Draco Malfoy strode along the snow dusted path, head down and dark cloak swirling about him in the brisk winter air. He ground his teeth together as the sweet sound of carollers floated past him on the wind.
He hated Christmas; he hated the fake merriment, of everyone putting aside their differences and pretending like world peace had blanketed the earth. The war had ended many years ago but there would always be good and evil.
He may have fought on the side of 'good' but he was by no means a good person. At least he didn't believe he was.
Draco ducked into Knockturn Alley, keeping his head down and his cloak pulled tightly around him. He didn't wish to be recognized here, he had fought against Voldemort and was considered an ally, but people may think differently if they knew that he frequented the alley of the Dark Arts. Although Voldemort's followers had all disappeared or been captured, Knockturn Alley was still by no means a respectable place to visit.
Draco pushed through the heavy black iron doors of Borgin and Burkes and stepped inside.
"Ah...Mr Malfoy! What a pleasant surprise! We haven't seen you here for nearly twelve months."
Draco brushed the snowflakes from his silvery blond hair and looked up to see the new proprietor of what used to be the shop of forbidden magic. Borgin and Burkes had since been turned into an inn of sorts, where rooms where rented by the hour.
Draco gave a tight-lipped smile and nodded in greeting. "Good evening Benton."
Benton's silky smile widened. "You always come at this time of year, do you not Mr Malfoy?"
Draco unclasped his cloak and draped it over one arm, impatient to end the conversation. "Do you have a room available?"
Benton shuffled over to behind the front desk and looked down at the large golden book resting there. He was a tall and lanky wizard, with oily black hair that was thinning on top and a heavy limp on his left leg. Draco found the man repulsive but his employees upstairs were first class.
"I'm afraid Kye isn't working tonight, Mr Malfoy," Benton surveyed. "Would you perhaps care to try one of our new members?"
"Whoever," Draco spoke sharply. "It doesn't matter. As long as he's male and not a fucking tranny."
"Yes sir." Benton licked his lips nervously and nodded. "Here is the key to room four. He just finished with his last client."
Draco took the little brass key and squeezed it in his palm, the cold metal instantly warming to his skin.
He turned to ascend the red carpeted stairs.
"You'll like this one..."
Draco glanced back over his shoulder to see Benton smiling up at him, a slight twinkle in those black beady eyes.
Draco frowned and continued up to the first floor.
The place had been remodelled and there weren't that many rooms, about ten in all, but it insured that every employee was kept busy.
The red carpet was thinning and the lighting was dim in the hallway, and the rooms were not much better. Usually a squeaky brass bed with a thin mattress and filthy sheets was nearly the only object ever in the room. There was an adjoining bathroom in every room with a small wash basin and dripping shower with broken tiles.
Draco hated the state of the place and shuddered at the thought of how many sweaty bodies had been on the same sheets before him, but he couldn't be picky. Borgin and Burkes was the only escort inn in town.
Draco put the small key into the lock of number four and knocked in warning before pushing it open.
He quickly surveyed the small room, his eyes drawn to the figure standing by the window with his back to him. He took in the slim frame and dark hair in approval, his companion merely wearing a thin black robe that showed muscular curves in his shoulders and backside.
Draco shut the door behind him and tossed his cloak onto the dusty wooden chair in the corner before turning back to his companion.
The figure turned to look at him and Draco nearly gasped aloud, the sound catching in his throat.
Harry Potter was standing mere meters away from him, those emerald green eyes bright even in the flickering candle-lit room.
"Hi," Harry smiled shyly in greeting.
Draco was lost for words. Harry Potter had never smiled at him – ever. The boy-who-lived had been missing in action ever since he was released from Voldemort's clutches. He didn't even know where Potter had been the night Voldemort was finally killed. Nobody knew. And now five years after the war was over, nobody ever spoke of him anymore.
Harry frowned a little, looking hesitant.
Draco opened his mouth to speak and it was then that he noticed that Harry's gaze wasn't quite focused on him.
He closed his mouth and waited for Harry to speak again.
"Why don't you come over here?" Harry suggested, his smile returning, but the uncertainty was still there in his eyes.
Draco walked forwards as though hypnotized and stopped within inches of Harry. Realization dawned on him as Harry now directed his smile at Draco's chin.
Harry Potter was blind.
"You don't say much, do you?" Harry said lightly.
Draco stepped back quickly as Harry lifted a hand to touch him.
"What are you playing at?" Harry's tone was light but his smile faltered as his hand closed on empty air.
