Save Me
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter! Not one bit! Also, the song in the title is NOT written by me.
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: Okay, about my story, if you enjoy it: REVIEW IT! If there are some things you think I can work on, leave some NICE suggestions! If you have something you'd really like to see, leave me a review and I promise, if I can work it in, I will! Enjoy.
ANOTHER Authors Note: Thank you so much to my beta reader, Chloekitty22! Without her, this chapter would have been a total mess! So once again, thank you so much!
Chapter Two: I'm sorry for blaming you
Seems like it was
yesterday when I saw your face I would hold
you in my arms
You told me how proud you were, but
I walked away
If only I knew what I know today
I would take the pain away
Thank you for all
you've done
Forgive all your mistakes
There's nothing I
wouldn't do
To hear your voice again
Sometimes I wanna call
you
But I know you won't be there
I need to get out of here Harry thought quietly to himself. He'd arrived at Riddle's house fifteen minutes earlier and already he felt his stomach doing cartwheels all over the place. Riddle's place was nothing like what everyone had told him. It wasn't a gigantic mansion fit for a royal family; it wasn't even a mansion at all. He lived in a penthouse amid the city, a very luxurious penthouse, but it still was a penthouse. According to the others working that night, this was Tom's city home, but his regular house was off in the country side. The talk going around was that the only reason Tom even owned a penthouse was so he'd have somewhere to stay when he held transactions in the city, and that the penthouse was merely like a hotel to him.
The fact of the matter was that Tom wasn't even at the party, so there was no point in anyone even being there. Spoiled, god-damn rich bastard who can't even show his face at his own party, arsehole.The only reason all of the hookers even wanted to go was to actually see Tom in person. All had heard his phone calls to Marcus before, heard plenty of talk about him, and even heard about his family before, but no one had actually gotten to see him for real. Harry, one of those people, was excited when he and a few others got out of the taxi at Riddle's address, just because he was anxious to meet Riddle. Much to his disappointment, when they walked in the door, they were bombarded by drunken men. After being groped a few times, Harry did a quick scan of the house, looking for any faces he couldn't recognize or for someone who just looked rich. When he found no one he didn't know, he decided to do a physical search. By the time he finished his search, he realized there was no one in charge of the hookers actually supervising the party. Everyone there were well known clients and it was assumed that if anyone left, it would be reported.
"Hey….hey you….yeah you," Harry turned to see a man leant against the wall, a bottle of beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He was a lanky brunette with chocolate brown eyes and perfect skin who looked to be in his late twenties. Harry slapped himself mentally for actually checking out the man; do not check out the clients…even if they are totally gorgeous. The brunette smirked as a blush crept over Harry's cheeks. He burnt the cigarette out in the palm of his hand, flicking it to the ground with a snort. He looked back up at Harry and gave a flirtatious smile before leaning forward and extending his free hand, "The name is Michael, Michael Brock."
"Hello Mr. Brock," Harry shook the hand gently, letting his own hands fall awkwardly to his sides. He looked around; no one else was in the hall way besides the two of them, so the smoke from the others wasn't clouding his vision, which he was thankful for.
"Please, don't call me Mr. Brock, Michael is fine. If you prefer, you can call me Mike! Mister makes me sound so…old," Michael laughed aloud at his own joke, which made Harry laugh as well. Michael flashed a grin at Harry once more before extending the beer to Harry, "Have some."
Without missing a beat, Harry took the bottle and took a long, much needed swig of it. Wiping the little dribble that had spilled out onto his chin away, Harry handed the bottle back to Michael. When he didn't take it, Harry gave him a concerned look and cleared his throat, "here you go."
"You can have the rest if you want…you look like you need a drink," Harry knew where this was going, this guy wanted sex. Taking in a long breathe, he finished the beer in one fast swig before dropping it to the ground, letting it smash to pieces.
"Opps."
"We better get away from here, don't want you to get in trouble for littering," Michael grabbed Harry lightly by the wrist and pulled him along the hallway to the end, where double doors stared them in the face. Not caring if anyone was in there, Michael bust the doors open and pulled Harry in. As Michael searched the room for anyone else, Harry prayed that Michael would be as gentle as he had been so far, for the previous nights party had left him very sore. When Michael came back with a big grin on his face, Harry could tell he was going to need another beer. Like five more and a sedative.
