Title: Protège Moi

Series: Harry Potter

Pairing: Moody/Malesue(Harlequinn)

Genre: Humour, angst and romance?

Warnings: Many a swearing, many sexual references and slash.

Summary: Has Alastor Moody met his match? A homeless teenage male-prostitute with the Dark Mark, turns out to be the worst trouble he had ever encountered. Humour, romance.

Comments: Yes! Another attempt by me to distract people from the fact that I'm not updating my other stories! But do not worry, this one is finished already, I'll update it tomorrow or something. Um. Don't kill me! Oh, and I'm not J.K.R, so I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, Tonks would be a lesbian.

Protège Moi

For - Inyx - because I feel bad for not talking to you often enough, because I love you, and I finished this in a fit of guilt today for you! (you'll have to wait a while till you get the second half. XD)

Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody twitched. As practised ex-Auror, (infact, the best Auror the Ministry ever had, if he may say so himself), he thought he could endure almost anything at all. Almost anything.

And this, was certainly not one of those things.

'Choco-maaaan!'

Harley tackled Remus Lupin to the ground the second the older man came into the house - his shopping bags were hurled to either side of him, as he struggled to catch his breath under the boy.

'Harley! God, you -agh!- surprised me -umph!- Now if you wouldn't mind stepping off of my chest -'

'Didyougetlollies?'

'. . . Yes, I di--'

'YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!'

Harley flung his arms around Remus, pushing down and pinning the werewolf to the floorboard.

'And chocolate?'

'. . . .Ngmh - goomph---' Remus made a choked noise, Harley's bony shoulder practically shoved into his mouth.

'. . . . . Chocolate. . ?' Harley let go of Remus at last, blinking with teary eyes, desperate pleading in his husky voice.

'For God's sakes - YES! Let me breathe, will you, Harl---'

'WAAAAAAAAAAAAII! ILOVEYOUILOVEYOUCHOCO-MANTAKEME!'

Moody could almost see the cold sweat trickling down Remus's face as the teenage boy snuggled against his neck and whispered;

'You can have me for free any, time, you want, choco-man...'

Moody could definitely feel the veins in his forehead throbbing, and a huge headache coming on. This boy was nothing but trouble, nuisance, pain, annoyance, (and at times, Moody refused to admit, enticement) - since the second he had stepped into Number Twelve Grimmauld Place - or perhaps he was already trouble the second the ex-Auror spotted him hunkering in that dark backstreet in Knockturn Alley. He had tried his best to teach the boy how to behave - but habits that had coloured the boy over the last ten years were not easy to bleach.

How could he forget - that fateful afternoon, when he had first locked gazes with the boy. It had been the start of this nightmare, this nightmare Moody was sure would be the death of him.

It had been a long day - Kingsley, Tonks and Moody had been tailing an ex-Deatheater in Knockturn Alley who had been acting strangely in the Ministry workplace. They ended up losing the suspect around a corner, and the three, downhearted, were on their way back to the headquarters.

It was then that Moody spotted, through a few walls, a boy in his late teens coquetting an old male wizard into buying his body. Being an ex-Auror and knowing exactly how illegal prostitution was in the wizarding world, he informed the other two Aurors before walking up to the said whore and customer, and chasing away the older by simply glaring. The boy, however, glared at Moody with equal intensity.

'What the fuck do you think you're doing, bastard?' - the boy had spat, furious at the man who had just chased away a prospective customer, 'You'd better be buying me, prick, 'cause you just chased away one of my richest clients!'

Moody blinked (with one eye, anyway, because the magical one was always open). No one had been this rude to him for a long while, and it was rather refreshing to find someone who disagreed with him so violently - no one dared argue with 'Madeye'. Even Albus Dumbledore payed respect to him. But this boy - had just spat a string of insults in his face.

'Well?' the boy raised an eyebrow, handsome face somewhat grimy with dirt and other filth Moody didn't even want to know the name of. His grey, stormy eyes looked somewhat drugged, and unkept raven hair fell onto his face with strange seductiveness.

