Fic: Where the Gutterflowers Grow/ Chapter 2
Title: Where the Gutterflowers Grow
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Sirius/Draco
Rated: NC-17
Warnings: Slash, drug use/addiction, prostitution, blood, suicidal tendencies, WIP
Beta: judas_denied.
Notes: This started out just a little idea, like most of my stuff, and it sort of became something done along the lines of Pretty Woman. Which I actually think is kind of awesome. It's fun for me to write, anyway. I wrote most of this a few months ago and just finished the chapter. It's a WIP, and I intend to finish it, but updating will be whenever I feel like it/get to it. Fair warning.
Summary: Draco Malfoy had always had the privileged child’s affinity for the remarkable and extraordinary, so it shouldn’t have surprised Sirius when the kid walked through his door, but it did.
Sometime after midnight, Sirius crept into Draco's room and sat huddled in the chair by his bed and watched him sleep. He'd had another nightmare and he badly needed to fix, but watching the steady rise and fall of Draco's breathing calmed him a little. Made it possible to sit still.
When the first light of day came through the large picture window and touched Draco's lashes, he woke and opened his eyes to find Sirius still there. Still watching him.
“Good morning,” Draco said calmly, and stretched.
“I need to--”
“No.”
Sirius scratched his arm and nibbled his bottom lip. “I heard shouting,” he said. “Your parents aren't very happy to know I'm in their house, I would imagine.”
Draco shrugged. “They'll get over it,” he said, lying on his back with his head pillowed on one arm, watching the way the morning sun sent little sparking dust motes dancing around Sirius. “Besides, it's my house too. And you are family.”
“Disinherited,” Sirius reminded him. He shivered and his eyes darted to the window. “I remember you as a boy,” he said abruptly.
Draco lifted a brow and shifted on the bed, propping himself up on one elbow to study Sirius more intently. “Do you think of me that way still?”
Sirius shot him a quick, uneasy glance before shifting his eyes back outside the window. “Sometimes,” he said. “When I think of you at all.”
“Sirius--”
“Now that you have me here... what are you going to do with me?” Sirius asked.
Draco huffed out a breath and sat up, the sheets sliding down his body to pool around his waist. He held out a hand to Sirius, palm up; an invitation, not a command. “Sirius, come here.”
Sirius looked at him, his haunted grey eyes lingering on Draco's face thoughtfully, before slowly unfolding himself from his chair and crossing to the bed. He didn't take Draco's hand, but he crawled up the mattress and lay down, resting his head on Draco's thigh.
Draco ran his fingers through Sirius’s long black hair and hummed. “Did you sleep at all?”
“No,” Sirius said. “Dreamed.”
“About?”
“I don't remember.”
“Why didn't you wake me up?”
Sirius shrugged. “You're pretty when you sleep.”
Draco smiled. “Only when I sleep?”
“That's not what I meant,” Sirius said, tensing.
Draco stilled his hand in Sirius’s hair and ducked his head to press a soft kiss to his mouth. “I know that,” he said.
Sirius rolled over onto his back and pulled Draco's mouth back to his, deepening the kiss with a needy whimper. Draco kissed him back, sucking his tongue into his mouth and swallowing those little sounds with an acute feeling of triumph.
When they broke the kiss, Sirius slipped his fingers into Draco's hair, the longer strands of which had fallen forward over his eyes, and ran his thumb over Draco's kiss-swollen bottom lip. “You never answered my question,” he said.
Draco's smile was slow and satisfied. “What would you like me to do with you?” he asked.
“That's not an answer,” Sirius said. Then, “It doesn't matter.”
Draco shifted down the bed and straddled Sirius's hips. Bracing his weight with his palms flat on Sirius's scarred chest, he looked down into his face. “I think it does,” he said, quick fingers unfastening the draw-string of Sirius' pajama trousers. “I think if it didn't matter,” he said, lowering his head to place a nipping kiss on Sirius' navel, “you wouldn't have asked.”
Sirius moaned and let his eyes drift shut as Draco licked, sucked, and kissed his way down his body. “I think... you want it to matter,” he said.
Draco lightly grazed a spot on his thigh with his teeth, just over a patch of tiny pin-prick scars, then put his mouth around it and sucked. Sirius cried out and his hands scrabbled at the bedding beneath him.
Eyes flashing silver with a combination of lust and accomplishment, Draco slid back up Sirius' body and reached across the bed to the night stand for a little pot of lubricant. Sirius watched him calmly as he dipped two fingers into the substance and put the container back.
“I knew you were lying when you said this wasn't what you wanted me for,” Sirius said quietly. There was no accusation in the words, merely observation.
Draco quirked a brow at him and sat back. “I said I wouldn't force you,” he said. “I never said I didn't want you.” He pressed a slick finger inside Sirius's ass and watched Sirius shiver. “You can leave my bed,” he whispered, adding a second finger and twisting, driving them palm-deep, “whenever you want. Now, if that is your wish.”
Sirius gasped and pushed his hips up. “No--fuck!” He reached out and grabbed Draco's arms, fingers digging in. He spread his legs and bucked up against Draco's hand, seeking more. “Don't stop,” he breathed, trying to pull Draco up to kiss him. “Please--fucking god! Draco, don't you dare!”
Draco laughed softly and nipped Sirius' chin with his teeth before laving the spot with his tongue to soothe it. He scissored his fingers once sharply, eliciting a little breath-hitching cry from Sirius, before removing them.
“Roll over,” he whispered against Sirius's lips. “On your knees.”
Without a word, Sirius untangled himself from Draco and rolled over on his hands and knees. He dropped down on his elbows with a low moan when Draco pressed up against his back, licking and biting the back of his neck as he ran his hands up and down Sirius' thighs.
“Can you still honestly tell me that it doesn't matter?” Draco murmured against his ear.
Sirius caught his breath and shuddered, but he shook his head. “No, I...”
Draco thrust inside him and whatever Sirius was going to say died on a startled shout.
“Do you want me to stop?” Draco asked, deliberately moving inside him with long, deep strokes meant to drive him mad. “Do you?”
Sirius shook his head and pressed his face into the mattress for a moment before turning his head to the side and looking at Draco over his shoulder. “No. Don’t stop - oh gods please.”
