AN: Hey, guys! I couldn't keep still for long. This fic is pretty different from my others (full of domestic bliss and security), so I hope you appreciate this too! I've wanted to write a sex-positive Rentboy Draco fic for a long time now, and this was a good break from MBFPW (yes, I am writing a sequel eventually). This one is darker than my past fics, but I do love a tragicomedy.

Chapter 1: Perfect Match

Madam Natasha read over the latest owl post with a satisfied smirk on her painted lips. Her smirk grew with each word, knowing exactly who this client would fit best with. The workers under her protection were admittedly a varied sort, but she knew a match when she saw one.

"Uh-oh," Gail teased once she saw the look on Natasha's face. In all honesty, Gail wasn't her given name, just as Natasha wasn't the other woman's given name. After all, it would be pretty had to draw in clients with a 'Madam Nathan' running the show. "You've got that look in your eye."

Natasha batted her eyelashes. "Do I?" From the rose chair she stood, heels so spiky and high that it put her seemingly miles above the other woman that reclined on a nearby couch.

The room smelled of incense. Natasha found it relaxing, and the smoke it covered the room in reminded her of her first night out on the town dressed as the woman she knew she was inside. A thousand memories decorated the room as well, the walls adorned in posters of shows she had been to and her desk filled with trinkets from customers and workers alike.

She liked it. It gave the room a sense of intimacy. "I'm just happy when I can pair up someone without needing a consultation in person. That only serves to frighten them off."

"So, who's our lucky customer?" Gail asked, leaning forward on the sofa, not even bothering to cross her legs like her mother used to tell her to do whenever she wore skirts. Gail's mother was far away from that place, and not even the Aurors could find Natasha's little alcove.

Natasha took a seat where Gail had made room, draping a copper arm around the other woman. "He requests complete and total privacy," Natasha informed Gail, knowing that revealing this man's name could be her downfall. After all, the Potter vault at Gringotts held a small fortune. The fact that The Boy Who Lived wanted to spend it on one of her Rentboys was a gift to business. Also, she'd never figured the Golden Boy to be a poof. The things he could do for visibility and advocacy…

"Don't they all ask for that?" Gail asked. Sure, she was still a rookie on the job, but she was no blushing virgin either.

"Of course. But what kind of person would I be if I out this man to you? I'd be no better than those vultures who keep trying to take our rights away."

Gail's eyes lit up in curiosity. "So he's gay? Awesome."

"Seems like," Natasha nodded, looking down at the Harry Potter's handwriting with a distinct fascination. '…looking for a man with a sense of dominance. I do appreciate your respect for my privacy, but I also know that people can get starstruck. I'm not sure why, but they do…' "I swear, every word of this is begging for my top man."

"You don't mean—?"

"Of course I do, Gail. They can keep each other's identities secret," she decided.

Draco was the only one of her workers that used his real name. There were no fronts, no pretending, and generally no bullshit when he was involved. Sure, there may be a conflict over their past, but Natasha was sure her Draco was mature enough to handle it.

After all, Draco had changed drastically from when he ran into Natasha in a Knockturn Alley pub and inquired about a job three years ago. He'd been callous then. Cruel, even. He'd looked at the business as a job and nothing more. The poor boy had thought it was all about sex.

"Mutual blackmail," Gail marveled, wrapping one of her orange locks around her index finger as she spoke to keep her curls fresh. "You're magnificent."

Natasha clicked her tongue. "'Blackmail' is such a harsh word. You make me sound like a common criminal."

Gail's laughter floated up like another swirl of the pomegranate incense, dissipating like smoke above them.

XxXxX

Theo and Colin sent Draco off with a hearty goodbye that night. He'd gotten an owl halfway through dinner, but Draco had promised he'd make up for it by taking them out to a fancy restaurant with all the money he was going to make off of this client. Natasha had told him just how loaded the bloke was, and that was a refreshing surprise.

Draco had seen men go broke on his services.

