A Cold Beginning
The apartment was disgusting. Old and worn-out, cheap looking. The walls were made of a cheap wood and plaster mixture. There were some holes in the walls from the previous owners covered by picture frames. The apartment was separated into four main areas. There was a kitchen, which was small and cramped with appliances from the last decade. It was a small corner wedge that was stuffed into the corner of the apartment, like a hanging nail connected to the main area which held a cheap-looking table with two chairs, the table littered with papers and empty take out, a relatively expensive couch and television set, and a coffee table where a single laptop rested. The coffee table, like the other one, was littered with papers and pictures, most of them showing a single man in various stages of dressing and undressing. He was a handsome man. Hard Bulgarian features, huge arms and pecs, it looked as though most of this man’s days were spent sculpting his body for peak performance. His hair was short, stubble adorning his cheeks, chin, and upper-lip giving him a rugged tone.
The main room had two opened doors, one leading to a bathroom which thankfully was properly modern, and the second was to the bedroom where screams of intense pleasure was coming from. Moving into the bedroom, you would see the most expensive furniture in the whole apartment: the bed, queen sized with sheets scattered around the floor. On the bed was the young man in the picture, naked and sweaty as his piston his hard, thick cock into a smaller man underneath him, both grunting and screaming in pleasure. The bottom was equally naked. He was skinny, his ass having a little bump of muscles from an exercise program he started a few months ago. His face was beautiful, on his forehead was a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt he got from a childhood accident, his emerald green eyes shining with erotic satisfaction hidden behind a pair of glasses. His raven-black hair was long, reaching his neck, and messy as the muscular man grabbed it, pulling harshly as he fucked the bottom only harder.
With a loud, harsh grunt, Viktor Krum pushed his cock as deep as he could into Harry Potter’s ass, his cock pulsing violently as it came, filling the hole with his seed as Harry came as well, his own cock left untouched.
Breathing heavily, Viktor pulled out of Harry and spread the boy’s cheeks, admiring his work. Cum started to leak out but the man used his fingers to force it back in. With a hard spank, Viktor rolled off of bed while Harry rolled on his back. Krum left the room and returned a moment later with two water bottles, giving one to Harry with a kiss.
“Happy anniversary,” Viktor smiled. “Sorry we couldn’t go out this year.”
“It’s okay,” Harry sighed. “Five years really isn’t a big milestone anyway, as long as I’m with you I’m fine.” There was a hint of sadness in Harry’s voice, but he quickly hid it with a smile. He knew he shouldn’t be picky in their situation.
“I had another interview today,” Viktor said. “They said they liked my body but not my face. It was too hard.”
“That’s terrible!” Harry frowned. “You have a handsome face.” He reached forward and caressed Viktor’s cheek. “A strong face… a man’s face.”
“Yes! But they don’t like it!” Viktor yelled violently. “Nowadays all they want are those soft womanly-man faces! They thought since I’m gay I should have a faggot’s face!”
Harry frowned. He took a long sip of water. “I wish you don’t use that word.”
“Faggot,” Harry said. “It reminds me of my cousin, you know that.”
“Right. Sorry. Just lost my temper is all,” Viktor said. “I ran into Lestrange on my way here, she was hounding me for our rent money.”
“We have enough for it, right?” Harry asked hesitantly, knowing that they were about to enter a territory that always set Viktor’s fuse off. He slipped upwards and felt Viktor’s cum drift out of his ass. He spread his legs when Viktor noticed, and the older man scooped the cum, pushing it back in. “Need to get a plug,” he muttered.
“Vik…” Harry said, trying to keep his lover’s focus. “We have enough this month, right? For the rent?”
“Yes, of course, you do not need to worry about it princess,” Viktor nodded. Harry frowned.
“You only call me that when you’re trying to distract me. Viktor, you know how much our rent is, are we short this month?”
“I told you not to worry about it Harry,” Viktor said.
“Yes! Yes! We have enough money! God why are you always so annoying about our money?” Viktor yelled, slamming his fist on the bed in the space between him and Harry.
