A/N — Yet again, I'll state that if you don't like this story don't read it. It's shameless smut or, as I call it, porn-with-minimal-plot. Warning-wise this is less than The Last Betrayal, dealing only with (forced) cuckolding, but it's longer and more explicit, so…
A/N — Contrary to popular belief, I don't hate Harry. I rather like him, actually. The problem is that I like featuring Ginny a lot in my smut stories (I'm not sorry; she's sexy), and for some themes, such as cuckolding, it just doesn't flow as well to have her married to someone besides Harry. Hence this being Ginny/Draco. I actually debated putting this up immediately after The Last Betrayal (what with the mixed reaction it got), but I figured since I'd written it I might as well publish it. This is the internet, and what's it here for if not publishing stuff like this? This is why I made this account.
In fact, I have another Ginny smut story lined up (a oneshot) but I haven't finished it. I started it before this one, actually, but this gave me more inspiration.
I can only hope that it complies with FFN's rules. Anyway, without further ado: Malfoy's Promise.
Chapter I: The Verdict
•
Sitting in the special atrium to the Wizengamot courtroom, Harry Potter stewed in the least formal robes he felt he could get away with in front of the leaders of the wizarding world. Beside him, his wife of two years — Ginny — sat in much nicer robes and gave his knee a comforting rub with a slight smile, signaling to Harry that his outward appearance of distant annoyance hadn't fooled her. Allowing himself to relax at the young woman's touch, Harry sank back in the far-too-comfortable seats that had been provided for them and tried not to rub his temples or leap to the floor to pace back and forth, entirely feeling like everything in the room was designed to lull him into a false sense of security.
It wasn't that the room was particularly comforting, mind you. Nor was it particularly discomforting. The walls were a dull beige that seemed far too boring for wizards; the bronze plaques of the doors glared at him; the vibrant red carpet snuggled with his shoe soles; the chairs held him like a skilled masseuse; and the portraits on the walls all smiled at him happily with the easy faces of midwits and amateurs content in their centuries of service to the Ministry of Magic and, by proxy, the Wizengamot. Though all of it was serene in a very mind-numbing way, it sat on Harry's mind like Hagrid sat on Hogwarts chairs. The problem was that it gave him, very strongly, the same impression as when Umbridge had tried, those few times, to be nice to him in a poor gambit to get information on Dumbledore, and made him certain the room was designed for powerful people getting bad news. It made him want to glare at everything until it burst into flames.
It didn't help that he was only here because of a typically enigmatic letter from the Ministry summoning him, and his wife, to one of the smaller Wizengamot chambers on the same day he had rather been intending to get started on a family with Ginny. Harry had been rather looking forward to the occasion with his curvaceous and entirely too tempting wife, and had been thoroughly annoyed by the fact the Ministry had chosen to summon him at the very start of his vacation time. Nevertheless, having little desire to become Undesirable Number One again — and even less to take on the Ministry, now that the War was over — he had been a good little citizen and trotted along at the appointed date and time.
Then he had been kept waiting. His first thought was that he was having the same trick pulled on him as when he had been put on trial before his fifth year, and that someone in the political arena he had been so studiously avoiding had decided to make a move for Harry's little-used power. Having not taken anymore kindly to this than the first time it had happened, and, being substantially more aware of things, Harry had demanded various things loudly and continuously until the plump man at the desk had managed to convince him that his summons was still at the appointed time and that the partial Wizengamot had merely run overtime on some other business with another wizard.
That had managed to get Harry sitting again, but it had made him no more friendly to anyone and still required the attentions of Ginny to keep things from devolving again. Intellectually, Harry knew that he was being somewhat unreasonable, but given that he had never had a reasonable dealing with any wizarding authority in his life he felt rather entitled to his behavior. Certainly it felt damn good not to sit and let things happen to him anymore, even if he was accomplishing nothing but widening the rift between him and wizarding authority.
Finally, a full fifteen minutes after when Harry had expected to be let in, a scrawny man with enormous glasses and a quill behind his ear opened a side door to the chamber. "Lord Potter, Lady Potter, please enter." Standing stiffly, Harry felt Ginny give his hand a small squeeze before leading them both through the small door and into the partially walled-off area that signified part of the wizarding court-room. Beyond the large benches that stretched around one-quarter of the room sat two other desks and chairs, beyond which lay a dais in the center of the room, more benches on either side, and a pulpit. These last two were already filled, with the speaker of the Wizengamot (a snotty looking Death Eater relative who hadn't been a Death Eater himself, choosing instead to use bureaucracy as the outlet for the sadism which was his inheritance) sitting on the pulpit and various members of the Wizengamot seated on either side.