"Be safe!" Theodore Nott (soon-to-be Creevey) joked as he watched his friend leave to go do one illicit activity or another.

Theo's fiancée, Colin Creevey, simply shook his head in amusement and went to throw the used dishes into the sink. Hanging around Slytherins had opened his mind to a whole new horizon of scandal, debauchery, and fantastic sex.

"I always am!" Draco called back, waving his favorite monogamous friends. Well, his only monogamous friends.

In the blink of an eye, he apparated back to his flat. After all, he had to get ready.

The usual rush of excitement came as he hopped into the shower, covering every inch of his pale skin with an arsenal of beauty products. Exfoliator, moisturizer, shimmer cream, and in that order. There was no point to denying that his job was a very visual one, and knowing tricks of the trade helped get customers hooked.

Not all of it was visual, though.

The only information he'd gotten about the new mystery man was that he requested an extreme amount of privacy. Either he was paranoid, or someone important.

As Draco massaged the vanilla shampoo into his scalp, he allowed himself to paint a picture of the man in his mind. Maybe he was an Auror. Draco never had a problem with serving the Wizarding World's Finest.

Or maybe he was an overworked lawyer. Aching muscles, practically begging for someone to take the reins from him.

At that, he could be a businessman. Loaded bank account, CEO of a multi-million dollar industry, with a wife and three kids at home who were clueless to daddy's whereabouts on 'corporate getaways'. The only place that man could really be open was with Draco.

When Draco looked down, he realized he was getting hard.

"Save that for him," Draco murmured, stepping out of his glass shower and into the blue lights of his bathroom. Every new customer was a new opportunity.

An opportunity for an always-satisfying orgasm, an opportunity to get to know someone's ins and outs, what got their engine fired up, and an opportunity to connect. In a strange way, Draco considered his customers (new and old) like a string of lovers. The money just helped him keep his exorbitant lifestyle.

After all, that penthouse flat in London didn't pay for itself, and his parents weren't about to sign their whore son back into their wills.

But that was another story for another time.

Right then, right there, as steam clung to his skin as he exited the shower, Draco had to focus on the truth and on the present. The truth was, he wasn't taking handouts from anyone. This was his money, his time, his life.

When he got a grasp on his wand again, Draco cast a drying spell that blown his hair back just the way he liked it. Draco continued his stroll across the hardwood floor by summoning those tight muggle jeans he'd grown so fond of, a flimsy grey shirt, and his favorite leather jacket. No pants required.

Equipped with a pack of condoms and a bottle of lube, Draco was geared to go. Once he had his knee-high leather boots on, he looked like a proper gentleman of the night.

Adjusting his collar in a full-length mirror by the door, he disparated from his flat.

When Draco found himself in the usual hotel where he conducted business, he had fallen out of one lap of luxury and into another. That was sort of the story of his life.

"Randy," Draco nodded to the bellboy in his formal green robes. Natasha paid him a pretty sickle to make sure that they could use the hotel without anyone looking too far into their frequent visits in skimpy clothing.

Politely and discreetly, he handed Draco the key to the penthouse suite. Draco wouldn't settle for anything less than the top floor.

The lobby's arched ceilings were no doubt impressive to someone who hadn't seen the place a million times before, as were the marble floors. It all reflected off of the opening doors of the elevator and mirrored Draco perfectly before they slid out of view.

His boots clacked as he entered the elevator and hit the button for the 13th floor. Draco's lucky number, he supposed.

As the charmed elevator rose floor by floor, his excitement grew. All of the moments that could be, all of the fun he could have… Draco felt like a muggle child going to one of those a-muse-mint parks. He hoped this ride had the loop-de-loops.

Finally, he stepped out.

Plush green carpeting with an elegant hint of gold embroidery led him right to the only room on the floor. The meeting time was to be 19:30, and Draco was a few minutes late. He liked to make an entrance, was all.

With all the cockiness in the world behind him, Draco fished the key back out of his jacket pocket and slid it into the keyhole.

It fit perfectly, so he turned the lock and let himself in.