A/N: There will be once more chapter to this. I'll try and have it up by the weekend. Thank you all for your kind words and patience. I'm in the middle of adopting my foster son and it's taking up a lot of my time. You only get one chance at this so I don't want to blow it.
It was a rare occasion when the Dark Lord came to visit for more than just a one-sided shag involving Bellatrix and whoever he could talk her into getting to join them. But this eve was unique; the bordello closed for business to host a party for him to celebrate the downfall of some other country's Ministry. Harry was not allowed to ask about details, but Hermione had told him that it wasn't another Ministry which collapsed, but their own. This party was a propaganda tool to relax the worries and fears of the Pure-Blood assholes who funded the dictator so Voldemort could remain in control.
Harry, himself, had little to celebrate. For one, Tom would be there but Draco most likely would not. Sitting squished between Nymphadora and Fleur on an ancient settee dressed in a bobbie suit, he nibbled at the polish painted on his fingernails. All he wanted to do was go to bed and sleep. His fever was relentless, causing sweat to pool at the small of his back. Normally, he did not feel terribly sick during these moments of ill health, but tonight he felt like he was dying.
It had been around a year since Draco had been banned from visiting the bordello, particularly visiting with Harry. But not by Bellatrix, and not by the Dark Lord. A whole year. And even the gifts and love letters he had his aunt sneak inside to him stopped coming after Christmas. It felt like an eternity, that if he could never see him again he would rather die. Tears welled up in his eyes whenever it popped back up in his mind.
Draco's face was beginning to blur, just like everyone else's had once they were removed from his life. Soon, his beautiful visage would be too muddled to remember.
And it didn't help that Tom boasted non-stop about what a terrible person Draco was, told him how Draco told all of the Death Eaters that he really never loved Harry, and how glad he was that he would never have to see him again. There were times when Tom would swoop in and leave handfuls of satiny white hair draped over Harry's pillow to wake up to. Once, he left a tooth, another time an eyeball. He left a dead eagle owl hanging over his bathtub once, and a cauldron full of severed fingers floating in thick blood, too. But Harry could see just by looking at them that they were not Draco's; not long and elegant, they were Crouch's knobby fingers.
Tom did his very best to understand what love was, but he would never know how it felt to actually experience it. And when that didn't work, Tom used what he had going for him to keep Harry frightened and subservient. Besides all the horrible 'gifts' he gave Harry, he plagued his dreams every night, turning all of them involving Draco into terrifying nightmares.
Harry was losing his grip on sanity, and only the Amortentia Tom drugged him up with allowed him to tolerate him or kept him from offing himself.
He looked up, hearing his name whispered. Nymphadora elbowed him while gesturing for him to address the person calling him. He looked across the room and smiled at his new 'wife', Ginny. Heavily pregnant, the colourless girl put a hand on her back and winced. "I'm in labour, Harry."
Angelina, newly married off to Draco, and Hermione, soon to be shipped off to Snape, comforted her during her trauma.
"Holy smokes!" Harry tried to stand but someone pushed him back down.
"She's fine. Ignore her like the rest of us do."
Harry, Fleur and Nymphadora looked up at their mistress with smiles, the thing she insisted upon them wearing at all times during the party. The statuesque dame bent down, clapping the two females cheeks before huffing while she wiped Harry's tears away. "No more crying, that's an order. Our master will be arriving soon and if he sees you crying it'll put him off. And we don't want to put him off," she warned the boy as she cupped his chin to force him to look at her.
"I'm sorry, Mistress Bella."
Bellatrix adjusted the bows in their hair and stood back to look over her three prized courtesans. She would miss them terribly. "Keep those smiles up, stay pretty." She turned and snapped her fingers several times to get Hermione's attention. "Get her out of here."
Hermione helped the girl stand. "Yes, Mistress Bella."
The room was decked out in spectacular colour, enlarged enough to house all of the whores as well as Death Eaters and Pure-Blood patrons who would be attending the event. Everyone who was anyone had been invited to be there, to rub elbows with the most powerful and isolated man in the world, to let him reassure them that all was well. He would also be overseeing the auction of the slaves residing inside the bordello, unbeknownst to them. He, alone, would be dictating which slave went to whom, and if they were pure or half-blooded, their prearranged marriages would remain intact.
Guests began to emerge through the fireplace, one right after the other, until the banquet-sized room was filled to the brim with their Lord's most devoted. Harry was utterly shocked at the amount of women that were attending, having not seen one since his capture that did not work inside the bordello. Tonight was bigger than Harry had anticipated, this party was more than a thank-you to the patrons who paid good money to sleep with the slaves inside. Something big was happening, he could feel it.
There was a line drawn around the settee, it being a magical barrier that disallowed anyone who was not permitted to from approaching the trio. Not that it stopped anyone from trying. And it was amusing watching their eyebrows get singed off when they did. Harry and Nymphadora cackled, watching Crabbe Sr move in toward the two with grabby hands clawed, until he hit the barrier and fell back on his over-sized behind.
Harry watched Snape scoop Hermione up and carry her to the dancefloor. He waved at Nymphadora when Antonin Dolohov asked for a dance, and took her hand in his to whisk her away. Within minutes, Sirius was nodding at Harry while he swept Fleur up into his arms and danced her away. Now alone, he slumped into the settee and let the fake smile he was giving drift downward.
"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes."
There was someone standing over Harry, brushing his cheek with the back of his hand. The fever lifted the moment he looked up into the most beautiful grey eyes he had ever seen before, and his once forced smile grew genuine. His angel was standing before him, dressed in a handsome dinner suit with top hat and tails. Pure happiness filled in the hollow sadness that had gutted him over the last year. Draco Malfoy had at last returned.
Harry placed his hand inside Draco's and let him help him stand. "Hi," he whispered, as Draco pulled him into his embrace and hugged him. "Oh my gosh, I missed you so much."
"I missed you too, love," Draco whispered back.
"I thought you weren't allowed to come back."
"Things change, Harry," Draco said, as he retook Harry's hand to lead him to the dancefloor.
Lord Voldemort, wearing forest-green ceremonial dress robes and accompanied by his companion snake, parted the crowd to reach the podium set up for him to address his subordinates. Everyone stopped what they were doing to grant him their undivided attention.
Draco draped his arms around Harry's shoulders and grazed his cheek with his lips, uncaring who saw him smothering the courtesan with as much affection he could muster. His eyes roamed over the crowd in search of Tom, knowing he was somewhere in the room with him. He had been warned not to come, not to touch his catamite, to not even think about him. His wand was hidden up his sleeve, he was more than ready to defend himself.
Within one year, Draco had become a favoured Death Eater of the Dark Lord's. He was an amazing speaker, and worked out ways to sway unbelievers by avoiding the use of force, and certainly avoiding murder. He was a lover, he put his mind to work for the Dark Lord, to use persuasion and trade to get what they wanted, rather than violence. He had been granted access to things and places an average wizard was not, and he used it all to his advantage. And in doing so sparked the master of wizarding Britain's interest in him more and more as each day passed.
As Voldemort spoke, announcing his impending marriage to Bellatrix Lestrange and patting himself on the back for pairing off myriads of couples for procreation, Harry began to relax up against Draco's body despite eyeing the wedding ring glinting in the candlelight on his finger. He looked over his shoulder, catching his eye, and he smiled. "Will I ever see you again after this is over?"
"You might," Draco replied. He smirked as he hugged up against Harry's back, and placed a kiss on his cheek. "Maybe sooner than you think."
Tom was now standing at the podium beside the Dark Lord, scowling at them both. His left hand was suspended in the air by his shoulder, flicking tiny balls of Fiendfyre at the ceiling while Voldemort explained how Riddle House had not been destroyed by the rebels as rumour had it, but by an act of God. Harry rubbed his scar, cringing at the pain his master's younger self was inflicting upon him.
