DM/HP TMR/DM TMR/HP

SuspenseViolenceDarkHumorImplied/Referenced Rape/Non-conDrug UseAgoraphobiaPanic Attacksstoner Harry Ron and Hermioneserial killer Lord VoldemortDark TomBondageBDSMDom TomSwitch DracoBottom Harry PotterDubious ConsentRent BoyAlternate Universe - Non-Magical OOC - Mostly Hermione and Ron

The back story I came up with for this tale is irrelevant, basic non-magical version of Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort's sick obsession with him. This was supposed to be a one-shot, but like Pretty Boy after I rewrote the first chapter, this thing kept growing and growing. I had to stop myself after it surpassed 18k words. I didn't want this to be a chaptered story. The first part (this one) is somewhat lighthearted and silly. The second part is not. It's suspenseful and scary.

There is no rape in this tale, but there are a few almosts and hints (boasting by LV) that he's taken advantage of Harry while he was unconscious. Whether it's true or not...

The vast expanse of room inside the tidiest and most thoughtfully decorated, as well as the largest office on the thirteenth floor surprised the man who was sitting inside of it, and his parents were billionaires. Having gotten the amazing promotion he had always dreamed of, the man shivered from the butterflies dancing around in his stomach. That is until he looked down at his desk. Shifting in his chair to look over the stacks of paperwork he needed to catch up on, Draco Malfoy heaved in a deep breath and released it slowly.

The image of paperwork began to flit away as the evenings during the past Fridays over the last year flooded back into his mind; the reason he had gotten the promotion in the first place. A silly smile curled up on his lips just daydreaming about how amazing the new man in his life was in bed. And although he felt terrible about cheating on his boyfriend, he didn't really have much choice in the matter. He just went with it, thoroughly enjoying that tail on the side as long as the boyfriend didn't find out. And that was very unlikely to happen, at least that's what he assumed.

"I need that binder completed by five."

Draco's eyes snapped open. He whirled around in his high-backed chair to face the man standing in the doorway. Riddle. "Pardon me, sir?" he asked, already forgetting what the man had said. "Sorry, I was…uh, lost in thought."

"It happens." A tall, dark and handsome middle-aged man had gripped the door frame and leaned into Draco's enormous office. His dark eyes scanned the length of Draco's body when the man stood up from his chair to walk around his desk and properly greet his boss. "I said that I have a meeting today at five and I'll be needing the binder there marked 'finish by the end of the day' finished by the end of the day, or I'm fucked." He emphasised the last word intimately as his eyes rose up to meet with Draco's. He took the young man's hand in his and yanked him into his embrace. "And if I'm fucked - well then certainly you're fucked."

"…fuck. Yeah, fucked." Draco melted against him. His long fingers found themselves tangled in Riddle's inky-black hair. "We can't have that, can we, sir? You - getting fucked…then I - get fucked. Who knows how hard that would be to handle," he replied dreamily, as if staring into his boss's lovely eyes had enchanted the newest member of the marketing company's elite few. Admittedly, Draco was very attracted to the gorgeous executive despite owing him sexual favours until his hazing phase was complete. He had hoped beyond hope that if he ever was chosen to join the elite's ranks that Tom would be one to take him under his wing. It came with a price, of course. No one could just get a promotion in one of the largest firms in Great Britain. One had to be very talented and have a million ideas…and you had to be nominated by one of the already-elite to even be considered for the position.

That's where Tom Riddle came in. The tall beauty swished his tongue across the row of perfect pearly white top teeth filling his mouth. There was no mistaking the innuendo he was spouting; it was Friday after all, and Fridays were spent doing whatever Mr Riddle wanted Draco to do - within reason, that is.

Tom pressed the pad of his index finger on Draco's lips. "I want you to shave for me…" His finger slipped to Draco's chin, and trailed down along his chest until he stopped at the buckle of the man's trousers. "Clean, smooth…all of it."

"You mean…" Draco cringed. The mood suddenly shifted to something a bit less than sexy. Shave off his body hair? How on Earth would he be able to explain this to-

"Eight o'clock. Don't be late. Oh, and get that binder ready for me by five…or I'll really fuck you." Riddle left Draco standing there with his mouth hung open.

The mobile phone in his pocket began to sing, causing him to jump. Justin Timberlake's "Cry me a River" filled the immediate area. Draco cringed as he groped through his pocket to answer the phone. The song was set by his secret significant other, a young man around the same age as he, a man he had known during their time spent together in a private secondary school.

"Hello, honey." Draco closed his office door and slumped back into his chair as he listened to the sweetly soft sounds of his boyfriend speak to him while trying to keep his voice as quiet as possible. "Honestly, I can't understand a word you're saying. Can't you go into the bathroom and run some water? Are they close?"