As the party progressed on, rapidly, Harry felt everything moving before him in slow motion. After he and Michael had become intimate, everyone moved much slower. All their actions seemed to be thought of clearly before put into motion. Everything had a purpose. Harry felt as if he were stuck in the gray area of thought before action. Everyone was around him, laughing loudly and enjoying themselves. Michael clung tightly to Harry, holding him safely on his lap as he laughed along with his friends. There was a joke going around that Harry has missed out on but that didn't stop him from laughing. There were others just like him around, all laughing as well, so he knew it must have been funny. Either that or they were stuck in the space as him. Whatever is was; Harry stopped caring. He leaned back into Michael and let him be the dominate one. He shut his eyes, slowed his breathing down, and began to drift into sleep.
"Hey, make them…you know perform? We paid Marcus for this night, the least we get is a performance," Harry heard the words, but they did not correspond with his brain. He assumed that whoever was talking was talking about two of the girls sitting around in the circle, or two of the other boys. Whoever it was, he felt sorry for them. Performances were crucial, it was key that you did your absolute best, to make sure that you got that client back. If you didn't, you'd be in a lot of trouble.
"Harry," Michael was whispering delicately into his ear, "baby wake up. The guys want you to show off your amazing moves."
What? My amazing moves? Harry felt the world halt around him. His eyes shot open and he looked around the circle, everyone was nodding enthusiastically at him. James was sitting in the middle of the circle, a half-smile on his face as he waited for Harry to join him. Harry had performed with David plenty of times before, but the embarrassment of performing in front of everyone never seemed to fade, if anything, the pain and humiliation only seemed to amount every time he was forced to do anything. "I guess…we can do the second routine…or make one up?"
James did not verbally respond, he just nodded his head and Harry assumed that he wanted to make one up as well. They both hated doing the same thing over and over again, so creating a whole new routine was something that may make them forget they were doing it in front of a crowd. David was the one to start, by grabbing Harry furiously to him, kissing him with what looked to be a deep passionate love for Harry but Harry wasn't dumb, he knew that David was only acting, just like he was. James's hands were roaming all over Harry's body, as Harry was groping David's ass. The crowd began to howl as James ripped off Harry's shirt and pushed him onto his back. The brunette crawled onto Harry, straddling him. He began to place delicate kisses up and down Harry's torso as he unbuttoned his own blouse and as soon he undid the last button, he threw the shirt into the crowd, causing them to go wild as he undid Harry's belt. Just as he pulled down Harry's girl's pants, the door to the penthouse opened, but the two now standing in the doorway went unnoticed. David fiddle around with Harry's panties, teasing the raven haired boy a little before ripping off the garment all together and throwing them into the crowd as well. With one rapid motion, he took the length of Harry in his mouth and began to pleasure the raven haired boy. The group of drunken men began to howl and hoot as Harry cried out in ecstasy.
"What the fuck is going on here?" Everyone spun around to see Tom Riddle standing with his briefcase in one hand and two duffel bags in another. His face wore a look of utter horror and for a moment, Harry swore he saw the older man look at him with a look of complete distress. "Everyone, OUT! NOW!"
"Tom," Michael started, clapping the man on the back. "Everyone is having a great time; Marcus told us you wouldn't be back till tomorrow. He said that we all deserved a nice party for being such great clients. He told us to enjoy ourselves. And well," he motioned towards Harry and David, "We were just starting to have a great time."
"I told you to get out of my house, don't make me fucking call the cops. They are all minors here, you fucking perverts," Tom threw his bags to floor in a furry. He rushed over to Harry's side and pulled him straight up, "Go, go get changed now! All of Marcus' kids, you stay, everyone else, GET THE FUCK OUT NOW! BEFORE I CALL THE COPS! WANT TO GO TO JAIL FOR FUCKING CHILD MOLESTATION?"
All the men staggered to the door, chaos erupting as they tried to flee. Some of the hookers tried to go with them, but Tom pulled them back and ordered them all to sit on the couch. As soon as the last man exited the door, Tom slammed it shut and locked it behind himself. Everyone was sitting on the couches and on the floor, avoiding Tom's furious glare. When it appeared no one was going to say anything, Tom began to yell, "Who sent you? Did Marcus?"
Everyone sat in silence, ignoring Tom's screams. "I FUCKING ASKED YOU A QUESTION! SOME ONE ANSWER ME NOW!"
Harry stood up, sick of the bullshit. He'd just met Tom a mere minute ago and already the bastard was acting worse than his father ever had. No wonder his dad was always so angry after talking to Tom, he was an asshole. "Fuck you!"