The scrawny man directed them to their seats: Ginny to one of the benches behind Harry, and Harry to the leftmost bench facing the pulpit. When they were seated, the Speaker cleared his throat and said "This is a merely the sentencing of a case against Lord Harry James Potter, the outcome of which was determined in a trial in absentia. Owing to the fact that the Lord has, presumably, not previously known of this case, we, the Wizengamot, do now give him the opportunity to have the trial details read to him. Speak now, Lord, if you wish for the trial details."
Furrowing his brow, Harry wondered what case against him could possibly have been made — owing to his non-presence in the wizarding world for the past three years since Voldemort's defeat — but had the presence of mind to say "I would like them, please." There was a murmuring about the room, and Harry wondered if there had been some sort of proper wording he had neglected to use. Not much caring, seeing as how he had come in robes that even Ron would be able to tell were cheap, Harry merely allowed this to amuse him, smiling as the murmuring continued until the Speaker held up his hand, a displeased look on his face. Given that that was how it usually sat, Harry felt no more informed than before.
"Very well. Last year, on the 31st of March, 1999, a plea was brought before the Wizengamot by one of its members to create an assembly for hearing a case against one of its other members; you, Lord Potter. This plea was granted and this body was assembled, and the case was thus: that you, Lord Potter, were guilty of multiple attempts at line extinction in the second degree. Specifically, that multiple attempts on life were made, by you, against persons whose death would have resulted in the extinction of houses including: Lestrange, Malfoy, Black, Nott, Bode, Avery, and other, minor houses. As all evidence was already held by the Wizengamot from previous trials, namely your personal testimonies during trials at the end of the War, the trial was conducted in absentia of both the defense and the prosecution. You were determined guilty on all charges except those against Bode and Nott. Do you have any objections?"
Finally finding his voice, Harry managed to ask "You mean apart from the fact that they were trying to kill me?"
"That is why this is second degree, Lord Potter, and not first degree," the Speaker said in a bored tone, as though Harry were stupid for not knowing this. "If you had premeditated the killings and/or intended to extinguish the line you would have been arrested a year ago. Do you have any other objections?"
"You've got to be kidding me!" Harry exclaimed. "There isn't anything about self-defense in there?"
"The charges are related to the line extinction, not the act of killing nor intention to kill. Any other objections?"
"So you're telling me that if those guys had been anyone else I wouldn't be here right now?"
"That is why you are not being charged for anything related to actions against other servants of the self-styled Lord Voldemort," the Speaker enunciated. "Do you have any further objections?"
"Yeah, a big one! This is bloody unfair! Doesn't killing Voldemort get me any consideration?"
"The law applies to you, Lord Potter, the same as it does for everyone else, regardless of temporarily legal and unrelated vigilante actions. You yourself were involved in several cases involving charges of line extinction, so you should be familiar with how the law is applied. Now, again, do you have any further objections or may we proceed with sentencing?"
Trying to work his jaw free of where it had set stonily, Harry struggled to think of something but came up blank. Eventually he could only ask "Can I appeal this?"
"No, Lord Potter. All evidence used was evidence deemed truthful and legitimate by you yourself during the various trials you were involved in. There is no right to appeal in cases such as these. May we proceed with sentencing?" Stiffly, Harry nodded, and the Speaker hummed in distant satisfaction. "Very well. Let it be noted that Lord Potter has no more objections and the ruling stands. It now falls to me, on behalf of the Wizengamot, to pronounce sentencing for these confirmed charges." Now the Speaker cleared his throat. "Owing to the scope of these charges, monetary penalties would normally apply; however, due to the number of charges of this kind I can only recommend a sentence of mulier adultera. So the Speaker has spoken, so let it be." His gavel rapped, and there was a smattering of gasps across the room. Harry, being ignorant of wizarding law for the most part, sat there confused.
Looking to the scrawny wizard by his side, who had sat half-asleep through the proceedings, Harry hissed "What does that mean?" The wizard started, and then looked at him questioningly. "What does that mean? Mulier adultera? I don't speak Latin."
The scrawny man's eyes widened. "My apologies, Mr. Potter. I didn't think it would be so… harsh."
