Title: Pretty Man (Walking down the Street)

Email: MyzticBeanaol.com

Name: SMalfoy

Pairings: HP/DM

Spoilers: Pretty Woman

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters (J.K Rowlings does), nor do I own any rights to the most of the ideas presented in this fan fic.

NOTE: This is a scenario of AU (alternate universe), where Harry does not have any special wizarding powers (that we know of YET), and thus knows nothing of the evils of Voldemort and his Death Eaters. It also follows along the plot movie Pretty Woman. I would also like to point out I got the idea from another author, and wanted to expand upon her ideas in the story because it inspired me to do so. Hogwarts Dropout (on fanfic.net)

I would like to credit her with the idea of using the movie, but would also like to reinforce that these are also my own ideas added to the stories, and I have not copied any of her ideas.

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Chapter 1

The Street Corner

Distantly hearing the thud of the angry landlord, Harry hastily applied the final touches of mascara and lip-gloss to his lips before making his way to the bathroom.

Dipping his hand into the tank of water in the toilet bowl, he searched frantically for the tiny green box containing this month's rent. Sighing in relief, he flipped it open before groaning in disgust and disbelief.

"Seamus! I'll kill him," he promised himself, flinging the empty box away from him. Glancing at the mirror, he checked to make sure his dark hair with frosted blonde tips was perfectly in place – causally mussed and spiked - before tiptoeing to the entrance to the shabby apartment. Cracking the door open, he listened briefly for the irate landlord.

The wall shook briefly as his victim was slammed up against the wall. "I want my damn money! It was due four days ago, and if I don't get it soon, you'll be getting an eviction notice and a kick in the arse!" the man cried. His victim could only whimper in reply, and taking it for agreement, walked away with an angry hitch in his gait.

Deciding it wasn't safe to go out into the hallway while he didn't have any rent money for his landlord, he decided it was easier to shimmy down the fire escape to leave.

"Damn Seamus for making me have to do this. He knew we needed the money for rent. What is wrong with that stupid boy?" Harry cried, careful not to wiggle much for fear of displacing the temperamental skirt that rode high on his thighs.

Still muttering to himself in dismay, he was careful not to smudge the newly repainted vinyl boots and to keep his skirt at an acceptable level, he made his way down from the second floor, barely escaping with his life.

Ignoring the wolf whistles that were aimed his way, he put the sway into his walk Seamus had taught him and made his way carefully down the L.A sidewalk.

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After years of living in such a tenuous lifestyle, one would think Harry would be used to such nerve-wracking nightlife in Hollywood, California. It was not the city, or country for that matter, which Harry would have chosen to live in, but had heard it said it was the best area for earning quick cash.

Harry had lived in Surrey for most of his life with his extended family, the Dursleys, until he became of age. Then, rudely thrown out of the house to the mocking laughter of his 'family', he was on his own.

Though relatively good in school, I've never had much luck in anything, Harry reflected as he continued on his way down the street. It hadn't helped I only got to the eleventh grade. School had been easy, but he knew he had no chance of going to a university. So he had been stuck in a fast growing world where family prestige and a college degree meant survival, and he didn't have a hope in hell to have either of them.

Knowing he hadn't a chance to do much in the academic world, he had resorted to drugs, alcohol, and the wrong kind of friends. He sniffled, and trying to forget the past, he concentrated on studying his carefully buffed and painted nails. The only thing he had ever been complimented upon was his ability to fake pleasure while getting abused from some disgusting slob in payment to a pimp. The result of Harry's unpleasant addiction to drugs at a young age was an increase in the amount of debts to be paid, and even after it was paid he was not freed from his makeshift prison.

His only resort had been to run, and to run as far as possible, quitting the drug habit, and start a new life.

And the bastard had still found me, a depressed Harry had realized shortly after hitchhiking to Liverpool. I only barely escaped by the skin of my-

The train of thought was cut off when a car swerved into the lane closest to Harry, and a drunken male leaned out of the car window to solicit him for a freebee on his birthday.

"Dream on!" Harry shouted, and continued on his way, ignoring the derogatory curses behind him.

He looked around briefly before realizing where he was, and knew it would only be a few more minutes before he arrived at the club. Continuing his train of thought, he suspected, From then on it had only been a matter of time before they found me and killed me.

Only now, since becoming involved with Seamus, another British former citizen with a background he wouldn't share, now Harry, though still involved in hooking, could say who, when, and how much. Not that he had much of a choice in the first place anyways – they always needed money.