At this point Tonks and Kingsley appeared, whipping out their wands, ready to arrest the boy. The boy blinked.

'Hey- hey hey hey, wait a minute, I didn't hear about others - man, that's double - triple price, and what the fuck, who said anything about women? I specialise in blokes only.'

'Alastor, I think we should just gag the idiot, tie him up and take him to the ministry.' Tonks sighed, glancing at Kingsley who nodded in agreement.

'Whooo, gags? Kinky.' The boy whistled, obviously missing the bit in the sentence about taking him to the ministry.

Kingsley walked up to the boy, grabbed his hand and pulled him up.

'Sorry, young man, but you're coming with us.'

'Gladly, but you've got to pay up first. No money, no shagging!' The boy grinned cheerfully, letting his unbuttoned shirt fall off one a shoulder as Kingsley made him stand up.

'Alastor. . . can I please make this kid shut up?' Kingsley sighed with the most pained expression, wand ready to zip the boy's mouth up on command.

Moody just about nodded - when he noticed something odd. He gestured to both Aurors to put their wands down, and walked over to the boy.

'Name?' He said simply, both eyes set on the boy's arm.

'Harlequinn. Harley, I'd rather you call me. Like the motorbike, you know? Or maybe you wouldn't know - you're wizards. But in the Muggle world there's this thing called mo-tor-bi -'

'Last name.' Moody breathed, agitation roughing the edges of his words.

'. . . . . . why do you need to know?' Harley blinked, a little unsettled as he took a step back.

'I said, boy, tell me your last name.'

'. . . . . Jones.'

'No it isn't.'

'. . . . fine. Smith.'

'I'm waiting.'

'Davidson!'

'Do I need to take my wand out?'

'Okay, okay! It's . . ,' he sighed, 'Nequam.'

'Nequam - dishonesty - typical. Just like your parents.'

At that, Harley twitched. Eyes wide in horror, he took a few more steps back. The two Aurors held their wands up, ready to capture the boy if he tried to get away.

'You . . . y-you know my parents?' Harley stammered, clutching at his right arm.

'I did, before I sent them to Azkaban where they belonged. Now - show the other two what's on your arm.'

'. . . .What arm?'

'Don't play dumb with me, young man. Pull your left sleeve up.'

'. . . . . . Why?'

'I said, pull your left sleeve up.'

The boy stared at the ground.

'Fine then. Suit yourself.'

Moody sighed, took his old wand out, and with a slight flick, made the boy's sleeve shoot up and over his shoulder. On his arm was a mark. A snake. And a skull. The Dark Mark. Kingsley and Tonks gasped. Moody put his wand back into his cloak, and said calmly;

'Now, Harlequinn Nequam - as Aurors, we have the right to take you to the Ministry for prostitution charges. However, I myself am more interested in your 'Mark' and how you ended up here. You can either come with us for close examination, or face the Ministry court. You choose.'

'Alastor! You mean to take him to our headquarters?' Tonks protested, 'We don't know who the hell this boy is! He could still be. . . he could still have alliance with. . .'

'Voldemort? I doubt it. I think it is highly unlikely that this boy asked for the Mark. He would have only been a child. Harlequinn, how old are you?'

'. . . . . . Twenty two.'

'Don't start this with me again.'

'Twenty one.'

'Oh really?' Moody glared.

'Twenty!'

'I want the truth.'

'Alright, alright! . . .Nineteen.' Harley curled up against the wall, biting his lip.

Moody rolled an eye.

'Eighteen. He would have only been three or four at the most. Knowing the Nequams, it is not difficult to believe that they would have made a child swear loyalty to their master. They were one of the most devout of Death Eaters.'

'But that doesn't mean we can trust a complete stranger, Alastor.' Kingsley sighed, eyeing Harley suspiciously.

'What else is there to do, Kingsley? We cannot just leave him here. We cannot let anyone with the Mark run loose at these times. This boy is young, I believe we can guide him into living a virtuous life again. Besides, we can easily blindfold him all the way to our headquarters, and let Black watch over him when we are not there. I do not believe this boy has had any kind of magical education. He is not an immediate threat.'

