"I can't do this." Draco grumbled. "How can the Ministry honestly expect me to live on this pittance?"
Blaise smirked as he cut another bite of his steak. "They're used to it."
"I'm not!" Draco snapped. "I make eighty galleons a week! My family spent that much on dry cleaning!"
Blaise shook his head. "You're a potions apprentice in an apothecary. You can't expect to make more than the shop owner."
"It wouldn't kill anyone for them to release one of our vaults, or let me live in the Manor so I don't have to pay rent!" Draco fumed, glaring at Blaise's glass of elvin wine.
"We've been through this." Blaise rolled his eyes. "The Manor is a crime scene. They can't let you live there until the trials are done because the Wizengamot is using it to play show and tell. And they can't release any of the Malfoy fortune, because they're afraid your father would move all the money out of the country where they couldn't seize it for any fines he may be assessed after his trial. Which is exactly what your father would do and you know it."
"Yes, but at this rate, I'm going to be wearing hand me downs from the Weasleys." Draco whined.
Blaise took a long, slow drink of his wine and sat the glass down with a speculative look at Draco. "You could always come work for the agency."
Draco snorted. "Blaise, you're a male prostitute. I hardly think that would meet the refraining from criminal activity clause in my bail."
"No, I'm not." Blaise smirked. "I'm an escort."
Draco raised one eyebrow in disbelief.
"Really." Blaise shrugged. "Bosslady keeps everything legal and above-board. Everyone at Hogwarts dismissed her as some airheaded blonde bimbo, but she's actually very shrewd. Prostitution laws state that there is a guarantee of a sexual act in exchange for money. Our clients sign an agreement up front that states there is no guarantee of any sexual act. They're paying for my time and expertise. It's no different than paying an attorney or a healer. Or a potions apprentice."
"I'm not going to ask what your area of expertise is." Draco made a face.
"It's being the perfect date." Blaise answered with a completely straight face. "Seriously? You'd be surprised how many of them aren't interested in sex. Most of them just want someone to treat them with respect and listen to them complain about how under-appreciated they are at work or what rotten little shits their children are. Open doors for them, pull out their chairs and all that rot. Go with them to their favorite restaurant or the ballet without bitching about it. I've got one regular client who wants someone to rub her back and watch sappy muggle movies with her without expecting anything in return."
"You don't sleep with them?" Draco folded his arms and tilted his head.
Blaise shrugged. "Sometimes. When we both agree that's what we want. It's actually a pretty good deal. No strings attached sex. She doesn't expect you owl her the next day or have dinner with her mum on Sunday. These are mature, sophisticated, professional women. Every once in a while, a client asks for something unusual, but it's pretty rare. The worst thing I've been asked to do was a strip tease to a muggle pop song called 'Ain't Too Proud to Beg' on a client's birthday."
"In public?" Draco couldn't hide his horror.
"Of course not." Blaise rolled his eyes. "In her bedroom. Private show, so to speak. The clients for the most part don't want to draw attention to the fact they're spending their evening with an escort." He finished his wine, looking down at the table for a few moments before smirking at Draco. "There's going to be an opening next week. Miss Back Rubs is taking me on a month long cruise of the Mediterranean with her."
"You're going on a month long holiday with one of your clients?" Draco's eyebrows shot to the top of his head.
"Why not?" Blaise answered. "She's paying. She's not bad company. And she doesn't expect my undying love or any of that crap in return."
"It just sounds ... sleazy." Draco shuddered.
Blaise counted out enough galleons to cover his share of the meal plus a very generous tip, then stood. "I made 300 galleons last night." He smirked before he walked away.
Draco never, ever would have admitted to Blaise Zabini that his mouth had remained open for nearly 30 seconds after Blaise's little announcement. He never would have admitted that he began to seriously consider what Blaise had said. He put glamours on himself before going to Flourish and Botts to pick up a book on how to be the man witches have always dreamed of.
And if anyone had asked, he was only perusing the classified ads in The Daily Prophet for idle curiousity.
Two days after Blaise had owled to say he was off on his cruise with his benefactor, Draco found the ad he had been seeking.