"What did you say to me?" Tom got right in the raven haired boys face, starring him down. He was not about to take lip from a little teenage slut. Harry didn't answer him; he just bit his lip and looked around him, hoping for some support. "I said, WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME? YOU GOT THE NERVE TO TALK TO ME LIKE THAT? GROW SOME FUCKING BALLS AND SAY IT, RIGHT IN MY FACE!"
Harry snapped. He punched the older man straight in the jaw. "FUCK YOU! YOU HEAR ME? I SAID FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU FOR FUCKING UP MY LIFE," he felt all his anger boiling in his blood. Tom stumbled back and Harry took the opportunity to kick him while he was down. With all his might he kicked harder and harder each time. "I HOPE YOU FUCKING DIE YOU PSYCHO BASTARD!"
Harry looked around the house for something sharp; he was ready to kill Riddle. Just as he was making his way to the kitchen, David stopped him. "Harry calm down, it's not worth it. You can't do this…do you know what'll happen to us? What he'll tell your dad?"
"Your dad," Riddle snorted loudly. "That's it? Marcus is your dad now? Huh, he's your pimp daddy, right?" Riddle pulled himself up to his feet, spitting blood onto the white carpet. He wiped off the excess blood on his chin as he sauntered over to Harry. "That's what he told you, did he now?"
"What the hell are you talking about?" Harry felt his fists balling up at his sides, and he knew if David wasn't standing next to him, he'd be wailing on Riddle once again.
"You actually believed that slime when he said you were his son?" Harry was utterly confused. Riddle had to be playing some sort of trick on him. "You never noticed how he's uglier than a sack of nuts and you're a gorgeous young boy?
"He is my father, you idiot. Just because I don't look like him doesn't mean he isn't my father!"
"Oh yeah? Your father is dead!"
"Tom!" For the first time, everyone else noticed that Tom had not come alone. At the door to the penthouse was a woman who appeared to be the same age as Tom. Unlike everyone else there besides Tom, she was not a whore. She wore a beautiful red gown with matching red shoes and held a little golden clutch tightly in her palms. Her hair was up in an elaborate bun, with a few curled blond strands falling onto her face. There was no make-up on her face whatsoever, and nonetheless she looked absolutely gorgeous. "Don't, he's still so young! You're going to get in trouble."
"Fuck it, Melissa I'm tired of living in this hell! I can't do this anymore," Tom had rushed to her side by this time. She'd begun to cry. "I hate living like this. I want to be out of this world, I just want to have a family with you and grow old. You know that baby."
"But we can't have that, Marcus will kill you," Melissa fell to her knees, her porcelain white skin stained with tears. "He'll kill you…"
Tom took her into his arms, rocking her back and forth, "No baby… he wont, don't worry."
"What…" Harry breathed out; standing above the couple now, "is this all about?"
Tom soothed his fiancé once more before standing up, towering over Harry. He sighed heavily, "Sit down…you're going to need it," he waited the raven haired boy to follow his orders. All the others moved to the floor before the couch to listen. Tom sat beside Harry and just starred at him for a long moment. "I wish it didn't have to be like this."
"What? You wish what didn't have to be like this? What are you talking about? What the hell is going on, what do you mean my father is dead? I saw him no more then 10 hours ago."
"Marcus is not your father, Harry. I'm not sure how to put this kindly." Tom breathed calmly as Harry's eyes darted around the room, looking for support. James took the seat beside Harry, taking his hand in his own and squeezing it tightly. "Your father died…when you were a baby. His name was James, James Potter. His wife, Lily Potter, she was your mother. Your mother did not die due to complications during your birth. There was a car accident, your parents died that night…but you lived."
Harry didn't know what to think. His mind was racing with millions of different thoughts. He couldn't feel anything, so he just nodded for Tom to continue.
"You were given to your only remaining relatives, Petunia and Vernon Dursley. They were both drug addicts and well…they traded you for drugs. I admit, I'm the reason your life is in this situation. I was the dealer in that situation. I'm so sorry Harry. Hate me all you want, I deserve it. I owed Marcus so much money, as soon as he found out I had you, he offered to let me make up some of my debt if I gave you to him. You have to realize, there is no such thing as a declining one of his offers. I'm so sorry Harry."
Harry felt his world spinning around him rapidly. Marcus wasn't his father. His father was dead. His mother was dead, but not because of him. He'd been traded as a baby for drugs. Marcus…was the bad guy, not Tom. "So…I'm not Harry Hopkins…but Harry Potter?"
