Save Me

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter! Not one bit!

Summary: NONMAGIC! After his parent's death, Harry is given over to his only remaining relatives. But his drug-addicted uncle sells him to a child sex-ring for drug money, leaving Harry alone in the world of prostitution, drugs, and abuse. After 19 years of being someone else's property, Harry escapes his dirty past. Can he hide from them for long? HPDM!!

Authors Note: I'm looking for a beta reader! Are you interested? Leave me a review and we can work that out! Now, about my story, if you enjoy it REVIEW IT! If there are some things you think I can work on, leave some NICE suggestions! Enjoy.

The Earth Mystic: In reference to your comment, Harry will meet Draco soon. The prologue was a background on Harry, obviously to let you know that he didn't live in the cupboard of the Dursley's but in fact wound up in a situation quite…stickier. Mind the pun, he will get out, just after a bit of roughing. Thank you for the suggestion too!

Stranger12: Of course Sirius, Remus, and all our other favorite character will be in this fiction. What would Harry Potter be without them? I just need to incorporate them in a seeming matter. Don't worry, we'll see plenty of Draco and Lucius, plenty.

Thank you for all of my reviews! I love my reviewers

Chapter One: I'm a fake

Small, simple, safe price
Rise the wake and carry me with all of my regrets.
This is not a small cut that scabs, and dries, and flakes, and heals.
And I am not afraid to die;
I'm not afraid to bleed and fuck and fight,
I want the pain of payment.
What's left, but a section of pygmy sized cuts
Much like a slew of a thousand unwanted fucks
Would you be my little cut?
Would you be my thousand fucks?
And make mark leaving space for the guilt to be liquid.
To fill and spill over and under my thoughts
my sad, sorry, selfish cry out to the cutter
I'm cutting trying to picture your black, broken heart.
Love is not like anything,
especially a fucking knife!

Home is what you make it. Harry Potter's home was seen as the ideal place to live by the public, but that's not what Harry saw. What he saw was emptiness: pure emptiness. The mansion was the loneliest place to be, especially when his father had his guests over. What Harry had known this home was just a mere illusion. When people saw his house, they believed he was one of those rich boys, but they couldn't have been farther off. He didn't have a private jet that flew him all over the world. His father didn't own their 16 bedroom mansion. The lavished home with its own tennis court, pool vicinity, equipped with Jacuzzi system, smaller home for the pool boy, and golf course, were not property of Marcus. The living room in which Harry had spent many Christmases, starring up at the tree—that raised two stories of the house—in awe, was not actually his own. This home did not belong to him. It never would. And he did not belong to it.

Tom Riddle owned and controlled who lived in that house. Harry was forced to live with 12 other teenagers, all other little whores much like himself. His father had no real money to his name; he was just a man mixed-up in a seriously bad situation. His father was a great man, an honorable man. His father hated the business he was stuck in. It's that no good Riddle's fault. If I ever see him, I swear I'll kill him. Whatever it takes, I'll fucking kill him for ruining my life. His father promised to protect him from Riddle, but he couldn't handle Riddle's power. Riddle held something over Marcus' head that Harry did not understand. Whenever his father would come home from meetings with Riddle, for a moment he looked so happy that Harry actually thought something had gone right, but as soon as he saw Harry his mask fell. Riddle had really ruined everything.

Only Marcus was allowed to enjoy anything in their nice house, because he was an adult. All the prostitutes living in the home, aside from Harry when he listened to Riddle's rules (which wasn't that often), were locked up during the day in the third floor study. The study once had been filled with bookcases, but when Riddle had been told that his whores had begun reading and wanting to get an education, he burned all the books and emptied the room entirely except for two couches. They'd be fed twice a day a meal of wet chicken and rice. When night fell, they were forced to get dressed up and set out for their appointments. The girls and boys were only allowed out if they had to meet a married man during his work hours or on weekends. No one was allowed to have an actual life.

