disclaimer:

I'm not Rowling, and on top of that I'm too poor for you to get any money out of me if you sued me.

summary:

Banned from the ways of the Wizarding world Draco ends up in a Muggle brothel, but soon his life goes from bad to worse...

A/N:

Draco and Ron and Harry are at this point of the story 18 years old, as you should be if you want to read this...ok, and above ;)

This chapter contains slash, a kind of spanking, strong language, angst, rape!

Sorry to all readers who love Ron! Sure he is a cute and nice Gryffindor, but in this story I need him to be the bad guy. And, please, I mean bad, cruel, merciless - and far from canon. Well, he is not thaaat bad, he's not doing anything I wouldn't do.

::evil grin::

If you are searching for fluff, not in here! This chapter is nothing but dark and angsty!

Explicit coming ahead!

That was your last warning.

Well, if life gives you lemon, read it!

Shadows of Time

Chapter 2

Draco closed his eyes, trying to hide his disgust, as a bead of sweat hit his cheek. It had dropped down from the alarmingly red face of the man who was huffing and puffing on top of him like a steam engine. Each erratic thrust made his corpulence wobble with the force with which his body was slapping against Draco's in the quest for leaving a lasting impression with his puny arousal.

Greedy hands were gliding over Draco's belly and chest, brushing his nipples almost accidentally, before they returned to his wide opened thighs, holding, caressing, shaming him. His own panting was almost drowned out by the wet, smacking sounds and increasingly louder wheezes resounding in the shabby room. Shuddering, the man opened his mouth wide to emit a choked cry, heralding the imminent conclusion of Draco's fifth job for the day.

It was a job, a job like any other one, Draco tried to persuade himself once again, wincing at the repugnant feeling of rapidly softening flesh sliding out of his passage. The sense of relief was only slightly marred by the feeling of being buried under the heavy body which had collapsed on top of him, convulsing sporadically in the aftermath. Forcing his lungs to draw breath after heaving breath Draco waited impatiently for the burly man to take his leave. With a contented grin the man raised his head to clumsily press his wet lips onto Draco's slightly opened ones, causing him to promptly turn his head aside.

"No kissing!" Draco whispered hoarsely, his voice betraying his weariness.

Regretful eyes tried to meet his, questioning this curt denial. Captured between hesitancy and hope the man stared at him for some moments, before he rolled off Draco with a breathless groan. Slowly Draco sat up, pulling his legs close to his body to wind his arms around them, only too aware of his own nakedness as he was watching the once again panting man getting dressed.

His gaze soon strayed out the window behind which a hostile world filled with Muggles was lurking. The Wizarding world was no more than a place existing in his dreams. His own kind had cast him out and condemned him to live in a nightmare. A nightmare filled with monsters of all kinds, short and tall, fat and lean, ugly and good-looking, cruel and tender. A nightmare he could not escape from as he had learned within the four months he had spent in it, months which seemed to him like a life-time.

"You're a sweet boy." With a conspiratorial smile the man took a ten pound note out of his wallet and forced it into Draco's unwilling hand. "A little something for you."

The money felt dirty in Draco's hand, as if the semen slowly trickling out of his sore hole had also besmirched the worn piece of paper.

"Thank you," he said politely, forcing a smile onto his face as he closed his hand around it.

Draco was not sure if he wanted to hide the money from the preying eyes of his whoremaster, as any tip given to him was confiscated on sight as down payment for his rapidly growing debts for living costs and compound interest, or from himself. He had come to loathe what he had so proudly showed off in the past. Money was something he was ashamed to have in his possession, because it was betraying what he had done for it. He was only too grateful for the fact that his clients were paying the fee for using his body directly to his whoremaster.

Closing his fist tighter around the ten pound note Draco waited until the man had shut the door behind him on his way out before he got up from the bed and went into the adjoining bathroom. Carefully smoothing out the crumpled note he added it to the small amount of Muggle money he had hidden in a secret compartment behind a loose tile. He did not even know why he took the risk to divert money. There was nowhere for him to go to, no way for him to survive anywhere but here, at the mercy of 'Daddy Metlock', who had picked him up off the street and wouldn't allow him to leave before he had payed off what he owed him.

