The News
For: Azira Morrgaine Vida
Series: Harry Potter
Pairing: DM/HP
Request: dark!Harry
Word Count: min. 800 words (made: 1500+)
NOTE: Tsu is sorry. Tsu has lots and lots of homework. Tsu may not be getting out as fast as she hoped. Hopefully more Friday-Saturday, because Tsu is not going to be going home this weekend (gas costs too much, and she really doesn't want to start the habit of going home every weekend, either). Tsu meant to type this (as well as the next) one up and post it yesterday (which is now, technically, the day before), but she had too much homework, and Tsu didn't quite make it. Tsu's brain is now fried, as she tries to memorize Hiragana for her quiz tomorrow (which is now today). Please don't hurt Tsu. She tries. Honest.
He had thought that he'd been studying alone in one of the many student lounges spread throughout Hogwarts, especially since he'd chosen a room in one of the farther reaches of the dungeons, where he preferred to stay. When he turned to leave, however, he was standing in the doorway with a smug smile on his face and leaning casually against the frame as if he hadn't a care in the world. "What do you want, Potter?" Draco snapped, slinging his knapsack over one shoulder as he eyed the dark-haired boy partially blocking his exit. He hid a wince as the books awkwardly hit his back.
The boy merely gave a shrug in response. "Not much," he said after a pause. "I'd imagine that I was only enjoying the view. I was curious to know...what does Daddy dearest tell you about those meetings he has with his... 'Master', was it?"
"That is none of your business, Potter," the blonde snapped, his voice angry. And it wasn't just because he was talking to Harry Potter, either. "Now get out of my way." The blonde stalked forward, intent on shoving his way through – by means of a spell, of course – if necessary.
He stopped when the green-eyed boy spoke up again. "I don't really think that I'm going anywhere…and I doubt you'll go far, either. You see, it is very much my business what you have and have not been told. It is now, anyway. Voldemort and I, we've worked out this little deal, I guess you could say. With Dumbledore now gone, there's really no need for everyone to suffer even greater losses. So he's agreed to leave me be if I leave him be…and to seal the deal we've given an…exchange, you could say. A small price for freedom."
Draco shifted where he stood, an action most unbecoming of a Malfoy, but at the moment he couldn't really care less. He didn't know why the other boy was telling him this – why he should even care – but he had a bad feeling about it, and knew he didn't really want to know. That was probably what disturbed him the most. "And what does all of this have to do with what my father tells me, Potter? Or are you going to go off on another long story about your little pet peeves?"
"Tsk, tsk; you should be patient when others are talking," Harry scolded lightly, teasingly. "I'm getting to the point, just you wait. It's a fairly simple exchange, really. He wanted someone to inherit his power and his possessions after he ruled the world, yadda yadda, and finally died. I agreed to do so should he not find a more suitable choice – really messy bit of paperwork that. My price was a bit more…simplistic."
Harry cocked his head to the side, as if considering something extremely important about Draco's person. Then, with that same small smirk – which really should have been considered illegal – he said: "You'd better come with me so that we can pick out a fine collar and some nice toys…pet. If it were only up to me, I might choose something you didn't like so much."
Draco's bag fell to the floor.
Pet.
Slave.
Harry…was his master?
He needed to write his father. Now.
Draco gave himself credit for not fainting at the news as he tore out of the room and up towards the owlry, Harry's laughter following behind him. He didn't even care as he heard the Boy-Who-Lived follow him.
It had to be a cruel joke. It had to be.
-----------------------------------------------line break.
Draco was too nervous to push Harry's arms away as he awaited his father's return owl. Slaves in the wizarding world were no laughing matter – no one would even joke about it. It was one reason why Granger's arguments about the treatment of houselves were considered invalid by the wizard-raised populous.
Ever since the whole fiasco with the Romans, wizarding society had pretty much abandoned the use of slavery. A few smaller groups had remained until nearing the tenth century, but had all died out by the turn of the nineteenth.
