Fic - The Release H/D
Title: The Release
Author: dacro
Universe: Escape Rentboy!Harry series created by rurounihime
Pairing: H/D
Rating: PG-13 (Implied prostitution, drugs, violence)
Beta: saladbats
Summary: After Draco proves how far he would go to protect Harry, Harry shares the experience of his first night as a prostitute.
Notes: this Chapter follows directly after The Trap, but the whole series is amazing (and not very long), so if you haven't read it yet, I would encourage you to start at the beginning and enjoy. Big thanks to Ru for asking me to take this on, and hugs to fireelemental79 for writing the chapter that springboarded this one. I'm a BIG fan of rentboy fics, but haven't had a chance to write one until now. Being part of this project has been an honour, and working with these ladies is a treat and a half.
The Escape Series:
Escape by Ru
The Capture by Lily
The Chase by Ru
The Trap by fireelemental79
And now…
The Release
The clock sounded irritated, ticking like the click of impatient fingernails on slate.
Harry tried not to look at it; he already knew it was well past midnight, maybe two or three hours past. Draco wasn't home yet. He pulled his knees close and waited.
The door opened slowly. Draco froze when Harry's eyes lifted. They stared at each other.
Something - everything was wrong.
Draco's hair hung limp and damp, his neck and cheeks stained with the blush of exertion. He was wearing clothes Harry had never seen before, but the guilty expression and the sad eyes were painfully familiar. They confessed what words could never communicate. Draco had been with someone else - found someone better.
Harry silently blamed himself for wasting too much time adjusting to his new life. If he had been less broken, quicker to heal, more talkative, given Draco - more…
His healing heart fractured while his mind threw away the one word he had quietly practiced saying when he was alone - the word he had been warming to over the last month. The word no one had ever said to him, and probably never would now. He locked up foolish thoughts of Draco being the one he'd been waiting for, the one who wouldn't see him as used.
"Harry," Draco whispered from the door, shame clear in his refusal to come all the way into the room - to come any closer to the whore in his house.
Harry rose to go collect his things, breaking inside, but not wanting to make a fuss. Draco had been more than kind to him, after all. "I'll just go get my..."
As his eyes lowered, he saw the hand clutched around the door frame. The colour was off - white and thin around the knuckles, blotchy everywhere else. He lowered his gaze to the boots - the same ones Draco had left with. They were scuffed, scratched and splattered with something that…
He pushed aside his pain and pulled Draco inside. The lock clicked into place. Guilt was evident behind Draco's eyes and was written over his slouching shoulders, but Harry had the tools to interpret them properly now. A head fell heavily onto his shoulder. Draco shook in his arms.
"Who was it?" Harry whispered against Draco's ear, stroking the pale, wilted hair.
"I didn't want him to hurt anyone else…Harry, the things he…"
Harry stilled his hand, repeating the question. Draco sighed in surrender.
"Harris."
"How bad?"
Draco lifted his head. "His face got the worst of it."
Harry shivered. Images of the brutal man, beaten and bloodied, invaded his thoughts. A small pang of regret followed swiftly by a wave of fear. He tried to stay calm for Draco, tried not to imagine what form Harris' revenge would take.
"Is he…are we safe?"
Draco's hand settled on the back of Harry's neck. "He won't hurt you again," he whispered, his gaze lowered. "He deserved it, Harry, but I'm…I didn't want you to know."
In the silence that fell between them, Draco straightened and waited for Harry's response, looking uncomfortable. His eyes grew wide as Harry nodded and took Draco's hand. He led him wordlessly to the bathroom.
He gestured toward the large white tub, "Sit." Draco moved obediently, wincing as he lowered his body, favouring his left side. Harry caught him in the middle of his unsteady descent, and guided him instead down onto the toilet lid.
"Better?"
Draco nodded.
A blurry halo from a streetlamp danced behind the glass bricks on the south wall. Harry glanced at it before opening the medicine cabinet. "They weren’t all like him, like Harris," he said softly, placing the bottle cap on the butterscotch-marble counter top, searching the shelf for cotton balls.
Draco shifted. "Stafford sent him someone else, a kid, but I paid him to run." Harry knelt between his legs. The alcohol from the cotton was dripping into the cupped palm that waited below it. "Harry, I…"
"Give me your hand." Harry's eyes remained on his task. Draco made no move to obey.
A couple was arguing outside. Their clipped voices filtered in through the small shower window and filled the silence. Harry wiped his damp palm on his trousers, and then slid it under Draco's hand, holding it still. Draco hissed when the alcohol seeped into the concealed cuts.