“Because look at where we live! This place is a shithole—”
“It’s the best my money can afford—”
“That’s what I mean! Your money! Not ours! Viktor if I just get a job—”
“No!” Viktor screamed louder than before. He took both of Harry’s shoulders and squeezed them hard. Harry winced at the slight pain as Viktor glared at him. “I told you! I will take care of you! I make the money while you just live off of it! That was our dream! We work together to get my modeling started!”
Harry whimpered. “Viktor… hurts…”
Realizing what he was doing, Viktor immediately let go of Harry’s shoulders. Bruises started to appear on them and Viktor, looking fully apologetic, kissed both of Harry’s shoulders before moving to Harry’s lips. The younger man melted under his touches. “I’m sorry princess,” Viktor whispered, “I told you that I will take care of you…”
“I just want to help,” Harry whispered. “Viktor, we’re in a bad place money wise, If I just get a job, even a temporary one, it will help out a lot.”
“No Harry, you’re too good to work,” Viktor whispered. “We promised each other that you would be living a life of lavish while I make money from modeling.”
“Yeah… but that was a promise we made when we first started dating Viktor,” Harry said. “I just want to help is all… I love you.”
“I love you too Harry,” Viktor whispered. “But please, let me do this.”
Harry frowned he stayed silent for a moment before slipping between Viktor and the bed, standing up. “I’m going to go shower,” he said.
“Happy fucking anniversary,” Viktor sighed as Harry closed the bathroom door. He leaned against the door and slid down to the floor, crying. His sobs were low, tears fat, and cheeks red. Still crying, Harry got to his feet a few minutes later and stood under the shower head as cold water rained down on him; hot water was too expensive at the moment.
Dripping wet, he wrapped a towel around himself and walked out of the bathroom. Viktor was dressed already; the window blinds were opened streaming in the morning light. “I have couple of interviews,” Viktor said. “Two with magazines and one with another potential job while I work on my modeling.”
“Okay,” Harry nodded submissively. Frowning, he looked at Viktor and bit his bottom lip. Deciding it was worth the risk, he said, “Viktor… if I just call my parents, I’m certain they’ll be more than willing to help us… give us a couple hundred dollars.”
“Help you,” Viktor said, an annoyance in his voice. “No, out of the question.”
“I won’t allow them to interfere, you know what happened the last time your parents ‘helped’ they spent the entire day criticizing me!” Viktor said.
“They just don’t believe in our dream Viktor,” Harry said. “But we can show them together, let them in and—”
“No, for the last time princess, I will be the money provider for this family, end of question,” Viktor said. He pulled out his cellphone (an old looking model) and sighed, “I have to go, my interview starts in a bit. I’ll see you at dinner, okay princess?”
“Okay,” Harry muttered. They kissed goodbye and Viktor walked out. Alone, Harry sighed and picked up his own phone that his parents brought for him a couple years ago from the coffee table. He was still on their plan. The young man loitered for an hour, unsure what to do.
This was how he spent most of his days in boredom. While Viktor went out to make money. He supposed he could clean the apartment a bit, but it always gets dirty again and Harry just couldn’t find the motivation or energy. His annoyance from their argument rising, Harry gave a loud growl and said, “Fuck it.”
He dropped the towel and returned to the bedroom, picking up his cleanest smelling clothes from the floor and putting them on, slipping his phone and empty wallet in the pockets, picking up the keys on his way out and locked the door behind him.
Harry turned around to see his landlord walking up to him. She was an older woman, her hair long and crazy that matched a murderous glint in her eye. “Good Morning Mrs. Lestrange,” Harry said politely, hoping the woman couldn’t smell his fear.
“Where is my rent Mr. Potter?” Mrs. Lestrange asked.
“I—I—Viktor said that he paid it,” Harry stuttered.
Mrs. Lestrange frowned, she glared down at Harry, “Oh really? Strange since I don’t have it in my hand right now,” she said, her voice becoming falsely sweet. “And after I did a kindness out of my heart and allowed you two fags in here when you had no money in your name… I want my money Potter! And I want it by the end of the day!”
“O-Okay, I’ll get you the two hun—”
“No, I want five hundred dollars,” Mrs. Lestrange said. “I’ve just decided that there’s a new gay tax.”