"What the bloody hell is it?" Harry demanded, getting fed up with the whispering throughout the room and wanting to know what injustice the Wizengamot was going to heap on him now.
"Er… well…" the wizard stammered, blushing. "It means 'an adulterous wife.' The punishment is that the Ministry, on behalf of the esteemed Wizengamot, will modify your marriage bonds in order that another wizard may… er… get rights to your wife. That is, the Lady Potter will become an open-concubine. Again, I'm sorry. For what it's worth, it could have been worse."
"What?!" the famous wizard exclaimed in a voice that was more roar than hiss. The term 'open-concubine' stirred something in his memory, but it eluded his grasp and he settled for fixing the other wizard with a burning stare. "What the hell does that mean? 'Open-concubine'? Are you telling me she's…"
"She'll still be your wife. She'll just also be the concubine of another wizard." Harry's stare turned thunderous, and he felt tears of indignation pricking at his eyes. For the first time since the start of the affair he turned his eyes backwards to see Ginny looking pale, and her frightened eyes met his. Trying to give her some sort of reassuring look, Harry thought he only succeeded in making her sick, for her complexion turned green. Feeling sick himself, Harry turned back around, somewhat in shock. The Ministry couldn't do this, could they?
His attention was diverted by the sound of a gavel smacking. "Order! Order!" the Speaker cried. "Now, onto precise business. The sentence stands, but it must be completed." He turned his eyes briefly to a parchment lying in front of him, before addressing the chamber again. "Owing to Lady Potter's pureblood status, those who are not pureblood are excluded from achieving rights to her. You may leave the court now." There was an immense shuffling as a few Wizengamot members rose to leave, and the reverberations seemed to quake Harry's stomach like jelly. When they had left, the Speaker resumed. "Rights are to be awarded via auction, with Lady Potter's open-concubinage to be awarded to the highest bidder." At this Harry heard a cry of anguish from behind him, and he wished for nothing more at that moment than to be able to comfort his wife. "Bids will start at five hundred galleons and increase by one hundred. The auction will start in one hour. Until then, the court is adjourned." At this pronouncement the Speaker rose and left the room, with others beginning to follow suit, and the scrawny wizard — who Harry now no longer cared at all to learn the name of, feeling irrationally like all of this was his fault — turned to him.
"I can escort you and Lady Potter out, if you like."
"We're fine," Harry ground out, and the wizard scooted backwards, before Harry powered through the gate towards Ginny and grabbed her arm, almost dragging her out of the room. Ginny didn't protest, following him out and through hallways. Harry didn't know how long they walked, only that the Ministry workers stayed out of his way as he thundered through until he found a suitably out of the way room to barge into. As soon as he did he exploded. "Bloody buggering fucking hell!" he swore. "Stuck up, unjust wankers! Treasonous fucking bastards! Fuck them! Fuck them all! I didn't ask for this! My wife — cheating on me!"
This seemed to jolt Ginny out of her state of shock, and her face reddened. "You?! You?! You're not the one who's going to become some fat Death Eater's fucking whore, now are you? And what's this shite about cheating on you? You think I want to fuck whoever pays the Ministry enough money? Like I'm just some tramp they picked up off the street? Fuck you!"
Harry, still too angry with everyone to think properly, immediately shot back "I'd rather be fucking some pureblood bitch than standing around emasculated as my life becomes sexless! At least you might enjoy the whole damn thing!" At this Ginny looked like she wanted very much to stab him, and Harry felt his head clear enough to say "Sorry. I didn't mean that. It's just… with all I've been through, you know?" Ginny's look softened, but she didn't seem anymore inclined to forgive him just then. "Gin, you know I didn't mean it, right? I'm just so bloody pissed off." He looked at her, her arms folded and posture defiant. "I know you'll hate this as much as I will." She softened again, enough for Harry to take her in his arms and press her smaller body against his. Errantly, he wondered if this might be the last time he'd feel his wife's untainted body, but he shook the thought away. Ginny couldn't be blamed for this. "I won't take this out on you," he whispered in her ear.
Her body was still coiled, but her voice was soft when she replied "Promise?"
"I promise."
She shifted under him and uncoiled, before sniffing angrily. "At least it'll give me a way to punish you when you're an arse, like now." Harry stiffened, and Ginny sighed. "Sorry. I didn't mean that either. I'll hate this. I know I will. Just like I know you will. I promised to be faithful and I'll be breaking that promise. Can you forgive me?"
