[identity profile] sbbo.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] bottom_draco
Fic Title: Green Skirt
Author: SBBO
Rating: R
Summary: HA! You thought you were getting easy answers. I wrote it. That should help you. Vaguely dark, in the corners, but mostly not.
Dedicated to the luscious [livejournal.com profile] lagreyeyes, and inspired as always by my lovely [livejournal.com profile] delaria.




“So, mate, what’ll it be today?”

Seamus, somewhat hardened by the war, never fully lost his animated spirit. He bustled behind the bar, pulling down glasses, mixing drinks, reordering eye of newt for the extra dry martinis. He had about five parchments going at once. Supplies reordering, appointment book, bar tally, his journal for ideas, and of course, his book book.

“I’m telling you Harry. This book…it’s going to be the one. Get me out of this here place. Not that I dislike it or anything. God knows I’ve run upstairs for a bit of a kip meself. But the hours!”

Harry nodded the same as he did every time Seamus went into his book talk. He certainly wasn’t going to be the one to tell the man that he could barely string a coherent sentence together. The last time Harry’d bothered reading anything, he’d had to stop after, ‘…and the pickles, the pickles, the pickles were like young, like tender things, and crying in the night there was no rejoicing.’

“Yeah.” Best to keep it simple.

“Yeah,” and Seamus allowed himself a drawn out sigh. “I guess I’ll put you down for the regular, then? Seeing as how you’re regular like clockwork.”

“I like to go with what works.”

And Seamus leaned in, conspiratorially, and whispered words to change the course of lives.

“Harry, did you know…the ministry released Malfoy into Bottoms Up’s custody? He’s serving a five year work release contract.”

Harry dropped his glass, shattering it, and Seamus leaned back grinning.

“You can’t kill him, certainly. But you can make him wish you had.”



Bottoms Up was the cheerful wordplay on the bar and whorehouse that both served separate, but equal need. Neither specifically catered to men, but it was understood that that was the basic clientele. Occasionally a woman with a strap on took to the menfolk, but it was generally pretty vanilla. A lonely guy seeking out an evening of talk, dinner, and then a good mindblowing fuck. Kink was allowed, though not in excess. No permanent or long-lasting injury, etc. And every worker had different things they were okay with.

The joy of a new worker is that they couldn’t say no to the mild things until they’d tried it once.

And Draco Malfoy was definitely new. And Harry was going to take him for a crash course in all the things he’d never want to do again.

There were so many things that he could do, just…Well. First things first there would be a talking hour. Technically he couldn’t do anything sexual to Draco in that time. He could talk. Play chess or something. The Bottoms Up screened their worker’s carefully for attractiveness, ability to do the job, and of course refined skills. Draco would be aware that it was either keep careful manners or it was back to Azkaban.

So, Harry would ask that he be prepared with a medium-sized plug, set for random vibrations. That would keep Malfoy squirming all through talking and dinner.

It might be enough to make him slip up. He could ask to have him dosed with a lust potion, but he wanted Malfoy in his right mind while he ached for relief.

Oh, so many things to choose from. Thank god there was a handy check-off list to choose from.


Harry was shown into the carefully appointed room. It was darkly decorated, and the little lighting made Malfoy nearly glow in the middle of the room. His eyes were dark in his face, carefully rimmed in kohl, with a pale green shining smeared just around his liner. It went with his outfit. A slinky black top and a short ruffled skirt that was accented in green.

Harry’d prefer it if there was nothing but bare, pale thigh. But he knew Malfoy would be more uncomfortable in tights. Thick black webbing tights. The dark incarnate of fishnets. Panties on the outside.

It was dark, it was more than a little evil, and he’d learned from the doorman that it was Draco’s second official night. He still had a mentor. An affable young man sitting in the corner, watching for any time that he might need to intercede.

Harry grinned lopsidedly.

“Hello, Draco. Do you mind if I call you Draco? How are you this evening?”

And it wasn’t as satisfying as it should have been, when Draco looked at him with his dark, nearly empty eyes.