On the other end of the line, the other young man was sitting cross-legged inside of a cupboard under the stairs, straining to speak without actually making any noise. Lord knows that his cousin Dudley most likely had his ear pressed flat against the door in an attempt to prove to his mother and father that his orphaned cousin was much more than just a mentally unstable young man who also happened to be very famous. Despite the constant protests, Dudley knew it was all an act. Harry Potter scrunched down near the floor while he cupped a hand over the receiver to muffle anything audible. "I said, 'Can we see each other tonight?'."

Long, coltish legs were bent up and swaying in the air as much as they could move in the cramped storage space. Harry was now lying on his stomach, with his head tucked into his chest to further shelter the mobile. A series of pounding on the cupboard door jolted him. He slapped the mobile closed and curled up on his side while he grabbed an ancient comic book he was going to pretend to be reading as Dudley pried open the door. Left there years back, during his time that he called the space "the only place Dudley couldn't fit into", the comic book's innards flooded Harry's head with memories of the past. It reminded him of Draco, his gorgeous secret boyfriend who just so happened to be practically perfect in every single way possible.

He tossed the Thor comic and grabbed up his ringing mobile as the door flung open and Dudley snagged an ankle to drag him out into the open. Both he and Dudley were twenty-two years old, and both should have been out of the Dursley house and on their own by now, but that just wasn't in the cards for either of them at that particular time.

Draco cringed. "Err, tonight? I can't tonight-Harry? Harry, are you still there?"

The line went silent so he dialled him back, then the sounds of protest and shuffling came through the receiver. Draco turned up the volume on his mobile and listened intently.

"Check his mobile! He's either chatting with his boyfriend or his drug dealer, mummy! B O Y friend, mum, o dealer. He's a right addict and a ponce, I tell you!"

"A boyfriend, drugs…me? That's ridiculous. Aunt Petunia, please tell him to let me go. My therapist is on the line! He can hear him!" He put the mobile back up to his ear. "What was that, Dr Dumbledore? I should stay living here with my aunt and uncle where it's safe?"

Petunia gasped. "Dumbledore? Dudley, let him go!" Lord knew she did not want Harry staying in their home any longer than he had to. She had been working very hard with Draco's mother to get the boys their own place together, a place where she wouldn't have to listen to her son's ever accusing jibes about her nephew's sexuality or drug use. "Please reassure your therapist all is well here, and you're still very capable of moving out to your own place."

Harry shrugged. "I dunno, we'll see."

Petunia surreptitiously pinched her son as hard as she could while staring him down, daring him to cry out in pain. If she didn't get Harry out of the house soon, Vernon and Marge had threatened to move out in his place.

Draco dragged himself to Riddle's office. As of yet, he had kept every date they had scheduled. He was always prompt, always dressed exactly as he had been instructed to be and did everything his boss asked of him. He was not proud of this, but he knew what was expected when he took this position in this firm. Everyone paid their dues to whoever got you on the inside, got you the job of your dreams. Neither Harry nor he would want for anything. They wold live like kings once he was released from Riddle's possession, and that would be sooner rather than later. He'd been serving Riddle for nearly a year now, and Riddle assured him that the men or women at the top almost always released their minions from sexual-slave duty after around a year or so…if they were good at pleasing them, if they did everything that they were told. That was what made this walk so daunting. Draco needed to cancel Tom's and his date that night because his boyfriend needed him.

"Hey, Tom? Uh, we need to talk about tonight." Draco dropped the binder he'd completed for his boss on the man's desk. He waited for Tom to finish the call he was on before he told him the bad news.

Riddle clicked the flashing red button on his telephone and set the receiver on its cradle. He leaned forward over his desk to give the beautiful blond his undivided attention. "Yes, darling? Something you want to say?"

"Yeah, err…" Draco mumbled while he shuffled his weight around. "I'm sorry. I can't make it tonight. Maybe I can make it up to you on Saturday, or I suppose I could stay the whole night with you next Friday or something. I'll make this up to you, I swear-"

"What?" Tom interrupted, feigning sadness and concern. "Skipping out on me tonight? I thought we had a thing…Why?"

"God, it's not you…" Draco focused his attention on the floor. "I have a…I mean, I have this…this other man, uh…my, well, he's sort of a boy…a friend. Err, boyfriend. I have a boyfriend, his name is Harry. And he's all messed up in the head and he really needs me tonight. I'm sorry, Tom."

"You have a boyfriend?" Tom pretended like he had no idea Draco was seeing someone else. "I had no idea. Draco, if what we're doing has gotten between you two…"

"No, Tom, he has no clue about us," Draco blurted before catching himself. He dug his fingernails into his thigh, wishing he could please both Tom and Harry at the same time. As much as he loved, was madly in love with Harry, well, he was very flaky and there was the fact that he was nutters. And Tom, while classically narcissistic and sometimes slightly creepy in a "I can't quite put my finger on it" way, was the most intelligent and sexiest man he had ever met. Just listening to Tom talk about himself all night felt amazing after great sex. "Normally, Fridays are free for me. You see…Err, Harry, my boyfriend, well he knows I like to hit the pubs and hang out with my friends on Fridays, and he's fine with that because…well, he has this condition. He's afraid of…he can't go-"

"Say no more," Tom said, cutting him off. "He sounds like a nice guy. If he really needs you tonight I won't stop you from going to him. Honestly, it's no big deal. We'll see each other next week." He clapped the blond on the shoulder as he ushered him out of his office. He stopped the young man briefly, curious about his boyfriend's surname. "What was his name again? Harry…"

"Potter," Draco volunteered, unthinking as he prayed to himself that Tom wasn't just giving him the brush-off before he sacked him. He stopped and turned back to Tom, now willing to blow Harry off for a few hours in order to appease his new boss. "Look, I can see him later. His awful relatives, those Dursley people…they fucking hate me anyway."

