Fallen Angel

Ch. 8 – Monday Morning Part 2 – At the Office

Draco sat in front of his father's desk, staring coolly into the blue eyes that seemed to be sizing him up.

When he had first arrived at the office and stood in front of his father's secretary, waiting to be announced, Evans had been behind him, fidgeting and looking uncertainly at the blond woman he didn't know.

Draco had tried to calm him down by holding onto his wrist in what he hoped to be a comforting fashion. He couldn't seem to bring himself to take the slightly smaller hand in his own. Especially not while under the watchful eyes of Fleur Delacour.

But then Ms. Delacour had put down the phone and politely unformed Draco that "Mr. Malfoy has requested that Mr. Evans visit Ms. Hermione Granger right away." He'd been somewhat surprised and gave the wrist in his hand an involuntary squeeze before dropping it altogether and allowing the woman to lead the young man away.

"And you may go on in, Mr. Malfoy," she had called back as she walked away and around the corner.

Draco had watched for a moment, even after they were out of sight, before going into the office and sitting down on one of the chairs across from his father's desk, which was where he found himself now.

"Draco," the man before him said.

"Father."

The older Malfoy smirked and sat back in his chair.

"How was your trip?" Draco relaxed slightly, feeling comfortable enough to lean back and place his arms on the arm rests.

"It was fine. The town, however, did…leave a little something to be desired." Lucius nodded, almost to himself.

"Yes. I've heard it's a rather…unsavory place. But I take it that you retrieved Mr. Evans without incident?" he asked, looking to Draco for conformation.

It was Draco's turn to nod.

"More or less," he replied distractedly, thinking back to that first meeting.

Flashback

"Um…hello."

The raven head turned toward him and Draco saw two green eyes looking him over. The lithe body rotated to face him and crawled lazily to the edge of the bed.

"Hello."

Draco stood, feeling awkward and unsure of what to say next, as the other boy continued to look him over.

"Well…I-"

"How long you got?"

Draco blinked in momentary confusion, and mild shock, at being cut off.

"How…long?" Draco repeated, watching as Evans' lips turned up into a mildly amused smile.

"Yes, how long did you pay for?" Draco felt realization hit him. He'd paid to have sex with the body before him. Somehow he'd forgotten that when he'd seen the boy.

"Oh, the whole night, but I'm-"

"Ah, ah, ah. Shh," the dark haired boy said as he climbed off the bed and walked up to Draco, lightly placing a single finger on top of Draco's lips. "What's your name?" Evans asked as he began lightly tracing Draco's features with his finger.

"Draco. Draco Malfoy," he replied, trying not to enjoy the touches.

"Well, Draco, shall we get started then?" Before he could answer Draco had a hand holding the back of his head, buried in his hair, and a pair of surprisingly soft lips moving lightly on top of his.

Unable to bring himself to move Draco distantly felt himself being steered by a hand on his hip and, the next thing he knew, he was lying on the bed with Evans straddling him.

"W-Wait, Evans," Draco stuttered, feeling uncharacteristically shy and unsure of himself.

"Shh, Draco. It's okay, just close your eyes and feel," Evans whispered into his ear, licking it heatedly.

"No, you don't, don't understand," Draco tried again, weakly trying to push Evans up by his shoulders.

"I understand perfectly. Just relax." And then Draco's shirt was somehow gone and those lips were back on his, a wet tongue entering his mouth. Any protests were momentarily forgotten as Draco began responding to the kiss.

The blonde reached up and drew the body above him closer. Months of sexual deprivation left Draco's body eager to respond to any attention it happened to receive.

The blonde bit his lip as the other boy's lips left his own and moved down his chest, lazily licking and nipping a trail to his belly button. Evans chuckled lightly as Draco eagerly arched into the ministrations but refused to make a sound.

"It's okay to moan, Draco," Evans said huskily, twisting a nipple as he spoke. Draco whimpered and opened his eyes, looking up at the boy on his chest. The green eyes had darkened and the pupils seemed dilated. "See?" Evans asked as he leaned down to kiss Draco again. "You make the cutest noises."

This time Draco didn't fight the moan that came when that skilled tongue ravished his willing mouth. He growled as slim fingers began teasing his waistband and flipped them over, pinning the smaller boy to the bed, never removing his mouth from the other.

He felt nails digging into his back as legs wrapped around his waist. When breathing became necessary Draco leaned back and pulled off Evans' shirt. He watched as the boy below his lay on the bed, panting, and looking up at him with a delicate flush on his face. Draco moved his gaze to his chest and saw that, surprisingly, it was lightly toned, but also pale and littered with various scars.