“Then it matters,” Draco said, keeping to his maddening rhythm. “Now tell me... what do you want me to do with you?”
Sirius twisted his fingers in the bed linens beneath him and made a soft, desperate keening sound in the back of his throat. “Fuck me,” he panted. “Harder. Oh please, Draco, do it harder.”
Draco bent forward and licked the back of Sirius's neck, tongue lingering on the little ridge of his spine, tasting the salt and musk of his skin. Holding himself back despite the insistent urge of his body to move.
Sirius trembled and pushed back against him. “Please,” he whimpered.
Draco reached up and ran his fingers through Sirius's hair, closing his hand into a fist at the back of his skull and holding. He nuzzled the back of Sirius' neck again and the sensitive spot right behind his ear, smiling when Sirius shivered and moaned.
Draco pulled out of him and thrust back inside, hard, his pelvic bone slamming against Sirius's ass.
Sirius cried out and arched his back under the force of the movement. “Yes.”
“Like that?” Draco whispered.
“Yes,” Sirius gasped. Draco did it again and he smothered a curse with a fist full of cotton sheet. “Like that,” he said. “Just like that. Fuck.”
Draco grasped Sirius' waist, fingers biting into his flesh deep enough to mark, and drove into him, shoulders flexing and back hunched, thrilling to Sirius's little hitching breaths and half swallowed cries. Panting, Draco put his mouth between Sirius's shoulders and sucked his sweat misted skin lightly as he thrust, little tugs of his mouth and light brushes of his hair in gentle counter tempo to the pounding thrust of his hips.
There was a knock on the bedroom door and Sirius' head came up, eyes darting in that direction, jaw clenched against the sounds that wanted to fall from his lips. “Draco - shit! Stop it, someone-“
“Shhh.” Draco cupped a hand under Sirius' jaw and turned his face to the side so he could kiss him, never slowing, never gentling, tasting the way his breath came in rough gasps.
“Draco, darling?”
Draco laughed softly into Sirius's mouth at the sound of his mother's voice on the other side of the door.
“Are you coming down? Your father and I talked and we've decided that if you really want to... keep him here, well, we won't-“
Draco broke his mouth away from Sirius's and pressed his face down on the bed. Sirius bit down on a twisted bit of coverlet to muffle his moans. “Yes mother, I'll be right down!” Draco said in a rush, biting back a groan as Sirius's body clenched around him.
“Well, all right, darling. Should I send someone up to wake Sirius-?“
“No!” Draco sucked in a breath and hissed in Sirius’s ear. That time, it had been deliberate. “Bastard,” he growled, and Sirius silently laughed. “I'll wake him…before I come down,” he stammered, raising his voice for Narcissa to hear.
“Will you really?” Sirius murmured under him, amused. Draco reached around Sirius's hip and grasped his cock, lightly caressing, and Sirius’s fingers clawed at the mattress as pleasure blossomed under his skin, pulsing up his spine. “Oh fucking hell.”
“Draco?” Narcissa said, sounding concerned and - to Draco’s ears at least - slightly suspicious. “What are you doing?”
“Oh, for fuck's sake,” Draco breathed against the back of Sirius' neck.
“Tell her the truth,” Sirius suggested, eyes mocking him over his shoulder. “She'll go away.”
“No doubt,” Draco muttered. “I'm ah… reading,” he finally decided.
Sirius snorted.
“Well hurry up, darling. Your breakfast is going to get cold.”
“Yes, I'll... be right... down,” Draco said through gritted teeth.
He listened to her heels clicking on the wood floor as she walked away before he pulled back and thrust into Sirius, rolling his hips in a deep, grinding motion. He was rewarded with a scream muffled by the mattress and a sharp, involuntary backward thrust.
“She's gone,” Draco said, panting.
“I don't care,” Sirius hissed, pushing back to meet him. “I don't care, I don't care, fuck me...”
Draco laughed breathlessly, still moving, keeping a rough, steady pace that was rapidly tiring him. “I am,” he said. He lightly smacked Sirius's thigh, causing Sirius to tense in surprise. “Jesus God, Sirius...”
“Again,” Sirius said.
Draco swiped his sweaty hair out of his face and paused, mid-stroke. “What?”
“Don't fucking stop!” Sirius said desperately. “Do that again.”
“Do wha- You mean this?” Draco smacked Sirius's thigh again as he pushed inside him. Sirius' reflexively clenched around Draco's cock in response and Draco gasped.
Sirius rocked back, his panting laughter in Draco's ears.
“Fuck you,” Draco muttered and nipped Sirius's shoulder.
“Yes... that does seem to be... the idea,” Sirius said brokenly, amusement and arousal making his voice crack.
Draco slid his hands up and gripped Sirius's sides, fingers fitting into the hollows of his ribs as muscle and skin flowed under his fingertips. Sirius turned his face to the side, resting his cheek on the bunched coverlet, and watched Draco move behind him over his shoulder.
Goosebumps rose on Sirius's skin and he shivered. “Going to come,” he warned, rolling his hips.
“Yeah,” Draco said, slowing his movements a little.
Sirius bit down on one of his knuckles and whined, shaking with the effort it took to not scream as his orgasm ripped through him, clawing up his spine and racing hot through his blood until he could feel each individual beat of his heart on the back of his tongue and in the tips of his fingers. Draco rode him through it, swallowing his own whimpers and moans as Sirius's body tensed beneath him, muscles contracting around him, skin quivering under Draco's hands like the flesh of a fly-bit horse. Draco came with his teeth pressed into the curve between Sirius' shoulder and neck, his voice humming pleasurably down Sirius's spine as he cried out, causing Sirius to moan and writhe.
Draco slumped over Sirius's back, exhausted, both of them still quivering with aftershocks, their breathing labored, hearts pounding. Sirius's fingers were opening and closing slowly in the sheets and Draco's lips twitched in amusement because he was fairly sure Sirius didn't realize he was doing it. Draco nuzzled the sweat damp hair at the back of Sirius's neck. Sirius muttered contentedly and rolled his head to the side.
“Draco...” Sirius licked his lips. “Draco, I need-“
“No,” Draco said. He pressed a kiss between Sirius's shoulders, pulled out of him, and rolled onto his back.