'True.' Tonks nodded, though still not looking entirely convinced.

'Back to you, Harlequinn.' Moody said, swivelling his magical eye in the general direction of the boy. 'Do you want to come with us?'

'. . . . . . okay,' was the boy's reply, merely a mewl as he leaned into the cold concrete wall as if to hide himself from the other three.

And that, was the start to what was to become a nightmare for everyone in the Order of the Phoenix.

In fact, Harlequinn proved to be a nightmare already at the station, while the four waited to catch a train. The boy had recovered from the frightening encounter with two Aurors and an ex-Auror, and had started attacking the three in public with the most embarassing questions imaginable.

'Say... Kingsley, right? Do black men really have bigger cocks?' - was the first question directed at the poor unsuspecting Auror.

Kingsley closed his eyes, counted to five in his head, took a deep breath, pledged revenge to modern media, and ignored the boy. Harley pouted, and decided to see for himself by grabbing at the man's crotch. A certain amount of struggling and fighting and dickgrabbing happened at the public platform, as Moody felt a huge, throbbing headache coming on. He had already started to regret his idea of taking this boy home.

Regret, same as Moody, was the first thing Nymphadora Tonks felt the second she transformed into an old man to avoid a distant relative she spotted on the train carriage. Harley's eyes practically popped out of their sockets when he found out the old man was the same individual as the pink-haired woman he saw before.

'Woah! That is so totally cool - you never told me you can change sexes! So you're a hermaphrodite? Or does your face just change? Does your body change too? So are you bisexual? Do you have a cock now?'

To which Tonks replied with a bright red face and a half-choked cry for help.

They blindfolded Harlequinn from the station to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place - all the way he had talked non-stop about how he loved blindfolds, how often he used it in play, how sexy he thought they were and oh how it turned him on. He had to be gagged halfway through his story about one of his exceptionally interesting experiences involving one of his customers and a blindfold, because Kingsley just could not take it anymore.

As soon as they got to the house and took the blindfold and gag off the boy, he started rambling about how much he loved gags - a speech that stopped half way when Remus Lupin greeted them in the kitchen and offered the boy some chocolate.

'OHMYGODILOVEYOUILOVEYOUILOVEYOUILOVECHOCOLATEYAAAAAAAAY!'

'I'm so. . . glad you like it, Harlequinn - is it?'

'Just call me Harley! And do you like chocolate too?'

'I do.'

'Ohmygod we should SO have a chocolate party some time! Do you like sugar-play? We can melt chocolate on each other and I can lick chocolate off your---'

To Remus's great relief, Kingsley zipped the boy's mouth up, glancing at the werewolf apologetically.

When Harley finally agreed (or rather nodded) to a promise to keep his mouth shut about anything sex-related, the zip charm was taken off. At this point, the next victim-to-be Sirius Black walked down the stairs from Buckbeak's room, his long dark hair unkept and his slim face unshaven. It had been a week since Harry left for Hogwarts to start his fifth year - and the man had still not got over brooding and sulking and stewing away on his own.

'Sirius, this is Harlequinn - Harley, this is Sirius,' Remus had brought them together, a friendly, cheery facade glued onto his tired face. Harley's face lit up with wonder.

'Fuck, is he THE Sirius? THE Sirius Black?'

'Yes. . . , but Harley, he was wrongly accus--' Remus's attempts were cut off by Harley's exclamation.

'Oh, my, motherfuckin'GOD! And you guys were arguing over whether to take a whore into your headquarters - when you had a SERIAL MURDERER here? No way!'

'Harley. . . .'

'I mean, not that I've got nothing against serial murderers, yanno, I've slept with a few anyway. Wouldn't mind to add the great Sirius Black to the list! I hope we get along, man!' Harley grinned, sticking out a hand.

Sirius just stared at the boy, sighed, and walked past him. Remus glared.

'Sirius. . . . At least say hello, will you?'

'It's okay, choco-man - serial murderers aren't known to be too friendly, are they? They're usually great in bed, though,' Harley grinned, not in the least insulted by the dark-haired man's attitude.

