* * * * * * * * * * *
Lucius picks up a young orphaned Harry off the streets while in
Diagon Alley and takes him home as his new 'boy.' Draco takes an
interest and attempts to steal Harry away. Will a relationship form
between Lucius and Harry, or will Lucius have to force the boy
wonder? Must include: Draco telling an oblivious Harry that he's to
be used as a sex-toy; a scene with Harry in Lucius' lap being fed
chocolates/strawberries/whatever; the line "Father gets what Father
wants, and Draco gets...what Draco wants." (whether or not this line
becomes true is up to you)
* * * * * * * * * *
Harry watched the storekeeper carefully. He was distracted by the
customer, a tall intimidating-looking man with long silver-blond
hair, and he wasn't watching his displays. Harry knew by now what he
could get away with stealing; if he didn't take too much, or too
often from the same people, he didn't get caught. That also meant he
couldn't choose what he wanted, but, it was better than nothing.
Better than starving, and better than begging, better than
prostituting himself like some of the other orphans. He shuddered to
himself. Not that he hadn't been propositioned a few times. He hoped
he wouldn't ever have to stoop to that. Because, and he'd only
admitted it to himself, he'd liked it too much when older men had
looked at him. He knew there was something wrong with him, he wasn't
supposed to like it. He blushed and started to get hard just from
the thought of an older, stronger man touching him all over...
between his legs, where he'd only just recently started touching
Arousal distracted Harry, however, and he knocked over a pile of
apples as he stole one. The shopkeeper looked up with a yell, and
started after him. Harry stuffed the apple in his shirt and ran as
fast as he could. He was small and could duck between people easily,
and soon found refuge in a small, dirty alleyway. He stopped, trying
to catch his breath, looking around to make sure there was no one
else in the alley. It had been close, but it looked like he had
gotten away with it once more. He decided he'd better avoid that
section of the street for a while, though.
He was just about ready to venture out again when a shadow fell
across the mouth of the alley. Harry froze, but it was too late. A
strong arm snapped out and grabbed him by the hair, making him gasp
with pain and stop struggling. He was facing away from his
assailant, and soon a long black cane tipped with a silver snake
came into view, forcing his head around. The rest of his body
followed unwillingly, and soon he was staring up... at the customer
from the fruit shop he had just fled. He recognised the long silver-
blond hair. The man was looking down at him with a cruel, appraising
smile on his face.
"Well, now, look at what I've caught," purred the man. "A street
Harry held very still as he took in the man who held him. The long
hair should have looked ridiculous on him, but it only made him look
regal. Icy silver blue eyes, a cruel yet full mouth, expensive
brocade robes, fitted leather gloves... everything about the man
screamed money, old money, and lots of it. Not to mention the man
was very handsome. Harry decided there were worse people to be
The man went on, slowly and purposefully. "Now what shall I do with
you?" He looked down at Harry critically. "Not very nice to look at,
are you? Perhaps I should just march you back to that fine
upstanding merchant you robbed..."
Harry finally found his voice, wincing as he squeaked
unintentionally. "Please, sir, don't do that, he'll turn me over to
the Ministry and they'll beat me, sir... it was only one apple..."
He didn't have to work at sounding pitiful; the last time he'd been
caught he'd been bruised and unable to run for days.
"Yes, well, perhaps you're a boy in *need* of a good beating," mused
the blond man. Then his mouth twisted in a smirk. "Though I'd do a
much better job of it."
Harry stared at the man, eyes wide. What was he getting at?
The blond man pulled at Harry's hair, jerking him closer. "I'm
giving you a choice, boy. Come with me, willingly... or I give you
back to the shopkeeper."
"C-come with you? For what?" Immediately, Harry was sorry he asked.
The man scowled down at him.
"Don't ask questions, boy. That's your choice. Take it or leave it."
Harry thought fast. The man was so close, he could feel the heat
coming off of him. He was so powerful and commanding... his body
began to react once again, and Harry knew his decision was
made. "I'll come with you, sir," he whispered, blushing.