Since Harry's father was important to riddle, he didn't have to spend every day up in the chamber as his fellow co-workers and he had come to call it. On days he was allowed to roam the house, he'd come accustom to sleeping in for a little and tending to the garden. Though, when his father was forced to tell Riddle that Harry was constantly visiting the garden, he was forbidden from leaving the house unless he had an appointment to tend to. His father was to keep a strict record of when his appointments were and how long they were supposed to be. He was only a mere few centimeters above the others he lived with on the status scale. His social life was at a bare minimum. There was no way for Harry to get out of the life he'd been born into, even if he knew how.

Harry was sick of it. He just wanted to have a normal life, like all the girls he'd met in the ring told him they once had. They spoke of times when they'd sit around the diner table with their families, basking in the reserved happiness they all had together. He envied them for that; for ever having a life aside from being prostitutes. He hated growing up in the business. He didn't know how much more he could handle. Just like he'd been told, when he turned fourteen his father explained to him that the men required him to have sex with them. At first Harry was very afraid of his first time and when it happened, he swore he was going to die. The pain was unbearable; he felt his body tear in two. For days he could not sit on his behind, it surged with pain if he even tried to. By now he was used to the pain, but mentally he knew he'd never get over it. After every appointment, he took an hour long shower, convincing himself that cleansed him of his dirtiness. That if he cleaned his body literally, maybe his soul would be cleansed. Maybe I can wash away this feeling of nothingness, maybe I rid this sense of worthlessness. He still, five years later, could remember the day he lost his virginity in its vivid clearness.

"Shh Harry, can't you see I'm on the phone?"

Marcus smacked his son clear across the face, ignoring the horrified look the boy wore upon his face. He went back to the conversation he'd been a part of. Tom Riddle had called him several times that morning, leaving voice messages every time Marcus had refused to answer. Finally, after Riddle had left him a very vulgar message, Marcus picked up his phone. Riddle had begun screaming immediately, seizing the opportunity to convince Harry even further that Riddle was no good, he called in his son. The eager fourteen year old bounced into the room, having just finished cleaning the dishes. He had a dirty rag slung over his shoulder and his emerald eyes beamed as he smiled at his father. Marcus made sure to press the volume button on his phone, letting Harry know what was going on but keeping him from hearing what was said. Riddle had found out Marcus' plans for Harry that night and he was far from happy over them. He'd been informed that Harry was going to have to have sex with one of his clients and Riddle was doing everything in his power to make sure it didn't happen. Just as Marcus was going to retort to one of Riddle's ignorant comments, Harry began babbling at him. Aggravated, he yelled at him and slapped his son.

"Dad!"

Riddle began screeching into the phone once he heard Harry's cries. Annoyed with his son's outburst, he slammed his phone shut and turned his attention back to his son. Harry had tears brimming in his eyes and for a brief second, Marcus felt a pang of guilt within in his heart. Shaking the feeling, he smacked his son once more. "Don't ever interrupt me like that again. Do you hear me? Learn your place boy!"

Harry slightly gaped at his father, but nodded his head. He knew better than to ignore when he was spoken to. "Good, now go get ready. You have a very important appointment tonight."

"With who," Harry mumbled his question as he proceeded for the door.

"Harrison," Marcus said whilst turning his cell-phone off, not caring to speak to or even bother noticing Riddle's calls.

"But," Harry paused, thinking for a moment. "Didn't he say he didn't want me anymore…not till I would…you know…"

"Exactly."

"Dad!" Once more, skin against skin could be heard, as Marcus slapped his son for the third time. He grabbed Harry roughly by the shirt and pressed him into the wall forcefully, lifting Harry up off his feet.

"Damn boy, I thought I said learn your place, didn't I?' He banged Harry once against the wall, waiting for the raven haired teen to nod his head in agreement. "So fucking learn it. You have no say in this! I don't even have a fucking say in it. What makes you think you're so bloody important that your say would matter? Huh? Exactly! Now shut up and get ready like I fucking told you!" With that, he dropped his son to the floor and in one swift movement, swept out of the room and was out of Harry's sight.

