AN: Oh, gosh. I really couldn't help them meta in this fic, I honestly couldn't. Also, maybe an AU with Draco as River Song and Harry as The Doctor? How about hell yes. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 4: Safe

Draco extended his hand. "Comb," he demanded imperiously.

"I'm not your handmaiden," Natasha scoffed, leaning back in her own chair before the row of mirrors. With a makeup brush in her hand, she topped off her painted face with some setting powder.

"You're no fun," Draco decided, getting up to reach for his own damned comb. If he was going to have a massive case of freshly-shagged hair after he and Harry were through, he at least wanted to show up looking good.

Sure, Harry hadn't actually said he wanted to shag, but that was irrelevant. Oddly enough, Draco was the one who wanted to see what the Chosen One had beneath his robes. Harry had turned out to be funny, kind, and nothing like the papers said he was. There was a quiet humbleness to him, and Draco could see the anger lurking in him too.

It fascinated Draco more than he cared to admit.

The letter Harry had sent set Draco's blood afire. He'd never heard a man so desperate for domination in his life. In his mind's eye he could see the Great Potter chained down and whimpering with his arse in the air, loving every blow Draco gave him.

That and a thousand other fantasies milled about with Harry being the star of all of them. Sure, Draco had taken the riding crop and frilly panties to a few men who really wanted it, but the thought of seeing his childhood rival in complete submission before him was exhilarating. He'd forgiven Harry, but something still lingering in him wanted to see the man on his knees and begging for mercy.

Figuring Natasha might turn to stone with boredom if Draco didn't engage his boss and stuck to his fancies, he chatted on. "Anyway, are you working tonight?"

"The clinic needs me," Natasha sighed, referring to her second job at a local wizarding sexual health center. She refused to live in a world where one of her favorite activities wasn't being taught properly in public or private schools, and a world where it left said activity open to fatalities. She'd still been a little boy when the eighties rolled around and brought their plague with it. She remembered her mother telling her that was what happened to people who fell to perversion.

Draco grinned. "Saving the world from STDs and ignorance one horny twink at a time. They should build statues in your honor."

"You know they don't make statues for people like us," Natasha laughed along with him.

"I don't see why not. They've had some truly horrific-looking ones at the Ministry adorned with people who I can't even name." Harry had never let them put up a statue of him.

Finishing off her lip-liner, she looked to Draco and feigned shock. "You mean you haven't heard of the great Gondoline Oliphant? I'm ashamed. With your pureblood upbringing I would expect the utmost strict memorization of wizarding history."

"Wasn't he on chocolate frog cards?" Draco asked with a dim memory of opening one with Blaise on the Hogwarts Express that had a similar-sounding name.

"Was he? I can't recall," she sighed. "But I can name more than a few men on your client list that happen to also be on those cards."

Draco snorted out a laugh. "Someone can't seem to contain their curiosity about my appointment tonight." He couldn't contain his excitement, either, but he always loved to tease his friends a little.

"I only want to make sure you're satisfied with the match and keeping safe."

That had to be the thousandth time she'd told him to 'keep safe'. One of these days, he was just going to glue a condom to his forehead in order to quiet her urgings. "I'm perfectly satisfied," Draco said as the last piece of his hair fell into place. "And don't worry your pretty head. We haven't even gone past talking. It turns out he's a regular gentleman who prefers media to actual relations."

"Well then I hope you can show him otherwise," Natasha said, very pleased with herself. She swore, sometimes, she could be a regular matchmaker.

"As do I. Now, I hope you have fun telling teenage lesbians how to work a dental dam," Draco teased before standing and grabbing his coat.

He gave Natasha a quick kiss on the cheek before heading for the door. "Be—"

"I know, I know! I'll be safe!" Draco laughed before he ducked out.

In a way, Natasha wished she'd first used that term in a broader scope. She wasn't talking just about the condoms, spermicidal lube, and every other defensive measure to keep Draco physically safe. Something further than skin-deep concerned her.

Draco seemed almost giddy to gussy himself up and see Harry. Sure, Draco had developed a fondness for certain clients, gotten sad to see some go, and been happy for others who'd moved on. It had just never happened this fast.

Be safe, she thought again before leaving her workplace and extensive collection of vanity mirrors. Be safe.

