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Plan B	By : SickPuppy Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 10288 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters and universe belong to JK Rowling. I make no money from this.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
Odd pairing alert.
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Chapter 4
Three days later Harry went to the Ministry of Magic and into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He'd written to the Ministry (not as himself) asking about getting licensed to become a sex worker and an appointment had been made for him to see a Miss Purse. He was Polyjuiced to the max, and was more grateful than ever for the Half-Blood Prince's book as his amended version of the potion lasted nearly an hour and a half.
“Mr Dursley?” a disapproving witch called, looking over her glasses at him.
He got up and followed her into an office that was so tidy it was painful.
“I received your letter and made this appointment as it is very important you understand the Ministry's stance on this matter.” She paused and glared at him, “To become a – a sex worker, you must pass a rigorous battery of health tests and complete detailed paperwork and pay the Ministry fee and agree to certain conditions. What you are asking about is something we do not want encouraged in our new society, but we understand there are always going to be those who have needs that cannot be fulfilled in more suitable ways.
“If you are still serious, I will begin the paperwork. The first part of which is a questionnaire about what activities you are willing to undertake with your clients. These will be displayed at wherever it is you choose to ... work … and will form binding contracts. Should you decide to change your mind, you can and will lose your Ministry approval.”
She pulled out a long piece of parchment and began filling it in with his (fraudulent) details. After demanding and inspecting his false document, which baffled her as she had never seen a Muggle passport before, she asked, “Do you have a Gringotts vault?”
“Not yet. I need to set one up.”
“Well, once we finish this, I will give you a form to take to the bank so that they can open up the correct type of vault for you. Because you are paid, essentially, 'cash in hand', the Ministry will automatically deduct twenty percent from you every month.”
Fucking wonderful! Harry thought sourly.
“Now, what are you willing to do?”
The meeting went on as she asked him things about his private life that he had never thought he'd confess to anyone (“When did you lose your virginity? How?”) and asked him to decide about what kinky things he would and wouldn't be willing to do (“Spanking? Polyjuice potion? Polyjuicing into a minor? Bondage? Sex with squibs? [“Erm, not really... maybe a bit.” “Yes” “God, no” “NO!” “Fine”]). It went on and on and Harry felt more and more out of his depth. His sexual experience was really quite limited but after today he felt he knew more about sex than he'd ever really want to (“Nipple clamps? Magical Genital Torture? [“No!” “No fucking way!”]). And all of it was asked in the same disapproving and slightly bored voice of the witch.
After the seemingly never ending list of questions were finally answered, the witch consulted a large book. “Very well, the activities you offer fall under the purview of the standard grading. Now that means you can charge up to the following amounts: For companionship only - that means no sexual acts, Mr Dursley - ten sickles. Manual manipulation leading to climax, one galleon. Acts of cunnilingus or fellatio resulting in climax, three galleons. Penetrative sex, five galleons per act. You will also be allowed to offer a service known popularly as 'Do Anything' which would cost ten galleons, and would cover any number of these acts being performed in a one hour period. Many … people who use your kind of services prefer that option as it offers the best value for money.”
That doesn't sound too bad, Harry thought.
“Now, Ministry charges are very simple. 50 galleons a month. That pays for our testing, which takes place every three months, and pays for the paperwork involved in taxing your earnings. As well, after every client, you will be expected to take a dose of potion brewed and guaranteed to be of the correct potency. The potion, correctly called Valetudo, but called by … your kind ... the sex potion, ensures there is no chance of you catching any Sexually Transmitted Magical Disease, nor of you passing them on to your clients. The potion must be purchased directly from the Ministry as it is amended here in our labs for use by your kind, and it costs a galleon a dose.”
A galleon a dose?! Bastards!
“Now, there are a number of restrictions and it is very important you understand them. A sex worker can not kiss a client on the lips. That is completely forbidden and will mean your approved status being immediately removed once we learn of it.” She seemed to stop being an official and became a person for the first time as she explained, “That odd rule stems from an ex Minister for Magic who met his wife whilst she was a sex worker. He resented the notion that she had kissed another man in the same way that she kissed him. Of course, she always maintained that no client ever kissed her in the way she kissed her husband, but it still disturbed him. Odd man. He cared more about kissing than that his wife had had sex with countless strangers.” She fixed Harry with a stern expression, and became official again, “You can, of course, have a relationship, but it must not have started with your partner paying you. The ex Minister was the last one allowed to do such a thing. If you do start a relationship with a client, and are therefore no longer charging, again your approval status will be removed.
