Green Satin Sheets

Welcome to hell, population of one. Won't you trouble yourself to stay awhile?

I don't mean to be a bother, but I'm awfully lonely. You see, it's awfully rare to see a soul out on the streets at this hour. Any man worth his salt is in bed by now, his six children well off in their respective dreamlands, his partner held in the protective cradle of his arms. Me? I'm not worth much of anything, really. Ask anyone. If I were to vanish off of the face of the earth tomorrow, I doubt anyone would miss me. Hey, the truth hurts sometimes.

I live in London, but not really. I don't really live anywhere. It's hard to describe, exactly. I'm kind of nomadic, truth be told. Today, I'll be in London. Tomorrow, I'll be in Paris. I can't stay in any one place for too long. After a while, the cops catch on to your game and they're on your tail. And it's kind of hard to find any respectable business when you have a record and all. It's a lot easier to be nomadic. Easier on the head and the heart.

But saying that I live in London would be at least partially true. I was born in London and I would always return to London, no matter the risk. It just didn't feel the same anywhere else in the world. And, let me tell you, I've been to some pretty interesting places. Everywhere I go, I'm astonished by the kindness I've received. People can be pretty nice, when you're looking at them from the other side of the fence. Like you – you haven't checked out yet, huh?

The cars were starting to slow now. Did I mention that it was snowing? It was bloody frigid outside, not that I could really tell. I'd lost that ability a long time ago. I leaned up against the broken chain-link fence that surrounded a school yard, watching as the cars went by. A lit cigarette dangled from the corner of my mouth. Occasionally, a car would slow down as it chugged by me. I was hopeful for a potential customer, but none came to a complete stop.

That was, of course, until an expensive foreign model pulled to a stop in front of the curb. It looked like one of those little Italian jobs that cost more money than I could ever hope of owning. With a creak, the window rolled down and a gust of heat washed over me. Hell, even if he was a horrid lay, I would pay him just to sit in that car for a half hour. I peered into the window, the heat flushing my cheeks a delicate pink.

"Hey there, love. You looking for some fun?" I purred. I tossed my platinum blond locks away from my face, fixing my steely gray eyes on his handsome face.

The man smirked. "Well, sure I am gorgeous." His eyes raked over my body. I felt a unique mixture of disgust and self-hatred churn in my stomach. "You cold, sweetie? You're shivering."

"It's a little chilly out here, yeah. You mind if I come inside?" The door unlocked with a soft click, so I assumed that that was a 'yes'. I opened the door and slid inside, shivering a bit. "So, are you from around here?"

"Lived here all my life." He answered dismissively. Thinking maybe he wasn't in the mood to talk, I turned to look out the window. But not before I caught the slightest glint of gold on his ring finger…

Silence pervaded. With a hint of dismay, I noted that he was pulling in to the parking lot of a local hotel. It's not like I had wanted him to take me home, or anything. No, that would be stupid. Like I said, I wasn't worth anything. If I went missing tomorrow, nobody would notice. But I like to think that I'm a little bit more than a hotel bitch. He pulled into the parking lot and took a spot right in the front row of cars, right on the end. Then he cut the engine.

He made to get out of the car, so I followed his lead. The man seemed rather wealthy, and that kind of worried me. It's always the wealthy that get off on real freaky stuff – and I don't mean toys and BDSM. But he seemed safe enough. And kind of nice too. Or, at least, he was nicer than the other men who'd picked me up on that corner. That was reason enough for me to not mention the ring on his finger.

He rented us a room for the night and we took the staircase upstairs. He unlocked the door and let me inside. "You want some wine or something, gorgeous." There was that name again.

"I don't drink." It was a lie and both of us knew it. I must've smelled like ten different kinds of liquor right then. "You mind if I smoke in here?" He waved it off and I lit up.

"You have a name? Or would you prefer that I refer to you as 'gorgeous'?" He was funny, but in a shy sort of way. I offered him a week smile, trying not to re-open my busted lip.

"I don't think I've ever been called 'gorgeous' before. Sure beats my shitty name." I shrugged. That seemed answer enough for him. "You have a name, hon?" I asked him.

He shrugged. I hated shrugging, even though I did it almost all the time. It was such a noncommittal gesture. "Yeah. It's Harry." And then he started to walk over to the bed, shedding his shirt.

I figured I should follow him, considering that I was to be servicing him and all. It wasn't hard to take off the little that I had on. "So, Harry, what's your poison? I'm up for anything."

Harry chuckled darkly. "You must think I'm a freak, huh?"