XxXxX

Harry had arrived in the hotel room an hour early this time. He wanted to familiarize himself with the setting, and take in all the details of the many rooms and bathrooms. Maybe, if he assessed the turf enough, Harry wouldn't be so horribly nervous when Draco arrived.

Five bedrooms, three bathrooms, two sitting rooms and a television in almost every room. Hotel soaps and shampoos in the shower, mints in the drawers, and a mini-fridge stocked with insanely overpriced candies and mints. It was a suite prepared for a large family and their luggage when travelling. It made Harry want to laugh but he couldn't quite bring himself to.

It was already dark outside, so he turned on every light he could find. It definitely wasn't because he was afraid of the blackness that surrounded him at night. That totally wasn't why.

With the power bill undoubtedly being cranked as high as it could go, Harry sat down on couch where Draco had reclined at their last meeting. Without realizing it, he drifted into a pseudo-slumber that was almost always inevitable when he laid on anything comfortable and soft.

When he awoke, some different sort of fabric was under his cheek, and he wasn't sitting up anymore.

Cautiously, Harry opened his eyes. "Draco?"

"Yes, sleeping beauty?" he teased, having rested Harry's head on his lap when he saw the man snoring away looking rather uncomfortable upright.

"Oh," Harry responded quietly. In the grogginess of waking, he'd almost forgotten to flinch and run away from anyone who wanted to touch him. He was glad he forgot, because Draco's fingers in his hair felt strangely fantastic.

Unsure of what to say and slightly embarrassed, Harry closed his eyes before he spoke again.

"You sure like making pop culture references," he tried lamely.

Draco's fingers inched down to gently caress Harry's shoulder as he laughed softly enough to keep Harry comfortable. "As do you."

"Yeah," Harry murmured, leaning into Draco's descending touches. All of his questions and nerves had faded away for better or for worse.

Strong, steady hands cupped the small of Harry's back and kept on going. Harry wasn't sure if he wanted this, but it was happening and it made him feel good. Not very much did that, and the sensation was almost new.

The hands sloped down to grope at Harry's arse as Draco became more and more confident with each passing moment. He could have sworn he heard Harry let out a little moan.

Finally, his hand shifted to the front of Harry's trousers, ready to slip them off and finally—

"How many blokes have you slept with?" Harry blurted out suddenly.

Well, that was direct. "I don't exactly keep a tally on my wall or anything," Draco said, retracting his hand.

His mind no longer in a fog, Harry sat up. "Sorry, I mean, I just want to know."

Potter sure asked a lot of questions. "Well," Draco started. "Right now I have fifteen clients I regularly see."

"Fifteen?"

"I'm not your boyfriend, Harry," Draco laughed suddenly, shifting on the couch. "You don't need to look so bothered."

"I'm not," Harry lied. "Bothered, that is. I just wanted to know. If you had to, you know, ballpark a number…" His eyes stayed glued to the floor, hoping he wasn't saying the wrong thing.

Draco sighed. "You know, it's not like I'm with a different guy every night. Some can only do weekends, or a couple hours, or—"

"Please, just a number."

As proud as Draco was of his job, independent cash flow, and lifestyle, this was a tough one for him to admit. "I'd say…" He factored in the years, the amount of customers who joined and left sporadically, one-night stands, and more. "Over a hundred."

The statement hit Harry right in the stomach. Maybe he didn't want answers. "And that's all business you get from your… Natasha?"

Was Harry trying to ask about the Madam's cut of the money? "She's my manager," he explained carefully. The number seemed to have shocked Harry into stupidity. "I can leave whenever I want to."

"I know, you mentioned that, but I just don't think I understand," Harry frowned, eyes now boring into the floor. Maybe a set of burns would appear there soon.

"What don't you understand?" Draco asked, slightly annoyed. Most clients left all of that pity for the whore with the heart of gold in the first appointment.

This time, Harry swallowed his nerves and tried to look at Draco. "Don't you want something more?"

That was hilarious, from the Boy Who Lived to Waste Away in Bed. Still, Draco knew that wasn't his fault. Harry had unresolved issues that made Draco want to ring up a couple of his more mentally-inclined therapists rather than take the physical route he loved so much. "Sex means different things to different people," he shrugged, keeping his patience level. "If I ever wanted something more, I'd leave."

But how could Draco ever want anything more if he knew nothing more? What if he fell in love one day and he couldn't tell it apart from his daily work? It worried Harry. "Do you ever think about getting married, or falling in love?"

