Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Neighbourhood Whore	By : Sabb402 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 195019 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 17
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter nor its characters. Basically nothing you recognise is mine. I'm not making any money from this etc. Read the warnings!

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
Disclaimer: I only own what I write, the characters etc. are JKR&co.’s and I’m not making any money from this (or at all, in this moment of my life).
No warnings this chapter, this is the world-building I didn’t do in the previous one ^^’
I know chapters are few and far between, but please review to let me know you haven’t forgotten this story and I should keep writing it! I always answer reviews and questions here --> http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/63461-neighbourhood-whore-reviews-replies/
Enjoy!

Harry was very nervous as he made his way down the street, away from his uncles’ house. He had been sent to pick up some food items they had run out of, and the wallet stuffed down his oversized jeans’ pocket had the exact sum he would spend. It was nerve-wracking. Walking around with so much money always left him trembling, thinking of the worst-case scenarios. Going to the convenience store wasn’t one of his usual chores, but it still happened once or twice a month, and Harry knew perfectly well what would happen if he didn’t bring home the exact thing his aunt needed or his cousin was craving, or, god-forbid, if he misplaced the money. He had gotten Dudley’s candy wrong only once, and he wasn’t keen on repeating the experience.
Preoccupied as he was with such thoughts, it shouldn’t surprise that more than one repetition of his name was needed to catch his attention. When he finally realised Ms Figg was calling him, he turned to her and waved a little,
“Harry! Harry, dear boy, come here a moment.” He didn’t really want to, Ms Figg smelt of cabbage and cats and he needed to get to the store... But he couldn’t ignore her, so he went. “There you are now,” Ms Figg said, looking at him up and down, “It’s been a while!” Harry bowed his head, not really knowing how to answer. It was, after all, true that the Dursleys hadn’t seen necessary sending Harry over to Ms Figg’s, now that he spent a great chunk of his days at Mr Holmes’. “Well, I need a hand, yes?”
Ms Figg didn’t wait for an answer and took hold of Harry’s arm with no great flare. The woman pulled him along, to the back of her yard, where a single, vaguely twisted tree was weighed down by apples. “Tufty just won’t get down, you see, and my poor, old bones couldn’t take it, so if you could just-” What Ms Figg wanted was clear, it wasn’t hard to understand when he could see a swishing tail in between branches. Harry stood perfectly still a few, long moments to bemoan his full pocket and his precious cargo, but he knew that he would give in, so didn’t let himself fret too much and got ready to climb the tree. It wasn’t the first, and it wouldn’t be the last time that Ms Figg lost a cat, after all.
Getting up to where the tabby cat was quite comfortably perched was easy, at that point he just had to make sure Tufty didn’t run from him. Honestly, Harry had more experience with this than he would like to admit to, and soon the cat was under his arm. While the first part of his quest was easy, getting down with the squirming bundle was an exercise in balance. Sometimes he tried to get the feline to hold onto his shoulder... but it didn’t account for much. He somehow got down and handed the cat over with no major injuries. He put his hands in his pockets just to check, even if he hadn’t felt the old wallet move and fall down.
Ms Figg spent a while cooing over her pet, and Harry didn’t know how to excuse himself – he didn’t dare interrupt to say goodbye, so he just stood there awkwardly while the woman brushed a couple of leaves from the cat’s hair (the boy was suddenly reminded of how much of a rat’s nest his head could be and took the chance to do so to his own as well). Harry had just started shifting on his feet when, finally, Ms Figg left Tufty go and directed a vague smile at Harry.
“How are things going Harry? All good? I have noticed you haven’t spent a lot of time at your family’s since school let out...”
“Everything is fine, Ms Figg, I’m just helping out our nice neighbour, moving some things and cleaning...” Harry shifted some more and hoped Ms Figg would think it was because he had to leave, and not because he was lying.
“Alright then, my thanks and off with you now.” Ms Figg made the same shooing motion she used for her cats, and Harry ran out of her backyard and onto the street, walking a little quicker than he was before, to reach the store soon even after his unplanned stop.
Ever since the first time Harry had been sent to buy groceries all on his own (just to pick up vanilla extract and eggs... it was a bit of a emergency run), he had always been greeted by the same man, though he knew that this summer a girl had started helping out there as well (even if he tried not to listen in to his aunt and her friends’ chatter, it was hard). Anyway, he had only dealt with the owner so far, and he was nice. Well, he wasn’t very warm or prone to small talk, and he was a little gruff, sometimes, but he helped Harry every time he needed it, and didn’t ask uncomfortable questions, so he was more than alright in Harry’s book. He was a portly man in his forties with a trimmed beard that got too long every now and then, between visits to the barber shop. Harry didn’t mind that the man always seemed to follow his movements when he picked up products, his relatives had told him that he looked like a rascal and a thief, and he couldn’t fault the man for keeping an eye on him. Today was much of the same. The man grunted in greeting when Harry got in his shop, and proceeded to follow him with his gaze as he picked up junk food, bread and juice. The juice more than anything else was kind of heavy for the kid, and he had to keep the basket with both hands in front of him to be able to carry it. Though he didn’t know how much it helped, because that way every time he walked the basked would hit his legs, and if he kept it a little higher up he struggled with the weight all over again.
The man watched with a mildly interested face as the kid started panting a bit after shifting his burden from one hand to both, then to the other. The child was too concentrated on keeping walking to notice the interested gleam in the man’s hooded eyes. Had he seen it, he wouldn’t have recognised it. When the kid made his way to the counter, the man stayed sprawled on his comfy chair, and didn’t move to help the kid raise the basket up. Only when Harry had huffed and puffed to get the basket on the counter all on his own, the man took it. As he started unloading it and ringing and bagging the items, he gave a little smile to the kid, who bowed his head to hide his blush. The man’s lips twitched up even more.
Harry couldn’t be sure that it was a proud smile for his efforts, but even just the thought had made him flush quite embarrassingly.
The man handed the kid his two bags (one just for the juice), and knew the whole routine would repeat itself in about two weeks. He didn’t mind. At all.