“Some sex workers, in the past, to entice clients in, have offered 'free' sessions. These are now banned. If you want to build up a customer base,” she sneered the phrase at him, “you do so by your talents. Offering to undertake acts and not charge is illegal and will mean...”
Harry filled in, “My approval status will be removed.”
“Yes. If, for whatever reason, you are unable to perform, you can offer the client a 50% discount against their next usage of you. Let me be clear, if the Ministry finds this has been abused to encourage clients...”
“Let me guess,” Harry butt in, “my approval status will be removed.”
She glared, clearly having no sense of humour. “Now, as a sex worker, you are expected to be available for work a minimum of eight hours a day. In any year, you are entitled to take, at most, twenty days off work. If you need longer, for say an emergency, you must apply in writing to the Ministry. The Ministry's decision in this matter is final.”
“Hang on,” Harry interrupted, “I can have twenty days off. What about weekends? Am I expected to work them?”
“Of course. You have come here to provide a service, and, if you insist on going through with this, despite all the things I have said, believe me, the Ministry will ensure you do provide it!
“Now, if you decide to end your role, you may of course, do so. The Ministry will not refund any fees already paid for that month, and you will be required to give at least one month's written notice. You may also be asked to account for your decision, and if it is felt that your reason is not suitable, a fine may be levied of up to ten thousand galleons.”
“Ten thousand galleons?! I won't have ten thousand galleons!” Harry yelped, eyes wide. His glance turned to the clock and he saw he was close to his hour and a half. “Can I just nip to the toilet?” he asked, glad he had thought to bring a spare dose with him.
She nodded, still looking sour, and pointed him in the correct direction.
In the toilet, he hid in a cubicle and locked the door. Gulping the liquid down he felt the horror of his situation descend upon him. Surely there had to be some other way?! But even as he thought it, he knew there wasn't: the Weasleys wouldn't help, not risking their jobs and home; Hermione could, he suppose, get him to stay with her parents, but then what? He'd have to live as a Muggle, with no money. The galleons he had wouldn't go very far in the world beyond once converted to pounds sterling. He'd be unable to get a job, or if he did, it'd be something so poorly paid he'd be unable to rent even a tiny flat. His other friends, Luna, Neville … he pulled up short, shocked at how few friends he really had … they couldn't help. Luna and her father had risked enough during the War, Xenophilius wouldn't want to risk his daughter's safety again by opposing the Ministry. And Neville, well, it would have been difficult going to Neville. That left Hogwarts. Not the school itself, of course, as no teacher would risk Ministry censure, but he could stay in the grounds. And he could have lived in safety for the rest of his life, but that meant living wild, like some animal, in the forest, at risk from centaurs, acromantulas and all the other horrible beasties. Still, at this moment, he was really contemplating it. And going to another part of the world would do no good: the Ministry's reach would close and he'd be squirming in their grip wherever he went.
No, this lousy option was his only option. He gave a bitter smile. Well, other than going to Snape and throwing himself on the older man's mercy. But he couldn't imagine that going down well.
Opening the door and slamming it to relieve some frustration, he went back into the office.
“Ah, I was hoping you'd changed your mind and left,” the woman said as Harry regained his seat. “Now, as to how you protect your client's privacy. There are different ways. The Ministry can advise of course.”
“And how much does that cost?” Harry asked bitterly.
“The fee is reasonable and reflects the work involved. 500 galleons.”
“Oh, only 500? Well, I suppose it all helps go towards paying for the shiny new statues in the atrium.”
She glowered at him and her mouth formed a tight angry line. “If you are not using our advice, then you will need to think of your own precautions and have those approved during the Ministry's first visit to your place of work. That will be when the first health check will be completed and you given, possibly, the approval needed to be a sex worker.