Are you looking for a unique career opportunity? Forever Wild seeks a wizard who's gentle, sensitive and attentive to the needs of others, intelligent, talented with his wand, and willing to go the distance for the job. Owl letters of interest to Luna Lovegood, Rook House, St Ottery Catchpole.
He immediately sent his inquiry.
Two days later, he received a return post, inviting him to meet Lovegood at her home the following evening.
He arrived ten minutes early, wearing Italian custom tailored dress robes. She greeted him in muggle jeans, a jumper that was two sizes too big, and dragonhide boots, with her hair in a ponytail. He was a bit puzzled, but since it was her company, he offered his most dazzling smile and kissed her hand.
She invited him in, and brought him to the sitting room, where she offered him tea.
And then immediately proceeded to exact her revenge for the time she had spent in their dungeon.
"Draco, honestly I agreed to meet with you solely out of curiosity that you would answer my ad. I truly don't believe this is the job for you." She informed him politely, folding her hands in her lap.
"I was born for this job." he insisted. "I know I didn't show you my better qualities when we were at Hogwarts, and certainly not when you were, um, being detained in our cellar, but I'm not like that, really. I was raised to be a gentleman. I had deportment and etiquette lessons from the time I could walk. And I've matured a lot over the past couple years. The Draco Malfoy you would see at a ball or dinner party bears little resemblance to the rotter I was at school."
She sipped her tea and looked at him skeptically. "I'm not sure that good manners is going to help you in this job."
"Of course it will." he argued. "Isn't that what your clients want? Someone to be attentive and sensitive to their needs? Someone who will show them some respect and a little care?"
"But they're going to know if you're not sincere." she told him.
"I will be sincere." he pleaded. "Really. I need this job. I will do whatever it takes. I'll take off my clothes, whatever the job requires."
She raised an eyebrow at him. "I don't think that would exactly impress your charges."
"Look," he huffed. "I know I'm thin, but I'm not that bad to look at." He stood and pulled at the front of his shirt, sending two buttons flying. "See?"
Luna's eyes widened to impossible proportions. "Oh, my." She blinked. "I've never had anyone do that in an interview before."
"Really?" he frowned, waving his wand to close and repair his shirt. "You never check out what you're getting with the new employees?"
"Um, no." she looked rather bemused. "I usually just worry about making sure they have the right personality, and hope that they're physically strong enough, or capable of making up for physical disadvantage with wand work."
"So have I convinced you yet?" he leaned forward. "Can I have the job?"
"Draco, I'm just not sure." she sighed. "You seem to very much want this job, but you didn't have a good experience with that hippogriff at school."
"So what are you saying?" he frowned. "Some of them are as wild as hippogriffs?"
"Some of them are hippogriffs." she informed him.
"How does a hippogriff hire an escort?" his face scrunched in confusion.
"Well, the hippogriff doesn't hire us, someone owls ... " she broke up and burst into soft, tinkling laughter. "Oh, dear."
"What?" he asked, starting to become irritated as well as confused.
"You thought you were applying to Lavender Brown's company." she giggled. "I'm looking for an assistant for an animal rescue service and sanctuary."
"Oh." he flushed, and hastily rose to his feet.
"No, please." she held up a hand to him, trying and failing to control your giggles. "You don't have to rush off. I don't have company often and this is the best laugh I've had in ages."
"I didn't come here to make you laugh." he snapped, heading for the door.
"Draco. Wait." she finally managed to stifle her laughter, and stood. "I didn't mean to upset you. If you really want a job this much, I'd be willing to give you a chance. But if what you're really looking for is to work with the escort service, you'll want to speak with Lavender Brown. She has an office in Diagon Alley. I don't know the address, but it's next to the Owl Post."
"Thank you." he nodded stiffly, reaching for the doorknob. "Good luck with your search."
"Draco." her voice stopped him once again.
He looked over his shoulder but didn't speak.
"Do let me know if you get the job with the escort service. I might want to hire you." she smiled.
"Just sod off!" he barked. "You've had your laugh at my expense, so just let me leave!"
"I was serious about hiring you, Draco." she informed him.
A/N - It's all Tom Felton's fault, for actually saying "I'll take my clothes off, whatever the job requires." in an interview, which hatched this plot bunny.
And I still don't own anything in the Harry Potter world because if I did Draco and Luna would be married with more kids and pets than the Weasleys by now.