“Five hundred—Mrs. Lestrange, you have to be joking!” Harry said, his eyes growing wide and mouth hanging.
“Do I look like I’m joking?” Mrs. Lestrange said. “Instead of standing around like an idiot, why don’t you put that mouth to use and get me my money!” She pushed past Harry, who stood scared on his two feet, feeling like a scared statue as he fought back his tears. With a shaky hand he took out his phone and texted Viktor.
Harry: Viktor, please tell me you have the rent money. Mrs. Lestrange just talked to me. We owe her five hundred dollars.
Viktor: I have the money, more than enough princess. Go inside and be a good boy. I’ll talk with you later, love you.
Harry sniffled and pocketed his phone, but he didn’t go back inside. He just couldn’t trust Viktor, he needed to make sure that they had enough money to survive, even if it makes his lover angry. He had to find a job, he just didn’t know how or where.
Needing a walk to clear his head, Harry made his way out of their dingy looking apartment. The sky was sunny, as if to mock Harry’s sadness. He looked around, seeing equally cramped and dingy-looking apartments stacked one against another. Picking a direction, Harry began to walk without a care of where he was going. The streets were crowded, and Harry immediately got lost as he allowed himself to be taken away from the flow of heavy pedestrians in the city.
Around him the buildings were growing taller, grander and more expensive looking. They seemed to be able to pierce the very sky as the crowd of Harry changed, ragged shirts and pants being replaced with people in suits and ties, button downs and slacks instead of jeans and a tee like Harry was wearing. He started to feel uncomfortable. Billboards of models promoting advertisements and clothes started to appear. This is how we were supposed to be, he thought bitterly as he stared at one billboard.
It was of a muscled man with a beautiful face, soft angles, almost angelic, as opposed to Viktor's handsomely square and masculine face. The man in the billboard tried to look masculine wearing only a pair of briefs, but it didn’t work in Harry’s opinion. He’s too soft to wear that kind of stuff, he thought.
Ignoring the adverts, Harry continued on with his walk. He knew he was in the center of the city, he just didn’t know how exactly he got in there. He turned a corner and stopped once again. Where there were tall skyscrapers and buildings that were cramped and pushed together, Harry was totally surprised to see a shop, a coffee shop to be precise that wasn’t part of a chain. It was a single story high with no structures over it. The front design was sleek and modern, yet eye-catching as instead of grey or a monotone color to fit in with the city, it looked as though the shop was crafted directly out of a rainbow, with arches of colors going off the outsides of the shop, leading inward where there was a wide window that allowed Harry to look inside, and a wooden door that looked more at home at, well, a house instead of an establishment. However, the part that got Harry’s attention was a small sign leaning against the window. In bright orange lettering, the sign was like a beacon that was calling for Harry, a bright shining light in this raging sea of torment.
Smiling to himself, and feeling strangely confident, Harry walked towards the shop, his eyes never leaving the sign that said, “Help Wanted.”
The inside of the shop was truly magical to Harry. He felt as though he was transported to somebody’s home. It was spacious, filled with small round tables with cushioned wooden chairs, and a giant island with stools around it. In a corner to the left of Harry, bean-bags rested on a blue carpet, the bags full of young people a few years younger than Harry. Lights hung from the ceiling from official head lamps to fairy lights that strung along the walls, which was a welcoming oak walnut wood, contrasted nicely by the red mahogany that was used for the floor. At the back was the coffee center, three young men were behind the counter, taking orders in a quick fashion.
Harry was overwhelmed, he felt nostalgia as if he was back at college again. “Hello!” He jumped when a man in his early forties stepped in front of him. The man was handsome with shaggy long brown hair and facial hair. He was wearing a pink button down shirt under a tight purple vest and a pair of worn out jeans. “Welcome to The Three Broomsticks, how may we help you?”
“I… my name is Harry Potter,” Harry said awkwardly. “I uhh saw your sign…” he turned halfway and pointed vaguely at the back of the help wanted sign. The man’s smile widened, and he offered Harry his hand. “Welcome Harry,” he said. “My name is Sirius Black, I’m the owner of the place. Follow me to the back we’ll start on your paperwork and interview.”