Harry focused in and out on the wall before him, replaying what just happened in his head. His father had clearly smacked him three times in a row, fully enraged with him. His father never usually was that angry with him over nothing. What could he have done? Maybe my selfish wish to remain a virgin is keeping our family from making money; maybe dad is blaming our debt solely on me, Harry thought as tears brimmed his eyes. He was the reason they were so fucked up. If he hadn't of been born, maybe his father wouldn't have had such a hard time with money, maybe he would never have come in debt with Riddle. If my mother never got pregnant, she would never have died of complications in my birth. My father wouldn't always be so angry. If I just had never been born, then I wouldn't be dealing with this problem. I would be what I feel, nothing. No one would know of me. No one would rely on me. I wouldn't be anything.

Harry rocked back and forth, hugging his knees tightly. Sobbing silently to himself, he began to drift into sleep. His body numb to the world, he finally felt at peace. He was in a gray space of area, time dead around him. He was at peace with himself. He almost felt real until he was shaken violently, bringing him back to reality. Candy, a thirteen year old with tight blond curls, was trying to get his attention. Her voluptuous boobs bounced in his face as she shook with him, grabbing his attention. He almost vomited when he saw what she was wearing. He skirt was barely there, the material hardly covering half of her ass cheeks. Her tueb top clung so tight to her body that her already big boobs popped out of the top and threatened to expose themselves. Her face was made up, much like a clown, and her feet were strapped into stiletto heels.

"Harry, you have an appointment in less than an hour…I laid out the clothes that Marcus told me to...their on your bed," she sounded sincere and Harry smiled meekly at her for her attempt. He pushed himself up onto his knees, taking in a deep breathe and got onto his feet.

There was no more point in fighting the inevitable. He made his way to the room he shared with Tiffany, hoping she wasn't there. He wanted to be alone in his misery. He couldn't handle seeing anyone else; their looks of disappointment brought him to tears. He hated what he'd become, he hated himself. There was no way to get past it, this was his life. He was a prostitute and that's all he'd ever be. No one would look at him twice if they knew what he was, they'd never care about the person he was on the inside; he hardly cared about the person on the inside. He used to care. He used to have motivation, but no longer. All his motivation was sucked from his soul. He was lifeless.

Bracing himself, he pushed open the door to his room. He smiled meekly as he let out a long breathe; emptiness. He thanked whatever God existed for letting Tiffany be out at that time. Harry trudged over to his bed and that's when he saw it. He knew by the look on Candy's face that what he was set up for tonight was bad…but he had no clue how bad. He could feel the vomit creeping up his throat and he knew he wouldn't be able to hold it back, so before he messed up his room anymore, he threw open the bathroom door and let it all out in the toilet. The pain in his stomach did not settle as he lifted himself up from the floor. He unthanked that God.

"Harry…you're pathetic," his own raspy voice startled him, as he stared himself down in the bathroom mirror. "Good for nothing…piece of shit…good for nothing. No one wants you…no one loves you."

As the words settled into his skin, he felt his face flush with anger. "That's all you'll ever be…good for nothing…wont ever amount to nothing. You gonna live your life like this...the rest of your life," his anger rising, he searched the drawers for his stash of vodka. He couldn't listen to himself; he was supposed to be the one person there for him. "No one is here for you…no one loves you Harry, no one."

Got it! Pulling out the half empty bottle, he sized up the remaining amount and downed it in one long swig, wiping his mouth off after. He leaned back against the wall, sinking to the floor below him. He waited…and waited for the feeling the slip away, but it never did. He felt worse now that he'd had something to drink. Still holding the glass bottle in his hand, Harry held it close to his face, examining the glass. "Do it Harry…no one will care…no one needs you here," taking his own advice, he smashed the bottle to the tile floors. Picking through the pieces for the largest one, he finally decided upon one and brought it close to his skin. "Do it Harry…you know you want to."

Giving into his subconscious, Harry dug the glass deep into his own skin, wincing as the blood began to ooze from the wound. Intrigued by his self-inflicted wound, he began to make another, his vision slowly blurring. The blood now flowed freely onto the white tile as he smiled to himself, drawing pictures in his own blood, he slowly lowered his body to the cold floor, pressing his face to the damp tile. He no longer could speak as his mind faded slowly into darkness and his eyes began to close hazily. Come on darkness, take me as yours

"Harry!"