“You will need to display your prices clearly so that all potential customers know the charges. The bottom of each poster will have your Ministry approval on it so that people know you are approved and have the right to charge what you do.”
Still glaring at him, she barked, “Any questions?”
Feeling a fouler mood descend, Harry bit back his angry comments about the Ministry's money grubbing tactics and shook his head.
“Good. One final thing, you may brew your own Polyjuice potion, but the Ministry reserves the right to test it is safe, otherwise you will have to buy our approved version of the potion.”
Harry sneered but somehow held his tongue. With great difficulty he held his temper until she had arranged for an official to visit his work place and judge it for privacy measures, test his Polyjuice, and complete a health check.
“Very well, Dursley.” she said, and glared at him, “You'll need the Ministry form to open the correct vault at Gringotts. It will issued if you pass your first health check..”
“Thanks,” Harry replied, very fed up with questions and the Ministry's control of situation.
---
Sitting in his office, Lewd Fook, the head of the Regulation and Control of Marginalised Workers, glanced over the paperwork sent to him by Felicity Purse. He loathed the up tight bitch but she did seem to have a nose for when a person came to her in utterly desperate circumstances. Now, he read again over the form. She had made only a few notes but they told him all he needed, 'Pretty sure he was Polyjuiced during visit. Had the chance to go but didn't take it.'
Having a sex worker visit under Polyjuice was nothing new. And it always pleased him as it meant the stupid sod would be unable to ever complain about his treatment; after all, if he was using Polyjuice, it was because he couldn't risk being recognised, so Fook could let all his cruellest inspectors out to play.
He let the form slip from his mind and instead turned to the latest details from the lab. The newest batch of Valetudo had been brewed and was ready for bottling. He grinned as he thought about the original dosages and the work that had previously gone into diluting the potion to make it safe for regular consumption. By not bothering to dilute it, the current brewers had been able to make the concoction in fewer days, and with fewer ingredients. Of course, really, using full strength Valetudo made the health checks redundant, but he would never suggest doing away with them. They were a way to remind the sex workers just who controlled them. And, ultimately, who they worked for.
He looked at the wall opposite. On it was the list of inspectors and their schedules for the next few weeks. He smiled cruelly as he saw one appointment vanish.
Another one bites the dust, he thought and flicked his wand at the space. Now 'Dudley Dursley' would be inspected tomorrow, and by one of his best inspectors.
---
After being grilled about his sexual history, Harry had gone into Flourish and Blotts to research the spells needed to keep his clientele happy. He had dodged out of sight every time an assistant had come near, and read as much as possible before realising he needed to get back home.
At home, he had been surprised to find an owl sitting on the doorstep, a letter tied to its leg. He took it, read it, and felt his stomach drop.
Dear Mr Dursley,
Following your interview with Miss Purse, I can confirm that an appointment has been arranged for you on July 7^th, 1998, at 10am. Your inspector on this occasion will Mr Eric Ville. Once he has confirmed that you are healthy, I will begin the process of arranging your Ministry permit, assuming, of course, that you satisfy our safe guarding measures.
Yours sincerely,
Lewd Fook
Tomorrow. He was being checked tomorrow. Did that mean he'd have to start working straight away?! And he hadn't even had a chance to think about how to apply the spells he'd read about. Casting his eyes about the floor once he'd made it inside, he considered how to make the space workable for his job.
“Kreacher?” he called, knowing he'd need the elf's help if he was going to begin to have things ready before his visit.
---
At 10 o'clock the next morning a brisk knock on the door made Harry stop nervously pacing. He was polyjuiced once again and had already sent Kreacher off to the top floor. With shaking hands he opened the door and Mr Ville stepped in, carrying a plain black briefcase.
Without any pleasantries, the visitor eyed the area about him, a large room with no furnishing, before asking, “I take it you have a bed for your activities?”
Harry nodded and led the way through the outer room, past the small inner office, and finally into the bedroom. He and Kreacher had had a hell of a time conjuring boards and nails to create the flimsy walls that now divided the space into its rooms.
Ville pointed at the bed and Harry went over to it, nervously twisting his fingers in his top.
“You're a whore, Dursley, get your fucking clothes off.”
Ashamed and angered, Harry began stripping, covering his genitals. Well, Dudley's genitals.