“Yes, sir, you may call me Draco. I am doing very well. Thomas has helped me prepare everything just so, sir. Are you doing well today?”

It wasn’t that Draco wasn’t aware of what was going on. That Harry was trying to humiliate him. That Harry wanted to make him suffer. Harry had the realization that nothing he could do would be worse than Azkaban.

And that really took the fun out of his previous plan. Deviousness aside, there wasn’t any fun in humiliation if the target didn’t much care.

“Draco, I know the normal protocol on all of this. I think, special circumstances, we should skip the light banter and get to the heart of things.”

Thomas moved, startled, and was ready to intercede, but Draco nodded, amiable enough. His eyes weren’t empty anymore, though. They were oddly grateful, and Harry felt it stab him in the heart.

Ever the fucking hero.

“So, how are you then, Draco?”

“I am adjusting. It’s nice here.”

Harry blinked. “This is nothing like the grandeur of Malfoy Manse.”

“Well, no. It’s different. If there is one thing I’ve learned, it is that different doesn’t mean it has to be bad. It is just different. You were trying to make this miserable for me.” Draco was never one to mince words.

“Oh, yeah! I still might, if I see an opening.” Harry grinned mischievously. It didn’t appear to phase Draco any. “I’m not going to succeed, so I’ll probably just try to have fun. Are you opposed to fun, Draco?”

“Not in theory, certainly.” And Draco’s breathe caught, his eyes closing for a moment, mouth working.

“Ah, I see they didn’t tell you about that specification to the plug. Very good. What else didn’t they tell you?”

“They didn’t tell me anything.” Draco’s eyes were widened, and he panted very slightly.

“Good, then I can still surprise you. More talk, then dinner?”

“I think…that I’ll trust myself in your wisdom, sir.”

“Oh, you should never trust self-proclaimed devils, saints, or heroes.”


Thomas watched, nearly clinically, taking notes on technique. Malfoy shouldn’t have agreed to forgo dinner. They insisted on dinner so that everyone could keep the strength up. But Potter seemed hardy enough, and Malfoy was like an incubus, stealing strength the more Potter fucked him.

It was interesting, to say the least.

He had heard the stories, of course. Of Potter versus Malfoy. Malfoy was a legend in his own right, and he’d agreed to work with him before Malfoy had even left Azkaban. Everyone thought he’d be trouble, but Thomas wanted to see Malfoy bend. And maybe break.

Instead they got a hard worker who seemed to enjoy sex in general, and half of the things listed specifically. Maybe it was career counseling, which he very much doubted Azkaban did, but Malfoy was ready, willing, and mature about the entire thing.

Thomas asked, but all he got was, “I’ve been fucked my entire life, one way or another, and I’ve recently decided that I can take some control in that.” It was said with a sad air that was surely unintentional.

And now Malfoy was underneath his supposed worst enemy, eagerly taking part in the festivities. He’d stretched himself out, cat-like on Potter’s thighs.

“Is this how you want me sir?”

“I had wanted you to cry.”

“Well, something will be weeping, but it won’t be my eyes.”

It was cheeky, and in another client could have spelled trouble. But Potter had realized that there would be no tears, misery, or humiliation this evening. He seemed to be a good sport about it, really. He threw back his head, laughing, and then proceeded to give a good bare-handed spanking. Malfoy was red-arsed, sweaty, and panting.

“God, Potter. You know how to work it.”

“Call me Harry. And I’ve always been good at being on top.”

Thomas watched, and was pretty sure he’d just lost his most regular client.

Date: 2005-08-21 07:28 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] polaris-86.livejournal.com
Really great story! Write more stuff like this, please. ^^

Date: 2005-08-21 08:02 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] simmysim.livejournal.com
*TACKLES*

Oh, joy and bliss. I could read your Harry/Draco forever. X3

Date: 2005-08-24 06:34 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] earthquakedream.livejournal.com
So cute. I really liked this lovely story....wonderful!!
*smooches*
More....mmm, slash

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