Voldemort pulled Tom in to his side and extinguished the Fiendfyre torching the roof with a flick of his wand. "Not now, Tom, the bordello needs to stay standing until we leave." He grinned at the crowd. "What a sweet boy he is, my youthful Tom. So full of energy, a spitfire of my younger self. Isn't that right, my lovely followers?" He gestured to the crowd, encouraging them to applaud. And they did.
Tom glared at the crowd for a moment before centring back on Harry. He was doing his utmost to intimidate him with the threat of violence he promised screaming at him inside his head. And, likewise, the crowd did their best to pretend they were enamoured with the boy, if only to avoid the Dark Lord's wrath.
The speech ended, and Draco and Harry watched Tom prod the Dark Lord while he pointed at them, spewing a slew of curse words in their direction while demanding Voldemort do something about this blasphemy.
Draco stood unmoving, and kept Harry from running off to hide from them as they approached.
Harry, in return, reached behind him and clasped his hand together with Draco's, knowing they were about to be separated the moment the two evil wizards reached them. "No matter what happens - I will always love you, Draco Malfoy."
But instead of declaring his of undying love in return, Draco yanked his hand out of Harry's and thrust it forward to shake his master's. "Good evening, my Lord."
And Voldemort eagerly shook it. "Good evening, Mr Malfoy. I trust you're satisfied with what we spoke about during our last meeting?" He glanced at Harry as they conversed.
Draco glanced at Tom, letting his eyes roam down from his spit-shined boots up to his heated pink face. He smirked and drew his arm tighter around Harry, whispering words of comfort in his ear, before turning back to face the Dark Lord. "Very, sir. Thank you."
Tom began to breathe heavily through his nostrils, and his lips twitched open, revealing his gritted teeth. "Aren't you a cookie." He made a fist, squeezing it as hard as he could.
Harry flinched with an eruption of agonising pain - but it stopped just as soon as it started.
Voldemort kept his maddened smile on Draco but dropped a skeletal hand on Harry's shoulder, giving it a single reassuring pat. "Everything should be in place by the end of the week. I'll deliver the goods to your home personally, as per our agreement."
"What are you talking about-" Tom growled, taking an abrupt step toward his catamite. He lashed out, grabbing him by the lacy collar. " ~Look at me, slut! You tell our master what we spoke about! Tell Voldemort you want to stay with me!~"
Harry's head swayed vigorously side by side. "~I don't want to stay with you—you made me say that! I don't love you, and I never will!~" He had no idea what the Dark Lord or Draco were discussing, but no longer would he do Tom's bidding. He had stopped obeying his orders months back, directly after he was forced to impregnate Ginny .
Draco pulled his lover's snagged clothing back from Tom's desperate grasp. "Step away, Riddle." Both he and the wicked memory were glaring at the other, teeth bared, fists clenched around their wands. "I'm giving you this one warning."
Infuriated, Tom centred his hatred back on his catamite. " ~You can run but you can't hide! I'll teach you a lesson after this party you'll never forget, you useless tart!~"
Harry scowled at him, unable to hide his loathe for him any longer. "~Do your worst-I don't care!~"
"Enough." Voldemort separated them as he stepped back. His spidery fingers closed around Tom's forearm while he smiled at the crowd of people watching the growing fight. "Time to mingle, me thinks. Enjoy your evening, Mr Malfoy…Potter. Come along, Tom."
The fever had returned. It felt like this unknown illness was slowly killing Harry. That, along the punishment he'd received after the party that Tom had promised him. Now, lying on his ornate bed, he weathered out the storm of agony he had been graced with. It had been three days since he saw Malfoy. Three of the longest days of his life. It was all he could think about while he waited for Tom's return. Thank Merlin he had been called away, but he would be back soon, and the punishment would commence.
Watching his house-mates being auctioned off had taken a great toll on his will to live. Hermione was sold off to Severus Snape. He figured that would happen. And Fleur; he knew Sirius Black would snatch her up. What he did not expect was that Snape also purchased Ginny, despite her giving birth to Harry's first child in the dining area of the bordello at that same moment. And Black also purchased Nymphadora, stealing her away from Dolohov. Thusly, he and Snape had taken his four closest friends away. Angelina, Hannah and Justin went off to other suitors whom Harry did not recognise, all paying good money for them. The other whores Harry did not associate with were not slaves, and would remain where they were, he assumed.
But no one had paid for Harry. Not Draco, nor Tom. He wasn't even put up for auction, but he did not know why.
A crackle of magic pounded into Harry's ears. Curled up on his bed to endure the pain wracking his body, he lay unmoving trying to ride it out. He opened an eye, having not heard such sounds since the last time someone apparated inside his room.
"~Evening, Potter.~"
Harry sat straight up, hopped off the bed to drop down in front of the Dark Lord. He bowed low before him, and placed a kiss on his feet. "~Good evening, Lord Voldemort.~" It wasn't like he wanted to do any of these worshipping actions, the anklet 'encouraged' him to whenever he was summoned.
" ~Stand,~ " he said, and gestured for Harry to cease prostrating himself.
He gripped the boy's chin to look him over, seeing that his trophy had come close to dying again, evidenced by the bruising around his throat. The boy looked like death warmed over, and his skin was hot to the touch. Fortunately, Tom could never harm Harry enough to kill him. Still, he had made a deal to keep Potter safe and happy, and judging by the sadness Harry could not hide, nor the extensive damage done to his face, the boy would indeed need to be re-homed in order to keep Sirius Black from telling the world all of their little secrets. "~Fortunate it is that your Godfather cannot see this damage.~ "
Harry stood there, straight-backed and unmoving, hands limp at his sides, wide-eyed and emotionless while his master examined him; just the way the Dark Lord wanted children to behave around him when they were blessed enough to bask in his presence.
Voldemort looked tense, until he peeked up at the enormous portrait of Nagini and himself hanging on the wall behind the boy and relaxed, he even smiled. He was quite fond of his own appearance. "~This room always impresses me.~"
Fighting the urge to chat up his portrait, the Dark Lord reminded himself of the time. He had sent Tom off on an errand so he could collect the package he came for and deliver it to the Death Eater who earned it. "~So, err…~" Always awkward when Harry and he were alone together, he stammered to come up with what to say to get the boy to cooperate without using an Unforgivable. He glanced around the room for a moment."~Although the initial plan was to keep you here forever, under Bellatrix's watchful eye, that does not seem possible any more. I had pondered on this situation for some time now. Tom, as you know, can be very persuasive. He begged me to fix you, let him marry you. Unfortunately, he's sterile, hence your marriage to the albino Weasley."
I was hesitant, I admit, despite all the effort and resources the young man I'm to deliver you to produced to secure you. Severus has put a good word in for Malfoy. He believes the young man will follow my orders regarding you without any foreseeable problems. Personally, I am growing quite fond of him myself.~"
He paused for a moment, making himself consider Harry's feelings. It was something he had been learning how to do recently, as his natural cold indifference to his followers was not really working in his favour any more. "~Is there anything you want to take with you before we go? Sentimental items, or something you can't live without? If so, chop-chop. I have things to do. As you know, wee Potter, I am a very busy man. ~"
"Sir?" Harry asked him, confused.
Voldemort bent his wand in frustration, ceasing his use of Parseltongue. He bent down a bit to meet him in the eye. His lip curled up on one side. "You won't be coming back here…I am not your personal taxi, Potter."
"Personal? Am I leaving?" Harry dared to ask.