"Draco, I'm fine with this. If he truly needs you - then you need to go. Take care of him. He's a very lucky man to have you."

Tom pushed Draco out of his office and locked the door. He dropped into his high-back chair and tore the binder Draco had finished for him into a million pieces. He threw several awards he had received over the years for stellar performances against the wall, shattering glass windows and putting gaping holes in the plaster. He covered his face in his hands as he hysterically began to cry. He sobbed for nearly ten minutes, until the sobbing turned into laughter. He knew goddamn well who Draco Malfoy was screwing, that was the whole reason he hired, promoted and took Draco on as a lover, fooling the poor sod into thinking he had to do this in the first place.

Dudley dragged Harry to the front door, threatening to chuck him out on his arse again. This struggle always happened when Vernon and Petunia weren't home. "Stop it, Dudley! I swear if you push me any closer I'll tell the authorities that you're sneaking out at night and they'll put you right back in jail!"

Being held under strict 24-hour home curfew until the trial began, Dudley took the threat very seriously. He was in a helluva lot of trouble, being charged with domestic terrorism after setting off several m-80 explosives inside a public library toilet. He dropped his smaller cousin on the floor and walked away, grumbling about Harry being a ruddy spoil-sport.

Harry slowly crab-walked away from the door. His delicate psychological condition did not permit him such luxuries as walking through one or being near one. A loud knock upon it sent Harry into a tizzy. He panicked and scrambled to back away, but Dudley had returned, hefted him up and slung him over his shoulder before opening it. "Yes, come in, I have your little ponce right here, Lord Volde- Oh, it's just you…his other lover." Again, the large, muscular young man dropped Harry back on the floor so he could return to looking at gratuitous pornography in his father's den.

"Dudley, you stupid piece of shit!" Draco quickly shut and locked the door behind him before aiding Harry. "It's okay, love, it's just me." He helped Harry stand and walked him toward the basement, the only place they could truly be alone together in the house. "Did you take your pills? How do you feel right now?"

"He fucking keeps saying his name. The nightmares have started back up. I can't do this anymore. They might put me back in the asylum." Harry curled into his boyfriend's torso as they made their way down the steps. He gave Draco a little nod when asked again about taking his meds. "I'm okay. Just keep Dudley away from me."

"I'm not going anywhere tonight." Draco locked the basement door and quickly ran back down the steps to curl up next to Harry on his bed. He shucked off his clothing between bouts of fawning over his lover, keeping the young man from thinking about the reason why he had terrible panic attacks and had developed crippling agoraphobia, the worst of the plethora of mental disorders Harry had been burdened with.

It didn't take much to find the address where Potter lived once Malfoy dropped the surname of Harry's relatives. It seemed the young man had developed a condition that prevented him from being out in the open. And, as he discovered, the Daily Prophet seemed to have a major crush on him as well; there were constant articles about Harry, with details of the events that lead up to Potter's home-bound status; that he had been the prime target of notorious serial killer Lord Voldemort, and had seemingly bested the indestructible man during his final and ill-fated attempt to murder the boy once and for all.

No one had ever found the body or learnt of the phantom's true identity, but having murdered several other people before he got his clutches onto Potter, the proof of his existence was more than evident. Lord Voldemort was the Jack the Ripper of their time, and he was now gone. Or at least that's what everyone hoped. By sheer coincidence Draco had taken a position with their marketing firm some years back, straight after graduation. Okay, maybe it took a few favours and loads of cash to get him transferred to the firm. Semantics.

But Tom knew what no one else could figure out. He knew the identity of killer intimately, very intimately. Gnashing his teeth, Tom shoved away from his desk, full of elation. He stared at a recent photo of Potter on the Daily Prophet's website; the boy who lived. "I finally found you again, my pet, my pretty thing. You thought you could hide…he thought he could hide you. Unfortunately for both of you this time you will not get away from me."

A week went by. It was almost five, and Draco fretted in his seat. Tom was expecting him that night for their weekly date but he hadn't told the man about his impending move. He had finally talked his boyfriend into moving out of his relatives' home and into his flat, which had been gifted to him by his parents so he would finally move the hell out and take Harry with him, so the Dursleys could find some peace, too. Harry's great fear of being out in the open for even a short amount of time was going to be a problem. It was a sensitive, delicate issue his mother and Harry's aunt Petunia agreed to help him with - but it had to be tonight. Everything was rented for the move, dinner parties and social appearances had been shifted around in order for Narcissa and Petunia to get Lucius and Vernon to help them with all of the physical labour.