Sirius remained where he was, but turned his head on the bed to stare at Draco with wide silver eyes. “Draco, I need to-“
“No,” Draco said. He sighed and closed his eyes.
“Damn you,” Sirius murmured tiredly.
Draco's lips curved in a slow smile. “Probably.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
While Draco was in the shower, Sirius went back to his rooms. He washed up, got dressed, and got his fix from a needle he'd hidden away in the hem of a ragged old sweater.
The drug rushed through his blood like sugar and light. He let his head fall back, closed his eyes, and moaned. He hadn't shot up since late afternoon of the previous day. It felt fucking fantastic, just short of sexual in its brilliance, and Sirius slumped back on his bed with a contented sigh, half convinced he was going to come from the sensations coursing through his nerve endings. He was only a little disappointed when he didn't.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“You are fucking my son,” Narcissa said, voice smooth, cold; calm as Sirius had ever heard it.
Draco's fork clattered on his plate and he stared at his mother across the table. “Don't do this, Mother.”
Narcissa ignored him and didn't take her piercing eyes off of Sirius. “Sirius?”
Sirius sipped his tea, black with honey. It was good tea. He shrugged. “Actually, I'm not,” he said.
Narcissa arched one elegant pale brow at him. “Oh?”
Still pleasantly sore from being fucked into the soft mattress of Draco's bed, blood still singing with the drug in his veins, Sirius smiled at her, eyes glittering with mocking laughter. “He is fucking me.”
“That is not my point,” Narcissa said.
Sirius jerked his shoulder. “Maybe not, but it's an important distinction.”
“Not to me,” she said. “While you are here, when in the presence of others, you will conduct yourself with discretion. Do I make myself clear?”
“No fucking behind the curtains in the drawing room during parties, got it,” Sirius said, nodding sagely.
Narcissa scowled at him.
Sirius smiled at her sweetly. “Anything else?”
“You will not discuss your... circumstances with anyone while you are staying in this house. Not your personal ones or the particulars of your... relationship with Draco. Nothing.”
Sirius sighed and leaned back in his chair. “No, darling cousin, I will not tell anyone that your baby boy found me trying to - and failing - die with a needle in my arm in an apartment in one of the worst sections of Knockturn Alley.” He suddenly leaned forward, eyes as piercing and intense as Narcissa's own, sliver sparking on silver. “I will not tell anyone that I took the money he gave me that first day and bought more drugs to fill those needles. I won't tell anyone what the money was for or that I'm now performing that service for him for free.” He lowered his voice to barely a whisper and watched her mouth quiver. “Whenever he wants... wherever he wants... however he wants... as many times as he wants it.”
Draco slid his chair back and stood. “Sirius.”
Sirius put his tea cup down, stood, and calmly walked out of the room.
Draco turned his eyes on his mother and glared. “Mother, was that really necessary?”
Narcissa pierced a section of melon on her fork and ate it calmly before answering him. “Draco, you know better than to ask questions to which you already know the answer,” she said.
With an inarticulate growl, Draco threw his napkin down on the table and strode from the room.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Draco found Sirius in his mother's gazebo, his knees drawn up to his chest, rolling a twig of rose thorn between his fingers. He was watching a bird on a low-hanging branch with a blind expression and didn't seem to notice the blood dripping from his fingertips and sliding down his wrist.
“Sirius,” Draco said cautiously, slowly sitting down across from him, watching him like Sirius was a wounded, wild animal that might turn on him. “Sirius...”
“Hmmm?” Sirius blinked once and then let his eyes drift closed. “What?”
“I'm sorry,” Draco said. Remarkably, he found that he was.
Sirius laughed, a sharp, dog-like sound. “For what? For telling me how miraculous I am, then using me as some kind of late-life rebellion against your parents? Why? It seems to have worked spectacularly. Though I have to say, a nameless crack whore might have made more of an impression... and wouldn't have been nearly as difficult.”
Draco sat there quietly for a long minute, forcing himself to be calm, to not yell or lash out at Sirius. When he felt sure that he could speak without his voice breaking in anger, he stood and crossed to Sirius. He knelt beside him, took his hand, and gently removed the bloody thorn sprig from his fingers.
He lifted Sirius' red fingers to his mouth. Watching Sirius' face as his eyes darkened, Draco sucked Sirius' middle finger into his mouth. The taste of his blood was metallic and bitter, and Draco rolled the tip of his tongue over the wounded pad of Sirius' finger until Sirius moaned and drew his hand away.
“There are many reasons why I want you,” Draco said, and his mouth twitched into a smirk. “I assure you, none of them have anything to do with my parents.” He stood up suddenly, tugging Sirius with him. “Come on.”
Sirius didn't resist as Draco led him through the garden. “Where are we going?” he asked, not really interested.
“Shopping.”
Sirius halted, forcing Draco to stop. “What?”
Draco quirked a brow at him. “Shopping?” he said. “My father's having a... business party this weekend.”
“And you wouldn't want anyone to be asking him why his son's mangy old fuck toy looks like a street whore,” Sirius said flatly, curling his lip.
Draco narrowed his eyes at him and jerked Sirius' body against him, fingers tightening around his wrist. “Something like that,” Draco said, and kissed him, tongue pressing against his teeth when Sirius resisted until Sirius opened his mouth. “And...”
“And?” Sirius asked, tongue gliding over the roof of Draco's mouth, teeth catching and tugging lightly at Draco's bottom lip.
“And I just thought you might like to,” Draco said, sliding his hands under Sirius' shirt, up his lean-muscled, prison-thin body. “For no reason at all.”
Sirius lifted his hand and slid a blood-stained finger between Draco's lips, eyes intent on his face as Draco took it into his mouth without hesitation. “All right then,” he said softly. “Where are we going first?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Look, I don't want robes,” Sirius insisted. “Buy them for me if you want, it's your money, but I'm not going to fucking wear them.”
Draco grinned and pulled him along toward the shop. “You will.”
“No, I will not.”
Draco turned and drew Sirius toward him as he walked backwards down the sidewalk. “Just for the party,” he said, playfully coaxing. “Only a few hours. You can take them off right after.”
Emboldened by his playful behavior, Sirius leered. “I fully intend to,” he said.
“Then you'll wear them first,” Draco said, and grinned.
“Fine, I'll wear them,” Sirius said with distaste. “For this party.”