Tiffany cried loudly as she discovered Harry unconscious in a pool of his own blood on their bathroom floor. Not knowing what to do, she did the first thing that came to mind: scream as loud as possible. Rushing to his body, she pulled off her own tee-shirt and wrapped it around his arms, pressing his raven hair back and kissing his forehead. "It's going to be okay Harry, I promise." Scarred, she began to scream once more, louder than the last time.

"Tiff what's— oh my god!" Melanie rushed into the bathroom, stumbling back as soon as she saw Tiffany cradling Harry's bloody, unconscious body. "What the fuck happened?"

"I don't know! Go get Marcus," when Melanie didn't move, Tiffany felt the rage within her spark up, "NOW MELANIE! NOW!"

Moments later, Marcus and a few of his other girls rushed into the bathroom, everyone rushing about in frenzy. Tiffany continued to cradle Harry in her arms, whispering softly to him. Marcus paused for a long moment, taking in the whole scene. Girls were rushing back and forth with wet towels, trying to clean Harry up. Others were fetching him new clothes, as those remaining tried to bandage him up. Tiffany, amongst the chaos, looked as if she was in another place. Taking in a deep breathe, Marcus stepped forward, "Everyone," but no on paid him any attention, clearing his throat he raised his voice, "EVERYONE!"

All the girls stopped what they were doing and starred at him. Smiling lightly, he looked all around him, "glad to have your attention now. Listen, I thank you for all of your help, but I am sure I can take care of Harry on my own. Now, go back to what you were doing," when no one moved, he bit his tongue and glared at them. "I don't enjoy when you do not listen to what you're told to do. Now, I will not repeat myself after this; go back to what you were doing."

At once, all the girls rushed out of the bathroom, right past Marcus, all except Tiffany. She remained on the floor holding onto Harry. She was not paying Marcus any attention; she was rocking Harry back and forth as she brushed his hair idly. Annoyed that Tiffany was obviously ignoring him, he stepped forward and grabbed her shoulder, stopping her. "Tiffany, get out of here."

"Marcus," her voice was raspy and he once again felt that familiar pang of guilt from earlier.

Fed up with these emotions running through him, he slapped her hard across the face. "I am tired of everyone stepping out of line. IF YOU DON'T LEARN YOUR FUCKING PLACE, YOU'LL NO LONGER HAVE ONE!"

"I'm so sorry," she began to freely cry as she dropped Harry's body to the ground and scrambled to her feet. "I promise it…it won't happen again. I promise, I'm so sorry. What…what can I do to make it up to you?"

"No, there will not be any 'making it up to me' tonight, just leave!" he pushed her out of his way as he dropped down to his son's body. Picking up the teen, he made sure Tiffany had left before locking the door. He propped Harry against the wall in a sitting position and he filled up the tub with warm water. There was only one way he knew he was going to wake up his son. Ashamed with himself, he lowered his teenage boy's body into the water and pressed his head to the bottom of the full bath. After a few seconds, he felt Harry struggling against him, and in a heart-beat he let go. Harry sat up in the tub, gasping for air as he looked around the room. When he locked eyes with Marcus, his face dropped. "Dad...did you…just try to…"

"Don't be silly Harry," Marcus laughed, trying to convince himself, "I was saving you. You had...hurt yourself and were unconscious on the floor…this was the only logical way of getting you to wake up fast. Plus it cleans you up right, now doesn't it?"

Harry didn't answer, he only starred down in the musty red bath water. He was still in his boxers and tee-shirt, but it didn't really bother him. His father seemed to actually care about him, seriously and honestly care if he was okay. "So…you found me…like this?"

"No Tiffany did," he was now busying himself with cleaning up the blood off the floor. He looked at Harry once before looking back down at the floor. "Melanie heard her screaming, so did some others, and then Mel came and got me. At first…I thought you were dead."

"I wish I was…" Harry bit his tongue when he realized he said that out loud. Marcus stopped his cleaning and knelt beside the bath tub.

"Harry…tell me, why did you do this…"

"Dad, I don't want…I don't want to have sex with those men," Harry avoided his fathers gaze at all costs. "It's…wrong."

"I know Harry, but they're paying costumers…we need the money…Tom…Tom is getting angry with us! We need all the money we can get now…I'm so sorry. Look, I can make you feel better about this, about…losing it to someone you don't love…you can lose it to someone you love…"

"Dad…are you…saying…you?"

