A man has got to eat. That was the thought that kept him going, surviving. He had to eat - he had to make a living somehow. If he didn't, he'd end up on the street or worse - begging his blood traitor relatives to take him in so that he could properly repair himself now that the war was over. And that was honestly a fate worse than death. No, he was best the way he was, no matter how degrading the position he had taken up actually was. After all, what other choice did he have? In the Wizarding world, he wasn't going to go anywhere. His name, once what kept him going in the only home he'd ever known, was now his downfall, the thing that would keep him from progressing into the successful life he had always dreamed of. They'd be looking for anything at all to incriminate him - anything to stick him in Azkaban with his mother and father. Trying to make it in that life...it wasn't going to happen for him. Not for Draco Malfoy. Not anymore.

The Muggle world, though, despite his best efforts, hadn't been much kinder to him when he decided to enter it and abandon the Wizarding world for good. The name 'Malfoy' meant nothing to anyone and while that was significantly better than the reaction he got in the Wizarding world, it didn't necessarily do him any favors. His first few weeks in Muggle London were spent in cheap hotels, paid for with the little bit of money the Ministry allowed him to take out of Gringotts that month (converted into Muggle currency, of course). He tried his hardest to track down a job then, but everywhere he looked told him that they weren't hiring or that he wasn't qualified enough. He debated going to Muggle university and trying to earn a job the proper way, decided against it, and eventually gave in to the idea of living in crappy Muggle hotels until he either used up the Malfoy fortune his family had acquired through the years or died. A fitting end for a man who had caused so much strife in the past few years.

This mindset lasted about two weeks before Draco finally snapped. He was NOT going to live like a hermit and plebeian for the rest of his life. He absolutely refused. Desperate and frustrated, he wasted the lot of his money at a bar one night so that he could drink and put his woes on another man's shoulders. That's when he'd first heard about it - prostitution. He, of course, was familiar with the term. It was hard not to be, growing up not only as a Slytherin but as the son of a man who housed many a sleazy Death Eater in his days. However, he'd never considered it as a profession for himself. It was just too...well too dirty and he'd told the barman he was speaking to so at the suggestion.

"I'm just sayin'," the bartender replied with a shrug to show he meant no harm, "I know a few guys who'd pay good money for someone with a mug like yours. But it's a messy business. It ain't for everyone. Damn shame." He had surveyed Draco's face then with a look of hunger the young wizard recognized well, and Draco realized then that this guy was serious. He really though Draco could make a decent living as a male escort.

"Well, it's not very high end, this job," he told the bartender, who just snorted. "At least not where I come from..."

"You mean the land of men who pay for little hussies to satisfy them on a business trip?" the man replied. "Women throw themselves away so easily and for so cheap...because it's expected, y'know? That's our society. It's there, it's affordable, and it's socially acceptable. But you don't really think women buy men, do you?" Draco raised his eyebrows. "Well, some will. The weirdos and the desperate. No, kid, the real draw is the closeted fag going behind his wife's back - the businessman, the politician, what have ya. He'll pay big for a male escort because he ain't just paying you for a service. He's paying you to keep a secret. At least, that's what he'll be told if you work for the right bloke."

The younger man didn't reply straight away. He just drank and thought about the bartender's words. A high-end hooker, huh? It wasn't on top of the list of things he wanted to accomplish in his life, but he supposed all his dreams of the future had been shattered anyway. All his hopes of being a Healer, of righting the wrongs of his family, were gone now, tossed out the window by his ugly reputation and uglier past. Really, what other opportunity was going to present itself to him? The Muggle world was foreign to him, and he hadn't been able to find a job for the month or two he'd been seeking refuge in it. And the Wizarding world...they'd never take him back. Especially not to give him a better quality of life. This seemed like his best bet for improving the life that he'd been forced into, for survival. It was dirty work - but he supposed he wouldn't mind if he were properly taken care of. Sex wasn't unfamiliar to him and was a pastime he rather enjoyed partaking in. He wasn't going to pretend like he hadn't hooked up with guys like Blaise or Theo in his time at Hogwarts. And if he got money for it...

"And you mean to tell me you think I could do this...job?"

"Well you'd have to cut the professional shit since it don't exactly turn people on, but as long as you kept your mouth shut when they want you to..." The bartender shrugged again. "Yeah, sure. Why not?"