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Carefully making his way into the bar Seamus frequented, Harry was extremely conspicuous of how he was dressed. Seamus had helped him purchase cheap, inexpensive clothing that looked good draped off of his body or clinging tightly in places Harry would never have considered wearing in public before.

Tonight he was dressed in a tight blue skirt, black boots that felt like plastic and were just as uncomfortable, and a white chambray shirt rolled up at the forearms and unbuttoned to this navel. The only thing holding the shirt together in the front, in fact, was the knotted ends trailing down his smoothly tanned and hairless chest. His body frame was lean with well-formed muscles trained to keep him safe when confronted with an angry customer. He held a large maroon bag slung across his shoulder an anchored at his hip – it was his form of life support, he supposed. Inside was all the necessities needed in his line of work - toys, protection, and a change of clothing.

His boyish looks had done well for him in this line of profession, and he had felt the need to catapult on any skill he could find within himself. His black hair was frosted at the tips to a bleached blonde – thanks to Seamus - and lashes a woman would kill for fringed his deep green eyes. To bring out the intense color of his eyes, he outlined them with kohl eyeliner and mascara to lengthen and separate his soft, baby-fine eyelashes. At least, that's what the advertisements explained, but really, it was just annoying when it got into his eyes and screwed with his contacts.

His lips were smooth, painted only with gloss, and almost cupid bow in their perfection. He was told once he had brought a man to orgasm just by speaking to him, while he watched his mouth move. His chin was strong, shapely, and sharply defined, giving him an elegant, chiseled face.

Looking around, he found Seamus lounging in the upper corner with their pimp, snorting cocaine with a joint in her hand.

"Seamus!" Harry cried, walking over quickly and grabbing his friend's arm. "What in the hell did you do with the rent money?" he snarled.

"Harry, you know Carlos and -" Seamus started to say, trying to advert his attention elsewhere.

"Yes, Seamus, I know everyone. What I don't know is what happened to our damn rent money!"

"I needed a little pick-me-up," Seamus whined, rocking unsteadily on his feet.

Harry, with eyes darkened by disappointment, studied his friend intently. His brown eyes were shaded by the intense high he was on, pupils dilated almost painfully, and his mouth set in a stupid grin.

Seamus stood quietly under Harry's gaze, his head bowed as he looked frightfully down at his feet encased in black heels. His own sandy hair was slicked back away from his face, and makeup carefully applied to hide the bruise marks from last night's customers. He dressed in a black miniskirt and sleeveless leopard top stretched across this thin frame.

"How could you do that Seamus?" Harry whispered, distraught. "We needed that money for rent, not to mention trying to save up enough for both of us to be free."

"Yea, well, I doubt that will happen any time soon, so I wouldn't hold your breath," Seamus muttered before grabbing Harry's hand and pulling him to the bar.

Picking out fruit and a couple of cherries and deftly slipping it into a napkin, he reported the news.

"Well, in the alley they found Skinny Marie in a dumpster today. Totally a coke addict, they'd been trying to get her straight for months! Too bad it didn't work though," Seamus said sorrowfully.

Harry said little, but thought to himself he could sympathize with the woman.

While they left the bars to reprimands of the bartender, they walked outside to find another hooker at their usual spot.

"Oh no, oh no," Seamus trilled, walking stealthily towards the boy standing at the corner. He wore a long, dark brunette wig and held a cigarette in his hand. He was an average looking man, Harry summed, but wore too much makeup to hide his flaws, making them even more conspicuous. Harry noted he had an awful skin condition.

"Hey, you two were here last night, and tonight is my night," he smirked, taking a deep drag from his cigarette.

"What?" Seamus shrieked, and since he seemed liable to attack the boy, Harry held a restraining hand on his arm.

"Now don't get yourself worked up Seam, we can always go somewhere else," Harry murmured soothingly.

"Yea, why don't you and your little newbie friend find somewhere else," the boy returned snottily.

"Excuse me, but we worked our stars fair and square," Seamus cried and proceeded to name off the star squares they had recently hooked at, before claiming triumphantly crowing, "and so, it's our turn today!"

"I was just taking a rest," the boy turned and, with that said, strutted away, grinning at the infuriated look on Seamus' face.

Harry snorted behind him, and turned a smile to Seamus.

"You know, you would be far more suited to be a lawyer than a hooker with such an argumentative nature like that," Harry laughed, a giggle that turned passerby's heads with automatic smiles for such a sweet sound.

"You know it sugar," Seamus smiled, hooking his arms though his and angling his leg out attractively.