"Yes Harry," Marcus voice was sharp and Harry was afraid to say no. He nodded his head lightly and his father lifted him out of the bath tub. Pulling off Harry's wet shirt, Marcus smiled as Harry cringed at the touch, "now go put the heat on in my room and I'll be right there."

Harry quickly did as he was told and then proceeded to sit on his father's bed, starring into the distance of the room. After a few minutes of solitude, Marcus strolled into the room, locking the door quietly behind him. Harry, having gone through the steps leading up to sex, but not actually going through with it, knew what to do. He pulled his boxers off and lied back onto the bed, waiting for his father to come to his side. Marcus smiled at his son's knowledge as he pulled his own clothes off, leaving them in a pile at his feet. Casually, he slipped into bed beside his son and stroked the teenage body's bare flesh, sending chills up and down Harry's spine. Stroking the skin, Marcus began to place gentle kisses on the crook of Harry's neck. Harry cringed as he felt his father's member stiffen into his back. Marcus pulled him closer as his hands roamed all over Harry's body, landing on Harry's own cock. Marcus stroked it gently for a few paces before jerking it hard in his hands. As the heat of the moment intensified, Marcus pushed Harry onto his stomach and slipped a finger into Harry's tight behind, causing Harry to yelp in pain.

"Shh, it doesn't hurt for long," Marcus whispered huskily into Harry's ear. Liar. Harry bit back another yelp as his father jumped from one slow moving finger to three fast paced fingers. His father no longer used caution as the passion intensified. Just as Harry thought the pain that was seizing through him couldn't get any worse, his father plummeted into him, pumping harder and harder each time. Harry couldn't hold back to tears of pain any longer, he freely cried and screamed as the pain ate away at him, but Marcus ignored him. Harry didn't know how much more he could take when his father finally bust inside of him, slowly pulling out and lying back into the bed. Harry curled up into a little ball, rocking back and forth as the pain intensified, crying his eyes out. Marcus draped an arm lazily over his body, "don't cry angel…you weren't too bad."

---

Harry followed closely behind his father, smiling eagerly as he shut his eyes, awaiting his birthday surprise. It was his nineteenth birthday and his father had woken him early to give him a surprise. He could hardly hold back his enthusiasm as his father burst open a door and smiled back at his son, "Tada!" He stepped out of the way to show Harry a room that was the size of their laundry room. It was a lot bigger than the room he shared with Tiffany, the one whore who had been in the business almost as long as he. It wasn't furnished as nice as the rest of the house, but it was a great step up compared to his last room. His smile widening, he rushed into the room and hoped onto the white sheets of the bed. Laying his head against the red pillows, he prayed this was his surprise. A room all his own, a nice room he could actually sleep in.

"Happy Birthday son!" Marcus' opened his arms and waited for Harry to embrace him tightly. "I convinced Tom to let me give you this room for your birthday; I told him this day meant so much to you. I said I needed to surprise you with just the right gift. Did I do it?"

"Yes! Thank you dad," he said into his father's chest. He waited for his father to drop his arms before he ran back to his bed and jumped onto it, clutching the pillow to his face. "This means so much to me…thank-you!"

"You're welcome, it's the least I could do," Marcus' voice wasn't as radiant as it once was before; instead it sounded as if he almost felt guilty. Harry turned his head and shot his father a questioning glare. Marcus' smiled faintly. "You see…I need…I mean Tom needs you to service a party of his tonight."

"What? Dad it's my birthday!" Harry knew he wasn't going to get to enjoy his birthday that long; he was surprised he'd made it this long. His father gave him a look that instantly made him feel guilty. He knew his father wouldn't ask this of him if he really didn't need it. "Fine…when and how long?"

"Seven, for about five hours, and it's going to be at Tom's place," Harry sneered at the last remark. "Hey at least you get to enjoy your birthday till five, then you and three others will get ready and then leave for his house. Okay?"

"Alright."

"Then it is settled," Marcus' smiled slyly and turned to leave, but before he exited the room, he tossed a remark at Harry over his shoulder, "just because it's your birthday, that doesn't mean you can roam the house. Just be happy you got this room Harry. You're damn lucky."