With a huff, the Dark Lord thrust out a taloned hand. "Come now, child. I want you gone before he gets back," he snapped. It did not matter that Harry was nearly fully grown, he thought he might always look upon him as a young child. He flicked his fingers upward in an impatient rapid succession, sneering, beckoning the boy for his hand. "Forget packing - I'll have a stipend set up with the Malfoys for your expenses. I don't have the patience for children - ~Your hand, boy!~"
Despite the searing pain resonating through his head, Harry dropped his hand into the Dark Lord's and allowed him to slither up against him for Side-Along Apparition. His heart began to thump harder, hearing the name 'Malfoy' being spoken. After so many years of captivity, he hardly had the wherewithal to comprehend what his captor was conveying, but he hoped and prayed it meant something good. He heaved in a deep breath, shaking with nervous excitement, despite being hugged by Voldemort, as the man prepared to deliver him to his new home.
Tom Chortled as he tiptoed around the large bedroom chamber in search of his catamite, thinking maybe he might be hiding. He could not sense him inside his head, which was odd. "Are you hiding from me, dear? Did someone hurt you? Come out, my precious Ganymede. Please, don't hide from me, my love…"
Slowly, the idea that Harry was hiding from him began to drift away. And there was no way in hell Harry could have walked out of the bordello on his own: the charm bracelet around his ankle was not easily removable and it prevented the boy from any sort of free thinking. Harry would have dropped like a stone if he attempted to flee - or even just thought about it. No, if he was no longer inside the bordello, someone removed him from it.
Bellatrix stood in the doorway shaking like a leaf. "Tom, he has to be here," she whispered. "No one has come to visit him."
"What about that Malfoy character?" he hissed, scowling.
"No, I have not seen him since the party where he and Harry…" Bellatrix closed her mouth, unable to finish.
"How could you not know he was missing, woman?" Tom spit back in response. He had no idea why his older self was smitten with her, betrothed to her. She was a brown-nosing whore to him, an imbecile who could barely keep the brothel in check on her own.
There was always hushed murmuring and rushing around to make it look like things were in order whenever he arrived unannounced to visit with Harry. He had mentioned this fact to Voldemort countless times, only to be told to leave it be, that Bellatrix was a fine guardian, and to shut up and keep his nose out of it. He gripped his wand in a threatening manner as he approached her, but stopped just short of penetrating her personal space. "When was the last time you saw him, you fucking nasty slut?"
"He was here this morning, resting," she gushed. "He didn't want company, sent me off."
"He was still feverish," Tom said darkly, as he moved over to gaze upon himself in the full length mirror standing by the bed. The magical torture his master had given him some years back for being too rough with his catamite had severely crippled him, sterilised him. The illusion of perfection began to fade. He watched his skin grow pale as the thought of losing Harry set in. "I do recall him saying something about not feeling well the other day." He looked at Bellatrix, frowning. "Did you ever get a medi-witch in here and make him better?"
"He's been ill for months, Mr Riddle, maybe a year now. Severus Snape has been treating him for this. He came to deliver a potion to him just before you arrived but he could not find him. I assumed he was off in the bath, or I thought maybe you had taken him somewhere, as you have done before in the past. I had no idea he went missing…"
The tall woman dropped to her knees, so disgusted with herself for failing her master and letting Tom down again. She swiped at the tears building up in her lashes. "You simply must inform our master of his disappearance this instant, Tom."
" ~Ridiculous woman!~ " Tom hissed. He thrust his wand out, setting the bed and decor all over the room on fire in odium. "~YOU USELESS BITCH!~" he screamed at her in Parseltongue as he stomped across the room and aggressively hovered over her cowering form.
His head was splitting from pain while his body shook with anger. His pale skin was stark white, and his forehead was purling sweat. "You find my boy right now or I go out there and snuff Rosmerta." He grabbed up a handful of shiny black hair to be certain the mistress was looking at him. "She's your prize whore, right? I will tear her apart piece by piece! Do you understand me?" He held her in place for a moment, pondering why Voldemort favoured her. "I have no idea why he fancies you. You make me want to retch."
Bellatrix backed away the instant he released her, still cowering as she fled the room. Lord Voldemort was one thing; a powerful, frightening god who she worshipped and feared like no other, but Tom…Tom was an evil entity all on his own.
Unable to use the title his older self acquired, he was considered a lesser being to Voldemort, a damaged creature who lurked in place of his master. He was the Dark Lord's brawn, less-than-whole from the aftermath from leeching out a soul to use as his own from Ginny Weasley. He did all the dirty work mere Death Eaters could not do, he made wizards pay for their errors in blood. He was given Harry Potter as a gift but only as long as he keep him hidden away from sunlight, ignorant of facts, completely helpless and dependant on him, and most of all - safe and happy, so that he never desired the escape to fix this broken world.
"THE ONLY REASON YOU ARE NOT DEAD RIGHT NOW IS BECAUSE I'M WAITING ON MY MASTER'S GO AHEAD TO BURN THIS WRETCHED PLACE TO THE GROUND!"
The hallway leading to Harry's chambers imploded, littering the floor with concrete. Two guards ran into it and stopped, lowering themselves to the Dark Lord's young self as they backed away with apologies. "Yeah, you better fuckin' run, pathetic, useless guards," he grumbled, with saliva leaking from his bottom lip. "GUARDING WHAT!?" He swiped it away with the back of his hand before touching the brand on his forearm to alert his older self of Harry Potter's missing status.
"…and I apologise for the state of the boy's undress, and, of course, the uhh…the ugly marks left on his face. As you may know, Tom has a problem with impulse control. And I don't know how to…I don't heal anything. That is not my speciality. Surely you understand."
"Of course, my Lord."
"Right, well, I'll have Delores set up a stipend for him so you can get him things…what he will need; clothing, toiletries, err eating and such…stuff boys need, you know."
"I have a grasp on that subject of what boys need, my Lord. He'll be in good hands."
Voldemort gave the woman of the manor a nod of approval. "I have no doubts about that, you've raised a lovely young man. He'll be going places, for certain. Now, I must take my leave."
He shifted a bit to face the man of the manor, giving the elder Malfoy a tip to the head. "Remember what I said, Lucius; the boy's jewellery can not be removed, and do not alter his brand. Alter the wards for Apparition access to and from these grounds only be used by yourselves and me. Potter learns nothing about what's going on outside nor does he leave this place for any reason. Tell no one he is here and, most important, do not allow Tom inside this manor unless he accompanies me. Also, Harry will need to be paired up with his partner at least once a year for breeding purposes. These guidelines are non-negotiable, as per your son's and my agreement."
"Yes, of course, my Lord."
The Dark Lord turned one more time, centring his gaze upon the only living creature on Earth that still frightened him. He spoke not to Harry, but to the young master of the manor who was standing behind him. "Remember, Harry will be subject to removal if any of these rules are broken…or at my discretion. I may have reason to 'borrow' him from time to time. And heed my warnings about Tom. He is wilful…not right in the head."
Draco gave the man a nod. "Yes, my Lord."
"If he attempts to enter, alert my guard with this." Voldemort tossed the young Death Eater a coin, flipping it into the air. Draco reached up and snatched it. It was a replica of a Golden Galleon, the colour a shade off from a real one.
A crackle of strong magic pulsed through the large sitting room everyone was standing in. The Dark Lord was gone, and Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy turned to look upon their new tenant.
Harry had never laid eyes on Draco's mother before, but he remembered his father all too well. Not akin to hiding his emotions any more, or able to throw up a brave facade, he began to crumble.
Everything felt so different. The room they were standing in was so cold and spotless, making him feel sorely out of place. It was practically empty, adorned in cool shades of blue that chilled Harry's blood. The two adults staring him down looked as if they were waiting for the right moment to drop the niceties and murder him. And even with Draco draped around him like a human shield, he shivered from the dower negativity assaulting him from all around. He got up on his toes and whispered into Draco's ear.
"It's okay, love," Draco replied, while eyeing his mother and father.
Narcissa found herself staring at Potter with her mouth hung open. The young man was trembling in her son's arms as if he were his father, so frightened of everything around him. She nudged her husband's arm, drawing his attention away from their new guest. "This is the boy the Dark Lord couldn't kill?"