'Harley. . . Sirius isn't a serial murderer, nor is he usually a hostile bastard. He's always like this when Harry's gone. . . He'll get over it in a few days.'

'Oh, so he's already got a whore.' Harley blinked. 'Pity.'

Sirius stopped in his steps.

'Harry is not a whore.' he turned around and glared at Harley.

'Sorry, sorry!' Harley chuckled, raising both hands in the surrender pose, 'I'll make it up to you. You can call me Harry while we shag? I'll dress up as him if you want. I don't mind. Harley, Harry, same thing. Virtual play, you know?'

This made Sirius choke on thin air and trip on the grocery basket, grabbing the kitchen doorknob just in time to keep his balance. Everyone else watched on with sympathy and understanding, as Sirius choked and coughed with a crimson-flushed face.

At the dinnertable, the axe fell on Alastor Moody. Molly Weasley had asked about how the Aurors had found the boy, and why they took him here. They had safely got to the point where they discovered his Mark, without much focus on prostitution, thank god. But that was all the good luck they got. Harley had interrupted them, between his mouthfuls of lamb steak.

'But I mean - what I don't get, is why scary-eye-man knew about the tattoo-thing.' Harley had blinked, thin, petal-like lips curled into a little pout.

'Well, you see,' Molly expplained, loading Remus's plate with more potato mash, 'one of Alastor's eyes aren't normal.'

'Fuck duh. But how?'

'Language, young man!' Molly scoulded, glaring at the boy. 'Anyway. . . Alastor's magical eye can see invisible things, and can see right through any solid object. Including the back of his own head, walls, clothing. . . that's why he found your Mark.'

'. . . . THE FUCK?'

'Harley, dear, what did I tell you about lang--'

'You mean he can see through everyone's CLOTHES?' Harley's eyes sparkled.

Molly Weasley mentally kicked herself. Alastor Moody mentally committed suicide. Harley Nequam tugged at the ex-Auror's robes excitedly.

'You mean you can actually see everyone naked, even if they have lots of clothes on and they're a loooooong way away from you? Do you see all of us naked right now? Am I naked to you?' Harley was visibly squeeing his head off.

Moody twitched, and reached for his wand so that he could melt himself right there and then. However, Kingsley did him a favour by zipping Harley's mouth up, and changing the subject to Hogwarts and how Harry, Ron and Hermione must be doing. This relieved everyone (apart from perhaps Sirius who started brooding away again at the mention of his godson), and dinner continued. Harley, however, seemed very grumpy - more about the fact that he couldn't ask questions about the magical eye, than because he couldn't eat with a zipped mouth.

A week had passed, and Harley was now well used to the atmosphere of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. He seemed to be the only living person capable of scaring the portrait of Sirius's mother into silence, and driving Kreacher to do housework in desperate hope that he wouldn't have to listen to the boy ramble about loincloths and house-elf-virtual-play (don't ask). As for Moody, he was still only just getting used to being called 'Perv-eye'.

What moody wasn't getting used to, was having a sprawled out Remus getting squashed by a teenage boy and random scattered grocery - all in front of the front door when he was trying to get out of the house.

'Choco-maan, choco-maan, I love you more than bananas and handcuffs and oh-leather-whips, oh choco-maaaaaan!' Harley was now practically humping the poor werewolf, improvising an original song on the spot.

Remus was not in a state to reply or protest, as he desperately tried to breathe through the chunk of jet-black hair glutted into his mouth as Harley snuggled up to him.

That really was the end of the last bit of what little tolerance Moody had to begin with. It was hard enough getting around the clustered house with a wooden leg, but now - to make things just that little bit worse for him, that brat had to start making out with Remus, on the floor, in front of the door, in front of his face, when all he wanted to do was get the hell outside.

'GET OUT OF MY WAY, BOTH OF YOU, NOW!' Moody roared, practically stabbing Harley's back with his wooden leg, muttering 'Useless twit, nothing but pain and trouble. . .' as he rushed out the door leaving a gasping-for-breath Remus and a rather shocked Harley behind.

