CH #1
Weekends at Hogwarts were usually very quiet, especially in the afternoons and evenings. Only the first, second and third years remained in the castle and most were studying furiously, still terrified of their parent's overreactions to exam results. But the majority of the fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh years all migrated down into Hogsmeade for a night of partying and sex. On these nights Hogmeade's remote back alleys were transformed into brightly coloured, crowded dance floors, nightclubs and houses of sin.
On weekends the Hogshead Pub could hardly be recognised from the dusty, cave like appearance it sported for all the fetid drunks who numbed themselves there during the week. On these nights' blindingly bright disco lights, shone and spun from the rotting, wooden, rafters, a live wizard band pumped loud music into the steamy night air and half a dozen female house elves handed out tankards of fire-whiskey and various homemade brews to the large groups of drunken teenagers. All of whom being incredibly pissed were also very, very horny and were indulging in a variety of nefarious activities: gambling, smoking, exotic dancing and seriously hot make out sessions on or under the tables.
Everyone there appeared to love the sensuality and heat of six different bodies rubbing up against them from all sides. But one boy frowned in disgust at the erotic spectacle. He frowned even as he watched a tall long legged seventh year witch, dancing with her date, while some sixth year asshole rubbed his boner on her butt. A regular 16 year old wizard would have been seriously turned on by this, should have loved the smoky, sexual atmosphere of the 'nightclub', but to Draco Malfoy it was a foul and dirty place to be, but he was not a regular 16 year old wizard, because unlike the rest of the Hogwarts students there he was forced to be there, rather than being there under the false pretence of having a 'late-night study group' (the favoured excuse for being out passed curfew).
Draco had been convinced that his life could get no worse after his father was sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban, but it had. His mother, so humiliated by the scandal that had stripped their family of all its former social status had committed suicide right in front of him, waiting until he came home from work before jumping. Draco hated her for that. Hated that she had made him witness her death. Narcissa had left a note that simply said: 'Go to your aunts.'
Draco knew Bellatrix did not like him, she did not like anyone who she could not profit from and Draco could not see why she would take him in, but what else could he do?
He had seen the deranged gleam of excitement in Bellatrix's black eyes when he turned up on her doorstep and showed her the note. Fuck, she was an unpredictable cow, he had expected to be thrown out, but she grinned and welcomed him inside almost drooling with pleasure.
Draco, although a little suspicious of her sickly sweet behaviour, put it down to her being in such good mood because Tom Riddle was 'hiding out' at her flat in London and had ordered her to be his sexual partner while he stayed and even though he said it was for his own convenience not for her love, she was ecstatic.
It became apparent however that Bellatrix did indeed have a disgustingly simple ulterior motive for taking Draco in: Tom, despite returning had unfortunately (for him) been brought back effectively powerless and Bellatrix was desperately acquiring as many galleons as she could so that she could perform a complex and expensive ritual that would restore all his former power.
Draco had shaggy white blonde hair; he was of average height, with a high rounded butt and faintly muscular arms and legs. He had pearly white teeth, seductive, grey eyes and smooth white skin. Bellatrix had been whoreing herself out at the nightclubs in Knockturn Alley and even with her wild, freakish looks and sadistic, kinky fetishes she was making enough to be able to get the required amount in about six years, but with a young and exceptionally good looking male whore to double her efforts, she could make just enough in half that time.
Of course, Draco had no wish to be a man-whore who was pimped off by his own aunt or by anyone, but if he did not agree to Bellatrix's terms he would probably be kicked out and with nowhere to go, he would probably end up as sex slave for one of the major wizarding families, which is what usually happened to homeless witches and wizards. Besides at least he hoped that being still at school he could keep his dignity, by not seeing his 'clients' at any other time than at night. Or so he had thought, but soon when he had been very successful in the Knockturn Alley gay bar, Bellatrix had told him to start weekend night work in Hogsmeade, fucking up with his own classmates. Draco's life had only got worse since his father's downfall, so why should he expect that to have changed? His life became a chaotic bundle of humiliation, anger, grief and utter despair.
So, that was why Draco was forced to be at the sleazy, makeshift nightclub in the Hogshead. To hook up with anyone of his class mates who wanted it. He had asked Bellatrix may times why he could not go to a different nightclub where he did not know all the people, but she said it was the only large, repetitive gathering of warlocks Draco's age and that it was easier to scam teenagers out of their pocket money.
School of course for Draco those days was a nightmare. The only reason he survived was because of his two loyal friends. Hermione Granger and Luna Lovegood, who were both outcasts too. Hermione, for her brains and Luna for being 'different'. They never judged him for who he had been or what his job was, somehow they both saw him for a wonderful but broken young wizard, who needed them and he loved them both dearly.
At school during the week he was relentlessly harassed by all the kids, even the first years who did not even really know why they were taunting him would call him names like: "Oh there goes Malfoy the Boy toy" and even stupid things like, "whorefoy". Most of the professors were reluctant to talk to him or even look at him and even the ghosts avoided him. Peeves, the poltergeist, followed him around between classes, making explicit and crude gestures and singing horrid taunting rhymes about…well about Draco. But regardless of the taunts during the week, he was reasonably popular on the weekends, but only because he was a cheap source of sexual amusement for the lusty teenagers.
Draco was at that very moment performing yet another obscenity for the amusement of two very drunk seventh years, they had agreed to pay him four galleons to make out with the unconscious form of young fourth year Metamorphmagus who was obviously dreaming something very explicit and who's head had morphed into the relative shape of a penis. Draco allowed a familiar numbness to spread through his body; it was his protection against the humiliation of what he was doing. However try as he might the jeering laughter of his two main observers cut through his mental shield as jagged and taunting as broken glass falling through the night.
When the two warlocks got bored they paid up and turned to leave, so Draco wordlessly took the two galleons from each and was turning to go when someone suddenly yelled.
"Petrificus totalus!"
Draco felt all of his limbs go ridged and he abruptly fell face first onto the dirty, granite tiled floor. He heard rather than felt his nose break and the four galleons rolled out of his hand. Completely immobilised he could only watch the blood spread in a small pool around his head as the two wizards rolled him over, stowed away their wands and sneered with whisky soaked breath into Draco's blood-soaked face.
"You filthy man-ho," smirked the taller of the two boys, as his smaller sidekick collected up the galleons. "Did you really expect us to give you our cash, you are worse than hippogriff dung; you are lower than house elf." Draco could only lie there with his nose dripping blood down the back of his throat but unable to swallow he could feel his breaths becoming heavily laboured. He was drowning in his own blood.
"Just how long did you think decent people would put up with a fucking slut like you?" Continued the taller boy fiercely, "you're not a man, you're a fucking sex doll and I'm going to do everyone a favour and fucking kill YOU…" he yelled the last word, straddled Draco and started to punch him in the face. The pain was horrific and partially blinding, Draco's world started to blur, the bright lights and pounding music moulded together with the stifling heat and alcoholic stench to form a sensory collage of nauseating pain and the metallic taste of his blood clogging his wind pipe.
It would all be over soon, Draco thought, no one would try and save him. Luna and Hermione never came to these party nights and as the boy had said he was lower than a house elf. Who could possibly care about enough about him to stop this?
Just before Draco died, through the haze of tears he glimpsed a bright flash of orange light, then the weight of the tall wizard was lifted from his torso and through the roaring in his ears there was distant yelling and then the faint smell of burnt flesh.