Lucius shifted his weight around through a mixture of agitation and guilt. "Don't start with me already, he just got here."
Harry looked about as ferocious and scary as a newborn puppy suckling at a teat. The boy couldn't even look either of them in the eye let alone take over the world. He was clad only in a short silk dressing gown that left little to the imagination, and a pair of delicate slippers in periwinkle blue. He was as pretty and delicate a thing she had ever laid eyes on, and his trembling helplessness only served to capture her heart. She elbowed her husband's side again before addressing her son. "Draco, why don't you show Mr Potter to his chambers. We'll get to know each other better once he feels up for it."
"Go on, Draco," Lucius layered on, emphasising his irritation with having to house this sworn enemy. Neither Draco, or even Narcissa, knew there was far more to this arrangement than rewarding their son for becoming a Death Eater.
Narcissa watched her child escort the boy away. Harry looked pale, confused. He was nibbling on his French-manicured fingernails while Draco hugged him to his body and led him out of the room.
"Well," she said, snorting, "at least our boy has a good eye for discovering and acquiring dark objects, just like his daddy."
Lucius exhaled a heated breath before smirking back at his wife. "Oh, do shut up, Cissy."
"All of this is yours."
"How?"
"What do you mean 'how'? It's yours. Everything inside this room belongs to you now."
"I don't have any things here. All of my possessions are back at the White Wyvern. I don't recognise any of this stuff."
Draco eased Harry down into a chair, one resting beside his bed inside his chambers. "Stop worrying like that."
For the time being, the older adults occupying Malfoy Manor did not know what sort of relationship he and Harry had going on together, at least he didn't think they knew how close they had become. All the same, he didn't want to stir up anything that might damage Harry's already paper-thin self esteem yet. He looked so frail and damaged. Everything was touch-and-go from this point on.
Kneeling in front of him, he took Harry's hand within his. "From now on I'm taking care of you. No one can hurt you anymore." He gestured to the setting. "I had everything delivered here especially for you. I'm sure my mum won't let us sleep together…yet, and I want you to feel comfortable here, love."
Harry glanced around the large bedroom a bit more carefully the second time around. The bed was dressed in dark cottons. There were no bows, no satin, no tulle. He tensed up through a giggle and squeezed Draco's hand as it became clear; he lived here now. "This is my room?"
"This is your room."
"And the door will stay there once you leave?"
"Yes, doll, the door will be there at all times."
"And I won't be having company?"
"Never again."
"You promise?" Harry bent forward in his chair, looking into Draco's irises for the truth. "Not even Tom?"
Draco's lip twitched. He clenched his teeth at the sight of his beloved Harry's battered face. "Especially not Tom."
Harry wanted to be happier, but it was hard to feel good about being rescued and lavished with wealth. This was definitely not how he thought his life would turn out, even after he found out he was a wizard. Now, he was a wizard with no power, trapped forever inside another dollhouse. At least he would be spending his sentence with Draco. He took his hand back to wrap it around his lover's neck.
"Thank you, Draco. I don't know what else to say."
"Just tell me how amazing I am, and then kiss me," he replied, mugging for the other young man.
The cold air chilling Harry's bones began to heat up. He wrapped his limbs around his lover as Draco stood up to carry him to bed.
"Tell me again," Harry whispered, as Draco draped him over his forearm to kiss him once they'd settled into the bedding. "I wanna hear you say it again. It's been forever."
Draco's lips grazed with Harry's. He was so close, feeling the fire between them warm his cheeks. "Tell you what?"
"What you told me before Tom took you away from me," Harry replied, before nibbling on his bottom lip, so frightened he might not say it. "Tell me you love me again."
"I love you," Draco avowed without a hint of hesitation. He slipped the dressing gown off of Harry's shoulder and kissed it. He leaned in closer to brush his lips along the line of his neck. "I will always love you."
"It's so good to see you again." A tear leaked from the corner of Harry's eye.
Draco swept it up with his tongue. "Why are you crying? You're here now. You're with me."
It was true, as strange as it was. Harry wasn't going to be serving Death Eaters anymore. He was safe now, underneath his lover, the two things he had wished for every night since Tom found out about him. "I'm just so happy.
Draco kissed him in his arms. Everything grew quiet, sans the rustling of sheets and stripping down. Harry kept his eyes open. He could not help but feel the need to be certain they were still alone, still inside these chambers, and not back at the bordello. He'd only been removed from it twice before. Once, when Tom had taken Harry to a raid, so he could watch the last of the Order of the Phoenix die by his hand. The other time, it was Voldemort who borrowed him, needing some odd-looking diplomats to see that he indeed had the living trophy he had bragged about capturing. Neither time was anything near pleasant, both were terrifying.
Late in the night, hearing guttural whimpering resounding through the halls, Narcissa bolted upright in her bed. Her heart was racing, having never woken up to such a sound before. She glanced down at her husband, who hadn't heard a thing. Frustrated, she threw her bedding off and stood up, intent on finding out why their new guest was crying.
She crept into Harry's chambers, certain she'd find her son lurking inside or screwing the boy senseless; but Draco was not there. Surprised he had obeyed her request to wait until everyone was a bit more comfortable with one another before they commenced their affair, Narcissa's trek to the large four-poster bed on the other side of the room lightened up.
She peeled back the curtain obscuring her view and found Harry all curled up in a ball, seemingly in the throes of a nightmare. She reached out, touching his shoulder to stir him. "Harry, Harry wake up."
Harry's eyes opened. "Do I have company, Mistress Bella?" he asked her before his vision or mind adjusted to the darkness.
It hit the woman for the first time since reluctantly agreeing on taking this boy in, what the words meant that he was saying. She knew her sister was running a bordello, but it hadn't occurred to her the slaves she was housing were the whores that worked there. She pulled her hand back with a sigh. "No, dear, you're not there anymore, and you don't do that anymore. You're here now at Malfoy Manor."
"I see." Harry sat up in bed and put his glasses on so he could look around in the darkness. He had yet to focus on this other woman, this lady who reminded him so much of his mistress. "You look like her, sound like her. Um, is there a powder room I can use, Mistress Malfoy?"
"Err…I'm not a mistress. Just call me Narcissa," she replied, cringing. She stepped back and pointed to a door across the room. "It's in there."
The sheet Harry was wrapped up in pooled on the floor as he stood up to cross the room. Narcissa gasped behind her hand, seeing him saunter away naked as a jaybird without a hint of shame. A massive tattoo covered most of his lower backside, a snake winding its body through the holes of a skull. She grabbed his dressing gown that had been draped over the bedstead, and rushed up behind him to cover his shoulders.
"Here." She felt him tense his body as she touched him. "We don't typically walk around in the nude here, honey."
Harry looked back at her as he pulled the material over his shoulders and tied the sash. "I'm so sorry, Narcissa, I didn't mean to offend you. I didn't know…"
He looked like he was about to burst into tears. The poor kid was so innocent, so naive about how to act like a normal human being around people who weren't paying to have sex with him. "That's fine, Harry." She placed a hand on his shoulder and nudged him toward the lavatory. "I'll help you with any of those things they haven't taught you in the uh…in that place."
"The White Wyvern," Harry told her through a giggle. He thought it was the most famous place in the world and found it amusing she didn't know its name.
"The White Wyvern, yes," Narcissa replied. She opened the door for the boy and flipped on the lights, illuminating the room. Harry stepped inside and bent over the basin to look at his face in the mirror hanging on the wall. The woman could see that his forehead had been bleeding quite clearly now, which was probably the reason for his rousing cries. "Are you all right?"
"It's Tom," Harry replied as he rubbed water on his face to clean up. "He's been demanding to know where I am, but I promised Lord Voldemort I would never tell, and I won't. I'll never tell."
Narcissa blinked. She was shocked at Harry's lack of fear of speaking their master's name, saying it with such confidence that it slipped from his tongue without stammering about, as everyone else always did. There was no way in hell she would be able to fall back asleep now, having so many of her questions about this boy being met with more questions.