Ville said coldly, “On your back, spread your legs,” before opening the briefcase.
Harry, chest heaving and stomach lurching, did as he was commanded.
The official sat on the edge of the bed and spoke, “According to your notes, you lost your virginity whilst at school, but since leaving haven't been in a sexual relationship. Is that correct?”
Nodding, Harry tried to speak, but his mouth was too dry.
Pulling out a glass jar containing a thick looking paste, Ville didn't seem interested in Harry's attempts to communicate. “This,” he indicated the sluggishly moving fluid, “is a special Ministry created substance that will alert us to any STMDs you may be carrying. It is spread over your genitals. It is crucial that you do not remove it before I say you can, as it is critical that we are one hundred per cent sure that you are entirely disease free before we allow you to become a sex worker.”
Ville pulled on a glove and scooped out a large handful. Mouth lifting in a cruel smile, he dumped it on Harry's shrivelled cock and began coating the dick and balls liberally. He even worked some down until it covered the clenched anus. Sitting back, he watched as it began doing its job.
On the bed, Harry clutched at the sheets and tried not to scream. His cock and balls felt like they had been dipped in acid, and he was sure his skin was being stripped off. His feet shifted restlessly, trying to fight the urge to run into the small bathroom and wash the awful substance off before it did any real damage to him. He moaned softly, and then, as though the moan had broken his resolve, he sobbed, trying to curl into a ball, but unable to – Ville kept one hand on his stomach, and had put his weight across Harry's jerking thighs.
“Please,” he gasped, pain tears leaking down his cheeks.
“Just a little longer,” Ville said, still smiling coldly.
Harry tilted his head back, focusing on the ceiling, and tried to distract himself by looking at the swirls in the plaster. It didn't work.
He shuddered as he felt a gloved hand picking up the penis and pulling back the foreskin to expose the sensitive tip to the gel too.
“No,” he pleaded.
“Got to make sure, Dursley.” The voice held a mocking note. “Be grateful I'm not giving you the virgin check, as then I have to put some inside your cock too.”
Eyes bulging at the thought of the burning gel inside him, Harry whimpered. “Please,” he begged again, voice cracked from pain, “Pl-please!”
Harry didn't know how long it went on, only that his whole world had narrowed to the burning between his legs. When at long last the gunk vanished, he felt no relief. The tender skin of his genitals was bright red, and his stomach clenched at the thought of trying to close his legs and move.
“Right,” Ville sneered, “now for the next test...”
---
After it was all over, Harry lay on the bed crying. He had to lie on his back with his legs apart as his genitals hurt so much. And it was his genitals hurting. He'd changed back into himself twenty minutes after the official had left. Now he lay still and tried to remember something good about sex.
His mind turned to Neville. To the boy he had lost his virginity with, and who had been his guilty secret pleasure for a few brief weeks in sixth year...
“Harry?” It was Neville, softly approaching Harry's bed and sitting on it.
The dormitory was completely empty and so Harry had smiled welcomingly when Neville leaned in and kissed him. The other boy was so sweet and kind. His eyes always filled with a kind of awed devotion when he gazed at Harry. Well, not always. When Neville was balls deep inside, his eyes blazed with lust and smugness that he was the one pounding Harry's ass.
“Room of Requirement?” Neville asked quietly, lips nibbling Harry's neck.
Rock hard, Harry had lifted one of Neville's hands and placed it on his throbbing dick. At once the other Gryffindor had begun rubbing through the trousers, loving the soft moans spilling from the black haired boy's lips.
“Room of Requirement?” Neville repeated, hand moving a little urgently.
“Neville,” Harry groaned, “please. I can't wait.”
Throwing a swift glance at the door, Neville grasped the dick, including the material covering it, and began to pump hard. Harry ground up into the grip and whimpered with need. Lips pressing against Neville's cheek and mouth and neck, Harry wailed and came. He sagged and pulled Neville close to kiss him.
When they broke apart, Neville had had that look in his eye. “Room of Requirement.” And this time it wasn't a request.