"Had he been to Harris before?" Harry asked, swirling the cotton in small circles.
"Who, the kid? No. First time."
The hand holding Draco's trembled slightly. The cotton lifted, retreated, and landed on the floor next to Draco's foot. Harry moved back a fraction, giving himself enough room to remove Draco's boots.
"Harry. You don't have to…"
The left boot slid off easily. The right heel caught on Draco's trousers, but was free soon enough.
Harry pushed the hair from his eyes. "Thanks for helping him, and for what you…" he let the sentence fall, unfinished. He was grateful for Draco's protection, but the thought of repaying violence with more of the same made his stomach twist uncomfortably.
He shivered and touched Draco's hand gently. It was hard to control his breathing when his mind insisted on reminding him of the feel of Harris pressed against him - the sting of his words and his fists.
He then revisited a door in his mind that had been bolted shut longer that he cared to remember, but something told him it was time to confront what was behind it. Time to let Draco see - time to allow himself to remember.
"The first time with anyone new is…" He rolled down Draco's left sock. It landed in the bin under the sink. "At least with regulars - good or bad - you figure out what they want, but with anyone new, you can never tell." The other sock caught on the rim.
"Harry, I…" Draco began, but the words fell away when Harry's fingers began kneading around the pad of his foot. A soft moan followed.
"I knew what Stafford expected of me. He showed me a couple books and had a few of the other boys demonstrate on each other while I watched." His thumbs moved to the arch and continued circling. Draco closed his eyes and leaned back against the cool tank. "They tried to prepare me for some of the strange things the clients might ask for, but there was only so much they could reveal without scaring me."
Draco lifted his head. His face was nearly white. Harry wondered if it was from delayed shock, or if he was going to be sick.
"I wish I could have…if I had found you sooner, Harry..."
Harry's fingers stilled. He spoke to the floor. "You've done more than I ever - I should have found another way before it was too late - seen Stafford for what he really was, but I…" Silence filled the room once more. Harry placed Draco's foot on the shelf of his knees and gave the heel his full attention. He kept his head bowed, but felt the heat of Draco's eyes following his movements.
He found the courage to speak after a few soft moans warmed the room again. "Ross was my first." Draco made a move to protest, but Harry gave him a pleading glance until he nodded and sat back again. "Their names don't really matter - I blend them all into 'client' or 'John' eventually, but there are a few that I can't forget."
Harry wrapped Draco's foot in a towel and took the waiting one into his hands. He tried to communicate his gratitude through fumbling fingers but his old room swam into view as he shared his memory. He was suddenly back there again, bare feet shifting on the rough carpet, heart pounding, taking deep breaths of stale air.
"He knocked three times before I forced myself to open the door. I don't know what I was expecting, but he didn't fit what I had imagined. He looked normal, like someone's brother or uncle maybe. I think Stafford must have told him I was new. He didn't rush at me, or demand anything right away, but he slowly made his way over when I didn't move toward him. I think he liked that I jumped when he touched my cheek. I can't remember his words, but he wouldn't stop talking - whispering in the same voice people use on scared animals."
He wrapped Draco's feet together in the towel and rose up onto his knees. Unsteady hands reached for the top of Draco's shirt.
"He said I was beautiful - that he wanted to see me without my shirt." The top button on the collar came free of its hole. The sound of Draco's hitched breath raised gooseflesh on Harry's arms. "I couldn't breathe; my chest was aching, but I kept hearing Stafford in my head, telling me how much I owed him." Another button. The third and fourth followed.
Draco's eyes were closed tight. He was panting. Harry moved forward into the heat rising off the pale chest, trembling as the fabric parted for him, but he didn't touch the skin.
"I tried to think of someone else - someone I didn't mind touching me, but there wasn't anyone." The thin shirt slipped over Draco's shoulders and down his arms. Harry draped it over the boots, hiding the splatters of blood. He got to his feet.
Draco's eyes opened and followed him as he filled the basin, soaked a flannel and rung it out with practiced ease. He knelt again and studied the results of the healing charm on Draco's nose and jaw tenderly, remembering the nights he had pressed cold rags to his own injuries.
Alone then, but not now.
Tilting Draco's head back with a hand under his neck, Harry touched the cool flannel to a flushed cheek bone. A few water droplets escaped and found their way to the floor. Draco stayed silent, his breathing still shallow. His eyelids fluttered and finally closed again.
"When my shirt was off, he reached into his pocket and asked me if I had anything to drink. He said he had something to make me relax, something that would make it good."