Draco learned forward, taking a deep breath. He was desperate. That was the only reason he was doing this. He exhaled slowly, looked the bartender in the eye, and said, "Where, exactly, could I find the right bloke to work for?"

The bartender grinned a toothy grin, wrote down a name and address, and sent Draco on his way with the lovely departing message of, "If you have trouble finding customers, you know where to find me." The man shuddered at the idea, paid his tab, and made his way out of the bar before glancing down at the name the bartender had scratch down for him.

Nick.

He went to find this 'Nick' not long after leaving the Muggle pub. Dignified as he tried to be, he was desperate for money, any money, and he knew trying to negotiate with Gringotts was completely out of the question. They'd never listen to him. If he ever wanted to escape those shitty hotels and still afford to eat, he needed to get a job - quickly. And so far, this Nick person was his best bet. The alcohol in his system probably wasn't helping his judgment much then either, though, but he figured that was best. People had a habit of finding a way to survive when they were most desperate, and what was more desperate than being practically homeless, jobless, penniless, and drunk?

He had to admit, though - for a pimp, this Nick seemed to be doing very well for himself. His house was large, ornately decorated in a very nice neighborhood with neighbors with equally impressive homes, and Draco wondered for a moment if he lived in that big house of his all alone. Probably, he finally decided after standing outside it for a few minutes. Lucky bastard.

He looked down once more at the note the bartender had given him, noticing this time the words at the bottom. Tell him Geoff sent you. Geoff. A fitting enough name for a bar man and friend of a pimp, Draco decided, before grabbing the brass knocker on the door and rapping it several times.

It took a few minutes for the door to be opened, but when it was, Draco was very surprised to see a familiar face staring at him curiously.

"Scabior?" he said incredulously, and the former Snatcher grinned.

"'Ello, beautiful," he said. "Fancy seeing you 'ere."

Draco wasn't sure how to answer. When they had found Scabior to work for them during the war, he had been begging for scraps on the street. Surely, in the two months that had passed since the war, he didn't build up so much money or that much of a reputation from scratch. He must have been lying to them his entire employment, the dirty rat. Though Draco wasn't sure why he was so surprised - he wasn't there to talk real, respectable business with the guy, now was he? Finally, though, he realized that he had to answer, so he simply said, "Geoff sent me. I didn't realize you were so acquainted with Muggles."

A flicker of recognition and then annoyance went across Scabior's face, but his expression was quickly twisted back to his usual smirk, as though he was trying to remain businesslike. "Oh, Geoff sent you, did 'e?" he asked, his tone almost mocking. "I see that I could say the very same thing about you, Mister Malfoy." Draco mumbled quietly about needing a home and job searching, about fitting in and lying low, but Scabior just laughed in disbelief. "Well if you're 'ere for a job, I'm not gonna refuse a pretty face. Come on in, love. Let's talk business."

Draco felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, his body tense as Scabior grabbed him by the waist and pulled him inside, allowing the door to fall closed behind them. "Do loosen up," the former Snatcher said, fingers digging almost possessively into the blond's side as he led him further into the large house. "If you don't let yourself get touched, you won't do me any good 'ere." With that in mind, Draco tried to loosen his muscles, but he didn't lean into Scabior's touch and he certainly didn't allow for his guard to go down. He'd known that this was a dirty business to get into, but a dirty business led by a man like this? That was a different story entirely. Scabior wasn't like the common pimp that Draco could try to overpower if he wanted. Scabior was a wizard, and while he was a rather mediocre wizard, he still had more of a weapon on him than Draco, who had taken to locking his wand away and stowing it beneath his bed. That alone was enough to scare the Malfoy, and he didn't want the man to catch him off guard while he was in his rather impressive house.

"So, Draco," Scabior said, leading his guest into his sitting room, "tell me. 'Ow did you end up 'ere? I never thought I'd see that lovely mug o' yours again." He pushed the other man backwards onto the couch, taking the seat next to him with a wicked smile planted on his face. "'Specially not to come 'round askin' little ol' me for a job. 'Ave we fallen on some harder times, love?" Draco felt his stomach twist, felt his guts turning over inside of him, but he kept his face blank and his eyes clear of emotion as he was habitually used to after years of practice. He was not going to let Scabior know that his choice words were getting to him.