Draco shrugged and stopped right outside the door of a shop. “All right then,” he said. “Why don't you go in and get fitted while I go... take care of something?”
“Take care of what?” Sirius asked suspiciously.
Draco smiled vaguely and didn't answer. “It should only take a few minutes.”
“Fine,” Sirius said, walking past him to the shop.
Draco watched him go inside, grumbling to himself, before he turned and crossed the street to Olivander's.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The impeccably groomed and coiffed witch in the clothes shop looked at Sirius like that and he wasn't surprised. Not even a little bit. He knew when he walked through the door - hell, he knew when Draco first said the word “shopping” - that it would happen.
She took one look at him in his faded denims, his black t-shirt, with his long hair, which was clean thanks to Draco dragging him bodily into the shower the day before, but which was not tied back, and the tracks, new and old peppering the insides of his arms, and sneered. Only not, because that would have been improper.
He thought she might have even noticed the dead look in his eyes, just beneath the surface, and possibly the blood under his fingernails from his self-inflicted wounds with the rose thorns.
She didn't know him and that didn't matter. He was human garbage to her.
A part of him was grateful to her for that. For the look and all the rest.
A larger part of him was grateful that Draco was not there to see it.
“Sir,” said the woman. “I really don't think you belong here.”
Sirius laughed softly. “Yeah, I know,” he said, and walked back outside.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sirius leaned against the side of the building in the alley between the robe shop and a cafe. Arms braced against the rough brick, head bowed, he took three deep breaths and tried to control the shaking. He wanted to close his eyes, but he was afraid that if he did, he'd see eyes waiting for him in the dark. Or worse - nothing waiting for him in the dark at all.
“Motherfucker,” he whispered.
He reached, with trembling fingers, and took out the needle he'd hidden away in his pocket that morning. He pulled the cap off with his teeth and plunged it into the curve of his elbow.
The shaking stopped.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“What the hell do you mean, you've changed your mind?” Draco demanded, glaring down at Sirius, who was sprawled across the bench outside the robe shop. “Look, Sirius, you can’t -“
“Who the fuck says I can't?” Sirius snapped, sitting up. “You? Listen you nancy little fuck, I don't care what you think, you don't own me. I'm not some fucking doll you can dress up to impress your rich as god father's rich as god friends.”
Draco's eyes narrowed dangerously, but he said nothing.
Sirius scratched the side of his neck and stared down at the cobblestones beneath his feet. “I told you, you'd have been better off with -“
“A crack whore, I know,” Draco said evenly. “What happened in the shop, Sirius?”
Sirius shivered and turned his face away. “I don't belong here,” he whispered.
“Sirius-“
“No,” Sirius hissed, finally looking at him again. “Don't say it. Whatever it is you're thinking, whatever comforting shit you were going to say, just don't.” He stood up. His hands were shaking again.
Draco lifted a hand and grazed the back of his knuckles down Sirius's cheek. Sirius flinched. “Be that as it may,” Draco said softly, “you have not answered my question. What happened in the shop?”
“Nothing happened,” Sirius mumbled, turning his face into Draco's hand, dog-like, despite himself. “Nothing happened, I just left.”
“All right, then we'll just go right back in,” Draco said. He hooked his arm around Sirius's waist and hauled him toward the door.
“Draco-“
“It's a robe shop, Sirius,” Draco murmured, pressing his mouth to his ear and stroking his hair back. “You've survived Azkaban, faced down Dementors and walked through the veil... and back. Be brave.”
Sirius frowned at his teasing, but he allowed himself to be led back into the shop. “I don't want to be brave, it's tiring,” he muttered irritably. Draco's sharp bark of laughter at that made him scowl.
“Mr. Malfoy, how are you?” the shopkeeper greeted cheerfully.
Sirius rested his chin on Draco's shoulder and looked at her over it. “I don't belong here,” he whispered to Draco. “Told you. Ask her, she knows.”
The shopkeeper recognized him and looked a little surprised to see him. With Draco Malfoy. “Oh,” she said. “Oh, sir, I'm so sorry, I had no idea-“
Draco lifted a brow at her and looked down at Sirius. He shrugged his shoulder to get Sirius to lift his head. “I don't know what you're apologizing for, but I suggest you not finish that statement,” Draco said to her, his voice cold.
“Yes, sir,” the woman said warily. “Erm... what can I do for you today?”
“He needs robes,” Draco said, pointing to Sirius.
“I don't want them,” Sirius retorted in a hiss in Draco's ear. Tempted, he nipped it and Draco swatted him.
“Would you rather have a dog collar and a muzzle?” Draco hissed back.
“Maybe,” Sirius said. He frowned thoughtfully.
Draco quirked a speculative brow at that. “That's very interesting, Sirius and maybe I'll get you one. But you still need robes.”
“For the party,” Sirius said, and curled his lip. “Fine. No lace,” he added, giving the shopkeeper a baleful look.
The shopkeeper exchanged a look with Draco, who just shrugged. “Yes, sir. Come with me, please,” she said to Sirius.
Sirius followed her as far as the curtain separating the main shop from the fitting area. He halted there and would not go further.
“Sirius, it's not that curtain,” Draco said.
“I know,” Sirius muttered. “I know that, I do.”
“Excuse me, sir, but what is the matter?” the shopkeeper asked, looking at him oddly.
Ignoring her, Sirius cast Draco a pleading look. “I can't.”
“Do you want me to hold your hand, Sirius?” Draco said, his tone indicating how ridiculous he thought Sirius was being.
“Yes,” Sirius said instantly. He held his hand out for Draco to take it.
Draco rolled his eyes and took Sirius's hand. His fingers trembled and Draco clasped it, lacing his fingers with Sirius's. “All right then, so much for being brave,” he murmured dryly.
“Don't want to be, I told you,” Sirius said under his breath.
“Clearly.”
“If you wanted someone brave, maybe you should have propositioned Harry,” Sirius snapped. “Or the aforementioned crack whore. Saved us both the-“
“Shut up, Sirius,” Draco snapped right back. He let go of his hand and crossed his arms over his chest.
Sirius looked around at the fitting room and relaxed. The obstacle of the curtain had been bested. “Okay then,” he said.