For a moment his gaze was captured by his reflection in the small mirror above the washing-basin. In his eyes, deep seas of long ago frozen mercury, he could discern his fear of the terrifying truth - there would never be a fare-well for him. Even if he was able to pay off his debts he wouldn't leave the brothel. Lost in thought he let his hands wander over his body, marvelling at how pale he looked in the neon light, as white as the snowflakes which were dancing in front of his window, predestined to end up in the gutter where they would cease to exist, just as he had.

With a sigh he turned on the water in the shower, a fast glance at the watch reminding him of that he had to prepare for his last client for tonight, if there was still anybody willing to have him before the brothel would be closed in the early morning hours. His days were a never ending circle of being soiled and trying to wash the filth off, an attempt doomed to failure, as not only his body, but his very being had been sullied. Despite this knowledge Draco scrubbed his skin with a vengeance, desperate to wash off the man's sweat, saliva and sperm, the feeling of hands on his body, the lingering pain of forced penetration...

Unwilling to continue this train of thoughts he fled the shower, suddenly unable to stand the water's mocking purity flowing over his defiled body. Startled Draco became aware of that his next client had already entered, walking around aimlessly to examine the drearily furnished room. With trembling hands he hurriedly tried to dry off his dripping wet body before wrapping the towel around his narrow hips.

Bracing himself for his next job, Draco clothed his face in smiles and stepped into the room. The tall redhead turned around, his pleased grin even widening as he let his eyes wander over the half-naked body presented to him. Shock was burning through Draco's veins like ice, as he gaped at the young man, who had let himself fall onto the only chair in the room, leaning back with wide opened legs in a show of confident virility. His facial features had matured slightly since he had seen him last, and his body had lost its lanky quality, but sitting in front of him was undeniably Ronald Weasley, drinking in his stunned reaction with glee.

"You?" Draco asked, the horror and shame he felt slowly merging with ire. "What are you doing here?"

"I paid for the full service," sneered the red-haired youth, his hand coming to lie on his own crotch. "And I'm here to get what I paid for, Malfoy."

Only with difficulty Draco averted his eyes from the sight of Weasley's hand moving tantalizingly slow over his obviously growing arousal.

"Get out!" he choked out, helplessly folding his arms over his chest to hide as much naked skin as possible from the scorn gleaming in those blue eyes. "Out of my room!"

"Oh, come on, Malfoy! It took me months to find you. You can't throw me out like that now, can you?" the redhead replied with an air of innocence, which was immediately shattered by the way he leered at him.

Draco swallowed heavily, his mind racing to find a way out of this awkward situation. Never had he thought it possible that a wizard would find his way into a Muggle brothel to reveal his disgrace, especially as it was a brothel specialised on rent boys. For some moments he tried to cling to the possibility that the dense Gryffindor had not realised what exactly he was doing in this seedy house, but the way the redhead was still rubbing his genitals through his trousers forced Draco to abandon his delusive hope and face reality.

"What is all this about? You're not even into men!" Draco tried to reason nervously, embarrassed at the heat he felt creeping over his face at a time he had already thought himself insensitive towards humiliation.

"Aren't I?" Weasley said, wrinkling his forehead, seemingly deep in thought. "Yes, I guess you're right, Malfoy. I'm not into men. But after your father killed Hermione I had a hell lot of time to redefine myself...and my interests."

Draco shuddered at the hatred darkening Weasley's face. Slowly, inconspiciously he took a step back, dreading to show the fear suddenly thundering in his ears and taking his breath away.

"I've always thought that it was too light a sentence to just ban you from all magic, but this here is even better - to see the proud and priggish Draco Malfoy reduced to a whore!" the young man hissed with a venomous smile. "Your father spoiled my revenge on him with his inglorious death, but one Malfoy is as good as the other, or should I say evil-"

"Get out, or I'll call the security!" Draco threatened, trying in vain to keep his voice from shaking as much as he did.

"Scared, Malfoy?" the Gryffindor asked, his eyes lighting up with morbid satisfaction.

Draco wanted to deny what he knew to be true, but the words stuck in his throat, trying to suffocate him. Weasley didn't make the impression that he wanted to leave anytime soon - nor did he make the impression of being entirely sane. At a hurried pace Draco made his way to the door, determined to have the hostile youth thrown out of the seventh heaven. Only inches separated his hand from the door handle when Weasley shot up from his seat and threw him back into the room with a hard backhand. Staggering Draco brought his hand up to his pulsing cheekbone, from which a frightening numbness started to radiate over his face and pierce his brain.