"You know as well as I do that I'm not very welcome at home anymore," he said flatly. "None of our old lot are. The only thing keeping me out of Azkaban is that I left." His eyes flickered up and down the appearance of his old acquaintance. "Which reminds me...how did you escape incarceration?"

"It ain't exactly 'ard to do, love," Scabior laughed. "Little bit of a lie 'ere, tales of coercion and Imperius curses there...if ya ask me, they were lookin' for excuses to let us all off. Must be expensive to keep us all in one place like that." Draco clenched his teeth, but couldn't find a proper response to that. Of course, those who were the dirtiest among them were let free while those threatened with their lives rotted away in a cell. He'd obviously forgotten that the world was always fair and balanced and uncorrupted. How silly of him. If Scabior sensed his annoyance, though, he didn't show it. "So tell me, Mr. Malfoy - what did Geoffy 'ere tell ya? That the life is glamorous? That you'll make lots o' money? That pretty ladies were going to be lookin' out for ya? I'm curious - what brings a Malfoy here when I understand you got a sizable fortune waitin' for ya in a vault back 'ome?"

"The Ministry isn't allowing me my gold," Draco said, annoyance seeping into his already cold tone. "They only let me take out so much a month. Like they're afraid if I get too much I'll be able to pay scum like you to work for me again." He saw the frown appear on Scabior's face, but he didn't let it phase him. That's what he got for reminding Draco of home. "It's not enough to live on, of course. I'll probably lose my room within the week since I spent most of my next payment talking to your friend." This seemed to grab hold of Scabior's interest, and Draco leaned forward to address him more fully while he still had the man's focus. "The kind of business you do is dirty," he told him, "I'm not an imbecile. I know it is. But from what...Geoff tells me, you can get me good pay. If it means taking weirdos to bed or a cock up the arse, I am willing to do it. A Malfoy can't live on the tiny sum of money that I'm receiving, and nowhere else will hire me. Not after the things that I did and assisted with during the war. And if you pay me in Muggle money, you're not breaching any contracts. I just...I need the money, Scabior. Badly."

Scabior scanned his face, probably searching for a hint of a lie, for anything to tell him that Draco was being dishonest. All that he found, though, was desperation and frustration, two things that were usually what brought his workers to him. He frowned. Though he knew he could make money off Draco - lots and lots of money, a pretty face and body like that - he had a bad feeling about this. From what he knew about the Malfoys, they weren't very submissive and weren't happy to be taken advantage of. Draco would have to deal with both if he did give him the job, and he was not going to lose business because the blond felt like acting like a little princess. There was a test, of course, to see if Draco could take whatever was thrown at him as long as there was the promise of money, but Scabior wasn't a big fan of sampling his own wares, especially not when they happened to be former employers. But he supposed if there was no other way...

"Oi," Draco said, trying to scramble away as Scabior suddenly reached out and grabbed his wrists, "what do you think you're-?"

"Shut up, Draco, please don't make this difficult," Scabior said as he pinned the boy's body down with his own. "Consider this your job application, alright, love? And do me a favor - call me Nick."

Draco's heart was pounding. He wasn't serious, right? He wasn't seriously going to make Draco do this, make him give up something like that so easily so soon without even promising him a job...right? He wouldn't dare try with Draco so tense. He'd hurt him. It seemed that he would still continue with the risk of damaging him, though, as he held Draco's arms back firmly, settling himself more comfortably on top of him while the younger man just stared and took it. If this was Scabior's idea of attempted intimidation, he wasn't going to let him win. He wasn't going to let him know how unsettled he was.

"Think you can handle this, love?" Scabior said as he lowered his face down to the blond's. "I ain't gonna be the only one to pin you so easily if you're serious about this." Draco stared blankly back, almost challenging him, and the older man tightened his hold on Draco's wrists. "I asked you a question, Draco. I suggest you answer it."

"I'm not afraid of you," was his response, and Scabior laughed, nudging the boy's nose with his own.