Harry hardly knew his own voice - low and dry, gritty. He liked it. It was comforting to imagine that somebody else was talking, allowing him to gain distance - watch from above, or through a window in another room.
"The other boys had warned me not to take anything the Johns offered, but I was tempted - anything to make me strong again." He rotated the cloth and pressed the cool side to the shadow under Draco's eye. Something warm ran between Harry's ring and smallest finger. Tears.
Draco's tears.
Harry wiped them away. "When I refused his offer, he reached for my trousers." He refolded the flannel and placed it on the bridge of Draco's nose. Harry's heart tightened at the slight flinch.
Harry removed the cloth and settled back on his heals. He reached over and started the bath water. Draco sat up. His eyes were red-rimmed, and his hands trembled where they rested on his knees.
Harry turned his head and stared at the gold faucet. "He didn't - I couldn't let him touch me," he whispered, trailing fingers through the warm water. "I got around him somehow and ran out of the room, out of the building. I ran until I couldn't breathe any more - until people started staring at me for being out in the cold with no shirt or shoes."
He covered Draco's hand with damp fingers. "I should have kept running. I had the chance to get out then, but I didn't want my debt to follow me. I knew they'd find me eventually, so I went back and apologised - told Stafford it wouldn't happen again."
Harry stared at their entwined fingers and took a shallow breath. "Harris was my punishment."
Draco's free hand settled on Harry's shoulder - warm and surprisingly steady. Harry's muscles twitched instinctively, but he didn't pull away. He glanced up, and then looked away, suddenly, unable to bear the regret and concern behind grey eyes.
He got up slowly, pulling Draco with him. "Healing salts?" Draco pointed to a small basket. Harry poured out a liberal amount. "Should help with the aches," he said weakly, indicating the steaming bath. He picked up the crumpled towel at Draco's feet.
Draco caught his hand as he turned toward the door. Harry met his eyes.
"Because of what I…today with…" he paused, looking ill again. "Have I - are you leaving, Harry?"
The smile was strained, but his eyes tried to say more than the few words he managed to utter. "You said I could stay."
Draco exhaled his relief. "Yes. Stay." he whispered, eyes pleading.
Harry caressed the fingers wrapped with his own. Any words of blame or forgiveness remained unspoken - lost somewhere in the brief tender kiss he initiated.
"Take your bath. I'll get us some dinner."
~*~
Master List of my fics.
Author: dacro
Universe: Escape Rentboy!Harry series created by rurounihime
Pairing: H/D
Rating: PG-13 (Implied prostitution, drugs, violence)
Beta: saladbats
Summary: After Draco proves how far he would go to protect Harry, Harry shares the experience of his first night as a prostitute.
Notes: this Chapter follows directly after The Trap, but the whole series is amazing (and not very long), so if you haven't read it yet, I would encourage you to start at the beginning and enjoy. Big thanks to Ru for asking me to take this on, and hugs to fireelemental79 for writing the chapter that springboarded this one. I'm a BIG fan of rentboy fics, but haven't had a chance to write one until now. Being part of this project has been an honour, and working with these ladies is a treat and a half.
The Escape Series:
Escape by Ru
The Capture by Lily
The Chase by Ru
The Trap by fireelemental79
And now…
The Release
The clock sounded irritated, ticking like the click of impatient fingernails on slate.
Harry tried not to look at it; he already knew it was well past midnight, maybe two or three hours past. Draco wasn't home yet. He pulled his knees close and waited.
The door opened slowly. Draco froze when Harry's eyes lifted. They stared at each other.
Something - everything was wrong.
Draco's hair hung limp and damp, his neck and cheeks stained with the blush of exertion. He was wearing clothes Harry had never seen before, but the guilty expression and the sad eyes were painfully familiar. They confessed what words could never communicate. Draco had been with someone else - found someone better.
Harry silently blamed himself for wasting too much time adjusting to his new life. If he had been less broken, quicker to heal, more talkative, given Draco - more…
His healing heart fractured while his mind threw away the one word he had quietly practiced saying when he was alone - the word he had been warming to over the last month. The word no one had ever said to him, and probably never would now. He locked up foolish thoughts of Draco being the one he'd been waiting for, the one who wouldn't see him as used.
"Harry," Draco whispered from the door, shame clear in his refusal to come all the way into the room - to come any closer to the whore in his house.
Harry rose to go collect his things, breaking inside, but not wanting to make a fuss. Draco had been more than kind to him, after all. "I'll just go get my..."