"Oh no, you won't go anywhere, Malfoy!" Weasley said quietly, drawing his wand as he slowly stepped closer. "Not before I've finished with you. Murus Silens!" (wall of silence)

Draco's eyes widened, as the Gryffindor spelled the room soundproof, thwarting his last chance at calling for help. Realising that he was unable to fight the taller and heavier boy, who was also armed with a wand, he slowly retreated. Frightened he stared at the shining piece of wood, which was directed against him, having seen one too many times how fast a spell could kill. Stepping closer Weasley brutally dug his fingers into his hair, causing Draco to wince as he pulled his head harshly back until he was forced to look up into his freckled face. Anxiously Draco froze as the wand's tip pressed against his throat, closing his eyes in anticipation of his looming death. His own shaky breaths sounded overly loud in his ears as the so innocent looking piece of wood started to glide over his skin, drawing a pattern of terror onto his jaw and cheek before it tenderly traced the curve of his lips.

"What do you want from me?" Draco whispered, confused at Weasley's behaviour.

"I'm going to take what I paid for, Malfoy, and then some more -" the young man whispered before clashing his lips against Draco's, eliciting a protesting whimper from him.

Draco's heart was hammering in a mad staccato, screaming at him to do something, anything. Bringing his knee up with force, he aimed right between Weasley's legs. The redhead gave a surprised yelp and flinched back, his face contorted with pain. Without hesitation Draco used the opportunity and grabbed the gasping boy's wand-arm with both hands, bending his small finger back with enough force to elicit a sharp cry from him. His relief at seeing the wand falling out of Weasley's hand and clattering onto the ground was short-lived, as searing pain exploded in his side, where a hard blow had hit his kidney. The sheer agony took his breath away and rendered him defenceless against the redhead's wrath.

"You fucking whore! I'll teach you!" Weasley snarled, as he vigorously pushed him onto the bed.

Having landed on his stomach, Draco turned around, his movements slightly disoriented and slowed down as he was bouncing on the springy mattress, just to see Weasley picking up his wand. When his attempt at kicking the wand from the seething youth's hand was blocked and the red beam of a stunner was heading straight for him, Draco knew he had lost.

"Wake up, my sleeping beauty!"

The sickly sweet words almost turned Draco's stomach, as he became aware of his surroundings. He was lying on his stomach, forced into a spread-eagle position by the relentless embrace of obviously magically conjured ropes holding onto his wrists and ankles. Unwilling to give in to the inevitable he struggled against his bonds as Weasley's hand made contact with his calf and started gliding up his leg in an unwelcome caress. He was only too aware of that the towel around his hips was gone when the redhead started groping his butt.

"Take your hands off me, Weasley, and untie me!" Draco hissed, trying to push back the roaring panic into its dark abyss before it could swallow him alive.

The redhead snickered at his futile attempts to shy away from his touch.

"Don't make a fuss, Malfoy! The best is yet to come," Weasley said cheerfully, as he stood back from the bed to slowly open his belt-buckle. "I'm gonna make you scream!"

Draco grimaced at the blunt statement, confident that nobody would have the pleasure of his screams, and surely not somebody his own age like Ronald Weasley, no matter how rough he would take him. Closing his eyes Draco tried to calm his racing heart and get his breathing under control. He had encountered violent and cruel clients before, that was a given risk in his job, but never before had he been tied to the bed, forced to give up the last bit of control he had desperately held onto. Telling himself that it would hurt less if he tried to relax, Draco buried his face into the soiled sheets.

The whistling sound shattering the leaden silence did nothing to warn him against the swath of fire which was suddenly crossing his backside. Startled he let loose a yelp, his head flying up to search for whatever had hit his bottom so unexpectedly. Weasley was watching him with a mean grin on his face, flexing his belt between his outstretched hands, snapping the thick leather. Incredulously Draco stared at him for some seconds, before he started to pull on his bonds with renewed vigor.

