadn't yet been covered up with make-up. The scar on the back of his elbow gave a twinge of phantom pain, and he pointedly ignored the tingling in his occasionally numb fingers. They reminded him of his new task. His vow to kill Voldemort, to undo what his stolen blood created. With a sigh he covered the last of his scars, mostly healed by Madame Pomfrey, and put in the tinted contacts.

Five minutes before his first 'guest' of the summer was due to arrive 'Jimmi' tugged his too big pants up on slender hips once more and drained the silvery aging potion in one gulp. A feeling of stretching himself out over came his limbs and a staggering head rush hit him but that was only temporary. When he next looked in the mirror a twenty-eight year old man looked back. James Potter's chin and shapely nose were accented by Lily's delicate cheekbones and almond shaped eyes. He noted that his worldly eyes looked less out of place on this older visage. With a turn of his head Harry assessed that his cheeks were a little gaunt, but not quite enough to look unhealthy, and it easily disguised his father's features. Harry doubted that Snape would recognize him but he still used some mousse and a brush to tame his hair and highlight the red tint in it.

He stepped out from behind the curtain in tight leather pants and a barely buttoned vest. Severus Snape sat calmly on his loveseat sipping some of the tea set out. Jimmi was surprised to note that Snape was wearing a well put together muggle outfit of a Dark green button down shirt and a pair of clean cut black slacks. Jimmi smiled seductively and walked confidently over to the other man and planted himself in the other's lap. Snape looked unsure for a moment.

"I don't normally support prostitution, but….." Jimmi reached forward and silenced him with a finger, a grim smile on rose petal lips.

"—but it's been so looong…" Jimmi whispered against the taller man's ear, pressing his crotch further into the other's lap. He was rewarded with a restrained groan. Carefully Jimmi slid down onto his knees and quickly disposed of the reluctant teacher's belt. He didn't normally give blow jobs—too much risk of getting a Venereal Disease—but he doubted Severus would be careless enough to catch an STD. It didn't take much to bring the other man to completion. Severus soon decided to just pretend that it wasn't really a potioned boy in his lap but a willing man with no thought of hourly wages…

…Severus spent the last few minutes of his final hour in Jimmi's company contemplating the enigmatic male's background. Jimmi had quickly taken a second dose of aging potion an hour before and Severus was contemplating watching the currently sleeping male transform back to his youthful, true age. Before he had really decided the boy began to transform back and Severus frowned at how familiar he looked. Carefully he brushed sweaty bangs off the boy's brow to get a better look at his face. The older man pulled away in confusion to find his fingers covered in some type of wet skin-tone colored powder. Frowning he looked down to the boys forehead to discover a very familiar lightening shaped scar. Severus threw himself violently out of the bed jostling the teen awake.

Sleepily the reverted teen sat up, allowing the silk sheets to fall around his bare hips. Blearily he rubbed the sleep out of his eye with one fist in an eerie echo of childhood innocence. When he pulled the hand away the tinted contact came out as well, an aqua and a green eye widened simultaneously.

"Shit!—" Potter exclaimed frantically attempting to put in the contact as quickly as possible. Snape watched the Boy-Who-Lived scrabble about for a few moments before putting an end to Potter's charade.

"What kind of sick joke is this?! What the hell are you doing here? Saintly Potter—with his vast inheritance—as a common street whore?! Courting danger like it was nothing but—Fuck!" Snape cursed threading his fingers through oily, black hair in frustration, unable to put his feelings to words. Harry's face was cold and impassive. The two looked at each other in a surreal reversal of roles, stoic teen and impassioned adult.

Wordlessly, the Boy-Who-Lived straightened and got out from under the silk sheets. Naked, he padded into the back room only returning when he was clothed in a simple robe and had two glasses in one hand and an unopened bottle of Ogden's Finest Liqueur in the other. He set the glasses and bottle down on the table and straightened, holding a larger silk robe out to the upset professor.

The potions master narrowed his eyes suspiciously before hesitantly accepting the proffered garment. Slowly he donned the light cotton and sat down on the nearest chaise, across from the loveseat his student had sucked him off on barely two hours ago. Snape shuddered with something like disgust. Wordlessly Harry handed his teacher a mostly full glass of brandy. Snape gulped it down and grimaced as it burned its way down his throat. With a deep breath he set the glass down on the table and looked over at his student. With an irrated scowl and a much more collected attitude Snape reached across the table to snatch the half-full glass out of Harry's hand.

"The prostitutes here were the closest thing I had to family before I started attending Hogwarts." The words hung in the silent air like an unpleasant odor. Snape scoffed and drained the last of Harry's glass.

"What about your eager to please relatives? They're your family by blood." It was Harry's turn to scoff.

"You mean the ones that locked me in a cupboard until shortly before my eleventh birthday? The ones that forced me to cook and clean when I was four? You couldn't possibly be referring to the ones that spit on me and had me convinced my name was 'Freak' until primary school." Harry looked away, teeth clenched in anger before he managed to calm down enough to school his face, a blank mask sliding over anger, leaving nothing but fiery emeralds showing. Snape was silent. With pursed lips he tried to justify this tainted, broken soul with the self-righteous, spoiled boy, he remembered. His eyes widened as he recognized all the symptoms of abuse that he so carefully watched for in his Slytherin students but had been too predjudiced to see in James Potter's son. With trepidation, Snape swallowed and voiced a suspicion he feared to be truth.

