Warnings: Prostitution, mentions of drug-use, implied suicidal thoughts.

Scorpius had never intended for it to go like this. In fact, had he known, he probably would have never left home despite all the pressure and the fighting. So many people had thought that he had everything – looks, friends, money, family. He was certainly good looking and he got along well with the other Slytherins. His family had plenty of money to get him whatever he wanted and after his grandfather's death whatever dark shadow of the past had been hanging over them seemed to slowly begin to lift.

But it had never been quite so simple for Scorpius. Being a pureblood was hard, being a Malfoy pureblood even harder. He always found himself under pressure and not just the normal pressure to do well in school or in sports, but to be perfect. He had to straddle a delicate line between political correctness and not alienating any members of the family's more intimate social circle. Often times, he had to do things for politics which he found humiliating and dishonorable when honor and dignity were principles that had been ingrained in Scorpius long before he had even been allowed to touch a wand. When the talk started as to whom he should marry, whatever was holding Scorpius in place collapsed. Saying the word "gay" to his parents was unthinkable although that is what he had always been. All his mother bothered to talk about during his seventh year was the good matches he could make.

It had all been too much and one night Scorpius had gathered what gold he had on him, a spare set of linens and robes, his broom and his wand with the intention to never come back to Malfoy Manor again. He left on broom over the Malfoy forest. The stars had been bright and the moon peaked out from between the clouds. Scorpius had had no idea where he was going and what he would do but the need to get away, the breathe, had been too great, too urgent.

Perhaps it had been bad luck, perhaps Merlin cursed prodigal sons of pureblood heritage, Scorpius did not know but all of his beginnings fell through. He was no entrepreneur and he knew nothing of the muggle word. He had been too afraid to stay in the wizarding world, afraid of his parents coming after him. Before he knew it, it was too late to take anything back. He had no money, no work, no home, for he was certain as all hell that his parents had disowned him by then.

He had fallen into the life he leads now on accident, a miscommunication at a muggle bar one night and the rest was so monstrous that Scorpius' mind refused to retain any of the details…

Scorpius is sore. His entire body aches but especially his throat and ass. Sometimes his breathing hitches and he can't get it to start again, making him panic and fall off the low bed onto the rough carpet. His flat is tiny, a single room and a small, dingy kitchen with a bathroom attached haphazardly in the corner as though built on late, as an afterthought. The lights are off. Scorpius knows how to use muggle lights now but they tend to hurt his eyes on the best of days and now his head is throbbing. Thank Merlin the curtains are drawn on the only window in the apartment, albeit a decent sized window.

He feels nauseous and his head spins. Scorpius doesn't know if it's from the drugs or if he's actually sick with something or perhaps it is that feeling of shame and disgust that floods him every morning. It's been three months but he still can't accept that he's doing what he's doing to survive.

If he opens his eyes he will see the empty bottles of bear strewn across the floor, the used condoms in the trash and the one that didn't make it in. There are stains on his sheets, a few are bloody. The last client left the rope he had paid extra to use on Scorpius. The blonde now bears the bruises from it on his wrists where the skin is blue and raw. He has no idea how he will make it look better by the time he works tonight. Scorpius charges higher for being tied up or for sex without a condom. He's found out that he can do that but it took him nearly a month.

There is a tangy smell in the room, mixed with a different sickeningly sweet aroma. Scorpius can still taste smoke in his mouth from whatever it was he'd been smoking the night before. Sometimes he uses the drugs on himself, sometimes the clients pay for him to. They're all muggle drugs. There are certain potions, Scorpius knows, that could produce a similar effect, but somehow the raw cloyingness of the muggle drugs seems far more fitting. They're also easier to get, especially given that he has no more wizarding money left.

Scorpius sits and winces as the bruises on his hips make themselves known. The man last night was heavy and large and he had gripped Scorpius' thighs and hips until Scorpius cried out in pain and feared that his skin in those places would implode. Scorpius runs both hands through his hair and over his face. He gets up and does not bother to get dressed before making breakfast. There are no mirrors in his flat, aside from a small one in the bathroom but Scropius tries to avoid looking into it as much as he can, especially when he's not all dressed and ready for work. He can't look at himself.

He can't look at himself because the feeling of shame and regret is the worst punishment he could have ever received. He would gladly go back to his old life but he could never do that now, not after everything he's done, everyone he's been with…everyone that has been inside of him.

Scorpius never cries, although he'd never been above that at home, because he is afraid that if he allows himself to fall apart he will simply go mad/

Sometimes, on a clear, warm, slow night, Scorpius dreams. He looks up at the sky and dreams that someday he will wake up and find that there is a way out of this. Usually, it's Lysander Scamander he wakes up to in these daydreams, sometimes it's Louis Weasley. Either way, the boy takes his hand and leads him away down a dark tunnel with a bright light at the end.

Muggles describe the journey from life to death as happening down such a tunnel. At least a lot of them do. Sometimes, Scorpius wonders if the risk is worth taking. It can't be any worse that this and maybe there will be a beautiful, light-haired boy to great him with a loving smile at the end of that tunnel.

But these are all dreams and Scorpius' work allows for few of those.