The man smirked once again. "Excellent choice, boy. Now let's get
out of this filthy alley."
The man stepped out into the road, whistling, and he transferred his
grip to Harry's upper arm. A carriage approached from the end of the
street, drawn by two jet-black horses. The man looked down at Harry
warningly. "No running away, boy, or I'll find you. And you'll be
Harry believed him.
Harry had never ridden in such a fine carriage before; he hardly
felt the ruts in the bumpy road as they traveled. The man insisted
that Harry sit quite close to him, their thighs touching, and as
they turned corners he was pressed even more firmly against him. The
man smelled nice and he was warm, so Harry didn't much mind. The man
spoke little on the journey, and Harry just looked out the window.
Finally, they turned into a narrow road that led between tall oak
trees. A huge house, larger than Harry had seen in his life, loomed
at the end. Surely that couldn't be where they were going...
But it was indeed their destination. The carriage pulled smoothly to
a halt, and the man waited for the driver to open the doors. He
climbed out first, and let Harry clamber out after. Apparently the
man no longer felt the need to keep physical hold of Harry any
longer. Harry could see the point; he had no clue where he was at
all. But he felt strangely disappointed. He liked being close to
The man walked a few steps toward the massive front doors, then
turned to regard Harry. "Welcome to Malfoy Manor," he intoned
Harry followed his new master, as he was beginning to think of him,
around the huge house. The house looked like he imagined palaces
would, all polished marble and hanging drapes and not a speck of
dirt anywhere. Harry felt positively mangy in comparison.
Apparently the man noticed this as well. He stopped in a hallway,
gesturing to a door. "Those will be your rooms."
Harry walked in, and his eyes went wide again; compared to the rest
of the house, these rooms were modest, but he'd never lived anywhere
half as luxurious. He turned to look at the man. "Mr. Malfoy, sir,"
he began tentatively.
"Yes, boy?" he answered. "Oh, and what's your name, by the way?"
"I'm Harry, sir."
"No surname, sir. Just Harry, sir. I'm an orphan."
The man frowned down at him. "I assumed that. Well, Harry, my name
is Lucius Malfoy." He held out a still-gloved hand. "You may call me
Mr. Malfoy for now."
Harry shook the man's hand. "Please, Mr. Malfoy, sir, may I ask what
I'm here for? Why did you bring me here?"
For some reason this made Mr. Malfoy laugh. Instead of answering, he
asked, "How old are you, Harry?"
Lucius raised an elegant eyebrow. He clearly disbelieved Harry's
statement. Harry knew he was small for his age. "Well, Harry, since
you are fifteen, you should have some clue by now."
Harry just looked at Lucius, and he was about to ask another
question when Lucius went on, "Well, you'll have to excuse me, I
have business to attend to. I shall have someone bring you something
to eat, then please take advantage of the bathing facilities. You
don't smell very pleasant, Harry, I'm sorry to say. I'll send for
He swept out the door, robes swirling behind him impressively, and
Harry repressed a shiver. He realised Mr. Malfoy hadn't answered his
A few hours later, Harry couldn't remember feeling any better. An
elderly man had brought a tray that held more food than Harry
usually ate in a week, of all different types. The man didn't speak
to him at all, just put the food on a table and left. Harry tore
into the food almost frantically; in his experience, if you didn't
eat quickly, someone else bigger would take it away. After a bit,
though, he calmed down and got more selective. He also found hiding
places for some of the perishable food; hoarding had become a habit.
Finally, he had eaten as much as he could manage. He felt pleasantly
sleepy, and wandered into the bathroom. There was a huge clawfoot
tub and Harry thought a bath seemed like the best thing in the world
right now. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a proper
He filled the bath and peeled off his filthy clothes. He sank into
the hot water, washing his hair quickly with some soap and rinsing
it before starting on his body. He found a soft sponge and scrubbed,
not sure why he felt a need to be clean for Mr. Malfoy. He wasn't
sure, either, why just thinking of the big strong man sent a not
altogether unpleasant shiver through him. He didn't know what to
expect, and he was trying not to think about it too much. He was
fed, warm, and had a home, and he didn't mean to lose that.