The blonde closed his eyes, trying to regain control of his body.

He knew he shouldn't do this. Couldn't do this. His father was counting on him.

And with that thought Draco growled again and stood up, picking his shirt up off the floor and pulling it back on.

Evans sat up on the bed and watched him warily.

"What's wrong?" Draco ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it down.

"Nothing, put your shirt back on Evans," Draco said, throwing the dark haired boy his shirt. Evans caught it and threw it aside.

"No. Why did you stop? I've got a job to do and you aren't really helping here," Evans said lightly, almost seductively, standing up and moving toward him. Draco held his ground and crossed his arms defensively.

"Yeah, and I've got a job to do to, and fucking you is not part of it." Evans stopped, looking at him suspiciously.

"Then why are you here?" Draco smirked, finding some sort of irony in the situation.

"I've come to collect you."

End Flashback

"Draco," Lucius said, forcefully pulling Draco from his thoughts.

"Huh?" he asked, snapping out of his thought. "Oh, what was that father?"

"I asked how the past few days have gone, since his arrival?"

"Right. It's all gone smoothly for the most part. But, why did you have him sent to Hermione so soon? I was going to request it, but I'd have thought you'd want to see him first," Draco asked, wanting to know his father's reasons for not immediately seeing the 'package' he had seemed so desperate to get his hands on.

"Ah," Lucius said, crossing his legs, "Ms. Granger came in this morning and asked to be the first to see Mr. Evans. She mentioned talking to you about some of his odd behaviors in…Wal-Mart," he concluded, raising a single eyebrow.

Draco nodded, fighting the urge to look away sheepishly. His father was never a fan of anything related to the middle class. "I was there to pick up some things for Evans during his temporary stay with me."

"Ms. Granger said as much," Lucius responded, already turning his attention to the files on his desk. "When she is done with her evaluation and I have the results, then we will proceed accordingly. Until then, you may go, Draco." Draco rose from his seat.

"Father?" Draco asked, causing Lucius to glance up. "If you don't mind my asking, what exactly is it that you plan to do with Evans?" Lucius gave Draco a calculating look before returning his gaze to the manila folder he was holding.

"Unfortunately for you, Draco, I do mind your asking."

And Draco knew that was all he would say. So nodding again, and fighting away any of the indignant retaliations his mind may have thought up, he turned and walked out the door, determined to go about his day as usual.

(break)

"Hello, Mr. Evans. My name is Hermione Granger."

Hermione smiled brightly at the boy in her doorway and extended her hand. He looked at it for a moment, as if unsure of what to make of it.

"Hello," the boy replied, gingerly grasping her hand before quickly letting go. Fleur waved her goodbye wordlessly, to which Hermione only nodded, before striding quickly away and, presumably, back to her desk.

Hermione studied Harry as he stood there for a moment before she turned and moved into her office.

"This way, Mr. Evans. I just have a few questions to ask you." Harry followed her silently, sitting down in the chair she indicated. She watched as he looked cautiously at his surroundings.

Eventually he looked at her again and shifted nervously in his chair.

"So, Mr. Evans, how are you this morning?" Hermione asked with a reassuring smile.

"…Fine. But, who are you?"

Hermione found herself chuckling at the innocently asked question and the boy's genuinely confused face.

"I'm Hermione Granger, the company's Director of Psychology. Among other things," she replied kindly, watching green eyes dart around again.

"Do…do you know Malfoy?"

"Malfoy?" she asked, momentarily confused as to which of the Malfoys he was referring to.

"Draco," Evans said, leaning forward in the chair, whispering the name as if it was something he shouldn't be saying.

Hermione leaned forward as well to hear the softly spoken word. After she caught it she sat back in her chair, smiling widely at the still nervous boy.

"Yes. I know Draco very well," she said, watching as he looked at her closely, as if trying to judge the truthfulness of her words. "In fact," she went on, "I saw him the other day. At Wal Mart. He was there picking up a few things for you I believe?" she asked, noticing as his posture became much more relaxed and he smiled back at her.

"Yep, he bought me all kinds of things. Much more than I needed," he said, looking bashful. "He really shouldn't have."

Hermione picked up a pen, ready to make a few notes on the boy's behavior.

"Really? What kind of things did he get you?" Surprised by the question, Harry answered,

"Um, clothes, mainly. And a lot of them. More than I've ever really had before. And a, uh, toothbrush…" he added, trailing off. Hermione nodded, remembering the toothbrush.