As his eyes lowered, he saw the hand clutched around the door frame. The colour was off - white and thin around the knuckles, blotchy everywhere else. He lowered his gaze to the boots - the same ones Draco had left with. They were scuffed, scratched and splattered with something that…
He pushed aside his pain and pulled Draco inside. The lock clicked into place. Guilt was evident behind Draco's eyes and was written over his slouching shoulders, but Harry had the tools to interpret them properly now. A head fell heavily onto his shoulder. Draco shook in his arms.
"Who was it?" Harry whispered against Draco's ear, stroking the pale, wilted hair.
"I didn't want him to hurt anyone else…Harry, the things he…"
Harry stilled his hand, repeating the question. Draco sighed in surrender.
"Harris."
"How bad?"
Draco lifted his head. "His face got the worst of it."
Harry shivered. Images of the brutal man, beaten and bloodied, invaded his thoughts. A small pang of regret followed swiftly by a wave of fear. He tried to stay calm for Draco, tried not to imagine what form Harris' revenge would take.
"Is he…are we safe?"
Draco's hand settled on the back of Harry's neck. "He won't hurt you again," he whispered, his gaze lowered. "He deserved it, Harry, but I'm…I didn't want you to know."
In the silence that fell between them, Draco straightened and waited for Harry's response, looking uncomfortable. His eyes grew wide as Harry nodded and took Draco's hand. He led him wordlessly to the bathroom.
He gestured toward the large white tub, "Sit." Draco moved obediently, wincing as he lowered his body, favouring his left side. Harry caught him in the middle of his unsteady descent, and guided him instead down onto the toilet lid.
"Better?"
Draco nodded.
A blurry halo from a streetlamp danced behind the glass bricks on the south wall. Harry glanced at it before opening the medicine cabinet. "They weren’t all like him, like Harris," he said softly, placing the bottle cap on the butterscotch-marble counter top, searching the shelf for cotton balls.
Draco shifted. "Stafford sent him someone else, a kid, but I paid him to run." Harry knelt between his legs. The alcohol from the cotton was dripping into the cupped palm that waited below it. "Harry, I…"
"Give me your hand." Harry's eyes remained on his task. Draco made no move to obey.
A couple was arguing outside. Their clipped voices filtered in through the small shower window and filled the silence. Harry wiped his damp palm on his trousers, and then slid it under Draco's hand, holding it still. Draco hissed when the alcohol seeped into the concealed cuts.
"Had he been to Harris before?" Harry asked, swirling the cotton in small circles.
"Who, the kid? No. First time."
The hand holding Draco's trembled slightly. The cotton lifted, retreated, and landed on the floor next to Draco's foot. Harry moved back a fraction, giving himself enough room to remove Draco's boots.
"Harry. You don't have to…"
The left boot slid off easily. The right heel caught on Draco's trousers, but was free soon enough.
Harry pushed the hair from his eyes. "Thanks for helping him, and for what you…" he let the sentence fall, unfinished. He was grateful for Draco's protection, but the thought of repaying violence with more of the same made his stomach twist uncomfortably.
He shivered and touched Draco's hand gently. It was hard to control his breathing when his mind insisted on reminding him of the feel of Harris pressed against him - the sting of his words and his fists.
He then revisited a door in his mind that had been bolted shut longer that he cared to remember, but something told him it was time to confront what was behind it. Time to let Draco see - time to allow himself to remember.
"The first time with anyone new is…" He rolled down Draco's left sock. It landed in the bin under the sink. "At least with regulars - good or bad - you figure out what they want, but with anyone new, you can never tell." The other sock caught on the rim.
"Harry, I…" Draco began, but the words fell away when Harry's fingers began kneading around the pad of his foot. A soft moan followed.
"I knew what Stafford expected of me. He showed me a couple books and had a few of the other boys demonstrate on each other while I watched." His thumbs moved to the arch and continued circling. Draco closed his eyes and leaned back against the cool tank. "They tried to prepare me for some of the strange things the clients might ask for, but there was only so much they could reveal without scaring me."
Draco lifted his head. His face was nearly white. Harry wondered if it was from delayed shock, or if he was going to be sick.
"I wish I could have…if I had found you sooner, Harry..."
Harry's fingers stilled. He spoke to the floor. "You've done more than I ever - I should have found another way before it was too late - seen Stafford for what he really was, but I…" Silence filled the room once more. Harry placed Draco's foot on the shelf of his knees and gave the heel his full attention. He kept his head bowed, but felt the heat of Draco's eyes following his movements.
He found the courage to speak after a few soft moans warmed the room again. "Ross was my first." Draco made a move to protest, but Harry gave him a pleading glance until he nodded and sat back again. "Their names don't really matter - I blend them all into 'client' or 'John' eventually, but there are a few that I can't forget."