The door slammed shut, and Remus blinked at it. Harley sat upright on Remus's hips, staring at the door with worried grey eyes.

'Choco-man, do you think . . . do you think he's jealous or something?'

'Alastor? Jealous? No, I wouldn't have thought so,' Remus laughed, sitting up to meet Harley face-to-face.

'. . . . Do you . . . you think I'm an useless twit. . .?' The boy mumbled, eyes downcast, clearly dispirited by Moody's rather loud comment.

'Of course I don't, Harlequinn - don't take him seriously, he's just a grouchy old man,' Remus smiled reassuringly, giving Harley a brief hug.

'Mmmm,' Harley bit his lip, put on a bitter smile and stood up - only to fall right down onto Remus again, youthful features screwed up in agony.

Harley groaned loudly, clutching at his left arm. It was the Mark. It was burning again. Burning, calling, smouldering into his arm. Remus realised instantly that something wasn't right.

'Harley! Harlequinn - what happened? What's wrong? Is it your arm?'

'No I'm - I'm fine, really, I just twisted my wrist, you know, I'll just go - go to my room and lie down and I'll be fine. Really.'

'Harley. . . .'

'I'M FINE!'

Harley stood up abruptly, breathing hard and fast, clutching at his arm. Remus blinked up at him, startled, pale lips slightly parted, a worried frown on his face. He breathed in to say something - but Harley span around and dashed upstairs.

Sirius was humming his way along the second-floor corridors, holding a bucket full of chicken offal to feed to Buckbeak - when the boy smashed into him.

'Harley!' Sirius chuckled, swaying a little and almost dropping the bucket - 'What's the hurry? You running away from Moody again? In trouble again, huh? I -' he paused, the crooked smile frozen on his face as he noticed Harley trembling and biting his lower lip so hard that it bled.

'. . .Harley?'

Sirius tried to grab hold of Harley's shoulder, but Harley slipped away, dashing away into his room.

Sirius had given him a nice room. It was small, but it was his, and it had been a while since he had a warm, comfy space of his own. A bed, a fire, a light at night - not cold wet ground, snow, pain and darkness.

But it wasn't enough right now.

Sirius was banging his fists at the door, shouting his name. Remus would get here in no time, and he'd use magic to open the lock.

That was the last thing Harlequinn wanted. People fussing over him telling him what to do, what not to do when all he bloody wanted was for the pain to go away.

The boy rummaged through the garbage under his bed. It was where he kept all his things. It was kind of like a habit - to hide his things underneath something, like when he hid food in gutters or under bins on the streets so it didn't get stolen. He had hidden all his belongings there - including the bits of garbage he found when helping cleaning out the house with Sirius (garbage which Harley thought was some kind of magical treasure). Broken rainbow-sand hourglasses, talking wallets that won't shut up, shoes that walked by themselves, out of date floo powder. . . . Floo Powder!

Harley blinked, taking the bag full of ash-coloured powder. Sirius had explained to him what it was for - how it transported people anywhere via fire. . . except this one was too old it probably wouldn't work any more. . . What the fuck, Harley bit his lip, I'll have to give it a try.

He dug through his belongings a little more, grabbed his army-knife and ran to the fireplace. He bit his lip, trying to remember what Sirius had told him. . .

'HARLEQUINN! OPEN THE DAMN DOOR! HARLEY! HARLEY!'

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, what the. . . OH. He had remembered, quite clearly, what Sirius had said. 'You throw the powder into the fire, and when it turns green, jump in and say your destination.' Harley fumbled with the string of the bag, and splashed a handful into the fire. The fire fizzed but didn't go green.

'Fuuuck,' he swore out loud, as he heard Remus shout at Sirius to get away from the door.

Harley emptied the entire contents into the fire. The fire went slightly blue, then light green. He jumped in. The flames burnt his feet. He shouted out the name of the only place he ever knew, just as Remus and Sirius broke down the door.

A.N. - I promise to update the next half - tomorrow? The day after tomorrow? Or as required. XD