As Harry made his way home, the plastic bag with the big jug of juice ripped, just a bit, but Harry was quick to wrap an arm around it and he hugged it to chest tightly. The other, lighter bag swished at his side.
From the store, Harry had to walk through a good chunk of Wisteria Walk, then from the start of Privet Drive to his relatives’. He saw quite a few men out in their front yards, just enjoying the sun or doing some chores as was usual on Saturday mornings. The only one who waved at him was Mrs Hart, from n. 7, who was walking down the sidewalk opposite his and was young and always smiling. She was the nicest person in the neighbourhood, if you asked Harry, maybe not nicer than Mr Holmes, but it was a close one. Even if some of the other women talked behind her back about how young she was, Harry didn’t care. He felt himself blush a little as he returned the wave happily. As he went around his uncles’ house to enter through the kitchen door, he thought that he wasn’t surprised at not seeing Mr Holmes outside. The man was without doubt sprawled on his armchair with a book. Mr Holmes read a lot of books and he wasn’t often in his little garden, but Harry was sure he would have waved as well, had he been. Mr Holmes seemed always happy to see him, and the boy knew exactly how to thank him. He liked their arrangement more than the one the Dursleys have with Ms Figg, she always said yes to having him over, but didn’t always seem happy with it, and she had often little chores she needed doing around the house, though Harry didn’t mind those much, Ms Figg gave him biscuits after. Of course, Mr Holmes didn’t need a reason to give him biscuits, though he didn’t always. He usually fed him good food, then, sometimes, he took out sweets he said he bought just for him. Mr Holmes was the nicest. And he only wanted to have company and to feel good, and Harry really understood that because the man probably got lonely in his house by himself and also because the things they did felt really good and everyone liked feeling good.

Even as lost in his thoughts as Harry was, he opened the back door with the utmost care – he didn’t want it to make noise and bother someone. For the same reason, he kept his ears finely tuned. Saturday was also uncle Vernon’s day off, and the man disliked having to see him even when it wasn’t necessary. He usually spent his down time in front of the Telly, and that day nothing seemed different. Dudley was over at one of his friends’ house, but this still left Aunt Petunia unaccounted for. So Harry was very quiet as he went on his tiptoes to put the bags on the kitchen table. He was just getting the juice out of the slightly-ripped bag when Aunt Petunia entered the kitchen. Her expression quickly soured when she looked at him.
“Well? Put the groceries away! Don’t stand there looking around!”
Harry ducked his head and murmured “Yes, Aunt Petunia” like he wasn’t thinking of biting back that he was just about to. He wouldn’t do that. It wasn’t worth it.
Harry made quick work of removing all the snacks from the bags, as Aunt Petunia stayed in the kitchen to pour herself a drink of water while glaring at his every action. After Harry threw the bags in the trash, his aunt left, clearly not wishing to see him struggling to stash away the food. The process of putting everything in the cupboards over the sink involved careful kneeling on furniture on his part (he always paid particular attention to avoid dirtying anything) as he wasn’t tall enough to reach on his own and he couldn’t stand up on the chairs – he didn’t even want to think about the punishment Aunt Petunia would give him.
When he was finished he stood looking around for a while. He hadn’t been given other chores to do, and even if it was time to start preparing lunch, Aunt Petunia hadn’t told him to and he didn’t want to risk it.
His aunt got back in the kitchen with her empty glass and glared at him some more.
“I need to start preparing lunch for when Duddykins get home, and I don’t want you around.” Harry bit his tongue, even if Mr Holmes didn’t mind him asking questions, and even encouraged him to do so, he knew better than to interrupt his aunt. She let the silence drag a little, as if daring him to break the rule. “Mr Holmes is expecting you anytime now, you can go to him right away, I don’t want you pilfering from our table and eating food Dudley needs!” Harry had already started nodding before his aunt was even halfway through her order. “And tell the good man you have already eaten, we don’t want him to think he owes us anything, and waste his food on you!” Harry nodded again, but he knew he wouldn’t lie to Mr Holmes.
He made the error of waiting around until he was properly dismissed before leaving, and Aunt Petunia chased him out of the door with a wooden spoon in hand. Of course, she would have had reason to hit him even if he had waited, so he didn’t take it to heart and ran off to Mr Holmes’, sure he would find a good meal and a hug.
- 5
- 6
- 7
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Neighbourhood Whore