"Hey," she said through a yawn, looking away from the loo as Harry scanned over his body in the mirror before using the toilet. "I'm not tired any more, and I'd love to get to know you better…do you like cocoa?"
Harry, who was washing up at the basin, stopping to look at her. "I love cocoa."
"Wonderful. Dobby! " she shouted. "Dobby, I need two cocoas delivered to Potter's chambers."
"Ohmygosh, I know Dobby!" Harry cried, rushing to the doorway and past Narcissa, to await for the House Elf's arrival. He glanced back at the blond with a childish grin. "I haven't seen him in years."
"He's probably asleep," she replied, but paused. "Wait, how do you know our House Elf?"
"He came to visit me at the Dursley's," Harry replied. His eyes flitted upward. "He knew this would happen, Mrs Malfoy, way back in my second year. He gave me fair warning about Tom Riddle...and your husband. I should have listened to him, but this stupid Gryffindor bravery always got in the way. It gets you so little, you know? I wasn't clever enough to understand until it was too late…until after the basilisk poisoned me and Tom Riddle became human." He shivered through a chill, as the faded memories of that fateful evening crept back into the forefront of his mind.
A sense of horror began to spread evenly throughout Narcissa's petite frame. The words the boy was speaking finally made all the sense in the world. She had feared her husband had something to do with the chain of events that brought about the rise of Lord Voldemort, and maybe she was happy and proud of him for that reason at the time. But now… "What do you mean - he warned you about my husband?"
Dobby appeared inside the chamber and set a tray on the small table beside the bed.
"Hello, Dobby, it's good to see you again," Harry said, and watched the elf slow-turn to look at him, and then gaze up at his mistress in fear.
"That's all, Dobby, you may go," Narcissa said, shooing him away. She forced herself to smile, took Harry by the hand and led him to the table. She needed answers. She felt as blind and naive as the boy looked about the events that led up to this point. "Sit, honey." She took a seat opposite Harry and relaxed into it. She lifted her cup with and extended pinky, taking a sip of her cocoa. "Now, let's get to know one another. I want to hear everything. Start with meeting Dobby."
Everything they spoke of went well until Harry got to the part of the story about the bordello, then everything went straight to hell. Scant memories of his arrival seemed to torture his as badly as Tom had to his mind. He was thirteen years old, plucked fresh out of Riddle House after a long interrogation, to be encased in a room with no door. Every bone in his body had been shattered into dust, only to be reformed to enhance his beauty, as they did to any slave who served their masters with sex.
"Thirteen? Are you sure?" Narcissa emptied her wineglass, as cocoa was not helping her hear about all the horrible things her sister had done, or that her husband was the one who started this whole ordeal. "When did you have to…you know. Surely not at thirteen."
"I began training when I healed up. It took a few months, but when I was able to do so Mistress Bella taught me what to do," Harry told her.
"And what was that," the woman heard herself say as she poured another glass of wine for herself and one for Harry. "Drink up, keep talking."
"Sex," Harry said, shrugging. "She taught me everything she knew about how to pleasure men, because women don't typically visit whorehouses. Not saying I haven't-I have slept with a girl before, I just don't remember it well. Tom was giving me a lot of grief during it, and Lord Voldemort said I had to finish up so he could go home, so I did it really fast and got the hell out of there. I'm not sure how to please a woman properly, but I assume it can't be too much different."
Narcissa blinked a few times before remembering to breathe. "When did you have to start…um, pleasuring men?"
Harry tipped his head to think for a moment. "I think my first time was during Christmas. Yeah, with Mr Mulciber."
The woman's facial expression grew dimmer and dimmer after each question was answered. "He's a Death Eater."
Harry shrugged. "Yes, a Death Eater; my typical clientele. I haven't slept with more than ten of them, or so. Most Death Eaters are straight. Loads of them sleep with the girls, though. Not all of them, mind you. I've never seen your husband there."
The woman uncharacteristically snorted. "Well that's a plus."
"Although he did pay for your son to visit with me, that I'm sure of. Mistress Bella told me. He dumped loads of money into the bordello so Draco could sleep with me." Harry blushed, having spoken about he and her son's affair to her.
Narcissa pinched herself to stop her screaming before it happened. "Is that so?"
Harry gave her a nod. "Yes, that's so. The last time we slept together in the bordello he paid thousands of Galleons for Draco to reserve my birthday, so that even Tom couldn't have me that weekend…even if he actually did. Thousands. Mistress Bella nearly pissed herself."
"Oh, wow, nearly pissed herself, you say?" Narcissa chided, while forcing herself to smile. "And Draco…my sweet little Draco; he's been hitting up the bordello a lot, yeah?"
"Oh, no," Harry corrected her. "That was within the last year, way after I started doing that."
Narcissa began to feel ill. "And, you were only thirteen when you started doing that."
Harry shrugged. "Yes, mistress, err…missus, I've been a courtesan since I was thirteen. And Tom's catamite."
"Catamite? What the hell is a catamite?" she asked him, almost not wanting the answer. "Do I want to know?"
"I was his kept boy, to use for his pleasure. I made him happy, which is what Lord Voldemort tasked me with when I was placed in servitude. Tom is somewhat unstable, impulsive, you see. He hurts people for fun, hurts and kills em without restriction. My job was to keep him relaxed and comfortable, so he didn't get too psycho on everyone," Harry explained. "That was my main job, being a courtesan for Mistress Bella was payment in exchange for her housing and taking care of me while he was away."
"Oh Merlin, okay, that's enough for tonight." Narcissa pushed the carafe away, having had enough wine and talk about what monsters the people her husband worked for were. Harry was crying, hiding it well, but she could see him sneak in great breaths in her peripheral vision whenever she looked away. She stood up and held out her hand. "Yes, well, bed now."
"Bed?" He took it and stood up, waiting on her to lead him off to bed. His large doe-eyes stayed on her, his lips parted in question. "You don't mean…Dr-Draco said I didn't have to do that anymore."
"Yes, Harry, you have to do that. How silly," the woman said, imagining he was speaking about sleeping.
"I told you before, missus, I don't know about women…" Harry fretted as Narcissa drew him closer to the bed.
"WHat does that matter? Women are not all that different than men. Besides, I thought you lived in a house full of them." She turned down the covers with one hand, refusing to release Harry's wrist caught in her other. "Should have picked something up during your stay."
It gave Harry a jolt. He reeled back as she pushed him onto the mattress. "I'm sorry, I can't do this! I can't sleep with you-I don't know what I'm-"
"Oh, no!" the woman replied, blushing. She could see the terse confusion further clouding the boy's already-maddened way of thinking far more than he could tolerate. "No, no, no, Harry, that's not what I meant."
He was taller than her, with an air of nobility shining from him that one could not acquire through training, but all the same he appeared so small to her, so naive in the ways of normal life. Perhaps losing ones parents at such a young age, growing up with relatives who did not love you, and then being forced to perform unspeakable acts on adults had some how stunted his mental ageing process.
She refused to let him go despite how hard he tried to pull away. "You don't have to do that any more. Don't start crying again, don't feel bad about that. You did not insult me," she said, soothing his worry as she sat him down and tucked him in under the covers. "I just want you to go to sleep."
"I am so sorry, Mistress Bella…I mean Narcissa. Please don't take it the wrong way, I'm just confused. He does things to my mind; muddles things up." Harry buried himself under his duvet and rolled onto his side, away from her. "Good night."
"Yeah," Narcissa said, thinking about allowing Draco to stay in the same room with Harry at night. Living with this new tenant was not going to be easy, that was for sure. "Sleep well."
December 1999
It probably took Narcissa a hundred times to curb her son's new companion's extrinsic behaviours before she was satisfied that Harry would not stroll past the sitting room half-naked while she was entertaining guests. Nor would he be asking her if he needed to service them anymore. Not that he had actually done either of these deeds, but she could not risk that happening, and she could not put it past him.