Harry, who had grown stiff at her words in a way he didn't want to think about, merely kissed her ear before whispering into it huskily. "Yeah, I forgive you. I will forgive you."
"It's just…" Ginny sighed. "I'm not a whore… you know?" She panted slightly, and Harry hummed as he breathed down her neck to get to the zipper of her dress. "I'm really not, whatever the bloody Ministry says."
"You can certainly moan like one though," Harry purred at her, slipping the straps off her shoulders and ignoring his wife when she shot him a betrayed but guilty look. Instead, he took the opportunity to turn the redhead around and kiss her deeply, exploring her mouth as he had done so many times before. Ginny moaned, blushing, and Harry broke the kiss to mutter "You're such a dirty girl."
This time, Ginny merely hummed in agreement. "Yeah, I am. You like it though. You like it bad."
"Yes, I do," Harry breathed, taking in his wife's topless form before kissing her again, palming one of her fantastic breasts. "I love that you're such a dirty girl. A devious, bad, wild seductress. I love how impure you are in bed. And you're a naughty witch. You're going to be a naughty witch, aren't you? You won't be able to help it."
"I'm going to be such a terrible wife," Ginny moaned, and Harry felt himself grow harder.
"Maybe you should make it up to me," Harry suggested in a voice that wasn't terribly gentlemanly. This might be the last time he could enjoy his wife's unsullied mouth…
"Yes," the redhead groaned against him.
Just as he had placed his hand on top of her head to guide the young woman down, down, down, Harry felt something stab the back of his head, and he jerked away from his wife with a loud "Ow!" In surprise, Ginny fell over on top of him, knocking them both over so that her bosom was crushing his manhood. "Ah!" Harry cried again, in pain, and Ginny quickly rolled off him. Mood thoroughly ruined, Harry felt himself soften, and he looked around to find the source of the disturbance and burn it to a crisp. It didn't take long to locate it, and they found it was an enchanted paper plane beckoning them back to the court room. Harry groaned. His opportunity was over.
Hurriedly, Ginny dressed herself back up, slipping the straps of the dress back on and covering it with the cloak she had been wearing. She, too, wore a disappointed look, though not as disappointed as her husband's. Once they were cleaned up, Harry took them and managed to find the courtroom again, where a now sullen-faced Scrawny Man greeted them and led them back down to the back benches. There a new wizard was waiting, and Scrawny Man quickly introduced them. "This is Mr. Weaves," he said. "He's the court officer who handles… er… business of this sort. He'll be… presenting you, Lady Potter." Both the Potters glared at him, then at the new man, who gave them only a disinterested look in return. It occurred to Harry that the man looked about as sexual as being stoned to death, and wondered if it wasn't deliberate. The man seemed to have the disinterested look of some lesser insect, and gave them little notice. Harry settled for giving the man a murderous look, before sitting down in the benches and glaring at the rest of the room.
Rows and rows of Wizengamot members shuffled in to their side benches, and eventually the court was filled, the last being the Speaker who returned at the last minute to sit at his pulpit. Banging the gavel, he spoke once again. "Order!" he cried, and this time there was no delay. The room fell silent. "Before the auction begins, officer of the court, Mr. Weaves, will display Lady Potter for potential bidders. Mr. Weaves, Lady Potter, if you please."
"Come," Mr. Weaves spoke to Harry's wife, and Ginny glared at him defiantly for a moment before letting the fight drain out of her and rising. "Your cloak?" Reluctantly, Ginny took hers off and gave it to the man, revealing her tight but modest and functional black dress. Harry hoped he was imagining things when he heard several whistles across the room. For his own peace of mind he wrote them off as phantoms, figuring he must have misheard sounds through the glass separating him from the rest of the room. Wordlessly, Mr. Weaves gestured towards the dais in the center of the room, and the young redhead followed him, trying not to look nervous.
The witch and wizard made it to the dais far too soon for Harry's liking, and he liked everything, somehow, even less when it rose up to give the entire room a better view of his wife in her — far too revealing, Harry now thought — dress. "Lady Potter," the Speaker spoke again, "is nineteen years old and has been married for almost two years. She is currently a player for the Hollyhead Harpies, a popular quidditch team. She has C-cup breasts, is one-hundred twenty pounds…" the Speaker read off, and Harry felt himself tune out as his vision turned red. All of his wife's measurements — how did the Ministry even have them? — were read out to the entire crowd, and there was no doubt this time there was a smattering of approval.