"Yes," Melissa answered. Tom was crying silently at her side. She took his hand in hers and squeezed it tightly. "You're Harry Potter. We called you that…when you were just a baby. Tommy, you called him daddy and well, he…he called you his son. He may be the reason you are in this business…but Harry he loved you, with all his heart. Oh, if only you knew."
"I'm so sorry Harry…I wish I'd have never accepted Vernon's idea, but I didn't do it just because I owed Marcus. I knew if I left you with the Dursley's, they'd either abandon you or kill you. Their own son died when he was a baby, he drowned in the bathtub."
"I have… no family," Harry couldn't comprehend it. This couldn't be happening. Everything he'd once known was a complete lie. Every last thing. Every little detail of his life, was a complete, utter lie. "I'm just some little crack baby…good for nothing…good for nothing." Harry felt his heart pounding within his chest. He couldn't handle the pain anymore, he had to get out of there. Now. "Give me all of your money," his voice was barely above a whisper.
"What," Tom looked at him indifferently.
"Give me all of your money…everyone," Harry stood up, looking around the group. When no one moved, he ran down the hallway he'd met Michael in, past the broken beer bottle and thrust open the double doors. Tom and Melissa followed close behind. Rushing about the room, Harry remembered exactly where he'd seen it. In a rage, he ripped the night stand table drawer out and pulled out the gun he'd found earlier. He turned to Tom and Melissa, "Look I don't want to hurt anyone, but if you don't give me the money, I will be forced to shoot you in the fucking face."
"Harry what are you doing?" Tom cautiously stepped forward which caused Harry to point the gun directly at his face.
"I'm leaving, now give me all of your money," Harry took one big step forward, putting the barrel of the gun directly against Tom's forehead. "You know…I dreamed of doing this to you. Funny that you're actually the good guy, isn't it? I've had plenty of opportunities to kill my…Marcus, but I didn't. All this time I wasted on hating you, when I could have hated him. You know…it'd be a total waste to just not kill you…I mean I've dreamt of this moment for so long."
"No!" Melissa stepped forward, "I'll give you all my money! My cards! Everything, here take this!" She thrust her clutch at him. Smiling, Harry took the clutch and put it under his arm.
"And you Tommy?" Reluctantly, Tom stuck his hand into his pocket and gave Harry his wallet. "Okay, I need a duffel bag. Fill it with clothes for me please, tee shirts, jeans, whatever. Underwear, lots of that. This thong is killing me. Some sneakers too, I can't walk around in these heels forever now, can I? I'll be back in a minute."
Harry left the room in a hush, entering the living room once more. Everyone sat in silence when they realized what Harry was holding. David stood, up from the couch and proceeded to Harry, his eyes pleading Harry to no go through with this. "Nothing personal David," Harry pointed the gun towards the brunette, "but give me all of your money. Hey, if you want, come with me. Anyone!"
No one budged. Harry snorted, "Fine then, live your lives as fucking whores. Afraid Marcus will kill you, eh? Now that we've found out the dirty, ugly truth? All of you, if you have money, give me it, now."
Everyone began to empty their pockets, giving all their money to Harry. Smiling, Harry pocketed all the cash and lowered the gun. "Sorry David, like I said: nothing personal."
David only nodded before backing away slowly. When he was seated, Harry looked around at the group. A few girls were crying as the guys pretending that nothing was happening. When Harry located Tiffany, he frowned as she sat silently, rocking herself back and forth. "Tiffany… come with me."
"No Harry, I can't," her voice was soft. "If more of us leave the more pissed Marcus will be; he'll take it out on the others. If you want to die…then go. I can't stop you. Just know Harry…I love you."
"Love you too," Harry said with a bright smile. When he turned to leave, he came face to face with Melissa. She was holding out the duffel bag he asked for. "Uhm, thank you I guess," he looked around at everyone's faces, "Goodbye guys."
Without another word, Harry fled the penthouse. He zipped past the elevators and fled down the stairs, his feet carrying him as fast as humanly possible. He had no clue of where he was going or what he planned on doing, but he knew that he had to get out of there. He waved a taxi down and told him to take him to the nicest hotel in town. As they drove on, Harry felt everything hit him at once. All the pain smacked him right in the face and he began to cry like a baby. He had no one now. He was all alone, just like he felt. He really was no one. No one in the world cared about him. Harry felt his stomach churn as the tears increased. His head began to pound as his brain throbbed inside his skull. His vision was blurring from all the tears and he just wished he could die. The driver apologized and let him know it'd be a while before they got to the hotel because of traffic. Tonight's never going to end.