He hadn't spoken to Tom as of yet, but he had seen him lurking around his office throughout the afternoon. The clock on the wall seemed to start spinning out of control, edging closer and closer to five o'clock. Sweat poured down his face, and the air around him grew hot and thin. He could hear footsteps growing louder, approaching his office. Draco dropped down over the desk, feeling dizzy and light-headed, understanding now what it felt like to have a panic attack like Harry did. A knock on his open door caused him to jump.

"Did I frighten you?" Tom grinned down at the handsome blond as he tried to hide his stress behind a forced smile.

"No, uhh…" He wanted to blurt it out, that he had to skip out again on their planned date filled with pleasing Tom so he wouldn't sack him. "I'm fine. Err, how long are we going out for tonight? I hope we can skip the dinner and head straight to your place right after work, because I uh-"

"Because you what?" Tom asked him as he moved inside the office and locked the door behind him. "Having another crisis with your boyfriend? Anything I can do to help?"

Draco blinked. "Really? You'd help?" He stood up from his chair and moved around to lean back against his desk so he could speak face-to-face with his boss. "It's just that we're moving into a new place and the only time I can get the in-laws and my folks to help us out is tonight, because Harry…he, well, that. Er, believe me, I tried my best to make the move tomorrow but those bloody Dursleys-"

"Say no more." Tom pressed an index finger over Draco's lips to shut him up. "I'd be happy to help you with your move. In fact, let your parents have the evening off. I have loads of resources, I have a Rolodex full of people who owe me something."

There was a look in Tom's eye that startled Draco. It was on the tip of his tongue to refuse the man's kindness, but that was something he wouldn't risk. He was already pushing the issue by skipping out on another date with the man, how could he turn this help down, too? "What about the Dursleys. Harry could hardly endure the move without them. He has this certain affliction called agor-"

"Agoraphobia." Tom finished for him. The handsome man acted concerned, showing Draco that he had empathy. "I've read about that, about him in the papers. He's had a tough life."

Draco swallowed hard. "Yeah. He's had some trauma-"

"In the past. A serial killer, yes? They called him Lord Voldemort, right?"

Draco shushed him. "We don't say that name around him," he informed Tom.

"Wears a costume, I hear. A white mask and dark robes." Tom resisted the urge to reach down into the front of his trousers to stroke himself. Just talking about his alter ego made him very hard. "Poor boy's been put through the ringer, it sounds. However did he survive the ordeal?"

Tom pressed himself up against Draco, forcing him to lean back against the top of the desk. He needed desperately to expend himself, and he could not think of a better way could he do that than to empty himself all over Harry's stupid little boyfriend, mostly while he fantasised about all the naughty little things he was going to get to do with Harry once he got him alone. Riddle pushed everything adorning the desk onto the floor and straddled the handsome blond, pinning the man down with his hands and knees. He kissed him, pressing their lips together, nudging Draco's apart with his tongue.

Draco succumbed to Tom's advances. He felt himself grow hard through each pressured thrust of Tom's hips against his pelvis. "God," he breathed. His trousers and pants came off easily. The soft warmth of Tom's full lips slid down the length of Draco's cock. "Ah, fuck."

After a minute, Tom propped his face up with his fists. "He sounds like a right handful. I could help you with that."

"Huh?" Draco sat forward a bit but Tom shoved him back down and enveloped his hardness again. Draco relaxed back against the desk top, lost in the bliss.

"He have a therapist?" Tom brought Draco closer to the edge of orgasm, his symphany of words that mingled with his actions were always more than enough stimuli to get him off very, very quickly.

"Dr Dumbledore, yeah. He's a great help."

"Dumbledore, you say..." Tom tore the flesh away from the back of his own thigh just hearing the name, knowing he was in close contact with his Harry.

Draco was oblivious to Tom's brief shift of emotion. "He's pretty-much totally fucked in the head," Draco managed to sputter out between heavy breathing. "Probably the only reason why I'm his boyfriend to begin with. He…ah, fuck, he's so fucking mental, takes loads of pills and sees things that aren't there all the time, and the booze, all the drugs. God, don't stop."

"That's interesting information to have at my disposal." Before Draco absorbed what he said, Tom shimmied out of his own trousers and got to his knees to align himself with Draco. "Shh," he said, intent on claiming him right there in his office. Draco was…the best lay he ever had. The man was a formidable top but bottomed for Tom like a pro on call. Lean and pretty, Draco made a fantastic lover, someone Tom wished he could have on a more permanent basis. But with he and Harry being smitten with one another, Tom was, quite frankly, shit out of luck. "What kind of drugs does Harry do?"