"What? You thought I would just screw you?" Weasley jibed. "What punishment would that be for somebody who takes it up his arse for money? I told you, I will take what I paid for and then some - and you owe me a hell lot of pain -"

The redhead seemed to tower over him like a giant as he raised the belt once more and let it fly. Draco clenched his teeth, tensing his muscles involuntarily at the impact. With every blow he pressed his middle into the mattress, his body instinctively trying to escape the belt. The pain was bad, but nothing he couldn't endure. What was worse was the shame he felt, the utter humiliation to endure a belting on his naked butt by the hands of his former class-mate, a boy whom he had always looked down upon. Once again he wondered if it had not been better for him to be sentenced to 'the kiss' like his parents had instead of steadily sinking deeper and deeper.

He tried to distract himself with the hatred blazing in his chest, although he was not sure if it was Weasley or the laughing stock he had become whom he loathed more. Small noises of distress bubbled in his throat, threatening to breach his tightly sealed lips each time the belt fell. Soon he became dizzy, wondering if he was hyperventilating with his breath puffing faster and faster through his nose.The belt smashed into his buttocks again and again, stoking up the fire with each blow until it had reached the point of becoming unbearable.

"Please...Weasley...please, stop..." he whimpered, writhing in his bonds to escape the unceasing torment.

Contrary to what Draco had hoped for his words only seemed to stimulate the young man to hit him harder. He clenched his fists around the crumpled sheets, biting his lower lip to keep the pained sounds locked inside his throat. His backside was surely blistering in the searing heat the belt had generated. Every stroke felt as if he was flayed alive, sending waves of agony through his shaking body. Had he entertained his mind with thoughts of revenge on Weasley a mere minute ago, now all he could think about was begging him for mercy. Appalled he could feel tears forming in his eyes, reminding him of the oversensitive little boy he had been a life-time ago. His suppressed whimpers had been replaced by loud moans before he realised that he was losing his composure.

"Please...stop...it hurts..." Draco cried, reluctant to admit how much it pained him.

"Don't you dare tell me it hurts, Malfoy!" Weasley shouted at him, while lashing him once again with his belt. "You have no idea what real pain is."

The red-haired youth seemed to have worked himself into a frenzy, uncaring of Draco's wailed pleas as he raised the belt again and again. Draco was floating in a dark ocean of liquid fire, longing to go under, to close his eyes and succumb to darkness. The pain had spread from his backside throughout his body, leaving him too faint to struggle, his waning strength absorbed by the effort to gasp for breath.

"Oh god...please...I'm sor...sorry about Grange...Granger..." Draco howled between sobs, hoping against hope that Weasley would realise that his apologies were sincere.

"You -" Weasley hissed; swooping down on Draco like a fiery angel of vengeance he pulled his head brutally back by his hairs to snarl into his face. "Don't you even utter her name, Malfoy! You piece of shit! Fucking whore!"

Half lying on top of him, Weasley opened his trousers to free his swollen shaft before he took position between Draco's legs.

"I'm sorry...please, don't..." Draco whimpered, still dazed by the ordeal he had just gone through.

He moaned loudly as Weasley pulled his head once again back and to the side, his own face close enough to Draco's to let him feel his hot breath against his ear as he whispered, "I want to see your face while I screw you. I want to look right into your eyes, you worthless piece of shit!"

Draco was quailing at the feeling of Weasley's body on top of his, his legs pushing his own even further apart, while his trousers were painfully scratching over his abused backside. Then there was the well-known nudge of hot flesh against his hole. The uncomfortable pressure immediately gave way to searing pain, causing Draco to cry out.

"No!" he wailed, fighting to break free from his bonds.

"Shut the fuck up and take it, whore!" the red-haired youth hissed, slighty grimacing as he pushed in deeper. "I'm gonna make your life living hell, Malfoy, I swear, I'm gonna give you what you deserve!"

Draco whimpered at the excruciating feeling of the youth's jeans-clad body rubbing against his burning butt, rivaling the agony of the painful intrusion. Each brutal thrust sent a wave of pain through his body, leaving him unable to choke back his screams, unable to dam up his tears. But what hurt him even more, feeling like white-hot irons stabbing deep into his soul, was the disdain the young man he had known for years was showing him. He was regretting every scornful word he had ever thrown into the redhead's face as a child, was bewailing his cruel fate, which had let their paths cross once again to make him suffer for every wrong he had done in the past.