HDHDHDHD
Draco Malfoy threw his arms up in distress. His mother and father had been lecturing him for the umpteenth time that his late night parties and explicit magazine articles were unacceptable. Earlier that morning, when the newspaper arrived, his mother had called him down and he knew then what was in store. The previous night he'd attended one of London's biggest parties, ever. It was his best friend's, Blaise Zabani, birthday so, as a treat they all planned him a surprise party. They rented out club Archipelago, the newest and hottest club in town. Plenty of celebrities were invited, and as expected, the party was a total success. Blaise nearly peed himself when he saw that his favorite American performer, Nelly Furtado, was going to sing to him. The guest list was exclusive and no one who was a no one got into the party, just as planned. Draco loved every second of the party, but since it was raved about in the news, his parents did not approve. And the picture of him table dancing with two girls on the front cover of one of his usually loved tabloids did not make it any better.
"Draco," his mother cooed, sipping at her coffee as she rested against their kitchen counter. Whenever a confrontation was about to occur, he was called down to the kitchen where his mother and father made it appear that they'd been cooking their own breakfast, though Draco knew their cook had just left. Just as usual, when he entered the room nearly an hour later, his mother was struggling with the coffee machine as his father sat at their large kitchen with the paper in his hands. Much to Draco's discomfort, the sunlight poured in through the open window, making Draco's head ache ten times worse than it already was. "We need to talk about this," she points to the news article in Lucius's hand.
"No Narcissa," Lucius stood up from his chair, dropping the paper into a mess on the table and sauntered over to his wife's said. He looked a Draco was a discontented look and put his hand on his wife's shoulder. "No more talking this out with Draco. He never listens. There will be no more partying, you here me? No more shopping all the time. None of your little ritzy boy stuff. You want to live like a rich boy? Then get rich on your own Draco. You cannot fall back onto us for everything, my father worked so hard for this life and you are not going to just destroy the Malfoy name with your partying. I have upheld the Malfoy name and I was intending on having you take over this business when I planned on retiring, but I guess I will have to turn to someone else; someone more responsible."
"Father!" His father usually lectured him, maybe took one or two of his phones away and cut his budget down, but never in a million years had Draco actually expected to be punished. "You've got to be kidding me! It's just parties, nothing serious!"
"Nothing serious," Draco winced at his fathers tone. The elder blonde swept past his son and grabbed the article off the table. He scanned it for a moment before looking up at his son. "The youngest Malfoy seems to enjoy drinking a whole lot, perhaps too much. When asked for an interview, he simply slurred his words before hitting on one of our personnel. If Lucius Malfoy does not keep his son in line, the charming little heir is going to get himself mixed up in a lot of trouble. Nothing, huh? You hear that Narcissa, he thinks this is nothing?"
"Drakey," Narcissa swept a blond strand of hair out of his face. He batted his eyes at her, hoping she'd cave but instead she frowned at him. "I am not weak like Jell-O Draco Lucius Malfoy. I will not settle for your puppy dog eyes as an excuse. Don't bat those eyelashes at me anymore, I agree whole heartedly with your father. You're completely out of control. Use the house phone to call Blaise and let him know that your plans for today are canceled."
"Why? Why are my plans cancelled?"
Narcissa smiled at her husband, when no one answered Draco he stopped his foot and put his hands on his hips. His silver eyes storming as he searched his parents' faces for a hint of why he had to cancel his plans with Blaise. Lucius sighed heavily before taking a step forward, "You are to spend the day looking for a job. Might I suggest, working in one of my hotels."
"You're…you're kidding me." Draco could not believe it. He knew he was spoiled, that wasn't anything new, but he never expected his parents to actually ever punish him. A real job was too much for him. He had worked himself so hard to be at the top of the social chain the world; there was no way anyone would take him seriously if he had to stop his partying to…work. "Please, you've got to be joking, this is crazy."
"Call Blaise now before those privileges are revoked too," and with that, both of his parents exited the kitchen, leaving a very confused Draco behind them.
Perplexed, Draco whipped out his sidekick 4 (an exclusive phone made just for him by Chanel) and hit number one and waited for Blaise to pick up. He need to get the last usage out of his phone before his parents took it away. "Blaise, oh my god, my parent's are nuts…they went way too far this time! They're taking everything away from…they say I have to cancel my plans with you today to find a job….I knooooooow, my father suggested I work at Malfoy Manor…you know what, fuck it, come over! I need someone sane here, like now….okay, I'll see you then…yeah, ciao."
