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Scenario 188: 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) (Keiran Shea)

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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 himself...

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 rat."

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 captured by.

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 sorry."

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 him.

The man walked a few steps toward the massive front doors, then turned to regard Harry. "Welcome to Malfoy Manor," he intoned dramatically.

+

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."

"Harry what?"

"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?"

"Fifteen, sir."

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 you later."

He swept out the door, robes swirling behind him impressively, and Harry repressed a shiver. He realised Mr. Malfoy hadn't answered his question.

+

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 bath.

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. Malfoy, apparently.

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 private bedchambers.

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 off."