Draco gave him a little smile. "I think about it, yeah, but thus far I don't really want it. I sort of need to fall for someone before I think of futures together. And I can tell what you're thinking, too. That even if I fell for someone that they wouldn't reciprocate it since I'm the one the pay to show up and pay to leave. I've had boyfriends, you know."

"While you were…?" Harry was dumbfounded. If Draco was his, he'd never let any other man touch him. Not that he wanted Draco as his own, anyway.

"Yes, while I was working," Draco told him. "They were okay with it. Like I said, sex means different things to different people. At the end of the day they knew I fancied them the most, and that I'd leave them if I felt differently, or leave my job if I felt inclined to do so for the sake of monogamy."

Those men had a complex foreign to Harry. Trust in another human being to the degree that they didn't even mind their boyfriend sleeping around for gold. "Wow."

"It's not horribly strange," Draco shrugged. "Natasha used to work when she had a boyfriend. She gave it up when she married him, though."

The knowledge that this mysterious Madam used to be a working girl herself had Harry feeling a little more assured. "It's just…" he tried, getting back to the manner at hand. "I don't know how I feel about being one out of a hundred."

"You of all people should know that the past is the past," Draco sighed, resting a hand on Harry's shoulder. He felt tense, even after the massage from the other night. "It doesn't ruin the future, and especially not the present."

Harry shook his head, ears pounding with each heartbeat and his eyes suddenly welling up. No, he couldn't let Draco see him like this, it was pathetic, it was what losers did, and it wasn't even how he wanted to feel. "It does ruin the present," he told Draco, trying to pretend he was rubbing his eyes because he was tired. "It does all the time."

Concerned, Draco leaned forward. "Harry…" Draco murmured, gently rubbing his back and pulling closer to the shaking man.

"The past ruins everything," Harry continued with gritted teeth. "It's always there, even when you're happy for a second or you have a good day or you meet a great bloke it's still there at the end of the day and you can't make it disappear." And Merlin, it hurt.

Draco didn't hesitate a moment longer from pulling Harry into a tight embrace. "You don't have to make it disappear, Harry. You've been too guilty for too long," he could tell.

"I deserve to be. Tom Riddle may have killed those people but what he really wanted was me. I was a coward, hiding from him when all I had to do was let him kill me. Yeah, he killed the part of him that was in me, but still! I led the Battle of Hogwarts!" His voice rose with each angry admission, clinging to Draco like a drowning man. "I went to every one of their funerals to face their families, and fuck, if you could have seen their faces—it was awful. I caused their deaths."

"No," Draco cut in. "You didn't—"

"I did," Harry argued, pulling back and standing up. His legs felt numb and he was surprised they worked. "The papers are right! I lived and there's no point to it. I couldn't handle being an Auror, I'm a shite friend to Ron and Hermione, I fucked with Ginny's heart for years, I can't even leave my godfather's house, and dammit, Draco! Don't you remember what I did to you in the Prefect's Bathroom?"

The room was silent aside from Harry's choked panting.

Slowly, Draco moved to stand and Harry's brain jumped to the worst conclusions. He hates me. He hates me and this whole thing has been a lie for money. Why did I ever think I could be vulnerable in front of him? He knows too much now, he'll tell the press—

Harry's train of thought was derailed entirely when he felt Draco's arms wrap around him again. "I remember," he whispered, holding the crumbling man close. "And I forgive you."

"You can't—" Harry sobbed out. "You can't forgive me just like that! That's too easy when I did something so awful! I haven't done anything to make it up to you but cry in front of you in a depraved hotel and not even have sex with you!"

Draco tightened his grip. "Fuck, Harry, shut up. I forgive you, now deal with it. You don't get to decide how I feel; you can only decide how you feel. You need to forgive yourself."

"I can't," he managed.

"And you don't have to be worried that I'm the one pressuring you into sex or something," Draco sighed. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to. You don't have to be an Auror, or fancy a Weaselette, or even leave Sirius' house. You just need to be happy." Mostly because Draco couldn't stand Harry not being happy a second longer.

Harry shook his head in Draco's shoulder. "I don't know how."

The suspicion that Harry's problem was a whole mess of depression and anxiety was fact to Draco at this point. "That's okay," he murmured into him. "I know you can't help this, and I was wondering if you wanted to talk to a—"

"No," Harry said, horrified that Draco would even mention that. A hooker telling him to get mental help was some kind of insult, he knew that at least.