It was only then that Harry realized that some sort of spell was being employed to give the chamber a closer view of his wife, and he smelt the desk in front of him smoking as his magic sought an outlet. Reigning in his temper, Harry brought himself back to the proceedings, noticing that Ginny was studiously avoiding his eyes, but glaring defiantly at every member that dared turn a lusty gaze her way. The Speaker made some gesture, and Mr. Weaves leaned to whisper something in the redhead's ear. The reaction was instantaneous. "No bloody way!" Ginny cried. Mr. Weaves whispered to her again, but Ginny, if anything, seemed even more irate. Giving up, Mr. Weaves turned to the Speaker, who nodded his assent, and with a wave of his wand Ginny's dress was in the air and floating down over his arm, while Ginny stood suddenly nude in front of the whole chamber, covered by nothing but a pair of red panties. Instantly, Ginny swept her arms to cover herself from the gaze of the crowd, and her face turned from defiant to mortified. Around the chamber there were mutterings, ones that Harry could only guess — judging by the fact that it was old witches doing the muttering — were of disapproval at his wife's choice of undergarments. Not that it was their bloody business! Harry shot them such powerful, hate filled looks that they instantly quieted, and the Speaker, who had raised his gavel, lowered it again without sound.
"Lady Potter, please," he addressed her. "These are a necessary part of the proceedings. Uncover yourself, if you please. We are adults here."
"Go to Hell!" Ginny snarled, and Harry felt a fierce pride well up inside him.
Mr. Weaves gave the same resigned look to the Speaker, who nodded his assent once again. Again the wand waved, and this time it was Ginny's panties that floated over his arm. Not only that, but Ginny herself found her arms outstretched, giving a seductive, if entirely utilitarian, pose to the entire room, revealing her complete naked glory. Harry's fist clenched hard enough that even his pathetic nails drew blood from his palms at the reveal of things only he, her husband, had up to that point seen.
There were jeers of approval throughout the chamber that more befitted a brothel than a government function, and Harry had to restrain himself from attacking them as his wife's naked body slowly rotated on the dais. Though her eyes were wide — with shock, anger, or misery, Harry couldn't tell — her face was distantly seductive, its high cheekbones and red lips arranged for all the perverted old wizards to see. Her slender neck curved downwards to her teardrop-shaped breasts the curved perfectly into her pale body, their small, pink nipples still erect from her near-romp with Harry earlier, much to the amusement and delight of the wizards throughout the room. Her fiery red hair hung down her backside to tickle the top of her firm derrière, something that was matched, everyone could see, on her front, where her womanhood was accentuated and complimented by a triangle of short, dark, red curls. Involuntarily, as Harry looked at his wife and then the appreciative gazes being focused upon her, he felt himself stiffen in his trousers.
This time there was no mistaking the cheers and jeers throughout the court, and Harry moved to stand before seeing two aurors, who had previously remained hidden in the shadows, move towards him threateningly. Overcome with rage, Harry almost decided to fight them, before looking up at his ashamed wife and seeing the pleading in her eyes. Even though every instinct screamed against him not to, he sat back on the bench. Waiting for the room to settle instead of ordering it, the Speaker sat with a pleased look on his usually terminally bored face. "As you can say, the Lady Potter is just as beautiful as she is reputed to be. Now that you have seen all she has to offer, which of you wishes her as your concubine?"
Immediately a cry went up, but the loudest was from Theodore Nott. "Five hundred galleons!"
"Bastard!" Harry couldn't restrain himself anymore, and almost leapt to strangle the offender when Nott sent him a condescending little smirk.
"Five hundred!" the Speaker affirmed, ignoring Harry's outburst. "Do I hear six hundred?"
"Six hundred!" someone called out. The bidding continued, but Harry began to fade out, going somewhat into shock. How could this really be happening? His wife was literally being sold as a sex slave to men he had fought a war against. On and on it went, until there were only two bidders left. Harry was surprised to see they were Neville and Malfoy. His stomach dropped, and he tried to contemplate which would be worse. His longtime rival or one of his greatest friends taking his wife? Some logical portion of his brain whispered that Neville was likely trying to win as a kindness, but most of him surged with the bitter sickness of betrayal. On the dais Ginny looked more broken than ever.