I tossed my hair back. "Not a freak. Just… unusual. You're not like the others."

"Yeah, well, I pride myself in being one-of-a-kind."

Harry took hold of my cigarette and broke it between his fingers, dropping it into the nearby ashtray without a care. His arms hooked around my waist and he swung me around, lowering me down onto the mattress without much difficulty. He leaned forward, and for a second, I assumed that he was about to kiss me. But he didn't. He moved in, sucking on my neck. I moaned, nails sinking into his shoulders. It was an utterly delightful feeling.

He tore his mouth away and licked a trail down my stomach, over the curve of my pelvis, before he finally reached my erection. His left hand snaked over, his wedding ring glistening in the dim light of the hotel room, and cupped my cock. A few hard jerks and I was putty in his hands. The meaty flesh twisted around, pre-cum dribbling over the head, and his eyes never left mine. I was absolutely in heaven.

I wanted to say something, anything really. I'm the one getting paid to service him, first of all. But he seemed to get pleasure enough from jerking me off, so I didn't say a bloody word. The only time that I allowed myself to make a sound was when he scooped a mess of pre-cum over his fingers and spread it around, before he teased one of his fingers at my entrance. After one second, he shoved the finger in to the knuckle and I screamed.

Harry smirked. "You like that, huh, gorgeous?"

"Fuck yeah." I could barely breathe, loving the feeling of another finger sliding into my channel.

"I'm not hurting you, am I?" Harry asked softly. The absolute sincerity in his eyes almost broke me.

I swallowed hard. I'd never been treated with such kindness, even if it was from somebody that I didn't even know. "I've taken a lot worse." I confessed weakly.

"That's a shame, gorgeous. You deserve a lot better than that."

Before I could answer, he removed his fingers and took a small bottle of lotion out of his back pocket. He drizzled it over his erection and smoothed it on, before he spread my legs and slid in with one smooth motion. The first thrust hurt, I'll admit to that. But it was a pleasant sort of hurt. He had stretched me just enough that I could feel every inch of him stroking my channel. He pulled out slowly, thrust back inside, and pulled out – all… so… carefully.

And then, on the fourth thrust, the head of his cock slammed into my prostate. Stars danced before my eyes and I was finally able to fully relax. That was all the welcome he needed. He made fast work of the both of us. All of the pain had dissipated, so it was easier for him to thrust into me. At some point, I was fairly certain that I became part of the mattress. And when he finished inside of me, I didn't feel disgusted. I felt oddly… complete.

I came hard, spraying all over my stomach and nether regions. Harry smiled. "You look a little tired there, gorgeous."

I smiled weakly. "Guess I am. Just a little bit, though."

He pulled out of me and tossed some blankets over my body. Absently, I noticed that they were green. "Something on your mind?" He asked kindly.

"Green." I lifted the blanket with a small smile. "It's my favorite color."

Harry nodded. He took a wet washcloth and cleaned us both up, before he slid into bed beside me. "You mind if I hold you, gorgeous? I like to have something to hold onto while I sleep."

I shrugged. Like I said, I really hated shrugging. It was such a noncommittal gesture. "No. I don't mind at all." And within a few minutes, he fell asleep, his arms around me, and his head nestled between my shoulder blades.

About an hour after he fell asleep, I slid out from the comforting warmth of his arms and dressed. I didn't own much in the way of clothing. Just some tattered old jeans and a shirt that was three sizes too big. Actually, I think the shirt was my Dad's. He always complained that I was too skinny and all. Not that the old geezer would ever do anything about it. I wasn't too fond of the old bastard.

It was hard to see much of anything in the darkness, but I was soon able to locate his pants. Reaching into the back pocket, I took out his wallet and peeled it open. Taking out one-hundred fifty-one euros, I stuffed them into the back pocket of my jeans. I hated myself for it, but that's what I had to do. As much as I would like to stay the whole night, there were other creatures of the night to be serviced. And rich bastards were stingy anyhow.

So, now you know my dilemma. Welcome to hell. It's been three months since I was last in London. And ever since that encounter, I haven't been able to get him off of my mind. It's stupid, I'm well aware. He probably forgot all about me by the time that he woke up. I keep trying to tell you, I'm not worth shit. Ask anyone. Especially my old man. Oh, he'd weave a story worse than Bella and Edward's 'love story'.

You see, my old man is one of those stingy old bastards that would tell you the sky is fucking purple – and, of course, if you agreed with him, the sky would magically turn yellow. He's out there, yeah. But he also owns half of London. You see, while he sucks at being a father, he's got the magic touch when it comes to investment. He invested in stuff like Apple and what not, and look where they are now. The man's got cash out the wazoo.