Harry wrapped Draco's foot in a towel and took the waiting one into his hands. He tried to communicate his gratitude through fumbling fingers but his old room swam into view as he shared his memory. He was suddenly back there again, bare feet shifting on the rough carpet, heart pounding, taking deep breaths of stale air.
"He knocked three times before I forced myself to open the door. I don't know what I was expecting, but he didn't fit what I had imagined. He looked normal, like someone's brother or uncle maybe. I think Stafford must have told him I was new. He didn't rush at me, or demand anything right away, but he slowly made his way over when I didn't move toward him. I think he liked that I jumped when he touched my cheek. I can't remember his words, but he wouldn't stop talking - whispering in the same voice people use on scared animals."
He wrapped Draco's feet together in the towel and rose up onto his knees. Unsteady hands reached for the top of Draco's shirt.
"He said I was beautiful - that he wanted to see me without my shirt." The top button on the collar came free of its hole. The sound of Draco's hitched breath raised gooseflesh on Harry's arms. "I couldn't breathe; my chest was aching, but I kept hearing Stafford in my head, telling me how much I owed him." Another button. The third and fourth followed.
Draco's eyes were closed tight. He was panting. Harry moved forward into the heat rising off the pale chest, trembling as the fabric parted for him, but he didn't touch the skin.
"I tried to think of someone else - someone I didn't mind touching me, but there wasn't anyone." The thin shirt slipped over Draco's shoulders and down his arms. Harry draped it over the boots, hiding the splatters of blood. He got to his feet.
Draco's eyes opened and followed him as he filled the basin, soaked a flannel and rung it out with practiced ease. He knelt again and studied the results of the healing charm on Draco's nose and jaw tenderly, remembering the nights he had pressed cold rags to his own injuries.
Alone then, but not now.
Tilting Draco's head back with a hand under his neck, Harry touched the cool flannel to a flushed cheek bone. A few water droplets escaped and found their way to the floor. Draco stayed silent, his breathing still shallow. His eyelids fluttered and finally closed again.
"When my shirt was off, he reached into his pocket and asked me if I had anything to drink. He said he had something to make me relax, something that would make it good."
Harry hardly knew his own voice - low and dry, gritty. He liked it. It was comforting to imagine that somebody else was talking, allowing him to gain distance - watch from above, or through a window in another room.
"The other boys had warned me not to take anything the Johns offered, but I was tempted - anything to make me strong again." He rotated the cloth and pressed the cool side to the shadow under Draco's eye. Something warm ran between Harry's ring and smallest finger. Tears.
Draco's tears.
Harry wiped them away. "When I refused his offer, he reached for my trousers." He refolded the flannel and placed it on the bridge of Draco's nose. Harry's heart tightened at the slight flinch.
Harry removed the cloth and settled back on his heals. He reached over and started the bath water. Draco sat up. His eyes were red-rimmed, and his hands trembled where they rested on his knees.
Harry turned his head and stared at the gold faucet. "He didn't - I couldn't let him touch me," he whispered, trailing fingers through the warm water. "I got around him somehow and ran out of the room, out of the building. I ran until I couldn't breathe any more - until people started staring at me for being out in the cold with no shirt or shoes."
He covered Draco's hand with damp fingers. "I should have kept running. I had the chance to get out then, but I didn't want my debt to follow me. I knew they'd find me eventually, so I went back and apologised - told Stafford it wouldn't happen again."
Harry stared at their entwined fingers and took a shallow breath. "Harris was my punishment."
Draco's free hand settled on Harry's shoulder - warm and surprisingly steady. Harry's muscles twitched instinctively, but he didn't pull away. He glanced up, and then looked away, suddenly, unable to bear the regret and concern behind grey eyes.
He got up slowly, pulling Draco with him. "Healing salts?" Draco pointed to a small basket. Harry poured out a liberal amount. "Should help with the aches," he said weakly, indicating the steaming bath. He picked up the crumpled towel at Draco's feet.
Draco caught his hand as he turned toward the door. Harry met his eyes.
"Because of what I…today with…" he paused, looking ill again. "Have I - are you leaving, Harry?"
The smile was strained, but his eyes tried to say more than the few words he managed to utter. "You said I could stay."
Draco exhaled his relief. "Yes. Stay." he whispered, eyes pleading.
Harry caressed the fingers wrapped with his own. Any words of blame or forgiveness remained unspoken - lost somewhere in the brief tender kiss he initiated.
"Take your bath. I'll get us some dinner."
~*~
Master List of my fics.