"Please...stop..." he gasped out, looking imploringly at Weasley's blurry face through a veil of tears.

"What is it, pussy boy?...Want to tell me you don't enjoy...being fucked?" the redhead panted while building up an agonising rhythm of brutal thrusts. Looking deep into Draco's eyes he sneered, "Don't give me that shit!...I've always known that you were a fairy...at Hogwarts already...the Slytherin slut...had a special position with the Death Eaters too, I reckon...as their toy boy...I guess that's the only thing you were ever good for...being fucked...and even as a whore you are useless, Malfoy..."

Closing his eyes with despair, Draco wished the old Weasley back, the hot-headed but honorable boy he had attended Hogwarts with. The humiliation he was forced to accept from the red-haired youth made him bawl like a little boy, his own reaction shaming him as much as the way Weasley was treating him.

"Open your eyes!" Weasley shouted at him, gruffly shaking Draco's head by his hair to get his attention as he didn't obey. "Open you fucking eyes I said!"

Draco opened his eyes, his very being shrinking back as he came to stare right into Weasley's burning eyes. Ramming his hole harder the redhead sped up his thrusts, a sure sign for Draco that he was close to coming. A sign he noticed with gladness, although a part of him seemed to enjoy the hard thrusts, the way Weasley's rather noteworthy shaft was now ramming right against his prostate, the way his bottom burned with the slightest movement, sending waves of heat through his body, the way their gasped breaths were mingling, the way Weasley clashed his lips once more against his with bruising force, biting his lower lip hard enough to break the soft skin. A contented quality sneaked into his pained moans, as his member slowly hardened. It was almost with regret that he felt Weasley's dick starting to twitch deep inside his passage, just as he had rediscovered a tiny spark of passion.

"Yes!...Take my come, dirty whore!" Weasley mumbled into their kiss, tensing with the force of his orgasm before he convulsively thrust a last time deep into him.

For some moments they both breathed heavily, their sweaty bodies trembling in the aftermath. Then Weasley withdrew with a groan, leaving Draco empty and cold as he got up.

"Fucking hell, you are a lousy lay, Malfoy! I guess I would have more fun buggering a corpse," the redhead said quietly, as he shut his trousers and threaded his belt back into the loops. "Still I'm sure a lot of wizards will want to enjoy your services, once I told them where to find you. Maybe Skeeter will want to write an article on how the high and mighty Draco Malfoy, only son of the infamous Lucius Malfoy, is doing as a whore. I guess whenever you see a beetle on the wall you might ask yourself if it is Rita Skeeter watching the proud Pure Blood taking a Muggle cock up his arse."

"No, please! You can't do that, please!" Draco begged frantically searching for any sign in the freckled face that it had been just a joke, an empty threat, another cruel attempt at humiliating him, but the mirthless laughter rumbling deep in Weasley's chest told him otherwise.

"I can do anything I want, Malfoy, and I will," he promised darkly. "Don't worry, even though you are not worth the money I'll be back for another round, and then another, and another..."

Swallowing back the tears betraying his pathetic weakness, Draco ceased to pull on his bonds and relaxed, surrendering to the fact that he was helpless without magic, powerless against a wizard like Ronald Weasley. Every so often his chest convulsed in the memory of his weeping, the tiny sobs sounding akin to small hiccups, as he watched the red-haired youth taking his oldfashioned corduroy jacket from the coat hook on the inside of the door to put it on. With a single swish of his wand Weasley vanished the ropes from Draco's wrists and ankles, throwing a last scornful look at his prone form before he silently left the room, an atmosphere of fear and sorrow in his wake, as he had sucked the last remnants of hope from Draco's soul with his words.

A forceful sob tore out of his throat as Draco curled up on the rumpled sheets, flinching at the pain radiating from his tender butt at even this careful movement. He marveled at the fact that his member was still hard, uncaring of his misery. Hesitantly Draco curled his fingers around the swollen flesh, wondering how it could be that he seemingly enjoyed to be raped and treated like scum by the red-haired youth, whereas sex had long ago become a daily routine he merely endured. Slowly he moved his hand back and forth, moaning at the pleasurable sensation.