"Ten thousand, two hundred galleons," Malfoy finally called out, leaving Neville looking hopeless.
"Ten thousand, two hundred galleons," the Speaker recognized. "Do I hear ten thousand, three hundred?" Neville hesitated, glancing at Harry, who could only bring himself to half-glare, half-implore at him. "Going once!" Neville's hand twitched. Malfoy smirked at him, then directed an unreadable look Harry's way. Finally his gaze turned to rake over Ginny's body again, and his face relaxed with lust. "Going twice!" Neville seemed to realize that even if he were to bid Malfoy would still outbid him, and he slumped in his chair. No, Harry thought. It was though a nightmare were unfolding in front of him. His heartbeat quickened, and his palms grew slick not only with blood but sweat. This can't happen; this can't happen, he repeated to himself. "Done!" the Speaker cried, and there was a collective sigh of relief, regret, and dismay at the word. It was done. "The Wizengamot hereby decrees that Lady Ginevra Potter's marriage bond be modified in order that she may become the concubine of Lord Draco Malfoy, effective immediately, and order Lord Malfoy to pay a sum of ten thousand, two hundred galleons to the Wizengamot no later than one month from consummating his concubine bond. Thank you, Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot. Justice has been served and the court is dismissed. Lord and Lady Potter, Mr. Weaves will advise you on your next duties. Good day." With that the Speaker vanished from the room, and, with a general muttering, the rest of the Wizengamot members followed suit, though many not before giving Ginny final, appreciative looks as she was handed back her clothes by Mr. Weaves and changed into them with an angry blush. Following this, the dais lowered and she and Mr. Weaves made their way back to Harry.
"I've never been so humiliated in my life," Ginny spat furiously. "Sold like a whore, and to Malfoy no less! Why–––" Her thought was cut off by the quiet voice of Mr. Weaves.
"Lord Potter, Lady Potter, follow me please."
"Where?" Harry demanded. "I'm damn tempted to leave this farce of a government right now."
"That would be illegal. Now, follow me, please. We're going to a ritual room to meet with Lord Malfoy, in order that you may become his concubine as the Ministry has decreed, Lady Potter." As if to reinforce this and dissuade them from running, the two aurors from before appeared at Mr. Weaves' side, and Harry, who had had his grip tightly on his wand, furiously relaxed it, tensing his jaw alternately. Ginny still looked like she wanted to murder one of the men before them, but a soft touch from Harry at her covered elbow (Ginny having thrown on as many clothes as possible since her embarrassment) stopped her from doing anything. Mr. Weaves gave them a stern nod, as if assuming their compliance, and turned to walk out the door. Reluctantly, the couple followed, the two aurors coming in the rear.
The walk through the halls were shorter than when Harry and Ginny had taken their too-short break, but seemed to stretch on infinitely longer by the stares they were all now receiving. If before the news had not spread or Harry's rage had dissuaded them, none of them knew, but whatever it had been it was not sufficient now. Some looked sympathetic, some looked smug, but by far the worst were those who looked jealous. Whatever the case, the Potters ignored them steadfastly until they came to one of the Ministry's ritual rooms. They were dismayed to find Malfoy already waiting there.
"Lord Potter," Malfoy said in a tone that bordered on mocking, giving him a slight bow. Then he turned to Ginny, eyeing her over as though he was seeing straight through her, now, baggy robes. "Lady Potter," he addressed her, attempting to take her hand to kiss it and smiling when she jerked it away. "I must say that you looked far better back in the chamber. Pity you didn't decide to keep yourself that way. Ah well." Harry, who had been restraining himself owing to the aurors, now strode forward at the remark, not entirely sure what he wished to do to his sometime-rival, but found himself held back. Malfoy turned to him with a small smile. "So, Potter, maybe I should have taken divination after all. I did tell you, didn't I?" It was then that Harry remembered where he'd heard the term 'open-concubine' before. He snarled furiously.
"I know it was you who arranged this, Malfoy! Somehow, this was you!" Harry accused. Malfoy merely held up his hands innocently, but before he could reply their talk was broken by a cough.
"If we could proceed with the ritual?" Mr. Weaves asked. Harry gave a final glare, but allowed it to subside in a manner that could only be taken as acquiescent. "Do you have everything you require, Lord Malfoy?"
"Of course," Malfoy replied happily.