"God, err, mainly pot, some pills, uh downers mostly, and he'll drink anything you give him. He's got these two friends from school…fucking stoner twins that indulge this shit. I can't get him to stop, but, to be honest, it makes being with him a lot easier."

This fascination with the blond and his boy-toy Potter curled Tom's toes each and every time he thought about it. He could not wait until the moment was right and he could bathe in their blood and bark at the moon.

Hermione Granger glared openly at Draco as he and Tom entered the Dursley home. Draco pointed at her and sneered. "Not today, Medusa." He nudged Tom to follow him and ignore the young woman and her angry-looking boyfriend. "She's a bloody commoner like the Dursleys here. She somehow wormed her way into getting Weasley there to date her, although I don't know why she'd waste the energy trying to snag a noble of his calibre; Weasleys got no money." He did not lower his voice as he spoke about them.

"Why are they even allowed in here?" Tom asked him as Draco led the man through the kitchen to the door leading to the basement.

Draco acted equally offended by their presence. "Harry's friends, the stoner twins I told you about. They're here to help him move from point A to point B without the need for a straight-jacket or horse tranquilisers. Our job is to move everything else."

"A pity," Tom murmured as he let his gaze drift from Hermione over to the young man sitting in the kitchen nook with his aunt and Draco's mother, both of whom were patting his hands and shoulders while they quietly spoke with him. Harry. It was Harry, he was sure of it. He was larger then he remembered him to be, most likely fully grown by now. His hair was longer, messier, his posture hunched and inverted. Tom inhaled the air, hoping to catch a hint of remembrance or fear lingering in it. He felt himself pivot, intent on moving in closer - but Draco righted him and shoved him toward the basement steps.

Harry looked over his shoulder, catching the back of Tom's head as he descended the staircase. He shifted in his chair to get a better look by the man was out of sight. "Who was that?" he asked his aunt and Narcissa. Both women shrugged. "He was tall…tall like-was he tall?"

"Stop it, Harry." Petunia dug through her pockets on her apron, brought a bottle of pills out and set it on the table. She jerked her head toward the kitchen sink. Narcissa took the hint and sprung into action. She filled a glass with water and gave it to Harry while Petunia handed him a few pills she shook out into her hand.

Harry took them and a deep breath. "I'm sorry, just nervous about the move. I know, I know…" He patted both Petunia's and Narcissa's hands to reassure them. "It's all in my head. Everything's fine. This move will go smoothly and Draco will keep me safe and sound. I've got this."

Hermione and Ron came up behind him. Hermione gave his shoulders a squeeze. "We've got this. Everything's peaches."

"That's right," Ron added, smiling at the women. "Peaches."

Hermione passed Harry the blunt they were sharing as she exhaled the smoke trapped in her throat. Harry took a long hit. He let the milky smoke purl through his lips like a ghost before sucking it into his lungs. There was a sexiness about smoking with Harry; smoking, drinking, snorting pills, doing lines of whatever shit he concocted in Dumbledore's assistant's chemical stores. Hermione adored getting wasted with her other best friend. That, and thinking about Harry whenever she and Ron had sex.

"Fuck, gimme dat," Ron begged, exchanging the blunt for a bottle of alcohol.

Harry fell back against the sofa cushions and took a swig of cherry wine. "I think Draco might be cheating on me."

"Dump his ass!" Hermione hissed without missing a beat.

"Move in with us, idiot!" Ron said at the same moment as Hermione.

"What is that smell again?!" Petunia shouted from the top of the stairs on the second floor.

Dudley audibly huffed as he stepped into the living room from the kitchen. "Drugs, mum! I tell you this every time you ask! Harry's doing drugs in here again! And he's gay. He lets Draco bugger him in the basement."

Ron shot Dudley in the face with disinfectant spray, causing him to sputter and choke. "Shut the hell up, snitch."

"Mind your business, Dudley, I already told you no one cares if he's gay…except you and Vernon. And Lucius. And maybe Aunt Marge, but I think that's because she just doesn't care for him in general," Petunia reminded him. "And Harry, stop doing the marijuana inside the house. You know Vernon will throw a fit when he gets home."

"Yeah, but I won't be here when he gets home today. He can stuff it up his fat arse."

Hermione gaped at Harry. "Doing the marijuana? What century is she from?"

Harry switched the wine for the weed and took another hit, unable to hear Dudley's whimpering as he crawled back into the kitchen. He shook his head, staving off his two best friends, who would never be doing anything like this if not for him. "I get you two in enough trouble as is. I can only imagine how much the Weasleys and Grangers hate my fucking guts." He pouted while he staring longingly at the blunt trapped between his fingers. "Going to miss this. My dealer won't sell where we're moving to. Too far away, always fuzz around. But I reckon the drugs'll be better in such a wealthy area in London."

"We were talking about Malfoy, not the pot, Harry. What makes you think he's cheating on you?" Hermione reminded him.