"Fine, if you're too proud, then why don't you just talk to me?" Draco sighed, knowing that question wouldn't have gone over well in any universe. Bloody Gryffindor that he mysteriously began to care about.

Harry's head ached with each passing second. He wanted to crawl back into his bed, to before meeting Draco again and having his fucked-up life laid out in front of his eyes. Ignorance was bliss, it really was. "I don't know."

Draco decided to start with something easy. He took a deep breath, and pulled Harry up by his shoulders so that they were looking into each other's eyes. He needed Harry to trust him more than anything. "Tell me what you need. Anything," he prompted, expecting Harry to talk or ask for some food or to leave Draco standing there feeling like an idiot.

What Draco was not expecting was Harry kissing him. Full-on, mouth-to-mouth, kissing.

Sick with need, Harry's hands didn't know where to start first. Luckily, Draco moved close enough for every option to be available. The curve of his hips, the taste of his tongue, the intoxicating smell of his cologne; it was all there and Harry would be damned if he let a single detail pass him by.

Draco moaned into his mouth as Harry's hands slid down the back of his pants, squeezing his arse cheeks hard.

If this was what Harry wanted, Draco was going to make sure he never forgot it.

Roughly, he pushed Harry's back to the closest wall and smirked against his lips when Harry let himself so easily be moved. Without hesitating, his thigh pressed between Harry's legs and rocked into him. As out-of-practice as Harry was, his body rutted against Draco without a second thought.

"Bed," he gasped against Draco's mouth, not really sure as to how long he was going to last.

Draco's hand found Harry's to form a sloppy grip, one where all the fingers were in the wrong spaces but nobody really noticed. With that, Draco whisked him away into the bedroom so fast his head spun. Only when his back fell onto the mattress was he even remotely sure of where he was.

Not even Draco could hide how eager he was.

He broke the kiss for a second to rid himself of his tight shirt, so Harry's hands flew to take his own off. Clumsily, he got it over his head before Draco had to help him with it.

When Harry got a good look at Draco's chest, he breathed a sigh of relief. "I thought there'd be scars."

"And exactly how long have you been thinking about me naked?" Draco joked breathlessly, removing Harry's pants as fast as he could so all of the body would be his.

Harry didn't even care about the sudden exposure, especially not when Draco was looking at him like a starved lion. "Too long," he gasped as Draco's tongue came down on the side of his neck, followed by a rough scrape of teeth. "Fuck, even before I knew you were doing this, I wanked about you."

"Dirty boy," Draco murmured into his ear before sliding a hand down to capture a perky pink nipple in between his fingers.

Harry moaned, head falling to the side. "Harder," he asked without realizing he'd spoken out loud.

At that, Draco dipped down to his reddening nipple and dragged his teeth across the sensitive skin as Harry's groans filled the air. Mercilessly, he clamped down with his teeth and sucked. Harry's pleasure was delicious in his mouth, and every little submissive noise Harry made had Draco aching to rid himself of his own trousers.

Drawing his wand from his pocket, Draco Vanished his tight pants without a second thought. "So fucking gorgeous," he murmured as he stroked his freed cock. "Tell me what you need, my pretty boy. I can give you everything."

"I need you in me," Harry gasped as he continued to press his hips up and along with Draco's. As many times as he had imagined Draco Malfoy naked on top of him and fulfilling his every fantasy, it would never compare to reality. Draco was molten hot, muscles taut with a purpose that Harry knew was dedicated all to him.

Hundred men be damned, in that moment Draco was his.

Draco almost ripped the condom packet into shreds he was so ready. When it finally was on, Harry had taken note of it. Really, he chose to ignore the rubber barrier. He knew why it was there, but thoughts of all the other men Draco had been with would no doubt spoil the moment.

"Do you have—," Harry began to ask before he saw the travel-size bottle of lubricant in Draco's hand. "Oh."

"Always prepared," Draco grinned. As Harry looked down across the length of his open legs to see Draco resting between them, he wondered if the other man was insane. Weren't whores supposed to hate this?

Before Harry could ponder the prostitutes in the many episodes of Law and Order he'd watched, Draco's lube-covered finger pressed up against the length of his prick.