"I'm afraid that wasn't what I asked, Mr. Malfoy," he said. "But I'll take it." Then he crushed his lips to Draco's, his domineering mouth not even giving Draco enough time to assess what was happening before forcing his tongue behind his teeth, intruding his mouth in the most intimate of ways and causing Draco's eyes to widen. His first impulse was to bring his arm around to knock himself free, but Scabior's hold was firm. He was stronger than Draco had anticipated, and he felt the other man smile against his lips when Draco's arms begin to struggle against him. "That's not gonna work, love," he said, seemingly amused, before attacking Draco's mouth with another bruising kiss. The boy whimpered, the first sign of fear he allowed through, but he eventually got his body to respond the way Scabior wanted - submissively. He relaxed his body to fit into the contours of Scabior's own, giving into his kiss and offering some inkling of recuperation. Satisfied, the older man ducked to attack Draco's neck with nips and bites that were sure to leave bruises, but Draco didn't make a sound, didn't even let himself be afraid. He took himself to a different place, a different time, where this was normal and where he could pretend this was something he had agreed to engage in. It made it much easier for him to cope with, and he let out a quiet growl of contentment as Scabior found the hollow of his neck and kissed it. If he just ignored who it was...pretended it was Blaise or some other earlier fling...that would be enough, that could get him react.

"Shirt off," Scabior said simply in response to the sound of Draco's quiet noises of satisfaction, and Draco felt his hands get released so that he could unbutton his shirt while Scabior pulled at his belt buckle, lips never leaving his neck. By the time he'd gotten his shirt fully off, the older man had unhooked his belt and unbuckled his jeans and his hands were now exploring the body beneath him. Draco moaned softly as skilled hands brushed the most sensitive areas of his body, sending the first fires of arousal blazing through him. Any further sounds he could have made, though, were silenced by the presence of Scabior's mouth on his own once more, and he finally got into the rhythm of what was happening when Scabior moved his trousers and boxers down his hips, fully exposing him. The former Snatcher pulled away from Draco then, his hand going down to take hold of the younger man's prick, stroking him to full arousal while Draco writhed beneath him, trying to keep his moans few and quiet. Horny or not, it wasn't dignified to make a lot of noise, and Scabior nearly laughed at the realization that Draco was still trying to be dignified and a hooker at the same time - but he didn't let his demeanor slip. He had to keep his air of dominance.

"I am going to take you at your most indecent," he growled, and the look on Draco's face was enough fuel to keep this going. "I am going to make you do the dirtiest things you can think of and then some, and you are going to do them happily. Do you know why?" Draco let out a strangled groan. "Tell me why I'm able to do this to you, love. Why are you assistin' lil' ol' me?"

"Because I'm a whore," Draco said back, his voice strained in his attempt to keep it under control. He was panting by that point, sweat beginning to appear on his brow as Scabior continued to tease him, but he dare not say or do anything else, dare not beg in case that little slip up cost him his job. Scabior grinned.

"That you are. And it is not your place to object."

Then he pushed away from the young blond, standing up and straightening his robes. "I'll pass the first customer who asks for a bloke onto you," he said as Draco stared up at him, obviously confused. "And you better be as damn submissive to them..." He trailed off, not wanting to sound angry. "If you need a room," he said, "you can take one of mine. 'Til ya build yourself up more and get yourself a proper 'ome. Down the hall right there-" He pointed and Draco's eyes followed, "-and to the left. Two doors down." He looked back down at the blond, lying mostly naked save for the trousers around his knees, still in a state of full arousal, looking good enough to eat. He pursed his lips. "I suggest you compose yourself and get to bed."

Then he was gone, walking away from him as quickly and suddenly as he had pounced on him, and Draco was left, dazed and confused, to take care of himself and get ready for bed. There were a lot of questions he wanted to ask - what the hell that was about, for one, how long he was welcome to stay, if he should move his possessions into the house or not - but he decided against calling Scabior back. The look he'd given him before he departed was enough to make him shiver and though he was feeling as though he'd shag anyone by that point if they approached him, the idea of being dominated by a past employee was less than pleasant. He was grateful that the man had walked away.

Three years later, Draco wouldn't have those same fears. Three years later, Draco would be willing to shag anyone, everyone, if it meant keeping the lifestyle he'd built up under Scabior's employment. Three years later, Draco wouldn't care if he was submissive or dominant or what weird shit anyone tried to get him to do.

Because three years later, Draco was one of Scabior's most successful employees and three years later, Draco was still as determined to live in a nice house with a lot of food and servants like he was used to as he was the first time he walked through Scabior's door. The only difference now was that he had lost something that had held him back for many years. He had lost his pride.