Harry's eyes swivelled up and to the side. His tongue swished along his top lip as he recalled all the reasons that gave him suspicion. "Well, for one, his mobile battery is almost always dead on Friday nights, which just so happens to be the only night he doesn't kip over with me here. If I call him past six he won't answer, and "claims" his battery died every. Bloody. Friday."

Ron gave Harry an odd look but Hermione's head began to sway with agreement. "That's a big one. What else?"

"Maybe he just wants a night off," Ron interjected, but Hermione sneered at him to shut him up.

"Go on, Harry," she compelled him.

Harry passed the blunt to Ron and exhaled the cloudy white smoke from his lungs to exchange it with fresh oxygen. "There's that time I dialled the number he has saved on his mobile with no name attached to it and some bloke answered and promptly hung up on me when I asked him why his number was in my boyfriend's contacts. Oh, not to mention how freaked out Draco got when he found out I was going through his contact list in the first place. He's got the mobile password protected now."

"Ooh." Hermione's eyes were as large as saucers.

"You go through his mobile, mate?" Ron asked, looking slightly green around the gills. Hermione took the wine bottle from him. "Not cool. Sometimes a bloke needs his space." His eyes flicked to Hermione for one brief moment. "There's nothing wrong with password protecting your mobile."

"God, Ron, if I even pick his mobile up he flips the fuck out. I mean honestly, what else could that mean?" Harry asked, and exchanged the weed with the bottle in Hermione's lap. "Oh, and one more thing." Harry leaned up against Hermione to whisper in her ear. "We were all hot-n-heavy last night after packing up all our stuff. He's developed new…uh…kinks in bed we've never tried before, and when I got his knickers off before he got the blindfold on-" Harry said, clenching his jaw. He threw a hand up in exasperation, "I saw it - he was completely shaved. Like a bloody child from the neck down."

Hermione gasped, long and hard.

Ron leaned in, having not heard what Harry told her. "What's up?"

"He said he did it for me. That's complete shite. I've never asked him to do anything remotely close to that," Harry added.

Ron blinked. "What'd he do?"

Hermione smacked his arm with the back of her hand. "He cheated on Harry, that's what."

"Having a good time? We're nearly finished moving your stuff into the lorry, love."

Harry and Hermione both jumped. All three looked up from the sofa at Draco, who was leaning up against the door frame from the kitchen. Draco's friend left through the front door carrying a large stack of boxes, which happened to shield his face from Harry's view.

"Thats the last of it," Draco added, gesturing to Tom as he left the home. "You ready to hit the road?"

"Speaking of hitting things-hitting anything new, Malfoy?" Hermione asked, but Harry elbowed her.

He held up the wine bottle after shutting his friend up. "Almost ready. Waiting on the pills Aunt Petunia gave me to kick in then I'm set."

Draco screwed up the side of his face. He was really disappointed in Harry's friends for not only condoning this recent spike in drug-use, but joining Harry in it. "Pills, and I see you're smoking pot, and drinking? Wow. Don't you think you've had enough?"

"I could ask you the same thing, you wanker. Don't you think Harry is enough?" Hermione asked him in return. "Perhaps he's compensating with drugs and wine for what he's not getting from you."

"What's she on about?" Draco asked, feigning ignorance.

"Shut it. Don't fuck this up for me, I need him," Harry whispered before handing the girl the bottle. He stood up and wavered for a moment, but levelled himself out and declared, "I'm good. Let's go."

Draco kept a sneer on Hermione as he huddled Harry into his embrace to lead him out of the house to his auto.

Hermione gave him the two-finger salute and mouthed the words, "Get bent, you tosser," in return.

"Charming, your girlfriend," Draco said to Ron as they both eased Harry out the door. "Got a real imagination on her, too."

"Look, mate," Ron told him. He cupped his hands over Harry's ears, although he was pretty sure Harry could not hear anything other than his rapidly beating heart at this point. He narrowed his eyes at Malfoy as they got to the car. "I was defending you in there. But if you are doing what she's insinuating and you hurt him in any way, I will shove your face up your own arse." He showed him in gesture how he'd do it.

And Draco believed him. He blinked, and simply said, "Okay."

Draco looked up in the rear-view mirror at Harry fidgeting around in the back seat. Hermione was so obviously smitten with him it made the man want to vomit. Her hands were all over him; petting his hair, soothing his worry away with massage while whispering in his ear to keep him pliant. She kept forcing the man's head on her shoulder, and sometimes against her chest in attempt to keep him from looking out the windows of the auto they were travelling together in. Ron was sitting next to Draco in the front. He kept changing the dial on the radio, never once finding a song that he could stomach. Draco just wanted to chuck them both out on principle. They were useless wastes of space that took up too much of Harry's time and energy. Living together would surely rid them of these two.

"Who was that bloke you had with you, Malfoy?" Hermione asked him as she wrestled Harry down onto the back seat and sat on top of him so he couldn't panic too much. "Handsome, older bloke, yeah? You like em older?"

Draco nudged Ron. "Has she always had a crush on Harry, or does it just surface when she's wasted?"