Since becoming a teen, Harry had been groomed for a specific kind of servitude; to be a nymph-like delicate flower so easily bruised or crushed, and use that talent to give pleasure to the patrons of the bordello, giving them all the sense of power their master wanted them to feel that they had. It seemed like she had been tasked to be guardian to a semi-feral child, if said child were raised by whores rather than by wolves.
She was not allowed to cut his hair or let him dress in anything less than aristocratic. He was to remain lithe, pretty and delicate, pampered like a child and kept innocent. Or as she called it; ignorant, with no further education past what he learnt during his second year at Hogwarts.
He was lavished with costly gifts, sent daily, and delivered to him by the Dark Lord's personal House Elf. Most of them were from Tom. He also sent love letters, rooms full of flowers, and the most sinful of any decadent delicacies ever created, made by Voldemort's personal chef. She threw most of it away as per her son's request, whether Harry refused it or did not know it had been delivered.
It wasn't uncommon to catch the boy batting his lashes at her husband while the man spoke about his day during dinner. There was the way he sat at the table that really irked her; he always perched somewhat slant-ways on his chair so that he could gaze upon Lucius over his shoulder; just as he was doing at that very moment.
"Ugh." Narcissa tapped her pursed lips with a napkin before resting it on her plate and slapping down on the tabletop as hard as she could to catch Harry's attention. Everyone jumped. Everyone always jumped. "Look at me, Harry. Turn to face me, sit straight and upright in your chair. Keep your eyes on your plate. Try keeping your gazing at people down to a few seconds at a time, with normal blinking."
"This is so hard," Harry whispered into Draco's ear as he shifted around to face the table, and picked up his fork. "Yes, Mrs Malfoy. I'm sorry I upset you."
Narcissa's nostrils flared. "Stop apologising when I correct you."
"Yes, ma'am, I'm sorry…err, gods. I'm sorry for that."
Draco shrugged, biting down on his lip, trying his best to hide the fact that he found great levity in his mother's and Harry's interactions. Even his grumpy father could no longer hate on the poor sod. Now his attitude seemed more akin to aggrivation, if nothing else.
After forcing her husband to complain to the Dark Lord about Tom Riddle's mental torture through the mark on Harry's forehead, Voldemort himself came by one day and strengthened the charm on the anklet he made Harry wear. Now, neither Tom nor Voldemort could mentally communicate with him, which took a lot of heavy burden off of the Malfoys, for obvious reasons. Being spied on by their master made them cool to the idea of letting their guard down, and always made them feel like they were being watched when Harry was in the room. And now Tom could no longer plague the poor boy with pain and endless questioning that kept waking him up screaming bloody murder night after night.
Harry's magic usage had been completely cut off, as it had been for all of the other slaves who served inside the bordello. The loss of the feeling of any sort of magic left Harry empty, but living with Draco; despite being badgered by Narcissa and growled at by Lucius every day; filled that hole right back up. It even overflowed with something much nicer: love.
Lovity, lovedy, love. Harry Potter was so much in love with Draco Malfoy that it overtook any residual or current sadness about being held captive and forced to live a certain way. He put everything into pleasing him, and Draco he. They clearly adored the other in a way neither Malfoy parent could deny. Still, it was awkward. Both boys had been married to girls, girls who were slaves, living with their own masters. It felt like breeding dogs to Narcissa. This was not how she imagined life to be when Draco grew up. There would be no grandchildren to spoil. All of the children born for the army were being raised in an undisclosed location. Her husband had caused this, her son helped keep it going, and training the Potter boy kept her stressed. She couldn't help but take out her frustrations on all three of them.
"Harry."
"I'm sorry, I did it again."
"Harry."
"Oh, Merlin…You know, this is not easy, Narcissa. I've been groomed to serve my master in a way as to keep him happy." Harry bared his teeth in frustration. "And he likes it when I'm sorry."
"I do understand. But you don't serve him any more. You haven't for months."
"Yes, I am aware of that, but thank you for reminding me…again."
Narcissa's demeanour brightened up. "Well, you didn't say you were sorry this time, that's something." She elbowed her husband. "See? He can learn."
Lucius rolled his eyes as he balled up the napkin resting on his lap. "Okay, I believe you." The elder Death Eater glared down at the boys' dinner plates. "Now make me just as happy as mummy is here and eat your dinner."
Harry's mouth opened in worry, but he said nothing. He lowered his head to avoid their judging stares.
"Can we leave the table?" Draco asked her, patting Harry's hand under the table. He grew tired of needing to sit through another terrible meal with mummy and daddy. "He's obviously upset."
Narcissa's lips puckered in distaste. Her son was always interfering in her lessons with the former courtesan. "No. Harry hasn't touched his plate."
Harry cringed, feeling his fever begin to return. His temperature had remained normal during his stay at Malfoy Manor. He had no need to take all the potions he was left to keep it at bay. But slowly, over the course of the last week or so it returned when Narcissa and Lucius got on his case too much. Something was coming, something bad. "I'm really not very hungry. I don't feel well."
"Rules are rules." Insulted, Narcissa felt her blood heat up. She sat forward in her seat. "You're not a child any more. Eat your dinner."
Draco began to simmer. "He said he's not hungry."
"Listen to your mother," Lucius snapped. His narrowed eyes shifted over to the Half-Blood his son kept company with. "And you, pretty-boy…pick up your fork and eat something before I come over this table and feed it to you myself."
Trembling, Harry grabbed his fork. "Fine."
Draco threw a hand up in front of him. "Don't you dare eat it if you're not hungry."
Sighing, Harry leaned in to whisper in his lover's ear. "Draco, I don't want another fight."
"Listen to your little tart, Draco," Lucius warned his son.
Draco, in return, stood up and threw a glass of wine at the wall. He scowled at his father. "Stop calling him that!" He grabbed Harry's hand and yanked him up out of his chair. "We're going upstairs, don't disturb us."
"You get back here!" Narcissa shouted.
"This is my house!" Lucius screamed.
Draco stopped momentarily, pulling Harry into his embrace. He did not look back at his parents this time. "When I turned eighteen this house and land it sits on became mine. You know it, I know it, and the Dark Lord knows it. If you two wish to remain staying under this roof I suggest you rethink how you treat Harry and me. We are not children any more."
Watching his son drag his boyfriend away, Lucius dropped his utensils on his plate with a huff. He punched the table top and looked at his wife, ready to start complaining about what a massive mistake they had made agreeing to take this Half-Blood whore into their home.
"Don't you say one fucking word," his wife warned him, scowling. She pushed away from the table and stood up. She had bottled this up for too long. "This is your fault - all of it." She pointed an accusing finger in his face. "I know what you did with that diary. And I know that you paid to let Draco inside that whorehouse so he could sleep with Potter, against the poor child's will, mind you - more than once! You and my sister can go straight to hell for all I care."
Lucius' mouth fell open as his beloved wife threw her own glass of wine at the wall. "Cissy?"
"Not one word," she reminded him, and left the formal dining room.
After a long day of questioning a councilman before finally getting his hands on the paperwork he'd been sent to retrieve, Draco stumbled out of the Malfoy fireplace and dropped into an awaiting armchair with exhaustion. Life as a Death Eater was not all it was cracked up to be. If not for Harry he would have defected already. The work he performed for the Dark Lord was reckless, tedious, soul-draining work, but he did not have to kill anyone, not yet. As long as he kept up negotiations with their enemies Voldemort would keep him on as a diplomat.
He was only nineteen years old and already a confidant to Lord Voldemort's elite few. It kept Harry and he safe from Tom, if nothing else, but there was more, far more than he could have wished for. He reached into his robes and pulled out a heavy sack of gems he'd been given as salary for a job well done.