Draco's gaze was pained as he surveyed his former classmate and ex-nemesis. He never liked Harry but he never hated him either, and such a rush of pity rose up suddenly towards the young man who had somehow ended up here in this whore house. A man who should've been regaled as a hero for all eternity was now selling his body in this dark shit hole.
Draco lifted one arm and gently reached out for Harry's hand.
Harry's waning confidence seemed to return at the sudden contact and he smiled. "Can't you speak?" he asked, tilting his head thoughtfully to one side.
Draco made a flash decision. He lifted Harry's hand to his own cheek and placed his palm firmly against it. Holding Harry's hand in place, he shook his head from side to side.
"Oh," Harry's eyes widened in surprise. "I'm sorry."
Draco let Harry's hand drop again, unsure of what he really wanted to do here. Did he really want to pay for Harry's body?
Draco's gaze drifted down to the opening of Harry's black robe, his eyes drinking in the flat stomach and trail of dark hair leading down under his black boxers.
He was a delicious sight to behold if Draco could just separate Potter from this man in front of him. Draco looked back up at Harry's face. His hair was just as dishevelled as always, but it now looked sexy instead of unkempt, and his eyes... those emerald eyes were every bit as bright and engaging as they always had been.
"What do you want?" Harry asked coyly, slipping into his role.
Draco couldn't bring himself to move. He normally would've undressed his companion slowly, enjoying the deliciousness of unveiling the naked body beneath. But... this was Potter. This wasn't his sex toy. This wasn't some random faceless man.
Harry stepped forwards and slid his hands up the front of Draco's chest to his shoulders, then back down to where he began to deftly undo the buttons.
Draco froze, his breath hitching in his throat as Harry opened his shirt and slid warm palms up over the smooth planes of his chest and torso, pushing the shirt off of his shoulders where it slithered to the floor.
He couldn't help it, he was getting hard.
Harry was gorgeous and it had been so long...
Draco reached out and untied Harry's robe. He wanted see everything.
Harry smiled but it didn't reach his eyes, it wasn't real.
Draco hesitated. "They're all like this," he admonished himself. "It's just a job."
Harry quickly removed his robe and tossed it aside onto the bed, then reached out for Draco's trousers.
Draco closed his eyes as Harry undid his belt and pushed his trousers down along with his boxers. He was now standing nude in front of Harry Potter, only... Potter couldn't actually see him.
This thought made Draco feel better and he slipped a finger into the waistband of Harry's black shorts, toying with the elastic band.
Draco inhaled suddenly as Harry dropped to his knees in front of him, his hands sliding down to grip the back of Draco's thighs.
Draco threw back his head and repressed a moan as Harry wasted no time in swallowing him whole. His breath quickened and he involuntarily slid his fingers into Harry's soft dark hair, gripping the strands for support.
Harry was good, very good. Draco's brain registered this thought somewhere as he stumbled backwards, dragging Harry with him, until his back was up against the wall.
Draco put his hands back into Harry's hair, encouraging him to return to his ministrations.
Harry did. He licked and sucked, all the while fingering Draco's entrance and rubbing his finger along the bumpy ridge just behind his ball sacs.
It didn't take long for Draco to orgasm, biting his tongue to keep from crying out as Harry kept his mouth on his cock and swallowed everything.
Draco finally released his hold on Harry's hair, panting, as he opened his eyes and looked down.
Harry looked broken. The light was gone from the emerald eyes as he sat back on his heels and kept his head down, blank unseeing eyes seeming to gaze at the floorboards.
Draco's heart stopped and he suddenly felt like the enemy again. He felt dirty and disgusted with himself.
He shook his head in annoyance. He shouldn't feel guilty, this was Potter's job.
Harry slowly got to his feet and walked back over to the bed, seeming to know exactly where he had thrown his robe. He quickly wrapped himself in the thin material and tied the fraying sash.
He turned to Draco expectantly.
Draco started and remembered that Harry was waiting for his payment. Their meeting had been short and cold; no warmth or love, merely a business transaction.
He quickly put his clothes back on and took out the leather drawstring pouch from his trouser pocket.
He removed all the money he had in there and placed it into Harry's outstretched hand.
Harry's fingers curled around it and he brought it in towards his chest, holding it there as though frightened it might disappear. "Thank you," he said, his voice was barely a whisper but the humiliation was clear.
Draco abruptly turned away, striding back across the room to fetch his cloak. He jerked the door open and didn't even look behind him before slamming it shut.