He hated Weasley, he told himself. So how had he been able to bring the spark back to ignite his passion? Rolling onto his back Draco moaned at the feeling of his sore backside rubbing against the mattress. Closing his eyes he moved his hand faster up and down his shaft, gasping at the waves of pleasure rolling over him, causing the muscles in his stomach and his hole to convulse. His orgasm was tearing through his body like a force of nature, forcing a hoarse scream from him. His heaving breaths soon merged into sobs, as tears were once more leaking from his burning eyes. He felt wretched, sick and tired. There was nothing more he longed for than a thorough shower.

'Take my come, dirty whore!'

Yes, he was dirty, he needed a shower! Awkwardly Draco got up, mindful of his sore butt, his body shaking with sobs and pain. His despair was fueling his sorrow, causing his uncontrolled sobbing to become louder with every passing second. He cried out as the hot water hit his bottom, as the pain flared up with the added heat. Images of wizards he knew, entering his room, using him, abusing him, floated through his mind. Sheer terror clutched his heart at the knowledge that Weasley would tell everybody that he had become a whore. More wizards would come, bent on humiliating him, hurting him, taking advantage of the fact that he was now lower than a squib. He couldn't take more of what he had gone through with Weasley! He would prefer to take his own life to submitting one more time to any wizard, giving any wizard the pleasure of taking their personal revenge against all Death Eaters on him alone.

Without further thought he rushed out of the shower, his tears ceasing as he was coming to a decision. Hurriedly he put on the clothes he had had on his body when he had been mislead to this god-forsaken place, then he retrieved the money he had hidden behind the loose tile. Cleaning the tears from his face with the sleeve of his shirt, Draco took a deep breath, his hand slowly turning the door knob. Stealthily he made his way down the passage, which was illuminated by a single red light bulb only. His heart was racing, and his lungs seemed unable to draw more than shaky, small breaths in rapid succession, leaving him light-headed with fear.

He needed to get out of here, needed to leave the brothel undetected. There would be hell to pay if his whoremaster was to catch him. Draco was already putting his foot onto the upmost step of the long stairs when a door to his left opened, revealing the surprised face of a brown-haired boy, one of the older boys working in this seedy hotel. With bated breath Draco met his sly stare, his mind racing to bring up any good excuse for him being out of his room.

"What are you doing there, Draco?" he asked, narrowing his sparkling eyes.

"Metlock asked for me," Draco said in a low voice, torn between giving a confident impression and the need to be quiet.

The boy looked him up and down, taking in his street clothes, before he slowly nodded and withdrew to his room, shutting the door with a rather loud bang. Thunderstruck Draco stared at the closed door, trying to decide if the whoremaster could have been alerted by the noise. For some minutes he stood frozen on the top of the stairs, one foot still lowered onto the first step, listening to the sleeping house. Then he quietly made his way down to the ground floor, unable to hear the noise his feet might have been making on the creaky wooden stairs over his madly beating heart. He could feel the heavenly feeling of freedom caressing his soul like a gentle, cleansing breeze, when he had reached the vestibule from which the front door led to the street. Slowly he turned the handle, just to find the door locked. Confused he stared at the gaping keyhole, which was mocking him like a tiny, laughing mouth growing in the unyielding door. He wouldn't have needed to turn around to know who was slowly approaching his trembling form. The whoremaster moved with the air of somebody who was always hiding in the shadows, his face showing nothing but bored cruelty.

"Searching for something?" Metlock asked with raised eyebrows, dangling a large key from his finger.

A/N:

Well, that chapter was fun. ;)) And what a way to end it. That writer is a real meanie!

Oh, and what a meanie! The writer plans to wait with the next update until she got 10 reviews! -shocked gasp-

You could for example tell me your favorite line in this chapter.

Well, my favorite line is "I'm gonna make you scream!" Someone out there should remember that line very well...

And I grudgingly admit I like the comparison of Draco to the snowflakes in front of his window. Well, I have a poetic vein too, but don't tell anybody... Gods, I guess I'm bored, as I write about my own writing. I should better go and finish the next chapter. Oh my, but so much fluff coming ahead...

I want to thank those brave readers, who reviewed the first chapter:

azamystic, fudgebaby, Madd girl, lena, Kennedy Snape, TearsOfTheForgotten and luvdarkarts