"Fuck," he murmured, feeling Draco slide all the way down the shaft, past his scrotum, and to his puckered hole.

Draco couldn't help himself; he pressed a kiss to the tip of that beautiful member. Harry needed this, and he knew it. "Relax, Harry. I need you to relax for me."

Harry obeyed without a word and spread his legs even wider in spite of the warm blush on his face. Draco was right, he was a dirty boy.

Carefully, Draco pushed one finger inside of him. Harry's face twisted at the familiar pain. It really had been too long. Even though he was one in a hundred for Draco, Draco was only one in four for Harry.

Once he adjusted, Draco added a second finger and wrapped his free hand around Harry's cock to keep it from flagging. He was going to have to restrain himself from how rough he usually went, he knew that. The last thing Draco wanted was to hurt Harry their first time.

Harry, on the other hand, was open to any kind of pain Draco could give him. "Please," he whimpered, pushing back on the fingers no matter how tightly his muscles clenched. "I need you in me, I'll do anything."

Anything? Oh, that fascinated Draco even more. He'd have to try that out later, and maybe even get a little preview now. "Beg," he told him, lining the head up with Harry's opened hole. "Tell me how bad you need it; tell me why you want it."

Harry let out a low growl. "I need it bad, okay?" he murmured.

"I barely even heard that. What is it you need again?"

"I need your cock," Harry said through the blush. "I need your big cock inside me, fucking me."

Draco smirked. "Good boy. Now what's the magic word?"

"I can think of a few," Harry said sarcastically before meeting Draco's eyes and seeing how dark they'd grown with lust. He swallowed back his pride. "Please, Draco. Please."

Draco sunk his fingernails into Harry's hips as he pushed in. "Harry," he shuddered as his blinding heat enveloped him. Fuck, he was tight enough to be a virgin.

The thrusts started out tender with Draco desperately trying to restrain himself. As they climbed in intensity, Harry's legs wrapped around Draco's waist to take him in deeper. "Yes," Harry moaned, the combination of Draco's languid strokes and thrusts of the head of his cock right into Harry's prostate. Now Harry knew why Draco was so expensive.

Harry felt so open, so raw. Each grunt that Draco made pushing forward into him was heaven, now easily sliding in and out of his hole. "Harry," he groaned into his neck, the moment being punctuated by the slap of their skin.

In response, Harry pushed back onto him even harder. Draco's arms held him tight, almost lifting him off of the bed when the final stroke of Draco's hand had bother of them coming at once.

Harry's toes curled under, his cock exploding in between them in time with Draco's. Neither of them managed to say anything in the heat of the moment and the beautiful clench of Harry's arse, but it didn't matter. It was messy, fantastic, and just what Harry needed; a release.

The second Draco rolled off of him, Harry let out a happy sigh. For a moment, the world was quiet and slightly wonderful.

Even though Draco was busy tossing the condom, Harry didn't feel casting any cleaning spells.

When he moved his hand out on the bed, he could feel Draco lying next to him. For once, Harry didn't want to fall asleep. "Have you ever watched a show called 'Doctor Who'?"

In the afterglow of sex, Draco took that as a sign to curl up against Harry. "No, why?" he murmured into his arm.

"Since I figured that the televisions here wouldn't have anything as entertaining as that, I may have brought DVDs," Harry said with a smile. When he saw Draco's eyebrows raise, he laughed and rolled over to face him. "What? It's my favorite show."

"Oh, your favorite?" Draco asked, grinning. "As a pretty big fan of Secret Diary of a Call Girl, I understand the weight behind a favorite show."

Harry laughed, finding Draco's choice in media very true to himself. "This one's got Billie Piper in it, if that helps."

"Sounds fantastic. What's it about? I've only seen commercials," Draco wondered out loud.

"It's about this blue box, and this bloke who's an alien, and he killed his whole race, but it was only to end the time war, and—"

"I think I'll just pick it up as we go along," Draco cut him off, slightly disturbed.

Harry pushed himself off of the bed only for a moment to shove the Series One DVD into the player below the flat-screen where'd they'd watched porno just two nights ago. "I promise it starts to make sense eventually."

"I'll just trust you on that," Draco laughed, leaning back and shifting to leave an arm wrapped around the headboard where Harry moved to fill only moments later.

Leaning into Draco's arms and preparing for an all-night marathon, Harry pressed 'play'.