"When I saw him in the store though, he only bought the toothbrush. When did he get the clothes?"

"Oh, well, he got the clothes first, and forgot the toothbrush. So he sent me to the car and went back for it." She nodded again.

"And how did that go? Being in the parking lot alone? I know it's pretty big."

"It…went fine. I guess," he responded, looking uncomfortable. And Hermione definitely noticed.

"Did something happen?" she asked kindly.

"He…I…I don't know what happened really. …I mean," he went on, seeing her confused face, "I don't know why I did it. It was a stupid thing to do I suppose. I should have known I wasn't supposed to, that he didn't want me to. He'd told me that his dad wanted me, uh, 'untainted,' I guess you'd say." Hermione scribbled on her pad.

"And, what exactly did you do, Mr. Evans?" The boy looked up at her, startled.

"Harry. Call me Harry."

She smiled at this and nodded. "Okay, Harry. What happened in the parking lot?"

He shifted. "Well, this girl came…"

"And…?"

"I…well, I started to kiss her," he admitted, darting his eyes around again, as if expecting someone to jump out and attack him for saying such a thing.

"Why did you do that, Harry?"

"I thought I was supposed to. I thought it was a test," he answered in a tone that suggested he was trying to defend himself.

"A test?"

"I thought Malfoy was testing me. To see if I was good enough."

"Good enough for what?" Hermione asked, observing as he pulled his knees up to his chin and looked at her pleadingly.

"…I don't know. Why am I here?" he asked, hugging his legs to his chest. She looked at him for a moment, trying to think of the best answer to give him.

"That's not something I can tell you, Harry. Mr. Malfoy will have to do that. But, let's not worry about that just yet, okay?" He nodded slightly, still looking a bit trapped. "What happened after you kissed the girl?"

"I…" Harry started, looking for the right words. Slowly a smirk spread across his face. "I unlocked the doors and pushed her onto the back seat," he finished, lowering his knees and leaning forward over the desk. Hermione looked on in fascination, taking in the change in his personality.

"Did you? The back seat?"

"Yes, the back seat. I kept kissing the little slut, had her moaning, and then," he continued, sitting back in his chair, "Malfoy came."

"What did he do?" she asked, genuinely curious. The smirk grew before fading into a shy grin.

"He pulled me off her and told her to go away. Then he told me that I wasn't supposed to sleep with anyone, and that girls like her were all over the place. That I couldn't sleep with them, because I didn't know what I could get from them," he finished, having a shade of bitterness in his voice that Hermione picked up on.

"Do you agree with him?"

"I guess…but I wouldn't say they're all diseased. Or that they were all just whores out for a fuck."

Hermione stared at hearing such a word come from the boy's mouth, though she supposed it should hardly have been unexpected.

"Did you feel like he was including you when he talked like that?" she asked softly, suspecting that to be the cause of his bitterness.

"Yes."

Writing upon her pad again Hermione decided to change the subject.

"Tell me about your life in Fallen Angel," she suggested mildly, looking up to listen to him, and he shifted in the chair again.

"I was a prostitute," he voiced simply, staring back at her.

"Yes…yes I know. But I mean, aside from that." He stared at her blankly for a moment.

"There was no 'aside from that.' That was it. They locked me in a little room and I slept with whoever came through the door. The only ones who ever visited me for anything else were Ms. Molly, Eva, Tilly, and the seller. Sometimes the clients would take me to the bar, but not often. Fucking is all I was really good for," he concluded, looking at her with an almost bored expression.

"I see," she said uncomfortably. She looked down at her pad, writing some more and trying to shake away the pity she felt for the young man in front of her. The way his life sounded…it was no life at all. "Where were your parents during all this?"

"Dead."

"How…did they die?" she asked carefully.

"My dad died when I was only a baby, I think. My mother was raped and killed by visitors to the Saloon when I was about 5," he said calmly, and she felt her heart clench.

"Did you receive any form of education?" she went on, knowing she couldn't dwell on his misfortune.

"Yes. Ms. Molly taught me how to read and write and stuff. She was almost like a mother to me," he said, looking off to the side, obviously missing the woman. Hermione smiled sadly at the look, knowing it must have been difficult to leave her behind.

"Who is she?"

"A waitress at the Saloon. She moved into the town several years back with her daughter, Eva. I…don't know why. Fallen Angel's not really a place you want to live. But she did, for some reason. She, she tried to get me out of the business, tried to protect me. But I was too…popular it seemed." Harry glanced at her again as she wrote more notes on he pad.

When she was finished she looked up at him.