"Very well. Lady Potter, if you could stand in the center there?" Ginny did so, if only reluctantly. "Lord Potter? If you would stand on your wife's left. Lord Malfoy, please stand on your prospective concubine's right." They did so, and then Mr. Weaves stood at the front, the aurors by the doors. Then he began chanting. Most of the ritual was a blur to Harry, who kept glancing at his wife's ashen face and Malfoy's expression of quiet satisfaction. He was cognizant of the fact, however, of the bizarre sensations his magic was giving him and the lights and sounds as it swirled around them, nor of the fact that, when it dissipated, he felt decidedly less manly and connected to Ginny. Finally, Mr. Weaves cleared his throat after all the chanting. "Lord Potter, please remove your wife's wedding ring from her left hand."
It was the most painful thing Harry had ever had to do, and that was coming from a man who had been tortured by Voldemort. It felt as though he were removing a piece of his soul as he raised Ginny's left hand to look at her ring. Slowly, but ineluctably, his fingers grasped around it, and it came tenderly off her ring finger. Harry looked up to see tears streaking her cheeks, and he couldn't help wanting to do so himself. It was though he was undoing his marriage to her — in actions inverse to what he had done on that happiest day of his life. In way, he thought, he was.
"If you would give the ring to Lord Malfoy," Mr. Weaves intoned. Harry's hand felt less like a hand than a claw as he extended it to Malfoy's outstretched palm, but even still the golden band dropped. "Lord Malfoy, if you would place the wedding ring on Lady Potter's right hand." Malfoy grasped Ginny's right hand far more roughly than Harry would ever have allowed to happen without a response and raised it. The Lord of the Potters merely glared at the offending limb, however. Without pretense, Malfoy slid Harry's wedding band onto Ginny's right ring finger, and there was a bright flash throughout the room. "The wedding band on the right hand signifies Lady Potter's status as an open-concubine, proclaiming to the world that she has a lord besides her husband. Lord Malfoy, if you could present the mark of concubinage?"
Almost eagerly, Malfoy produced something from his pocket, and with a closer look Harry identified it as a choker. Malfoy would brand his wife with a choker. Harry held back the tears that were now threatening to take the place of his anger, which had slowly been boiling away. The choker itself was thin, about a three-quarter inch wide and made of some black, silky material. It was diaphanous, but nevertheless it was easy to distinguish that it was crafted so as to appear made of two snakes winding around each other to come together in the front to bite a small, bronze medallion bearing the Malfoy crest.
"Very good, Lord Malfoy. Give the mark of concubinage to Lord Potter and instruct him as to its placement."
Malfoy did so, handing Harry the choker, and then whispering roughly to him "Fasten it around her neck."
"Do as Lord Malfoy has instructed, Lord Potter." With trembling hands, Harry moved behind Ginny, hating how she tensed when his hands touched her. With as gentle a touch as he could manage, as though she would vanish if he disturbed her too much, he lifted her chin and brought the medallion to her throat, lifting the fiery hair that he had always loved so much in order that he could bring the black straps of the choker around the back of her pale neck. As his fingers brushed the base of her head, Ginny closed her eyes, trying to stop the tears from escaping. Almost upon touching the two straps together, they lashed together and melded, seeming to become one as the choker shrunk to fit his wife, and the snakes writhed, throwing hints of green out in the light that Harry hadn't noticed before. There was another flash of light. "The mark of concubinage signifies Lady Potter's status as a concubine of the House of Malfoy for now and forever more, destined to serve her Lord Malfoy in addition to his wife. Finally, Lord Potter, if you would take your wife's left hand and stand before Lord Malfoy." A sick feeling in his stomach, Harry did so. "Now place her hand in Lord Malfoy's left, then bow to the new Master and Concubine, before taking your place behind them." If Harry had been set on fire at that very moment he would have been in more comfort than as he followed Mr. Weaves' instructions. All the same, Harry eventually placed Ginny's — his bloody wife's — hand in Malfoy's, bowed as he hadn't done willingly to Voldemort, and then stood behind them. "I now present to you all the new Concubine of House Malfoy, the Lady Ginevra Potter. Our business is concluded, and I wish you all a good day."
Last Edit: 2017.4.8
A/N — Reviews are appreciated. Let me know if I should continue this story much. I have at least one more chapter to go, but depending on the response I may just tie the story off there and leave it as a ~20k fic, turning my attentions to other smut I have planned (such as a Ginny/Ginny one; I'll try working on some smut without Ginny though).