The shopkeeper gave him a frustrated look and took out her wand to begin taking his measurements.
Previous Chapter>>
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Sirius/Draco
Rated: NC-17
Warnings: Slash, drug use/addiction, prostitution, blood, suicidal tendencies, WIP
Beta: judas_denied.
Notes: This started out just a little idea, like most of my stuff, and it sort of became something done along the lines of Pretty Woman. Which I actually think is kind of awesome. It's fun for me to write, anyway. I wrote most of this a few months ago and just finished the chapter. It's a WIP, and I intend to finish it, but updating will be whenever I feel like it/get to it. Fair warning.
Summary: Draco Malfoy had always had the privileged child’s affinity for the remarkable and extraordinary, so it shouldn’t have surprised Sirius when the kid walked through his door, but it did.
Sometime after midnight, Sirius crept into Draco's room and sat huddled in the chair by his bed and watched him sleep. He'd had another nightmare and he badly needed to fix, but watching the steady rise and fall of Draco's breathing calmed him a little. Made it possible to sit still.
When the first light of day came through the large picture window and touched Draco's lashes, he woke and opened his eyes to find Sirius still there. Still watching him.
“Good morning,” Draco said calmly, and stretched.
“I need to--”
“No.”
Sirius scratched his arm and nibbled his bottom lip. “I heard shouting,” he said. “Your parents aren't very happy to know I'm in their house, I would imagine.”
Draco shrugged. “They'll get over it,” he said, lying on his back with his head pillowed on one arm, watching the way the morning sun sent little sparking dust motes dancing around Sirius. “Besides, it's my house too. And you are family.”
“Disinherited,” Sirius reminded him. He shivered and his eyes darted to the window. “I remember you as a boy,” he said abruptly.
Draco lifted a brow and shifted on the bed, propping himself up on one elbow to study Sirius more intently. “Do you think of me that way still?”
Sirius shot him a quick, uneasy glance before shifting his eyes back outside the window. “Sometimes,” he said. “When I think of you at all.”
“Sirius--”
“Now that you have me here... what are you going to do with me?” Sirius asked.
Draco huffed out a breath and sat up, the sheets sliding down his body to pool around his waist. He held out a hand to Sirius, palm up; an invitation, not a command. “Sirius, come here.”
Sirius looked at him, his haunted grey eyes lingering on Draco's face thoughtfully, before slowly unfolding himself from his chair and crossing to the bed. He didn't take Draco's hand, but he crawled up the mattress and lay down, resting his head on Draco's thigh.
Draco ran his fingers through Sirius’s long black hair and hummed. “Did you sleep at all?”
“No,” Sirius said. “Dreamed.”
“About?”
“I don't remember.”
“Why didn't you wake me up?”
Sirius shrugged. “You're pretty when you sleep.”
Draco smiled. “Only when I sleep?”
“That's not what I meant,” Sirius said, tensing.
Draco stilled his hand in Sirius’s hair and ducked his head to press a soft kiss to his mouth. “I know that,” he said.
Sirius rolled over onto his back and pulled Draco's mouth back to his, deepening the kiss with a needy whimper. Draco kissed him back, sucking his tongue into his mouth and swallowing those little sounds with an acute feeling of triumph.
When they broke the kiss, Sirius slipped his fingers into Draco's hair, the longer strands of which had fallen forward over his eyes, and ran his thumb over Draco's kiss-swollen bottom lip. “You never answered my question,” he said.
Draco's smile was slow and satisfied. “What would you like me to do with you?” he asked.
“That's not an answer,” Sirius said. Then, “It doesn't matter.”
Draco shifted down the bed and straddled Sirius's hips. Bracing his weight with his palms flat on Sirius's scarred chest, he looked down into his face. “I think it does,” he said, quick fingers unfastening the draw-string of Sirius' pajama trousers. “I think if it didn't matter,” he said, lowering his head to place a nipping kiss on Sirius' navel, “you wouldn't have asked.”
Sirius moaned and let his eyes drift shut as Draco licked, sucked, and kissed his way down his body. “I think... you want it to matter,” he said.
Draco lightly grazed a spot on his thigh with his teeth, just over a patch of tiny pin-prick scars, then put his mouth around it and sucked. Sirius cried out and his hands scrabbled at the bedding beneath him.
Eyes flashing silver with a combination of lust and accomplishment, Draco slid back up Sirius' body and reached across the bed to the night stand for a little pot of lubricant. Sirius watched him calmly as he dipped two fingers into the substance and put the container back.
“I knew you were lying when you said this wasn't what you wanted me for,” Sirius said quietly. There was no accusation in the words, merely observation.
Draco quirked a brow at him and sat back. “I said I wouldn't force you,” he said. “I never said I didn't want you.” He pressed a slick finger inside Sirius's ass and watched Sirius shiver. “You can leave my bed,” he whispered, adding a second finger and twisting, driving them palm-deep, “whenever you want. Now, if that is your wish.”
Sirius gasped and pushed his hips up. “No--fuck!” He reached out and grabbed Draco's arms, fingers digging in. He spread his legs and bucked up against Draco's hand, seeking more. “Don't stop,” he breathed, trying to pull Draco up to kiss him. “Please--fucking god! Draco, don't you dare!”
Draco laughed softly and nipped Sirius' chin with his teeth before laving the spot with his tongue to soothe it. He scissored his fingers once sharply, eliciting a little breath-hitching cry from Sirius, before removing them.
“Roll over,” he whispered against Sirius's lips. “On your knees.”
Without a word, Sirius untangled himself from Draco and rolled over on his hands and knees. He dropped down on his elbows with a low moan when Draco pressed up against his back, licking and biting the back of his neck as he ran his hands up and down Sirius' thighs.
“Can you still honestly tell me that it doesn't matter?” Draco murmured against his ear.
Sirius caught his breath and shuddered, but he shook his head. “No, I...”
Draco thrust inside him and whatever Sirius was going to say died on a startled shout.
“Do you want me to stop?” Draco asked, deliberately moving inside him with long, deep strokes meant to drive him mad. “Do you?”
Sirius shook his head and pressed his face into the mattress for a moment before turning his head to the side and looking at Draco over his shoulder. “No. Don’t stop - oh gods please.”
“Then it matters,” Draco said, keeping to his maddening rhythm. “Now tell me... what do you want me to do with you?”