Anyway, old Daddy Dearest found out that I was gay and the shit hit the fan. He probably would have done a lot worse if my Mom wasn't there. Sometimes, I think that she's the only one that ever really loved me. And even she couldn't do a damn thing when he decided to disown me. I haven't seen them in years. Okay, maybe not years. Seven months would be more accurate. And that was accidental.

Anyhow, back to the present. I was back on that corner, right by the school and all, and this really sleazy bastard was staring at me from across the street. It was really starting to creep me out. Why do I always manage to pick up the gross bastards that just can't seem to take 'no' for an answer? Oh yeah, because I'm standing on the side of the road, shirtless, in a pair of jeans about three sizes too small…

"Hey, baby…" Okay, when did liquor breath make his way over here? I took a step back, reaching in my pocket for my mace. Lucky me, I didn't have it. "You up for some fun, sweetheart?"

I swallowed hard, attempting to convince myself that he wasn't that scary. He was just a hermit with who knows how many diseases, and he had fucking wandering hands… Okay, he was really scary. "No, sir."

"Come now, baby. I can tell a slut when I see one." He slurred. "Now be a good little bitch and shut your mouth."

I punched him in the side of the head. I had a wicked right hook. "I told you I'm not in the mood, asshole!"

His eyes flared dangerously. "You just made the biggest mistake of your young life, slut."

He punched my face – my fucking face (my best asset, mind you) – and took hold of my thick blond locks. "I told you to take your hands off of me." I could taste the blood as it ran into my mouth.

"And I told you to shut that pretty little mouth before I shut it for you." He hissed.

So, I kicked him where the sun doesn't shine. No words, just actions. "Fuck off, bastard."

I didn't have much time. That wouldn't hold him for long, and by the time he got back to his feet, he'd be pissed the fuck off. So I grabbed his wallet – not that there was shit in it, anyhow – and stuffed it into my back pocket, before I took off. I didn't know where I was running. It would've been smart to have a destination, but this was my first night back in London. So I ran. But I was dizzy from the blood loss, and I wasn't fast enough.

The man's dirty hand hooked into the back of my shirt and shoved me down onto the pavement. My face was scratched up so bad that blood started to run into my eyes. I could only imagine what my hair must look like. He was cursing like a madman, smashing my face into the dirt. He said something about teaching me a lesson, but I couldn't really understand him. It was kind of hard to understand the bastard when you're delirious and all.

Tires screeched on the asphalt beside my head. With my luck, it would be the cops, or maybe a buddy of his that had come to join in the fun. But then, the weight was lifted off my back. "What?"

"Hey, buddy, what's the big idea here? I was just tryna have a little fun, that's all. It's all innocent fun, really. There's no reason to have a bitch fit over a little street slut, huh?"

"It didn't look like he was having too much fun, buddy." I would recognize that voice anywhere.

"Hey, hey… if you just let me down, then I'll walk away. No harm done." The man said meekly.

"That's funny, 'cause I don't believe you." Harry said with a smirk.

"I swear, I won't come near the bitch again." The man pleaded with him.

"You're damn lucky that I'm not calling the cops on your ass, buddy." Harry said. "And, for your information, he's not a 'bitch'. How'd you like it if I called you 'rapist', like that's your name?"

The man shook so badly it looked like he was about ready to come out of his skin. "I ain't no rapist, man. I ain't raped nobody." He said.

"So, what was this? Because, forgive me if I'm wrong, but it certainly looks like you were about to rape my man." Harry said. My heart fluttered in my chest. But that ring still glistened on his finger.

The man had no excuse, but it wasn't like any excuse would have made what he was about to do 'okay'. There's really no way to condone his behavior. I told him no, several times. He looked between us uncertainly, before he scampered to his feet and ran off. I think he was scared of Harry. To be honest, I was scared of him too. His eyes were crazy and unfocused. When he turned back to help me up, he was trembling.

"Oh God, gorgeous, look at your face!" He made to touch it, but I flinched away.

"Don't worry about it. I've taken a lot worse. Trust me." I assured him with a half-hearted smile.

"There's blood all over the place. At least let me clean you up." He insisted.

I shook my head and shrugged. Again with the damn shrugging. "Like I said, I've been through worse. Don't worry about it." And then, nonchalantly, "Thanks for the save back there. That bastard probably would have, well…"

"Don't think about it too much, okay?" Harry told me.

I forced a smile. "I'll try not to. I think that's the only way that I'm gonna stay sane."