"Dobby, come put this in the special vault."
He tossed it to the House Elf when he appeared, then shooed him away. He relaxed into the chair after a long day of being a horrible person, letting his eyelids drift closed. Ah, peace and quiet.
"Wake up."
Draco's eyes opened and centred on his mother, who was tapping a foot in the threshold of the parlour. "I'm just taking a breather for a moment; it's been one helluva day. What's your problem now?"
Narcissa pointed to the ceiling. "Your little boyfriend is hiding again. And we're expecting You-Know-Who for dinner tonight. Get him pretty and happy before he arrives. I can't have him acting like a man, goddammit…he needs to look the part, like a…you know."
"A tart," Draco finished for her. He stood up from the chair and nudged her out of the way so he could pass.
"Yes, a bloody tart, Draco," Narcissa said sharply as she followed him to the stairs. "Don't blame this on me! I didn't put him in that whore house, and you know damned well I can't let the Dark Lord see him waltzing around wearing flannel and looking unkempt. He expects to see what we agreed on, and this won't go well if he doesn't see…something."
Draco could not bite his tongue any longer. "Oh, goody. Is he bringing the new wife, too? I dearly hope so. I'll bet the two of you have loads of things to catch up on; like how well you've both been caring for your master's little hostage, making him act like some sort of character that does not fucking exist in real life!" He stopped to glare at her for a moment, furious. "No one is supposed to live like an ageless harem boy, mum! No one."
"I am not my sister. Stop blaming me for what she did to him!" she shouted back. "And, as I recall, you had no problem with my sister when you decided to start sleeping with whores, child."
"I was a kid, mummy. And, as I recall, I was raised by two people who didn't seem to have a problem with their son visiting whorehouses." Draco ascended the staircase. He paused mid-step, scoffing. "Why not just lock him up like you did when the Crabbe family came for dinner? You didn't have a problem doing that, either."
"I had no choice about that! How was I supposed to know Mr Crabbe was sleeping with him?!" Narcissa grabbed her son's arm to turn him around and face her, but Draco pulled it away. "Anyway, I've had enough of Harry-Hunting for the week. You-Know-Who specifically asked that Harry must attend this dinner. He'd better look the part—find him, make him happy."
"Harry, honey, come out," Draco called, ignoring his mother. "I'm home now. It's okay." He knew it was hard to deal with his mother while he was at work, that Harry found solace in hiding from her rather than endure her questioning and etiquette teachings. He stopped in his tracks and turned on his mother. "Even your sister gave him a day off every now and then, you know. Why don't you go away and go get ready for the guests."
"Just so you know, he's bringing Tom with him tonight, too," Narcissa said as she threw her hands up and made her way back to the staircase.
Draco gave off a low growl. That fucking prick Tom Riddle . No wonder Harry was hiding.
After checking all the usual spots, Draco pulled his robes off before crawling through a half-door that led to the ladder that gave access to the attic.
"Hey," he said, spotting his lover sitting in an old rocking chair by the stained glass attic window.
Harry looked back at him for a moment. "Hey."
Draco wove through the storage. He helped Harry stand before pulling him into his embrace as he dropped down into the rocker himself. "C'mere, you. Why are you hiding up here?"
Harry immediately curled up to him to rest his head on his shoulder. "Guess who's coming to dinner."
"Not Sidney Pointer, that's for damned sure," Draco replied, having learnt the reference after Harry talked him into getting a television and the both of them spending their nights together watching old movies in between sessions of making love. He wished to hell their impending guest was Sidney Pointer…anyone other than Tom.
Harry had been an occupant of Malfoy Manor over the last five months. He struggled to adapt to living somewhat more freely, but without any true freedom. Narcissa was constantly on his arse, making House Elves bathe him, always checking his fingernails for dirt. She restocked his wardrobe with silky and lacy garments every time Draco would fill it up with more comfortable things for him to wear. She kept a unicorn on the grounds as a pet, too. It drove Harry mad. Unicorns represented life and love and hope; they were wild creatures, they were supposed to be free.
"What if Tom's talked him into taking me away?"
"That ain't gonna happen," Draco assured him.
Harry hugged him tighter around the neck, as if clutching onto him for dear life. "But how do you know?"
Because I have something on him. Something big. "I'm in close to the Dark Lord now. I've worked my way up the ladder in one tenth of the time it took Avery."
Harry sat up and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. "I thought you were making that up. Are you really close to him?"
"Well, I'm no Severus Snape," Draco admitted, then added, "At least not yet. Trust me, he won't risk giving you back to Tom." Not with what I got on him.
There was a secret that no one, outside of the Dark Lord and one other, knew to be reality: Sirius Black never was and never would be a true Death Eater.
Draco hadn't meant to find the documented agreement between the accused betrayer and Voldemort, it was just there whilst he filed away the documents he had obtained that afternoon. He had bottled that memory and had Dobby store it in a vault he obtained in Switzerland, in a bank that even Lord Voldemort could not penetrate. That was stored along with valuables and every other memory he had that he could use as leverage to keep Harry in his manor, and away from Tom. He'd been a good little soldier, but not for nothing, and he did not trust his commander as far as he could throw him.
"I hope you stay yourself," Harry commented through a shudder. "The only good thing about Severus Snape is that he hates Sirius Black more than I do." He let his guard down and began kissing the exposed skin of Draco's long neck. "He's an arse, but he didn't betray my parents and get them killed."
"That old tale might not be all it's cracked up to be. Don't put too much energy into your hate for him," Draco replied through a moan. He shivered from the close contact, and found himself running his hands up under Harry's dressing gown. "Besides, doesn't seem like Snape hates Black as much as you think he does. They're quite close, actually."
Harry straightened up. "No, that's not true. Hermione told me that Snape loathes him, that he and my father picked on him relentlessly while they went to school."
"Who knows," Draco mumbled. "Maybe they made up."
"I guess it's possible."
Draco kissed Harry full on the lips. He had no idea why Snape and Black had gotten so cosy, nor did he care. What he did know was the true reason why Harry Potter had not been executed once the Dark Lord had been resurrected, which had everything to do with Black.
"Lemme take you to my room," he whispered against Harry's plush lips. He nuzzled a knee between his thighs while his fingers worked their way down the length of his spine. "Let me make you feel good, love. Let me spoil you, make you forget about tonight."
Harry's head tipped back as Draco assaulted his throat. He clenched his teeth through the tickle of lips nursing his pulse point. His dressing gown slipped off of his shoulders, his hair cascaded behind him in glossy blacks locks. "Yes, take me to bed," he whispered back, and gasped as Draco grabbed him up I his arms and stood from the rocker. It thrilled him when Draco got really Herculean on him; it was sexy, raunchy, a massive turn-on. He curled into his embrace, letting him carry him off again, as he always did when Harry needed him most.
Every time the Dark Lord visited Malfoy Manor it was…damned awkward. His appearance alone could trigger ones fight or flight reflex if caught off-guard. He was hideously deformed, a true nose-less villain, accessorized perfectly with forked tongue and sickle-shaped red eyes. He was once a great beauty, evidenced by the living memory of his younger self, but opted to forgo that privilege in his yearning to discover eternal life.
"Ah, yes...Malfoy Manor. Such a fine home you have."
He stood outside of the parlour fireplace, with his taloned hands clasped with his new wife's and Tom's.
Harry was certain it was to keep the latter from pulling his wand out and striking him down on the spot. He backed up into Draco, fearing he would not be able to stand on his own shaky legs for much longer. Tom was smirking at him, his eyes had yet to centre on anyone else standing there to greet them.
"How are you, Harry darling?" he spoke, breaking the thick tension inside the room. "I've missed you so much."
Narcissa nudged her husband, who stepped forward to welcome their guests inside.
Lucius bowed in front of Voldemort and Bellatrix before gesturing them over to the furniture. "My Lord and Lady, we are honoured to welcome you into our home. Please, come have a seat."