"They didn't…sell you to this place, did they?" Harry's eyes got sad, and he looked away. There was a faint murmur that Severus strained to hear.

"No, but some days I wish they had."Silence hung in the air like a corpse from the gallows. Each male immersed in his own thoughts. Snape let his head fall into his hands, a single sob wracking his body.

"Lily," He whispered," I have failed you in the worse way possible. My inaction, fed by my hate of James, lead to the severe mistreatment of your son…I'm so sorry."Harry watched on, sad green eyes watching one of the strongest men he knew break down into tears. It felt cleansing to have someone to cry for him. A single tear slid down his cheek, cutting a path in the sweat and grime.

"You're forgiven. Please, just don't tell anyone about…Jimmi." Snape said nothing as Harry passed him on his way to the bathroom hidden behind the curtain, and he wasn't there when Harry stepped back into the room after a shower.


Many of Voldemort's Deatheaters trailed one after into Jimmi's room. The closer he got to the inner circle the more tense his clients seemed to be. Lucius came to him often, inflicting his frustration and fear upon his only vice. Narcissa simply turned her head away and kept her naïve son distracted from his father's shames. Word eventually got to the newly resurrected Voldemort along with Snape's remark that Jimmi hadn't given any indication of having an ulterior motive.

Like the previous year Jimmi disappeared shortly before the start of the school term and Harry Potter arrived at King's Cross Station on time and in baggy, unappealing clothes. Severus was violently ill after the Beginning-of-the-Year Feast.

And then Christmas Break rolled around and Arthur Weasly was bitten by Nagini, Voldemort's familiar. To celebrate his minor victory the Dark Lord decided to employ the services of the well praised 'Jimmi'. Horror flowed like ice in Severus Snape's veins when Jimmi agreed to meet the partially mortal would-be-tyrant.

The ritual that had been cast to resurrect Voldemort's body was such a heinous crime against nature that in wasn't feasible to create anything beyond his magical core and the most basic of necessary body parts. The Dark Lord was functioning without one of his lungs, a kidney, half of his lymph nodes, and reproductive organs. He had no penis to speak of and was instead shaped closer to a woman than a man. The pain of his barely functioning body had become so insistent that he had unearthed an ancient spell to change any pain his body felt into nothing but pleasure.

The Deatheaters were well aware that their lord would never submit to any of them just to engage in something that wasn't guaranteed to satisfy his needs and thus were happy to let a whore suffer his wrath and irritability.


Snape had tried everything he could to prevent Harry from going to meet Voldemort. When his arguments and threats hadn't worked had spent an hour contemplating telling the order about Jimmi and his true identity only to find that Harry Potter had already slipped through the Order of the Pheonix's fingers nearly two hours before. Everyone in the emergency meeting gaped in shock as the normally collected potions master swore loudly before dashing off, a suspicious Remus Lupin chasing after him.


Jimmi had greeted the Dark Lord at the door of his suite graciously, nodding to the old woman who manned the desk downstairs and who had given Lucius Malfoy the key that day in the very beginning, when his and his lord's downfall had been set in motion… She scurried down the stairs and away into the maze of dank alleys.

Jimmi had fucked Voldemort quickly and violently, making the whole process as painful has he possibly could. However, Voldemort had no reproductive system to facilitate an orgasm and so he soon grew bored and tired. As he dozed off, Harry reached into the bedside drawer and withdrew a ritual knife, made of silver and cast in graveyard soil, which he calmly used to behead his parents' murderer.

Without bothering to shower, he removed his tinted contacts, threw on some sweat pants, a winter jacket, and shoes. His wand was stuffed into a pocket, a knapsack was thrown over one shoulder, and armed with the grisly head and its owner's wand he tossed a lit match onto a dry portion of the sheets and carpet before soaking the carpet in the hallway with gasoline and lighting it. The stairway door closed behind him just as the flames reached it. He did the same on the ground floor before leaving the building. Using Voldemort's wand he set the Dark Mark above the building.

This is how Snape and Lupin found him only a few minutes later. He was barely dressed, and still had blood splattered across his face and chest. The severed head had been tucked under one arm, but he gladly handed it to the first Auror to show up not long after the Misuse of Magic officers. The Were-wolf and the former spy stood silently by him though Remus did tuck Harry's coat around him tighter. Harry refused to make any kind of statement as to what had happened.

When the media eventually arrived he handed Rita Skeeter a large envelope containing damning pictures of various Deatheaters, their marks showing, and exposing Lucius Malfoy and several other married men in compromising situations. He then looked each reporter in the eye and said: "Let the Wizarding Society know that the next time they screw-up, and want to put all of their hopes on a single person—let alone a child—to save them; that they should take up whatever chicken-shit they're made of and do it their god-damned selves!" and walked off.

The End

**Authoress' note: Sorry if this freaked anyone out it was an idea that had been hanging around in my head. I will use the basic background story that won't be nearly as intense. Please let me know how much you like/hate it. I DO NOT CARE IF YOU DON'T SUPPORT HOMOSEXUALITY. So don't rant about how it is wrong. I want criticism, not a political/ethical debate, though I would be happy to debate about how you think Harry should be after suffering through the Dursley's. At least that would be a related topic. Hope you all enjoyed the story and have a good evening/day/morning/night.