Harry looked me over once more. I must've really looked like shit to warrant all of this attention. "You sure there isn't anything that I can do for you, gorgeous?"

"I'm positive." I brushed him off. He started to walk back toward his car. "Maybe I'll see you around somewhere." I tried to make it clear that that night, three months ago, meant nothing. Of course, that was another lie.

Harry's smile burned me. "Maybe."

Back to my secluded street corner, two weeks later. It's awfully rare for me to stay in town for more than a week or so, but I kind of like the idea of 'accidentally' running into Harry again. But that hasn't happened recently. In fact, I even tried to wander around town a bit, see the sights and all, and I didn't see his car anywhere. Maybe it was a rental. Maybe he wasn't rich at all. It was kind of hard to tell, since we'd never had a real conversation and all.

So, I was walking to my corner, when I saw this bow underneath the street lamp. It had just been left there, with nobody nearby or anything. It was kind of suspicious, but I'd made a living out of servicing suspicious characters. As I got closer to it, I noticed it was wrapped with green paper. The same color green that the hotel sheets had been almost five months ago. Instantly, I knew who it was from. It helped that the tag read 'To: Gorgeous'.

The note read:

Sorry to leave the present out here on the middle of the sidewalk and all, but I don't know where you live, so I couldn't exactly have it shipped to you or anything. I have to admit, it kind of worries me, having you out on the street corner all alone at night. You barely know me and I don't know you at all. As much as I love to call you 'Gorgeous', I know that you have to have an actual name. You have a family, friends, a life – and all I know is that you spend your nights on this street corner, all by your lonesome.

It's spring now, and the weather is about to get awful. I don't know if you've ever spent a spring in London, but when it's not raining, it's snowing. It's cloudy all the time and, overall, it's miserable. Anyhow, I was at the strip mall the other day and I found this. I kind of had to estimate on the size. After all, you weren't very open with information like that. Not that I blame you. You don't even know me. I don't expect you to tell me your entire life story. But I do want to know that you'll be warm.

Check it out. I hope you like it.

I did just as the note instructed me to. I peeled the flaps of the box away and looked inside. Inside, he had carefully folded an expensive dark green trench coat. The outside was thick wool, with buttons that looked to be smooth-carved onyx. The inside was black silk, which felt clean and smooth on my bare hands. It was absolutely beautiful. How could he ever think that I wouldn't like it? And then, I noticed there was another note.

Oh, and keep this in one of the pockets. It might come in handy someday.

It was a spray-bottle of mace.

I saw his car again later that week. He slowed down at my little street corner, rolling down the window ever so slowly. I had looked into a puddle earlier that day and had been thankful to see that most of my face had cleared up. A few scabs remained, and there were some blemishes that would scar, but it was nothing too terrible. Fixing the expensive coat on my lithe frame (it was a little big, but not too bad), I made my way over to his car.

"In your letter," I started slowly. My lip was still swollen and it was a little hard to talk. "You wanted to know my name." He looked like he was about to protest. "It's Draco. Draco Malfoy."

"Malfoy?" He looked shocked, and reasonably so. Why would the son of Lucius Malfoy be selling himself on the streets? "Isn't your father multi-millionaire Lucius Malfoy?"

"He is." I confirmed. "If you let me in… I'll tell you everything. Free of charge." I added meekly. We didn't need to discuss the two-hundred dollars I'd pilfered off of him earlier.

The door unlocked with a click. "I think we both have some things that we need to explain."

I assumed that he would be taking me back to a hotel, because that was what I was. I was a hotel slut, and no matter how deeply he cared for me – the coat was obvious enough – that was all I would ever be to him. But he drove past the hotel and continued down into the more expensive district of town. High-class hookers and all. My first assumption that he had money must've been correct.

He pulled in to the driveway of one of the many mansions on their own little personal street, which sat a little higher from all the others. The house was white, just like all of the others. Out front, there was one of those child play sets – you know, with the swing and everything – hooked up. So, he had children. A wife and kids. The perfect family man. The perfect example of a man worth his salt – hell, a man worth anything.

Harry didn't say a word and neither did I. We both got out of the car and I followed him up to the front door, which he unlocked and held open for me. Turning on the light, he threw his stuff down by the door. Must be nice to have someone to clean up after you. Once he was rid of all his accoutrements, he motioned for me to take a seat at the kitchen table. I was extremely uncomfortable and I think that he could tell.

"So, you said that you had a story to tell me. I have all the time in the world." Harry said.