Still fuming, Draco hit the number two on his phone and awaited Pansy's answer. "Pans, oh my god, you'll never guess what happened…no Oprah didn't ask me to be on her show, think for a fucking second please…I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that, I'm just so mad…yeah, it's my parents, who else? They are nuts…they are grounding me…I think that's what it means….well whatever the word actually means doesn't matter, I am getting my phone and everything that helps me exist taken away from me…yeah, he's coming over now...you come over too, I need you guys more than ever…have I ever actually cared what my parents thought…well yeah, that may be how I am in this predicament but that doesn't mean shit now, come over…okay, love you too."
Draco began to pace around the kitchen as he awaited the arrival of his two best friends. This can't be happening…this has to be a prank! That's it, ha ha the jokes on Draco, really funny! When both of his parents walked back into the room, with a duffel bag with their hotel's emblem on it, Draco lost it. "Okay, Mum, Dad, you got me. Very funny, but I think this has gone too far! Very funny, see I'm laughing. What's in there, huh? A uniform for me? Gee, you guys sure when above and beyond for this one!"
"Draco, we're very serious," Narcissa thrust the bag at him, "yes there is a uniform in here. We contacted the hotel in London to let them know you'd be starting today, you have the 4 to 11:30 shift."
"We're waiting for a thank you," Lucius said after a long silence.
"Thank you for what? Ruining my life? Gee, thanks a lot mum and dad love you too!"
"Draco, Draco, Draco, you're being far too over dramatic," Lucius clapped his son on the back, "you're lucky we didn't force you to go out and look for an actual job. You're working in a grand hotel, be happy. It's better than nothing."
"I'd rather have that nothing right now," Draco muttered to himself as he unzipped the bag and took a picture of it with his only phone left, sending it with a frowning face to Blaise and Pansy.
"That can be arranged," Narcissa said quickly pulling the tiny machine out of his hand. "Now," she dug her hands into his pockets and pulled out his Krazr, Blackberry, and iPod nano. "You won't be needing these. But, since we feel a little bad, you can have this phone. There is no texting on it, you have limited minutes and oh yeah we'll know if you're talking to Blaise and Pansy, so don't."
"I can't believe this," Draco sunk to the floor, looking at the Pebble in his hands. "Are there any games?"
"Nope, nothing that can actually satisfy boredom," Narcissa smirked at him, "sorry baby."
"No you're not," Draco snapped.
"Do not talk to your mother like that, or you won't be seeing this for a long time," Lucius waved his cell phone in his face, reminding his son of his place. "Get to work on time or else you'll be stuck finding your own job. Have a nice day."
"Yeah, nice day," Draco grumbled as he sprawled out on the kitchen floor. Mere minutes after his parents left, both Blaise and Pansy raced into the kitchen out of breathe. "What took you so long?"
"Draco, we aren't track runners, we both had to get ready before we came over and I assumed that you called Pansy, so I had my driver stop and get her and well, Gods you know how long it takes her to get ready," Blaise explained, taking in a deep breathe and falling into the chair Draco's father had sat in earlier. Pansy nodded her head and looked Draco over.
"I got your text…so I'm guessing that's your new uniform, huh?"
"Yeah, I start work…today," Draco sobbed into Pansy's shirt, causing the girl to cringe and push him off.
"Jeez, hold on a sec, this shirt is custom made, from a French line, more expensive than anything," Pansy pulled off the silk blouse delicately and placed it on the kitchen table. Feeling bad, she pulled Draco close to her, "Okay, cry all you want."
"Oh Pansy, don't let him be such a spoiled brat," Blaise snorted when Pansy stuck her tongue out at him. "Oh who am I kidding? You just as much a spoiled brat as he is, if not more."
"Do you hear anything Draco? I think I hear this little nasty buzzing sound."
"Yes, I know what you're talking about, Gods what is that ruthless sound?" Both burst into fits of laughter and Draco momentarily forgot the predicament he was stuck in. But as soon as their laughter died down, he realized he wouldn't get to joke around with them that much anymore, for he no longer had any of his little gizmos, he couldn't see them anymore because all his time was to be taken up by work; oh life would be hell.
"Dracoooo," Narcissa sing-song voice floated into the kitchen via the intercom, "you father just spoke with your boss; they need you in earlier. We said you'd love to come in early, you're to be there in one hour. Toodle-loo!"
"Tell her I'm ill! Tell him I'm so sick," Draco begged Blaise, but when the Italian made no movements, Draco slumped against Pansy. "This is not happening."