He got out of the tub and wrapped himself in a large towel. He
realised something suddenly; he couldn't possibly put his filthy
clothes back on, and they were all he had. He had a moment of panic;
but when he walked back out into his room, he saw, laid out on the
bed, a white shirt and pants made of some silky-soft material. With
a start he realised that someone had come into the rooms while he
was in the bath. He wasn't sure why this bothered him, but it seemed
to drive home the fact that his life was truly changed. Though he
had been nothing but a street orphan before, his life had been his
own, miserable or not. Now, he was much better off, but he was kept.
He belonged to Lucius Malfoy. He sighed. He wondered if he could
live with that or not.
He dressed in the provided clothes and crawled up onto the big four-
poster bed. He had no idea when Mr. Malfoy would send for him. He
would just rest for a while.
He awoke with a start, how much later he had no idea. The same old
man who had brought his food was telling him to follow immediately.
Harry slid off the bed and followed, yawning and too disorientated
to question or worry.
They went down corridor after corridor, through huge double doors
and down another long hallway. Harry glanced at the decorations;
everything looked old and expensive. Nothing but the best for Mr.
Finally they arrived in front of another set of doors. The man told
him to go in, but didn't follow. Harry took a deep breath and pushed
the doors open. Beyond was a bedroom that was a good ten times
bigger than his, and contained the most lavish furniture he'd yet
seen. Brocade drapes, ornate tapestries, gleaming golden
figurines... but the most impressive thing of all, that drew your
eye like a magnet, was the bed. It stood in the exact center of the
far wall, and was the biggest piece of furniture Harry had ever
seen. He felt sure that all the children in the orphanage could have
slept in it comfortably. Not that they would have been allowed to.
The posts of the bed nearly reached the high ceiling, and what
looked like acres of silk and velvet hung from them. It was a bed
fit for a king, and he knew he could only be in Lucius Malfoy's
Harry looked around; there was no sign of Mr. Malfoy yet. He tried
to quell the nervousness he felt; he knew he was at his new master's
mercy, but it wouldn't do to fall to pieces. Whatever would happen,
he could handle it.
Then a deep, silky voice came from directly behind him. "Well, well,
Harry..." Harry could sense the man moving, circling him, but he
fought to stay still. Finally, Mr. Malfoy came to stand directly in
front of him, and Harry dropped his eyes respectfully to the
carpet. "I must say I'm impressed, Harry. There is quite a pretty
boy under all that grime."
Harry immediately blushed at being called pretty, and the
insinuation it carried. He knew a response was required, so he
stammered, "Thank you, sir." He knew he should have felt insulted,
angered, but he had made his choice and he had to live with it.
Plus, Mr. Malfoy looked dangerously handsome from the glance he had
gotten. The man wore a fitted suit under his robe, which hung open.
Mr. Malfoy was clearly in very good shape; his powerful muscles were
obvious even under the clothes. His long shimmering hair was tied
back in a neat ponytail.
"Did you thoroughly cleanse yourself, Harry?" Mr. Malfoy asked
softly. "I'm very particular about cleanliness in my home."
"Yes, sir," Harry answered, hoping he had done a good job.
"I'm going to have to check to make sure," Mr. Malfoy stated, his
voice going even lower.
"Ch-check?" stammered Harry.
"Yes, Harry," the older man said, stepping closer. "I cannot have
any filth in my home."
Harry looked up at Lucius, and the look on the man's face sent a
shiver through him. What did he have in mind?
Mr. Malfoy suddenly stepped close to Harry, seizing his head and
looking closely at his unruly hair. Harry blushed, worried that the
man would comment on how messy it was. It would never lie flat, even
after it was washed. Lucius ran his fingers through Harry's hair,
examining it, before running a hand down the side of his face,
pausing under his chin, tipping it up. "So far, you've done very
well," Mr. Malfoy said, smiling at Harry. "Now. Take your clothes
Continued in part 2