Wizarding slaves were, after all, nothing like the muggle version. It had worked for a time – the Romans themselves were proof of that, although their use of magic had been fairly primitive, and failed them in the end – but people had moved on.
And now he was one?
It had to be a joke.
The grip around his waist kept Draco from pacing the ground to ease his nerves and frustrations, but it did nothing to keep him from alternately pouting and biting his lip. His foot was tapping a constant beat against the stone floor, as well.
And Potter's voice was beginning to grate on his nerves.
"Of course, I want the collar to be comfortable – I got lovely Severus to tell me about the nature of Wizarding slaves, and since you'll be wearing it all the time, we don't want it to chafe or anything, now would we? I was thinking maybe silk…or possibly velvet. Charmed to never come off, of course; it won't have a clasp. A silver, tag, though – gold just wouldn't be your color, now, don't you think? I'm for having it read: "Property of Harry Potter. Please return if found." Sound good to you?"
Draco would have screamed a thousand obscenities at the dark-haired boy…had he been listening.
"We'll need to go over a few things, as well. Some rules, I mean. You won't be wearing this wizard robes any more, at least. I want to see that body of yours, and for that muggle clothing is so much better, if less proper in higher wizarding society. I don't think anyone will object. I'll have to talk to the doctors too about your care; according to Snape, they won't see you unless I'm there, or if I tell them to. I'm certainly going to make sure you're treated fairly there; I am, after all, going to have to punish you if you get out of hand. We may also get a little rough if we…play around too much, and I want to know how much I can do before I need to start worrying about damage. I don't plan to get rid of you anytime soon, and I want you to be in prime condition. As I said before, though, you will have to be punished for rule-breaking, and unless dangerous – which it shouldn't be – those injuries won't be treated.'
Oh sweet goddess, where was that owl?
"I don't want anyone else to touch you, either. You're mine, and I'll make sure all of Slytherin knows it, along with the other houses.
"The hat transferred me, you know. It wanted me there to begin with, but there were too many obstacles – too many things I had to do first."
Draco growled.
Harry let out a light chuckle in response, the breath ghosting across Draco's ear. "I should see about getting you some kitty-ears, as well, and something to keep those bangs out of your eyes. The tail, well…" His hands moved to Draco's belt buckle. "I'm sure you can imagine where I want to put that." Draco paled slightly. "There's this perfect little place we could let it trail out of that would look so natural when you're laying on my bed completely naked, with only your cute little cat ears and a furry tail pouring out of-"
Draco tore himself out of the other's grip. "Get off me, Potter! What's gotten into you? I should hex you into next week just for thinking something like that about me – about anyone!"
"So why don't you?" Harry asked. "Or are you too afraid to act without Daddy's say-so?" No, Draco thought to himself, it's more because of what his "Daddy" may have done. Selling him off as a slave was something he could easily believe his father to be capable of. A corner of Harry's mouth quirked up, dispelling the frown. A definite bad sign, in Draco's book. "I'm your daddy now, if it helps to think of it that way. Except I'm a daddy that's going to have his long, hard cock shoved up your pretty little arse while you beg me to let you find release."
Oh gods…
"Which will only happen if you're a good boy."
Potter was talking dirty.
Not only that, but Draco was actually enjoying it.
Something was definitely wrong with the world.
Harry dragged the blonde's shell-shocked body from the owlry and into some of the shops in Hogsmeade. The return owl never came, and it never would.
Both Voldemort and the elder Malfoy were dead, courtesy of one Harry Potter. The boy-who-lived was now the heir to both Gryffindor's and Slytherin's power and property, as well as that of the Malfoy's – through Draco, who had been named his state by the Ministry, per his request (he really had done his research) – the Black's, and the Potter's.
Life was, for the Boy-Who-Defeated-Voldemort, pretty darn good.
THE END
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