Sirius twisted his fingers in the bed linens beneath him and made a soft, desperate keening sound in the back of his throat. “Fuck me,” he panted. “Harder. Oh please, Draco, do it harder.”
Draco bent forward and licked the back of Sirius's neck, tongue lingering on the little ridge of his spine, tasting the salt and musk of his skin. Holding himself back despite the insistent urge of his body to move.
Sirius trembled and pushed back against him. “Please,” he whimpered.
Draco reached up and ran his fingers through Sirius's hair, closing his hand into a fist at the back of his skull and holding. He nuzzled the back of Sirius' neck again and the sensitive spot right behind his ear, smiling when Sirius shivered and moaned.
Draco pulled out of him and thrust back inside, hard, his pelvic bone slamming against Sirius's ass.
Sirius cried out and arched his back under the force of the movement. “Yes.”
“Like that?” Draco whispered.
“Yes,” Sirius gasped. Draco did it again and he smothered a curse with a fist full of cotton sheet. “Like that,” he said. “Just like that. Fuck.”
Draco grasped Sirius' waist, fingers biting into his flesh deep enough to mark, and drove into him, shoulders flexing and back hunched, thrilling to Sirius's little hitching breaths and half swallowed cries. Panting, Draco put his mouth between Sirius's shoulders and sucked his sweat misted skin lightly as he thrust, little tugs of his mouth and light brushes of his hair in gentle counter tempo to the pounding thrust of his hips.
There was a knock on the bedroom door and Sirius' head came up, eyes darting in that direction, jaw clenched against the sounds that wanted to fall from his lips. “Draco - shit! Stop it, someone-“
“Shhh.” Draco cupped a hand under Sirius' jaw and turned his face to the side so he could kiss him, never slowing, never gentling, tasting the way his breath came in rough gasps.
“Draco, darling?”
Draco laughed softly into Sirius's mouth at the sound of his mother's voice on the other side of the door.
“Are you coming down? Your father and I talked and we've decided that if you really want to... keep him here, well, we won't-“
Draco broke his mouth away from Sirius's and pressed his face down on the bed. Sirius bit down on a twisted bit of coverlet to muffle his moans. “Yes mother, I'll be right down!” Draco said in a rush, biting back a groan as Sirius's body clenched around him.
“Well, all right, darling. Should I send someone up to wake Sirius-?“
“No!” Draco sucked in a breath and hissed in Sirius’s ear. That time, it had been deliberate. “Bastard,” he growled, and Sirius silently laughed. “I'll wake him…before I come down,” he stammered, raising his voice for Narcissa to hear.
“Will you really?” Sirius murmured under him, amused. Draco reached around Sirius's hip and grasped his cock, lightly caressing, and Sirius’s fingers clawed at the mattress as pleasure blossomed under his skin, pulsing up his spine. “Oh fucking hell.”
“Draco?” Narcissa said, sounding concerned and - to Draco’s ears at least - slightly suspicious. “What are you doing?”
“Oh, for fuck's sake,” Draco breathed against the back of Sirius' neck.
“Tell her the truth,” Sirius suggested, eyes mocking him over his shoulder. “She'll go away.”
“No doubt,” Draco muttered. “I'm ah… reading,” he finally decided.
Sirius snorted.
“Well hurry up, darling. Your breakfast is going to get cold.”
“Yes, I'll... be right... down,” Draco said through gritted teeth.
He listened to her heels clicking on the wood floor as she walked away before he pulled back and thrust into Sirius, rolling his hips in a deep, grinding motion. He was rewarded with a scream muffled by the mattress and a sharp, involuntary backward thrust.
“She's gone,” Draco said, panting.
“I don't care,” Sirius hissed, pushing back to meet him. “I don't care, I don't care, fuck me...”
Draco laughed breathlessly, still moving, keeping a rough, steady pace that was rapidly tiring him. “I am,” he said. He lightly smacked Sirius's thigh, causing Sirius to tense in surprise. “Jesus God, Sirius...”
“Again,” Sirius said.
Draco swiped his sweaty hair out of his face and paused, mid-stroke. “What?”
“Don't fucking stop!” Sirius said desperately. “Do that again.”
“Do wha- You mean this?” Draco smacked Sirius's thigh again as he pushed inside him. Sirius' reflexively clenched around Draco's cock in response and Draco gasped.
Sirius rocked back, his panting laughter in Draco's ears.
“Fuck you,” Draco muttered and nipped Sirius's shoulder.
“Yes... that does seem to be... the idea,” Sirius said brokenly, amusement and arousal making his voice crack.
Draco slid his hands up and gripped Sirius's sides, fingers fitting into the hollows of his ribs as muscle and skin flowed under his fingertips. Sirius turned his face to the side, resting his cheek on the bunched coverlet, and watched Draco move behind him over his shoulder.
Goosebumps rose on Sirius's skin and he shivered. “Going to come,” he warned, rolling his hips.
“Yeah,” Draco said, slowing his movements a little.
Sirius bit down on one of his knuckles and whined, shaking with the effort it took to not scream as his orgasm ripped through him, clawing up his spine and racing hot through his blood until he could feel each individual beat of his heart on the back of his tongue and in the tips of his fingers. Draco rode him through it, swallowing his own whimpers and moans as Sirius's body tensed beneath him, muscles contracting around him, skin quivering under Draco's hands like the flesh of a fly-bit horse. Draco came with his teeth pressed into the curve between Sirius' shoulder and neck, his voice humming pleasurably down Sirius's spine as he cried out, causing Sirius to moan and writhe.
Draco slumped over Sirius's back, exhausted, both of them still quivering with aftershocks, their breathing labored, hearts pounding. Sirius's fingers were opening and closing slowly in the sheets and Draco's lips twitched in amusement because he was fairly sure Sirius didn't realize he was doing it. Draco nuzzled the sweat damp hair at the back of Sirius's neck. Sirius muttered contentedly and rolled his head to the side.
“Draco...” Sirius licked his lips. “Draco, I need-“
“No,” Draco said. He pressed a kiss between Sirius's shoulders, pulled out of him, and rolled onto his back.
Sirius remained where he was, but turned his head on the bed to stare at Draco with wide silver eyes. “Draco, I need to-“
“No,” Draco said. He sighed and closed his eyes.
