Title: Malfoys Don't Come Cheap
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco, Ron, Dean/Seamus, Hermione/Lavender, Ginny/Luna, Neville/Colin/Dennis, McGonagall/Trelawney, Dumbledore
Summary: Harry thought he'd done them all, but he hasn't done Malfoy. However, he's about to learn that Malfoys don't come cheap.
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Warning(s): Language, strong sexual suggestion, AU, OOC
Epilogue compliant? EWE
Word Count: 2,000
Author's Notes: acromantular provided a list of common cliches she doesn't like (rentboys, abusive Malfoy family dynamics, everyone is gay, lubrication spells, only eating Indian take-away), but indicated that crack!fic mocking them would be awesome. Voila! A big thank you to B, who provided the beta for this.
"I haven't gotten laid in forever," grumbled Harry.
"Hire a rentboy," Ron commented idly, flipping through the latest catalog of fetish wear.
Harry waved a dismissive hand. "Been there, done them all," he replied with a dejected sigh.
"Bet you haven't done Malfoy yet," Ron commented slyly.
"You're taking the piss," Harry stated flatly.
"Am not," Ron said. "Rumor has it his family disowned him or something."
Harry rose to his feet. "This, I have to see," he announced, heading for the exit of their dorm room.
He was nearly through the door when Ron called out, "Bring back some Indian take-away!"
One of the advantages of being a returning Eighth Year student at Hogwarts was the increased flexibility such students had to leave the school grounds and not adhere to strict curfews. For that reason, Harry was able to make his way into Hogsmeade that evening. The small village had boomed in the months since Harry had defeated Lord Voldemort, and Hogsmeade was now bustling with constant activity. More shops and pubs had been opened, and prostitution had seen an unfortunate rise. Harry searched the streets until he spotted a familiar figure lounging at the corner of Potter Avenue. Draco Malfoy was dressed to kill in tight black trousers, a pair of black boots, and a sleeveless, sheer green shirt that showed off his rouged nipples.
"Potter, what brings you here?"
Malfoy may have been reduced to rentboy status, but he still managed to maintain his trademark sneer and haughty attitude. Harry allowed his eyes to travel the length of Malfoy's body in what he hoped was a crude manner. "I'm here for the same thing you are, I reckon," he replied in a casual tone of voice.
Malfoy snorted. "The great Harry Potter is selling his arse on a street corner? That's rich."
"What?!" Harry squawked. "No! That's--you're wrong! I'm not here to sell anything."
"Buying, are you?" drawled Malfoy.
Harry allowed his eyes to traverse Malfoy's frame once more. "I might," he conceded. "What's your price?"
"That's exorbitant!" Harry cried in outrage.
"Malfoys don't come cheap, Potter, and if you don't pay my asking price, you won't be coming at all."
Harry scowled. "I thought your family disowned you, Malfoy," he sneered.
"Rubbish," scoffed Malfoy. "I left on my own because I was tired of all the abuse."
"Your parents beat you?" Harry goggled.
"Of course not, Potter. Don't be daft. Purebloods have no need to physically discipline their children," Malfoy replied. "My parents were simply rather vocal in their response to my announcement that I'd rather have a hard cock up my arse than a bird in my bed."
Harry was flummoxed. "So, you are now selling yourself on the streets because your parents yelled at you?"
"They'll come around," Malfoy sniffed. "Once word gets back to them that their only son and heir is out whoring himself, they'll fall all over themselves to welcome me back." When Harry simply continued to gape at him speechlessly, Malfoy exclaimed, "For Merlin's sake, Potter! I haven't actually sold my arse to anyone. I don't need to, nor do I want to; thus, the high asking price."
Harry was beginning to understand. "In other words, you are playing at being a rentboy until your parents come to their senses and rush to rescue you from a life of shameless whoring?"
"You're not as dumb as you look, Potter. Congratulations."
It was Harry's turn to snort. He then asked, "What if someone takes you up on your offer?"
"It hasn't happened yet," Malfoy replied with a shrug.
Impulsively, Harry blurted, "I'll give you ten Galleons."