Both Harry and Hermione froze and gasped. "Shut up, Draco," Harry hissed.

"What you on about, mate?" Ron asked the blond.

"I do not have a crush on Harry," Hermione said through gritted teeth. Undeterred, she asked him again. "Who was your friend, Malfoy. Why didn't you introduce him to Harry? Hm?"

"You mean my boss, Granger?" Draco's lip curled up on one side. "It just so happens I mentioned that I needed to help my boyfriend move into our new flat," he said, emphasising the word 'boyfriend' in such a way as to humble her for openly hitting on Harry in his bloody car and let her know that his boss was well aware he and Harry were an item. "He offered to help out and wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. What was I supposed to do?"

"Will he not take 'no' for an answer to other things, too?" Hermione responded, adding, "You know, like shaving your body-hair off maybe?"

Harry began to hyperventilate. Hermione held a bag up to his face and rubbed his back, never once taking her eyes off of Draco through the rear-view mirror. She noted the pink flush that appeared on his normally pallid face and smiled. Checkmate. "Cheater."

The rest of the drive was in silence. Draco couldn't risk letting that know-it-all get the better of him again in Harry's presence. The young man was already a bundle of nerves and would most-likely not sleep that night out of sheer anxiety.

By the time they arrived at the nine-story building things began to tighten, but not in a good way. Getting Harry to the new flat was the easy part, despite the awkward tension between Draco and Hermione throughout the drive. Now, they had to figure out a way to get the young man out of the auto and inside the building. Draco pulled up to the front. Harry looked out the window. "What is this place?" He looked at Draco. "Is this it? We're living here?"

"Up top, in the penthouse, darling. We got the whole top floor to ourselves." Draco could see sweat beading on Harry's forehead and his hands shaking, could hear his breath-take increase. Harry gulped for air but found no comfort. "Relax, love." Draco got out and ran around to the back of the auto to help Hermione calm Harry down before he flew into a full-on panic attack. He was hyperventilating again while screaming at Draco to close the door. Draco wrestled him into his embrace to take control from him. "This is where we're living. I showed you photos of the inside, sweet heart. Don't you remember?" He groped for his mobile. "Look, I'll show you again."

On the other side of the car park, Tom watched the exchange through a pair of binoculars he was holding up to his face. The other hand was on his erection, stroking it up and down, increasing the pace as Harry's anxiety burgeoned. The more the young man got upset the closer Tom came to orgasm. An elderly couple walked up beside the lorry he was masturbating in. The woman fiddled around in her handbag for her keys. Tom felt the stare from both of them burning through his flesh. "The fuck are you looking at?! Piss off, granny!" he shouted, causing both of them to scramble to get into their auto and drive away. He returned his attention back to Harry. "Jesus Christ, can't a bloke rub one out without an audience anymore? Fucking nuisances."

Taking the lift was not an option as Draco quickly learnt.

"What if…You-Know-Who…in the lift." Harry trembled without any control over it. "Too small, no way to escape. Can't breathe inside, Draco."

The stairwell also posed a problem. Draco found himself carrying Harry up the stairs from the second floor after the poor sod passed out from fright, anxiety, and the myriad of other disorders he had. Thankfully, Hermione and Ron helped carry him up. "What a bloody nightmare," Ron remarked, holding Harry up in his arms while Draco fumbled around in his pockets to find the set of keys to the new flat.

"We smoking to celebrate, right? Harry'll need something," Hermione informed the blond as he unlocked and opened the door. She wagged her stash in his face. "You gonna be cool for once in your life, Malfoy?"

"Inside here? No," Draco informed her. He pointed across the spacious living area they stepped into. "That's what the balcony is for."

"Ha," Ron emitted. "You're not getting Harry out there."

Draco hadn't thought of that, that Harry might be afraid of balconies. "Put him on the sofa," he told Ron. He turned toward Hermione. "Should I, like, close all the drapes or leave them open?"

"Depends," she said, still holding her stash in case Draco changed his mind. "You want him to continue to panic, or do you want there to be a chance he'll level out some tonight?" She wagged the bag at him one more time, just in case.

Draco rolled his eyes. "No way, charity-case. I get randomly drug-tested at work. If I lose my job we're fucking-well moving in with you two." He grabbed and tossed the bag across the room, and clucked his tongue at her, still very disappointed at her life-choices since graduation. "Weren't you like the bloody head-girl in our class? What the fuck happened to you, scholarship-girl?"

Hermione elbowed Ron. "He's calling me names again."

Harry rubbed his face as he sat up on the sofa. Draco moved past the two former classmates and joined him. "How you feeling, love? You up for the tour? Wanna see where you and I are gonna…" he whispered in the young man's ear while gesticulating something vulgar with his fingers. "Yeah?"

"Hey," Ron half-heartedly uttered in Draco's direction. "Remember what I said about your face. We're gonna go." He shrugged and walked to the door.

Hermione retrieved her baggie and followed him. "If you need a place to stay after the fight, Harry, gimme a call." She made a little telephone sign with her hand while she tossed as sneer back at Draco.