“Damn you,” Sirius murmured tiredly.
Draco's lips curved in a slow smile. “Probably.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
While Draco was in the shower, Sirius went back to his rooms. He washed up, got dressed, and got his fix from a needle he'd hidden away in the hem of a ragged old sweater.
The drug rushed through his blood like sugar and light. He let his head fall back, closed his eyes, and moaned. He hadn't shot up since late afternoon of the previous day. It felt fucking fantastic, just short of sexual in its brilliance, and Sirius slumped back on his bed with a contented sigh, half convinced he was going to come from the sensations coursing through his nerve endings. He was only a little disappointed when he didn't.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“You are fucking my son,” Narcissa said, voice smooth, cold; calm as Sirius had ever heard it.
Draco's fork clattered on his plate and he stared at his mother across the table. “Don't do this, Mother.”
Narcissa ignored him and didn't take her piercing eyes off of Sirius. “Sirius?”
Sirius sipped his tea, black with honey. It was good tea. He shrugged. “Actually, I'm not,” he said.
Narcissa arched one elegant pale brow at him. “Oh?”
Still pleasantly sore from being fucked into the soft mattress of Draco's bed, blood still singing with the drug in his veins, Sirius smiled at her, eyes glittering with mocking laughter. “He is fucking me.”
“That is not my point,” Narcissa said.
Sirius jerked his shoulder. “Maybe not, but it's an important distinction.”
“Not to me,” she said. “While you are here, when in the presence of others, you will conduct yourself with discretion. Do I make myself clear?”
“No fucking behind the curtains in the drawing room during parties, got it,” Sirius said, nodding sagely.
Narcissa scowled at him.
Sirius smiled at her sweetly. “Anything else?”
“You will not discuss your... circumstances with anyone while you are staying in this house. Not your personal ones or the particulars of your... relationship with Draco. Nothing.”
Sirius sighed and leaned back in his chair. “No, darling cousin, I will not tell anyone that your baby boy found me trying to - and failing - die with a needle in my arm in an apartment in one of the worst sections of Knockturn Alley.” He suddenly leaned forward, eyes as piercing and intense as Narcissa's own, sliver sparking on silver. “I will not tell anyone that I took the money he gave me that first day and bought more drugs to fill those needles. I won't tell anyone what the money was for or that I'm now performing that service for him for free.” He lowered his voice to barely a whisper and watched her mouth quiver. “Whenever he wants... wherever he wants... however he wants... as many times as he wants it.”
Draco slid his chair back and stood. “Sirius.”
Sirius put his tea cup down, stood, and calmly walked out of the room.
Draco turned his eyes on his mother and glared. “Mother, was that really necessary?”
Narcissa pierced a section of melon on her fork and ate it calmly before answering him. “Draco, you know better than to ask questions to which you already know the answer,” she said.
With an inarticulate growl, Draco threw his napkin down on the table and strode from the room.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Draco found Sirius in his mother's gazebo, his knees drawn up to his chest, rolling a twig of rose thorn between his fingers. He was watching a bird on a low-hanging branch with a blind expression and didn't seem to notice the blood dripping from his fingertips and sliding down his wrist.
“Sirius,” Draco said cautiously, slowly sitting down across from him, watching him like Sirius was a wounded, wild animal that might turn on him. “Sirius...”
“Hmmm?” Sirius blinked once and then let his eyes drift closed. “What?”
“I'm sorry,” Draco said. Remarkably, he found that he was.
Sirius laughed, a sharp, dog-like sound. “For what? For telling me how miraculous I am, then using me as some kind of late-life rebellion against your parents? Why? It seems to have worked spectacularly. Though I have to say, a nameless crack whore might have made more of an impression... and wouldn't have been nearly as difficult.”
Draco sat there quietly for a long minute, forcing himself to be calm, to not yell or lash out at Sirius. When he felt sure that he could speak without his voice breaking in anger, he stood and crossed to Sirius. He knelt beside him, took his hand, and gently removed the bloody thorn sprig from his fingers.
He lifted Sirius' red fingers to his mouth. Watching Sirius' face as his eyes darkened, Draco sucked Sirius' middle finger into his mouth. The taste of his blood was metallic and bitter, and Draco rolled the tip of his tongue over the wounded pad of Sirius' finger until Sirius moaned and drew his hand away.
“There are many reasons why I want you,” Draco said, and his mouth twitched into a smirk. “I assure you, none of them have anything to do with my parents.” He stood up suddenly, tugging Sirius with him. “Come on.”
Sirius didn't resist as Draco led him through the garden. “Where are we going?” he asked, not really interested.
“Shopping.”
Sirius halted, forcing Draco to stop. “What?”
Draco quirked a brow at him. “Shopping?” he said. “My father's having a... business party this weekend.”
“And you wouldn't want anyone to be asking him why his son's mangy old fuck toy looks like a street whore,” Sirius said flatly, curling his lip.
Draco narrowed his eyes at him and jerked Sirius' body against him, fingers tightening around his wrist. “Something like that,” Draco said, and kissed him, tongue pressing against his teeth when Sirius resisted until Sirius opened his mouth. “And...”
“And?” Sirius asked, tongue gliding over the roof of Draco's mouth, teeth catching and tugging lightly at Draco's bottom lip.
“And I just thought you might like to,” Draco said, sliding his hands under Sirius' shirt, up his lean-muscled, prison-thin body. “For no reason at all.”
Sirius lifted his hand and slid a blood-stained finger between Draco's lips, eyes intent on his face as Draco took it into his mouth without hesitation. “All right then,” he said softly. “Where are we going first?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Look, I don't want robes,” Sirius insisted. “Buy them for me if you want, it's your money, but I'm not going to fucking wear them.”
Draco grinned and pulled him along toward the shop. “You will.”
“No, I will not.”
Draco turned and drew Sirius toward him as he walked backwards down the sidewalk. “Just for the party,” he said, playfully coaxing. “Only a few hours. You can take them off right after.”
Emboldened by his playful behavior, Sirius leered. “I fully intend to,” he said.
“Then you'll wear them first,” Draco said, and grinned.
“Fine, I'll wear them,” Sirius said with distaste. “For this party.”