"Potter!" cried Malfoy. "Do I look like a whore to you?!"
"Er, yes, you do," Harry nodded. A solid punch to the shoulder knocked him off balance.
"Hey, Ron," Dean greeted as he sauntered into the Eighth Years' dorm with his arm about his boyfriend Seamus. "I thought Harry was up here with you."
Ron shrugged and dogeared another page in the fetish catalog. "No, he went out to hire a rentboy."
"Harry went out?" Seamus interjected. "Is he bringing back Indian take-away?"
"Ow!" Harry yelped. "Why did you hit me?"
"How dare you call me a whore?" seethed Malfoy, shaking his fist as if it had hurt him to punch Harry.
Harry couldn't believe the argument he was having with the Slytherin. "I can't imagine what possessed me to say such a thing," he remarked, rolling his eyes.
Malfoy nodded once as if satisfied before declaring, "Very well, Potter. I'll accept your fifteen Galleons in exchange for allowing you the privilege of shagging me."
"Fifteen?!" Harry exclaimed. "You said ten!"
"The price has now gone up," Draco replied. "It's obvious you desperately want a piece of my arse, and there's also a smashing pair of dragonhide boots in Gladrags that I wish to buy."
Harry glared at him sullenly. "I thought you weren't actually selling yourself."
"I'm curious to see how the great Harry Potter performs in bed," Malfoy replied flippantly.
"Then why don't we simply shag and call it even?"
"Forget it, Potter. I want those boots."
"Is Harry back yet, Hermione? I'm hungry."
Hermione surfaced from snogging Lavender to blink up at Ron. "I didn't know Harry was gone," she shrugged, returning her attention to her girlfriend.
"He's supposed to be bringing me some food," pouted Ron.
Hermione's eyes snapped back to him. "Is he bringing us Indian take-away?" she asked with sudden excitement.
"Alright, you conniving bastard," grumbled Harry. "I'll pay you fifteen Galleons, but you'll be spending the entire night in my bed. I'm not paying that much for a one-off."
"It's a deal," declared Malfoy, extending his hand. They shook on it, then Malfoy said, "Let's get something to eat first. I'm as hungry as a hippogriff."
"I suppose I'm expected to buy," Harry commented wryly.
"Naturally," smirked Malfoy.
"Alright, but we're getting Indian," Harry agreed. "Ron wants me to bring him some take-away."
"Hasn't Weasley been peddling his arse on the streets?" asked Malfoy, matching his stride to Harry's.
Harry turned in the direction of the Indian restaurant. "He did for about three weeks," he answered. "Ron wanted a new pair of bondage-style trousers, and he couldn't afford them."
"Why didn't you loan him the money, Potter? I thought your parents left you a small fortune."
"I offered, but he wouldn't accept," sighed Harry. "Instead, I did the next best thing--I picked him up a couple times and paid to shag him."
"I do hope you've Scourgified your cock a dozen times since then," Malfoy commented with a grimace. "If not, I'll have to charge you double."
Harry scowled at him. "I believe I've taken a fair few showers since then, you pillock." By that time, they had arrived at the restaurant, negating any further bickering between them. Malfoy's attire drew more than one raised brow, but in true arrogant, pureblood style, he ignored the stares and rude whispers. In fact, Malfoy seemed to bask in the attention, almost preening as he sat at a small table with Harry. They placed their order for dinner, and Harry requested that the kitchen prepare enough take-away to feed a small army. Knowing his friends in Gryffindor, he'd need that much to appease their appetites for Indian food.
"Do your friends eat nothing but Indian take-away?" Malfoy questioned him when the additional food was delivered to their table.
Harry paused with a forkful of curry halfway to his mouth. "Is there any other kind of take-away?"
Malfoy also paused, brow wrinkling in thought. "None that I can think of, now that you mention it," he admitted. He turned his attention to his meal, slowly savoring each bite.
Once he'd finished eating, Harry found himself getting impatient. Impatient and painfully hard. "Stop faffing about, Malfoy," he grumbled. "You're just delaying the inevitable."