"What fight?" Draco spouted, gaping at the duo as they left the flat. "Fuck off already."

"Did you choose a place with so many windows on purpose?" Harry asked him while clutching his arm with all of his strength. "It's so open. Anyone can see inside. What if Lord Volde…Can't breathe." He began using his breathing exercises that Dr Dumbledore taught him to calm himself.

"He is dead." Draco could feel his lover trembling. He clicked a remote control resting on the arm of the sofa to calm Harry's nerves. He locked the door after Ron and Hermione left while the drapes closed over the windows mechanically.

The white room darkened down, giving Harry a sense of ease. His eyes now opened to the place he and Draco would be calling 'home'. The living room was fused with the dining room, housing two modern-looking sofas facing the other in camel as well as an abstract dining table that seated eight. A zebra-skin rug sat on the floor beneath a stone coffee table separating the sofas.

Harry stared intently at it for a while. "That's not real, is it?"

A light click-sound caught the blond's attention. "Shh." Draco paused, silencing Harry. Something shuffled outside of the flat in the hallway. He got up and moved to the front door and listened against the thick wood and peeked out through the peephole. He finally shrugged, hearing nothing further. "I could have sworn I heard…I mean, no, the rug's not real."

The rug was real.

"You could have sworn you heard what?" Harry asked him. "Did you hear someone out there?"

Draco grabbed a bottle of white wine from the bar next to the dining table and thrust it into Harry's lap. "Did you say you needed a drink? Let me find a corkscrew."

"I definitely need a drink," Harry murmured, looking between the door and the bottle.

Draco exchanged the bottle in Harry's hand for an empty wineglass. He uncorked the bottle and poured his lover some wine. "I wanna christen our bedroom. I need to work off all this pent up frustration after spending the day with the stoner twins…you know, Hermione Granger, that sodding know-it-all."

"Do I get to come this time?" Harry arched an eyebrow while he sipped his wine.

"Oh darling, of course. In fact, I'm gonna make you come first," Draco promised as he dropped to his knees in front of him. "I'm going to make you feel so good. You won't be sorry, AND!" he shouted, thrusting a finger in the air as if he had just invented electricity, "you don't have to lift a finger. I'll be doing all the work."

"Translation: I'll be completely tied up while you jerk off in my face. Am I right?" Harry took a huge sip of wine, emptying his glass. Draco's tastes in sex had recently changed…for the worse for Harry. Before the blond could respond, Harry shoved the glass in his hand. "Another?"

"Er…maybe something like that-is that a problem? I mean, if you maybe want to try some other way, Harry, I won't…" Draco trailed off as he refilled Harry's glass of wine and coaxed him to drink it. Hell yes he was going to make the man suffer a little. First off, he had to endure Tom's utter dominance every single Friday, and tolerate Harry's quirky mental issues while being forced to hang out with his nerdy friends while they got wasted every fucking day. Fuck yes Harry was getting tied up, gagged, spanked and have every bloody inch of his body splattered with his jizz. "It'll be fun. If you had a better suggestion, though, if you want…" Draco gave him the puppy eyes, that always worked on Harry.

"Nah, that's fine. We'll do whatever you want to do," Harry said, accepting the refill. He drank it post haste. "Just tell me what kind of noises I need me to make in order to get you off. Can you fill this again, please?"

"The helpless damsel noises always work the best." Draco had a very 'give-and-take' relationship with Harry; he gave Harry whatever morally-questionable substance he desired to keep him high in exchange for whatever deviant act he wanted to perform on the pretty boy so he could endure the humiliation he suffered from Tom. "More wine? Or would you prefer stronger. Gin?" Draco had placed a bottle of Tanqueray and a litre of 7 Up by the corner of the sofa for easy access after his latest trip to the bar.

"I fucking hate gin," Harry announced.

"Do you, though?" Draco asked him in sincerity. He climbed on top of him, straddling his hips.

Harry blinked up at him. "Don't I?"

"No," Draco informed him, and poured the man a glass and put it in Harry's hand. "You drink whatever I give you."

"Oh…alright. Is this gin?" Harry took a dainty sip, swished it around in his mouth and then swallowed it.

Draco smiled. "It is."

"It's not half bad. I thought I hated gin…"

"Drink your gin so I can…you know…" Draco began undressing, so eager to start having sex in every single room of the flat. "Drink, darling."

"Okay, sure." Harry guzzled his glass and held it out for another. The idea of blacking out that evening felt very right. "Whatever you want to do to me is fine, so long as I don't remember the humiliating parts in the morning."

Draco shrugged. "You won't."

AN: This version is only ever-so-slightly edited from the Ao3 version. Basically, I removed the words "prostrate" and what Tom was doing to Draco's in order to make this mature rather than explicit. Part two will also be somewhat edited between Tom and Harry's scene. But if you want to rea that it'll be posted up on that site under my penname. If you iked this, feel free to let me know!