"Draco mentioned you have an aversion to strangers touching you, but that you like having contact with those you know, is that right?" Harry nodded. "Can you tell me why?"

"I'm not sure. When people I don't know touch me I feel really uncomfortable, but when I know the person it's…calming almost."

"How did you manage to…do your job, if you dislike contact with people?" He shrugged.

"Sex is sex. I had to do it or I'd get in trouble. When it's for a job, it's different. They have to touch me. And I have to touch them. If they didn't pay for it, they wouldn't get it."

"How old were you when you started into the prostitution business?" Hermione asked, feeling that she maybe didn't want to know the answer.

"Eh, I was eight when I started, but people didn't get to fuck me. I only gave hand jobs and blowjobs, went down on people and stuff like that. I had to earn my keep at the Saloon, cause where else was I gonna go?" he asked rhetorically. Hermione felt sick. Eight years old. How could anyone derive pleasure like that from a child?

"And…ho-" she paused, clearing her throat. "How old where you when you started actually sleeping with your…clients?" He thought for a second before shrugging again.

"Eleven was my first man. It wasn't until I was almost thirteen that I had a woman customer. They aren't as common at the Saloon."

Hermione shuddered, feeling the need to walk over to the boy and give him a hug. She couldn't even begin to fathom what he went through.

"How old are you now, Harry?"

"Fifteen."

She looked him over and concluded that, aside from his small size, he did appear to be about that age.

"Did they feed you well at this place?" she asked, fighting to keep the contempt she felt for the owners of such an establishment from her voice.

"I guess. I didn't go hungry."

Looking at him again Hermione suspected that, had he been properly fed and let outdoors like a normal child, he would have grown to be both taller and not as sickly looking. Though she would have imagined him to look worse for wear, based on what he'd told her. But she suspected that having lived with Draco for the past three days made the boy look a bit more lifelike.

"Do you know when your birthday is, Harry?"

"July 31st." Hermione wrote that down. His birthday was at the end of July, and at the moment it was the middle of May.

Deciding to move on to an even lighter subject Hermione asked her next question,

"So, how have you enjoyed your stay with Draco?"

The change was instant, Harry perked up and his nonchalant, sultry attitude was gone.

"It's great! I really like his house, and his kitty cat. Bennie's the best thing ever! And D- Malfoy feeds me all sorts of yummy foods that I've never seen before, like 'hamburger helper,' and the television is so cool! I'd never actually seen one, and it's amazing! And the carpet's so soft, and I can go outside anytime I'd like, and Malfoy's really fun and really nice, too. I really like it there," he concluded, matter-of-factly.

Hermione couldn't help but grin behind her pad at the boy's enthusiasm and the fact that he'd just described Draco Malfoy as nice. Not that Draco wasn't a great friend, or even a considerate one, but nice was generally not a word associated with the man.

"I'm glad, Harry. Draco really is a great guy, once you get to know him. I'm happy that he's been good to you," she finally told him kindly.

He nodded before eyeing her with something akin to suspicion and asking casually,

"So, how do you know Malfoy again?"

Coughing to disguise her laugh at the fact that she was sure that Harry felt threatened by her perceived closeness to Draco she grinned at the black haired teen.

"We went to the same boarding school, though I was several years ahead of him. We weren't really friends back then, but when I came to work here we struck up a friendship and we've been close ever sense."

He looked her over shrewdly.

"Friends?"

"Friends," she confirmed, smiling warmly. "I think if Draco and I tried to be anything more we'd end up killing each other. We're too different to be lovers, but just different enough to be great friends." He smiled back at her.

"Okay."

"Well, I think that's all I've really got to ask you at the moment," she said, standing up. "Are you hungry?"

"I do believe, Ms. Granger, that that was another question," he said, smiling charmingly. She laughed.

"Very true. And please, call me Hermione."

Harry stood up and bowed, extending his hand to her.

"Of course, milady." She laughed again and took his arm, noticing that she was a bit taller than him in her heals.

"So, hungry?" she asked, already leading him out the door and planning on getting something to eat.

"Absolutely famished," he said, willingly following along next to her.

"Wonderful," she said, leading him over to the elevators and planning on taking him to a very early lunch, hoping that Lucius didn't find out that she took him from the building. "I know just the place."

And as she pulled him along out the doors she grinned to herself, knowing that she'd have fun diagnosing this boy and getting to know him better, despite his troubled past.

After all, it was always the complex ones that were the most fun to figure out.

You are a special one, Harry Evans. More special than you could ever possibly know.