That he was.

---

In all the years Harry's father had been controlled by Tom Riddle, Harry had never once been to the psychopath's house. From the girls' gossip, he'd heard that their house looked like a ruddy shoe shack compared to the Riddle mansion. Usually he could care less about others wealth, but as he prepared himself for the night, he felt a gut wrenching pain. He was embarrassed to be going to someone of more wealth's house to sell himself. The girls had all been talking earlier that day when he'd snuck in to visit them. They were gossiping about how fun the party that night would be. It would be the first time they'd all seen Riddle since they'd entered the business. Usually the girls hated to have to service parties, but they were actually excited to be attending the Riddle party. According to them, it was an honor to even get near the entrance to the Riddle home. Whatever honor it was, Harry did not want anything to do with it. He'd rather stick forks into his eyes: slowly.

"Har," Tiffany's voice floated into the bathroom, catching the raven haired boy's attention. "You decent babe?"

"Like it really matters anymore?" Harry didn't enjoy what he did, but joking about it with the others in the same situation seemed to lighten the whole darkness about what they were involved in. "yeah…I'm fine, come in."

Tiffany pushed open the bathroom door and smiled at him, "Jeez you sure lucked out. That room…it's great! And this bathroom…wow it actually is, you know, nice."

"I know, my dad is great, he worked out a deal with riddle for it," Tiffany' smiled faded at the mentioning of Marcus. Harry mentally smacked himself for mentioning his father; he knew that Tiffany disliked him. He really never knew why, but according to Tiffany it was very serious. "Sorry Tif…"

"It's okay, don't worry about it," looking him over, she beamed, "well gee don't you look hot!"

"I don't want to show up to that scum's house looking like ass…I want to you know, maybe lighten this situation a little, maybe get Riddle to like me…so he lets me and my dad off the hook for a while. Some others too, if you know who I mean!"

"Oh Harry!" Tiffany threw her arms around his neck and pulled him to her. "I love you, you know that you're my best friend! Oh, I cant wait for tonight!"

"You're seriously pathetic," Melanie's voice drawled as she stepped into the bathroom. "Why is everyone so excited to go to Riddles' place? Honestly, I mean it's fucking Tom Riddle for Gods sake. The reason we live here, you remember him?"

Tiffany shot Melanie a death glare, "I don't remember anyone asking you a damn thing. So how about shutting your god damn mouth for one fucking second or at least go wrap it around someone else's d—

"Tiffany!" Harry spun the blonde around to face him, "do not turn against our own! Melanie, please not tonight, at least not here. Okay?"

The two did not answer him. Melanie spun on her heel and left the bathroom as Tiffany busied herself in front of the mirror, fixing her make-up. Harry sighed heavily as he began to check himself out in the mirror. His father told him that he was to dress up like a woman for the night, again, so he picked one of his less whorish outfits. Dark wash, skinny Seven denim jeans with red stiletto heels showed off his feminine lower body as a white half shirt, low-cut v-neck clung tightly to his upper body. He had on a black wig and gold hoops in his ears with a golden pendent around his neck. "Do my make-up!"

"Fine, bossy bitch," Tiffany joked, nudging Harry lightly as they both broke into a fight of laughter. The joked around for a while until Melanie came back into the room to let them know the others were leaving for the party. All the fun and laughter from the moment before left as Harry felt a pang of self hate creep into his gut. Smiling reassuringly towards Tiffany, he pulled himself out of the vanity chair and made his way towards the house exit. All the others were waiting anxiously at the door, their clothes barely evident. Harry sighed when he remembered just exactly where they were going. Here it goes.

AUTHORS NOTE: Sorry this took me so long to get out, I've been so caught up with school and play practice, and I've barely had anytime to write! Well don't worry about that, Christmas break starts tomorrow, so I have a good amount of free time, minus the time I am working…which is a lot. But as long as I get a good amount of reviews, the next chapter will be out this week! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, it may be a teeny bit confusing, the long italics are a flashback. Just in case you didn't get that! Draco will appear soon, the next chapter is a big one that explains aloottttt! That's when the story really picks up, okay? OKAY!