"I'm afraid it is baby, so sorry," Pansy tried her best to give him a reassuring smile, but when Draco's look of pure unhappiness did not fade, she sighed. "Draco, come on it's not that bad. I had a job once—
"Pansy, pornography does not count as a job," Blaise cut her off. Draco snickered at the remark and pulled away from Pansy and began to stand. "I think what Pansy is trying to say is that, having a job wont b so bad. I mean, your dad is really your boss, he's bound to cut you some slack."
"Yeah," Draco smiled, believing Blaise's words, "you're right. He's my dad, he wouldn't actually make me do any work."
Yeah, you're right. He's my dad; he wouldn't actually make me do any work. Draco whole-heartedly regret saying those words, for they had set him up for hell. When he arrived at the hotel earlier in the day, he was introduced to the staff and interviewed by his manager. When he was approved of, he was sent to the main desk to meet with the manager of the cleaning department. According to them, his father had said he'd take any job available, and that one job just happened to be maid service. He hated cleaning his own room, so this was too much for him. Make sure you make the room spotless little Malfoy, this place needs to be sparkling; he could hear the head maids nasal voice mocking him in the back of his mind, as the other maids cackled away as his luck. He'd just finished cleaning his second room when she'd popped in to check on him. She strolled casually in, her hands gliding over the wooden desk. Her eyes glanced across the entire room before she inspected her fingers, frowning she looked back and Draco with an aghast look.
"Obviously Malfoy senior never taught you your edict on cleanliness," she sneered at him after brushing the dust off her fingers. "You're going to have to redo this entire room and while you're at it, go back and redo the one you did for this. If this is bad, that must be ten times worse."
"But—
"No buts, you're new here, you do what you are told," her beady eyes starred him down and Draco felt as tiny as an ant. Amerada sneered at him, her portly body moving as she chuckled outwardly. Her skirt swept across the table as she turned on her heel and made her way for the door. "You best learn to bit your tongue now, little one. I will not treat you any different because you're a Malfoy." She slammed the door after her and Draco flinched at the sound. Taking one deep breath, he began to clean the room all over again, making sure that every inch this time really sparkled.
Four and half hours later, Draco was allowed to have a break. Fully exhausted, Draco did the first thing he could do when he needed to complain to some one, and called Pansy and Blaise. After a bit of persisting, the two promised to hurry as fast as humanly possible to the hotel in order to save him. After getting his sworn vow, Draco hung up his ugly, little pretend phone and made his way for the lobby. He'd just finished cleaning the 5th suite on the 11th floor when he was told he could take a half an hour to forty-five minute break. It wasn't until Draco had gone through the rooms that he realized how much the rooms resembled the ones of his house, though they weren't as extravagant and well furnished as the ones at home, the rooms were beautiful. His grand-father had an undeniable talent when it came to architecture and interior design, though his grandmother was the one who picked out all the designs. Then when his father took over, all the hotels were renovated and updated in style, so to be fair, all of his family were extremely talented; except for him. There was his father, a highly respected businessman known all over the world. then his mother, a beautiful supermodel since her earlier twenties, a woman of culture. And then there was him, though he was gorgeous, there was no doubt in his mind he was the most attractive man of his age, but that was all. In the public eye, he had no substance. All he cared about was money and fame, nothing more seemed to play out for his role in society, and it was true. He hated knowing it, but there was no way of escaping what he was.
Draco held his rag tightly to his chest, shutting his eyes and taking in deep breaths. He hated coming to the realization of what he was. He was a good for nothing, spoiled brat. He absolutely deserved this job. No, you deserve a worse job Draco, you're pathetic. Living off your daddy, whining like a little bitch when you don't get exactly what you want. Draco shook his head, arguing with himself. No, I'm not a whiny bitch, I'm not spoiled. I…I am not worthless. Draco hated how unsure he sounded, when talking to just himself. It was pathetic. He was pathetic. You are worthless and you know it, why bother arguing? "NO!"
Just as Draco screamed aloud, he lost sight of where he was going and collided with another boy, sending them to the floor in a tangled mess. Draco did not care to attempt to get up, however the other boy was frantically apologizing and trying to free himself. When he finally got to his feet, he stuck a hand out for Draco and the blonde took it, dusting himself off when he finally stood. Looking at the other boy for the first time, he gasped. This was no boy, but a young man. His raven hair hung in his bright, emerald eyes in a way that sent chills up and down Draco's spine. His clothes, a little disheveled, clung tightly to his body and showed off his figure. "I'm so sorry, I didn't…I wasn't…I'm sorry, I can't…pay for that…but I can fix it," when the other male said these words, Draco noticed the shattered vase on the floor beside them and smiled at the boys words.
