The Dangers of the Lawless West

Chapter One
Drinks, Brands, and Poker Games

Everything hurt.

His head was throbbing, his left wrist felt like it was burning, and every muscle ached. If he tried to open his eyes, he was sure the light would only cause more pain. So instead he listened, ignoring his throbbing headache, to try and determine where he was.

The soft clop sounds of horse hooves sounded behind him, accompanied by the occasional snort or slapping sound from their tails. A light wind breathed past, bringing with it the smell of dust, dry air, and…cooking meat? Yes, now he heard the sizzle of it…but who was cooking?

Harry finally opened his eyes a crack, squinting to avoid as much pain as possible. In front of him was a coal fire, where a pan of sausages was cooking. And the man cooking them…

Harry blinked, then frowned.

He didn't know this guy.

He was an exceptionally beautiful man, though, with almost feminine features and white-blonde hair that was slicked back from his face. His skin seemed too pale and smooth to belong in the dusty dessert environment that surrounded him. His clothes were expensive-looking and clean, and a white hat, presumably his, sat beside him on the boulder. An odd leather tube, about eleven inches long and an inch wide, hung from his hip.

Harry watched as the man took out two plates and put two biscuits and half of the sausages on each plate. He hadn't known how graceful such a simple action could be.

"Hey. Potter, wasn't it?"

Harry's gaze jerked to the man's face, surprised at being addressed—and by his surname, no less. "It's Harry."

"Ah, right. America, I forgot. Well then, Harry. Get up and eat. We won't be stopping once we leave until noon."

Harry sat up slowly, taking the plate and glass of water the man offered and eating quickly, the ache in his muscles and head slowly fading, his ability to think properly returning.

"Who are you?"

Draco looked up from his sausages. "My name is Draco Malfoy."

Harry nodded. The name fit. "And why am I here with you?"

"You lost a card game and couldn't pay what you bet."

Harry frowned. "But I don't play cards."

Draco smirked at him. "That explains why you lost so spectacularly."

Harry nibbled at the corner of his biscuit, bemused. "But why would I even play?"

"Well, Blaise, an acquaintance of mine, kept buying you drinks in an effort to seduce you, and you, being the kind of person that doesn't know how to say no, kept drinking them. I started a poker game, asking everyone at the table except for you to play, because you were in a drunken stupor at this point. However, by not including you, I apparently challenged you, as you demanded to be let into the game."

Harry paled. "How much did I bet?"

"Quarter of a million."

Harry went even paler.

"When you lost, since there was no way for you to pay me back, you offered…yourself."

"I what?!" Harry blushed a deep crimson. He was never going to drink again!

"And I accepted."

"You what?!"

"Relax, I just wanted someone to help me find my genie's bottle."

"Your what?"

"Never mind. The point is, you now belong to me, until you pay me a quarter of a million dollars or one of us dies."

"I belong to you?"

"That's right. Take a look at your left wrist."

Harry pulled his sleeve back slightly to look at the inside of his wrist, where it had been burning. His eyes widened in horror; he had been branded. The small block letters that had been burned into his skin read 'Property of Draco Malfoy.'

Harry felt his eyes roll back into his head as the world went black.