"Not so," Malfoy denied. "I'm rather looking forward to finding out what you're hiding in your pants. It will be interesting to see how you measure up." The last was said with a sly grin, but rather than being put off, Harry was turned on.
"The sooner we get back to Hogwarts, the sooner you can see how I measure up," he remarked with a challenging note in his voice.
Malfoy gave an exaggerated shiver. "Ooh, Potter," he cooed. "If I were wearing pants right now, they'd be all sticky."
The fork bent in Harry's hand. "We're leaving," he growled. "Now."
Ginny sailed into the Gryffindor common room, holding hands with her girlfriend Luna. Looking about, she frowned and demanded peevishly, "Where's Harry? I thought he was bringing us Indian take-away."
Neville looked up from where he'd been groping the Creevy brothers and said, "He's not back yet."
"Bugger all!" snapped Ginny. "I'm hungry!"
Harry finally succeeded in prying Malfoy away from the restaurant, and the two made their way back to Hogwarts. "I trust you know a good Lubrication Charm?" Malfoy spoke up.
"I know a dozen of them, at least," Harry responded nonchalantly. His lips quirked in a naughty grin as he added, "Maybe I'll use all of them on you tonight."
"Please," scoffed Malfoy. "Even the great Harry Potter can't get it up twelve times in one night."
"I may surprise you, Malfoy. Perhaps I intend to get my fifteen Galleons worth."
"What do you take me for, Potter? A whore?"
Harry opened his mouth, then thought better of it and clamped his lips together once more. His shoulder still ached from Malfoy's earlier punch.
Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall were strolling the corridors of Hogwarts, having recently finished handing out detention to a pair of juvenile malefactors. Coming upon a couple in a heated snog, McGonagall cleared her throat loudly, causing the two boys to spring apart with guilty looks on their faces. "Its time to return to your respective dorms, gentlemen," McGonagall said sternly.
Dumbledore sighed and shook his head as the boys scrambled away. "In my day, students restricted certain activities to the privacy of their own rooms," he lamented.
Minerva would have replied, but she had to save her breath for scolding the pair of Hufflepuff girls they happened upon with their hands up one another's skirts.
Harry had to shrink the copious amount of take-away from the Indian restaurant in order to carry it back to the castle. He had one arm slung around Malfoy's waist with his hand wedged into Malfoy's back pocket. Harry was enjoying the ability to squeeze the other boy's bum as they made their way back to Hogwarts. Once they arrived at the Gryffindor common room, they were set upon by a hungry horde. Harry passed the food around while Malfoy stood at a distance and observed the proceedings with dismay.
"Potter, let's go somewhere a little more private," he urged when Harry was able to step back and take a breath.
"Where would you suggest?" Harry asked, reaching forward to hook his fingers in the front of Malfoy's black trousers.
"S-Slytherin," Malfoy managed with a hitch in his breathing.
"If I spend the night in Slytherin, I should get the sex for free," mused Harry, moving his fingers in a casual caress of Malfoy's stomach.
Malfoy seemed to be having trouble formulating a response. "Boots," he managed, swaying toward Harry.
"Ah, yes, the dragonhide boots," Harry responded. "Let's go, then. The sooner we get there, the sooner you can start earning those boots." They exited Gryffindor through the portrait hole and began making their stumbling way down to the dungeons, pausing frequently to snog and grope one another.
"Would you care for some tea and biscuits, Minerva?"
"Thank you, Albus, but I must decline," replied McGonagall. "I'm having dinner with Sybil this evening."
Dumbledore scowled and was about to say something else, when they were interrupted by a pair of boys swaying down the corridor towards them, locked at the lips and pawing at each other.
"Potter! Malfoy!" snapped McGonagall. "Find yourselves a room."
"Yes, Professor," mumbled Potter with a guilty flush. He grabbed Malfoy's hand and dragged the other boy, unresisting, down the hall.
"And use protection!" McGonagall called after them.
Dumbledore threw his hands in the air in disgust and wailed, "Am I the only straight person left at Hogwarts?!"