Draco shrugged and stopped right outside the door of a shop. “All right then,” he said. “Why don't you go in and get fitted while I go... take care of something?”
“Take care of what?” Sirius asked suspiciously.
Draco smiled vaguely and didn't answer. “It should only take a few minutes.”
“Fine,” Sirius said, walking past him to the shop.
Draco watched him go inside, grumbling to himself, before he turned and crossed the street to Olivander's.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The impeccably groomed and coiffed witch in the clothes shop looked at Sirius like that and he wasn't surprised. Not even a little bit. He knew when he walked through the door - hell, he knew when Draco first said the word “shopping” - that it would happen.
She took one look at him in his faded denims, his black t-shirt, with his long hair, which was clean thanks to Draco dragging him bodily into the shower the day before, but which was not tied back, and the tracks, new and old peppering the insides of his arms, and sneered. Only not, because that would have been improper.
He thought she might have even noticed the dead look in his eyes, just beneath the surface, and possibly the blood under his fingernails from his self-inflicted wounds with the rose thorns.
She didn't know him and that didn't matter. He was human garbage to her.
A part of him was grateful to her for that. For the look and all the rest.
A larger part of him was grateful that Draco was not there to see it.
“Sir,” said the woman. “I really don't think you belong here.”
Sirius laughed softly. “Yeah, I know,” he said, and walked back outside.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sirius leaned against the side of the building in the alley between the robe shop and a cafe. Arms braced against the rough brick, head bowed, he took three deep breaths and tried to control the shaking. He wanted to close his eyes, but he was afraid that if he did, he'd see eyes waiting for him in the dark. Or worse - nothing waiting for him in the dark at all.
“Motherfucker,” he whispered.
He reached, with trembling fingers, and took out the needle he'd hidden away in his pocket that morning. He pulled the cap off with his teeth and plunged it into the curve of his elbow.
The shaking stopped.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“What the hell do you mean, you've changed your mind?” Draco demanded, glaring down at Sirius, who was sprawled across the bench outside the robe shop. “Look, Sirius, you can’t -“
“Who the fuck says I can't?” Sirius snapped, sitting up. “You? Listen you nancy little fuck, I don't care what you think, you don't own me. I'm not some fucking doll you can dress up to impress your rich as god father's rich as god friends.”
Draco's eyes narrowed dangerously, but he said nothing.
Sirius scratched the side of his neck and stared down at the cobblestones beneath his feet. “I told you, you'd have been better off with -“
“A crack whore, I know,” Draco said evenly. “What happened in the shop, Sirius?”
Sirius shivered and turned his face away. “I don't belong here,” he whispered.
“Sirius-“
“No,” Sirius hissed, finally looking at him again. “Don't say it. Whatever it is you're thinking, whatever comforting shit you were going to say, just don't.” He stood up. His hands were shaking again.
Draco lifted a hand and grazed the back of his knuckles down Sirius's cheek. Sirius flinched. “Be that as it may,” Draco said softly, “you have not answered my question. What happened in the shop?”
“Nothing happened,” Sirius mumbled, turning his face into Draco's hand, dog-like, despite himself. “Nothing happened, I just left.”
“All right, then we'll just go right back in,” Draco said. He hooked his arm around Sirius's waist and hauled him toward the door.
“Draco-“
“It's a robe shop, Sirius,” Draco murmured, pressing his mouth to his ear and stroking his hair back. “You've survived Azkaban, faced down Dementors and walked through the veil... and back. Be brave.”
Sirius frowned at his teasing, but he allowed himself to be led back into the shop. “I don't want to be brave, it's tiring,” he muttered irritably. Draco's sharp bark of laughter at that made him scowl.
“Mr. Malfoy, how are you?” the shopkeeper greeted cheerfully.
Sirius rested his chin on Draco's shoulder and looked at her over it. “I don't belong here,” he whispered to Draco. “Told you. Ask her, she knows.”
The shopkeeper recognized him and looked a little surprised to see him. With Draco Malfoy. “Oh,” she said. “Oh, sir, I'm so sorry, I had no idea-“
Draco lifted a brow at her and looked down at Sirius. He shrugged his shoulder to get Sirius to lift his head. “I don't know what you're apologizing for, but I suggest you not finish that statement,” Draco said to her, his voice cold.
“Yes, sir,” the woman said warily. “Erm... what can I do for you today?”
“He needs robes,” Draco said, pointing to Sirius.
“I don't want them,” Sirius retorted in a hiss in Draco's ear. Tempted, he nipped it and Draco swatted him.
“Would you rather have a dog collar and a muzzle?” Draco hissed back.
“Maybe,” Sirius said. He frowned thoughtfully.
Draco quirked a speculative brow at that. “That's very interesting, Sirius and maybe I'll get you one. But you still need robes.”
“For the party,” Sirius said, and curled his lip. “Fine. No lace,” he added, giving the shopkeeper a baleful look.
The shopkeeper exchanged a look with Draco, who just shrugged. “Yes, sir. Come with me, please,” she said to Sirius.
Sirius followed her as far as the curtain separating the main shop from the fitting area. He halted there and would not go further.
“Sirius, it's not that curtain,” Draco said.
“I know,” Sirius muttered. “I know that, I do.”
“Excuse me, sir, but what is the matter?” the shopkeeper asked, looking at him oddly.
Ignoring her, Sirius cast Draco a pleading look. “I can't.”
“Do you want me to hold your hand, Sirius?” Draco said, his tone indicating how ridiculous he thought Sirius was being.
“Yes,” Sirius said instantly. He held his hand out for Draco to take it.
Draco rolled his eyes and took Sirius's hand. His fingers trembled and Draco clasped it, lacing his fingers with Sirius's. “All right then, so much for being brave,” he murmured dryly.
“Don't want to be, I told you,” Sirius said under his breath.
“Clearly.”
“If you wanted someone brave, maybe you should have propositioned Harry,” Sirius snapped. “Or the aforementioned crack whore. Saved us both the-“
“Shut up, Sirius,” Draco snapped right back. He let go of his hand and crossed his arms over his chest.
Sirius looked around at the fitting room and relaxed. The obstacle of the curtain had been bested. “Okay then,” he said.
The shopkeeper gave him a frustrated look and took out her wand to begin taking his measurements.
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