---
In the Room, Neville took Harry's hand and led him to the bed that the Room's magic had thoughtfully provided. As other people would one day notice, Neville really got the Room. Harry allowed himself to be led, enjoying this moment before they got down and dirty when his whole body thrummed with anticipation and desire. Quite when he'd stopped thinking of Neville as the clumsy, fat boy he was always having to keep an eye on and saw him as the tall, well-built young man he now was, Harry couldn't say. But this Neville was gorgeous.
Stripping out of his top and his damp trousers, Harry delighted in standing completely naked by the bed, knowing what pleasure there was to be had when he let go of being 'The Boy Who Lived' and became, even if for just this brief moment, 'Neville's boyfriend'.
Neville leaned in and kissed him. A deep, toe-curling kiss that had him clutching for the boy's knitted cardigan in desperate need. He was off balance and loving it.
“Fuck me,” he begged, kissing the cheeks and tugging at the clothing. “Please, please, fuck me.”
Neville obliged.
He stripped and gave the black haired boy a significant look. Harry quickly got onto the bed and onto his hands and knees. Maybe it wasn't romantic, but it sure as hell made sense. They could hardly spend hours having sex, not when people always wanted to know where Harry was.
Kneeling between the spread thighs, the other boy coated a finger with thick lubricant (supplied by the Room) and teased Harry's entrance. He rubbed lightly against the pucker, seeing it clenching and unclenching in need. Swirling his digit, he slicked all around the hole, but didn't touch it. Then he returned his focus back on the sucking muscle and pressed his finger against the skin. Not hard enough to push in, but hard enough that Harry could feel it.
Under him, Harry dropped his head onto the bed and moaned, begging Neville to get on with it. He was already seeing stars and felt so tense that a breeze would probably make him come, and still the other Gryffindor wasn't probing his body.
Except, now he was. The slick finger pushed in, drawing a moan from Harry that grew louder the deeper Neville went. The digit twisted inside his channel, and he jerked his hips helplessly, wanting more.
More was provided as a second finger filled him. Neville separated his fingers within and stretched the passage so that it could easily take his throbbing cock. His digits pushed deep and stroked Harry's hidden gland, making the other boy shriek in pleasure.
When the third finger pushed in, Harry began drooling. He sobbed when the digits tugged out, hating the empty feeling he had whilst Neville made his dick slippery, and then the tip was pressing against him, rounded, wet, persistent. Pressing against and then into him. Stretching his entrance with the flared head and then moving deeper into his body, sliding along his eager channel, filling him with hot hard heat.
“Neville...” he groaned.
Neville began pounding then. Drawing his hips back quickly and ramming into the willing boy under him. Moving fast and hard and eagerly he slammed again and again into Harry. And Harry rocked back, welcoming the brutal pace that jabbed into him and stabbed at his prostrate roughly one stroke out of four, leaving him gasping and lost to anything but the ache in his cock and ass.
Neville clutched tightly at Harry's hips, grinding deep, feeling his balls drawing up under his swollen length, and fucked as hard as he could.
Screaming, Harry came, his passage gripping the cock within it painfully as his orgasm gushed out of him. He barely had time to sag and begin to recover his breath when a long drawn out sob met his ears and the hot flood of semen spattered inside him.
Neville flopped bonelessly onto Harry's back and for a few moments their gasping breaths were all the noise they made.
Finally Neville reached for one of Harry's hands and drew it into his own.
---
Thunderbird - I love that you are waiting for Snape to show up. Clearly I'm too predictable if you've worked out this is a Snarry! As for seeing him, Harry is very much on his own for a while yet. And on the subject of patronuses, it seems like everyone else's patronus would be better than what I got - see a white mare would have been fine for me (I collected My Little Ponies as a kid. If I'm being totally honest, I still collect MLPs!).
Oh, and yes, Cursed Child is a travesty.
Jan - Harry has a long way to go before he can even contemplate getting out, if he ever can.
LadyRaven - Have you read The Nothing I've Become (sequel to Areas of Expertise) by me? The chapter titles should please! If you do read, be gentle, it was written a long time ago. I like your patronus too. Just not mine! And on the story, there is more assholery coming.
Oh, and I've passed on your review for All That You Leave Behind. Queens of Angst, who wrote it, promise me it isn't abandoned. But I will nag them.
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Plan B