I sighed. "It's short and simple, really. I realized that I was gay somewhere around my fifteenth birthday. Dad found out and didn't like it. He disowned me and sold me to a man known as Tom Riddle Jr."

Harry's emerald eyes widened. I had never realized just how beautiful his eyes were until right then. "Tom Riddle Jr.? As in London's crime lord, Tom Riddle Jr.?"

"I haven't heard of another." I answered a tad sarcastically.

"And he sold you on the streets?" Harry asked.

"Not exactly. Mostly, that was my idea." I looked down at my hands, ashamed. "Well, to be more exact, it was a compromise. I wouldn't have to bed him if I would bed others and he could watch."

"And your father approved of this?" Harry sneered. I was rather proud of his sudden hatred for my father.

"I don't think he ever found out. And if he did, well, he didn't care. I don't think he ever much cared for me." I confessed softly. "Eventually, I ran away from him. Became a sort of nomad. He hasn't found me since."

"But because of that, you have no money." Harry confirmed.

"'M flat fucking broke, to tell you the absolute truth." I said with a shrug. I hated shrugging.

That silence returned. It was really uncomfortable, to tell you the truth. From the way that he was staring at me, I couldn't help but feel as if he were judging me. I know that, more often than not, people read into that kind of stuff. But still… it was unnerving. I almost felt sorry that I had leaned into his window and told him I'd tell him my whole damn life story. It would have been better if I was getting some dough out of the deal, at least.

Right about now, I had thirty-six bucks to my name. Most of that money would be down the drain tomorrow, I'd wager, on buying a new carton of cigarettes and finding somebody to patch up the hole in the sole of my shoe. I must've looked awful funny, with this real expensive coat on and some crappy, second rate shoes with holes in the soles. Not that anybody paid that much attention to me. I was a nobody. A cheap fuck, maybe. Nothing more.

I took out the aforementioned pack of cigarettes and waved them in front of Harry's face. He shrugged, I scowled, and slid one out of the carton. My hands were shaking so bad that Harry had to light a match and light the end for me. I thanked him with a slight nod of my head, before I blew the smoke off to the side. Harry slid an ashtray across the table and I flicked the ashes onto the porcelain white surface.

"My wife died ten months ago." Harry confessed to the silence.

My head snapped up and our eyes met uncertainly. "What?"

"When we first met, I saw you looking at my hand. I could see that it made you uncomfortable."

"It didn't." I lied. His personal life wasn't any of my business, of course.

"I know it did. You don't have to lie to me." Harry twirled the ring around on his finger. "We were married right out of school. I was gay, and I knew I was gay, but I thought… maybe…"

"If you married her, it would make it go away?" I offered. He nodded. "It didn't work, did it?" He shook his head, looking slightly ashamed. "The wife, the kids… you did it all for a sense of normality."

"That's it in a nutshell." Harry chuckled blandly.

"What'd she die of?" I thought to ask. Boy, do I always ask the worst questions.

"She had breast cancer. She was in remission when we decided to adopt Lily, but months after the adoption was finalized, she died." Harry confessed. It was obvious that he was sad, but there were no tears.

"I'm sorry to hear that." And I really was, sorry that is.

"It's not like it's your fault. And you didn't know." Harry said.

That uncomfortable silence returned. I finished off my cigarette, before I stubbed it out and took out another. I offered the pack up to Harry, but he politely declined. But he did light it for me again. I chewed on the filter, feeling the familiar rush of nicotine flow through my system. I still felt a little out of place in this ritzy, high-class house, but I felt a little better knowing that we seemed to be two souls cut from the same cloth.

"So, what do we do now?" I asked him.

He rose out of his chair, closing the distance between us ever so nonchalantly. "Now, Draco? Now, I take you up to my room and have my way with you, the way it should have been the first time."

And how could I say 'no' to that?

"So, what exactly would you call 'us'?" Harry asked, two weeks later. I'm happy to report that, after he took me into his bed, I haven't been in any other. "I mean, I'd like to think of you as more than a fantastic lay."

I rolled over onto my stomach, careful to not light the bed on fire with my cigarette. He brushed the platinum blond hair away from my face. "I kinda like the sound of lovers. What do you think?"

"I think that that sounds real nice." He said, his voice low and sultry. He ran his hand over my bare shoulders, encouraging me to lean into his shoulder. "What are you thinking about?" He asked.

"Nothing." I denied. Harry chuckled, brushing his lips over my pale forehead. I'm also happy to report that my face healed rather well from that unfortunate incident. "Just that I could get used to these green satin sheets."

"Good." Harry pulled me a little closer. "'Cause you're not going anywhere for a very long time."