"Don't worry about it," he grabbed the other males shaking hand and shook it warmly, "my name is Draco, Draco Mal…Mallicutty."
"Hi…I'm Harry Potter, I think," Draco smiled when Harry slapped himself lightly. "No, I am Harry Potter, just a very confused Harry Potter. I'm so sorry about the vase though…I don't know what I was doing or why I wasn't paying any attention. Okay, that's a lie, I do know why but…still, I am never this careless."
"Don't worry, no one usually even checks on the vases, either way the Malfoy's have so much money and broken vase means nothing to them."
"I wish I could be like that," Harry said to his feet. "I'm sorry…I better go."
"Don't, I just went on break, why not walk with me," Draco smiled when Harry nodded. He basked in the innocence of Harry. It was like he was a child. Harry remained silent as they walked to the elevator. "So, where do you hail from?"
"Uhm, I live in the city actually…just had to get away I guess you could say," Harry shrugged a little with his words. He looked uncertain next to Draco and the blonde felt a tinge of humiliation.
"I know what you mean," Draco smiled reassuringly and they remained in silence 'til the reached the lobby. When the elevator doors opened Draco was crushed by two bodies and in that moment he mentally smacked himself for forgetting he'd called Blaise and Pansy to his rescue.
"Aw Drakey baby, I'm so sorry," Draco felt his stomach flip over from the look Harry was giving him as Pansy attempted to make him feel better.
Trying to get himself out of this situation, he pushed her off her coolly and looked to Harry, "These are my weird friends, Pansy and Blaise."
"I resent that comment about me being weird Drakey," Pansy straightened herself out. She looked at Blaise for some support but the boy just shrugged, when she looked back to Draco, her eyes fell on the boy beside him. She snorted at his obvious lack of wealth and was about to make a remark when she saw Draco's pleading gaze. Confused, she turned back to Blaise but he seemed to not care at all, for he was far more interested in the girl checking in at the front desk. "Hi, I'm Pansy Parkinson, but you're probably heard of me already."
"Actually, no I haven't," Harry said honestly. Draco couldn't hold back a smile from Harry's confession, though Pansy looked outraged. He decided to intervene before anything got to crazy, "Harry's a customer here and I was helping him out, if my boss sees you, she'll murder me Pans, how about you guys go out and get something to eat and come back at the end of my shift."
"Draco Lucius Mal," Pansy began to shriek, but before she could finish his last name he flung himself onto her and covered her mouth.
"There was a huge spider on your face, like about to crawl in, didn't want that to happen," he lied, hoping Pansy would take the bait. When she began to scream for her life and smack herself in the face, Draco took the opportunity to flee. He grasped Harry by the wrist and pulled him back into the elevator and pressing the 11 button. "Sorry, she's mentally ill."
Harry laughed softly at the remark. "It's fine; she's just a character, nothing wrong with that."
"Yeah a character," Draco smiled as he waited for the elevator doors to open up once again. He let the raven haired boy exit first and then got out himself. Harry stood awkwardly for a moment, giving Draco the time to admire the other. He really was better looked than Draco had first thought. Now as he paying all his attention to Harry, he came to the realization Harry was in women's clothing. It didn't make much sense, but not everything had to. It didn't matter much anyway; the clothing seemed to work with Harry's somewhat feminine frame. Draco liked it. "So…how long do you plan on staying here?"
"As long as the money I have allows me," his words were honest and Draco liked that. He usually was surrounded by fake people trying to impress him, but Harry was different. Maybe it was because he had no clue who Draco actually was or maybe he just really was honestly a nice guy. Either way, Draco didn't care, he already liked Harry.
"Where do you plan on going after you run out of money," Draco was curious to know more about Harry."
"Since that problem has occurred, I haven't really worried about it yet. I guess I should, this place is really expensive, I'm sure to run out of money soon."
"If…you ever need a place to stay, you can stay with me," Draco knew that by inviting Harry to stay with him, that he'd have to eventually tell him who he was, but since the problem had yet to arise, he wasn't worrying.
"That's really nice of you, thank you," Harry smiled genuinely at Draco and the blonde knew he was worth it. Of course, he needed to learn more about Harry, but all that didn't matter right now. He was just happy to have made a friend who didn't see him as a spoiled brat, but as a sweet guy.
Life's sure looking up. Maybe this job wasn't such a bad idea after all.