Harry curled into Draco's form as Tom approached. His mouth opened and closed but no sound could be made.
"I see the Malfoys haven't taught you a thing," Tom quipped. He flicked a lock of shiny black hair out of Harry's eyes as he bent down a smidgen to meet them. "May I remind you, catamite, that it's polite to answer someone the first time they've asked you a question."
Harry scowled. "You go fuck yoursel-" he tried to shout, but Draco clapped a hand over his mouth.
"He's good, Tom. And how the hell are you?" Draco said in place of his lover. He stood up straight and tall, matching Riddle's grand height.
Tom's dark eyes moved to Draco, but he responded to Harry. "I have been fucking myself. It's not nearly as fun as it sounds. I much prefer that thing you and me had going."
Draco held Harry firmly in place, with his hand still cupped over his mouth. "Sounds to me like you need to find yourself a date."
"I have a date already, he just doesn't live with me any more," Tom replied, "Isn't that right, Ganymede?" He gave off a morbid effluvia as he stood there staring Harry down, it's ominous scent chilling the boy's bones.
Harry baulked, but Draco held him with an arm wrapped around his middle.
"Let him go. Let him speak for himself. I'm just dying to hear what he has to say," Tom argued, snickering. He was as childish as he ever had been, with an ego that bruised easier than an overripe peach. He prided himself on being special, being unique, but seeing his catamite in the ministrations of someone else made him feel common. He leaned in closer to Draco, inhaling his heady musk. "For one who complains so much about Harry's lack of freedom - you seem to have a hand in it, too. Pun intended."
"Yeah, well I'm controlling this situation as to keep his arse from getting killed," Draco replied, flicking his eyes at Voldemort for a second before centring back on Tom. "You and me have very different reasons for controlling what goes on around us, don't we?"
Everyone was wearing their Sunday best: Voldemort was adorned in his deep green ceremonial robes, Bellatrix was clad in a fish-tail gown, Tom had on leathers with a lacy tunic, the Malfoys sported spider silk, and Draco and Harry were dressed similarly in tailored sport coats with matching trousers.
This had not escaped Tom's notice. He took in his catamite's graceful form, feeling his mouth begin to water. "This is different. I don't think I've seen you wearing something on your legs since that day I bested you in the Chamber of Secrets," he murmured, as he leaned in to whisper it in Harry's ear. "Not saying I don't like it, but I think I prefer it when you dress like the pretty painted-up tart, to be honest. The way you looked when you submitted for me."
"Would you like to come see my room, Tom?" Draco asked aloud. His lips pursed in anger, while his eyes drifted over to the split staircase that led up to the higher floors. "I'd love to show it to you, let you try out this intimidation tactic up there on someone your size, someone who can fight back."
"Boys, that's enough," the Dark Lord said, looking up in their direction. His distaste was evident as his eyes roamed over the three young men. He shifted a bit in his chair, snapped his fingers and then pointed to a spot on the floor by his feet. "Harry, come here."
Without hesitation, Harry pulled away from Draco and sauntered up next to Voldemort. He dropped down on his knees to prostrate himself for him. He bent down and kissed the Dark Lord's bare feet, one and then the other, before hunching down on the floor as if praying to him. Voldemort's hand drifted off of the arm of his chair to tangle it in his long shiny hair.
Narcissa and Bellatrix blushed and looked away.
Lucius sat there as if this was something he encountered often.
Tom rolled his eyes. He reached up and flicked Draco's ear when their master's bloody eyes lowered down upon Harry.
The Dark Lord simpered while he petted his trophy's head like a pet. "Sit up now, my beloved, and behave for me while I visit."
"Yes, my Lord," Harry replied, and sat up on his knees. He folded his hands together in his lap and remained emotionless at the man's feet while Voldemort, his wife and the Malfoys commenced with their mingling.
"As I was saying, my first choice was relocating the headquarters here, in your manor. But, ultimately, I decided on Hogwarts. I am quite fond of the place. So many happy memories there..."
"C'mon, prick," Draco whispered into Tom's ear. He grabbed him by the lapels and yanked him in closer to finish his statement so that only he could hear him. "Let me show you my room, where I sleep…where I fuck your catamite whenever I want to. Best part about that, Tom; he wants it too. Novel idea, yeah? I let him decide whether or not he wants me to fuck him. So far it's working out great - I haven't had to beat him once."
Tom's nostrils flared. He removed Draco's hands and straightened his shirt, smirking. "I'd love to." He gave the other young man a healthy shove before tipping his head to the Malfoys. "Lead on, dead man."
Harry fought to turn his head, to watch the two men walk away. He gritted his teeth as sweat began to bead on his forehead. Movement was near impossible when the Dark Lord had control of him. So he sat there like a puppet while The Malfoys offered their master tiny cakes and refilled his glass of wine. And Voldemort wrapped an arm around his neck to pat his cheek whenever he felt like adding that little extra oomphof humiation whenever it serves him best.
Tom shoved Draco against the chamber door the moment they entered Draco's personal wing. He held him against it while he seethed, smelling his precious catamite's scent wafting off of Draco like flowery perfume. His eyes drifted closed while he inhaled the fragrance, an aroma so lovely, drawing his sorrow forth. "He was mine first. I won him fair and square. Why?" he compelled Draco, letting his hatred and frustration fall back behind his covetous envy for a moment to lament. "Of all the people in the entire world, why did you take mine?"
Draco shoved him off and ran him back up against the wall behind him. He shoved his wand in his neck. "Two reasons," he replied. "I love him, and, let's be honest - you're a monster." He pressed the wand up harder. "Why can't you just leave him alone?! He didn't do anything to you! He was a child when you stole him from me!"
"Ooh!" Tom quipped. His dark features brightened with a mischievous grin. "I stole him from you, did I?" He went rigid with envy. "And then you stole him back from me." Again, he inhaled his lover's calming pheromones lingering off of his prey. His hands came up to plant themselves on Draco's shoulders. "Maybe I made a mistake. Maybe I took him for granted, I can admit that."
"What are you on about?" Draco asked him. He took a step back, with his wand up and at the ready, just in case Tom tried anything funny.
Tom tipped his head, looking a bit less wicked, and a bit more vulnerable. "After resurrecting my older self I became a separate entity. I will never be Lord Voldemort now. I will always be 'his younger self', you see." He stepped away from the wall, entranced with the hints of Harry's essence drawing him to Draco as if Amortentia was moving his actions. "For this reason I've been trying to become something else, better than him, stronger, more frightening…I wanted him to be less than me, even though, technically, he is me." He moved closer to Draco as Draco backed away. "I never had a mummy or daddy to raise me. I don't have any sort of discipline, he lets me do whatever I want - everything except killing Death Eaters or Harry." He took a step forward, unconsciously backing Draco up against the door again. "Who the hell is he to tell me who I can or can not kill, hmm?"
"Right, well..." Draco felt his back hit the door. "Count yourself fortunate I'm not allowed to kill you."
"I'd love to see you do that." Tom pressed himself up against the other young man. "Gods, you're pretty. Real pretty."
Draco could feel Tom's excitement jutting against his pelvis. It was then when he understood what Harry must have felt when Tom visited him inside the bordello. Being alone with him, even inside his own bedroom wing, was frightening. He watched the flecks in the man's dark eyes come to life, pulsating with flowing blood as he narrowed them on him. He felt Tom's long fingers circle around his wrists and clamp down. "Get your hands off of me," he whispered, losing his voice in the moment. Tom was glowing white-hot with hatred, something Draco had never wallowed through before from any other witch or wizard. Regardless of how intimidated he felt at that very moment, a Malfoy could never be bested by an interloper inside Malfoy Manor. "Back off now, before I have your head."
Tom snickered as he released the Death Eater, this master's new favourite. He backed up a step and clasped his hands behind his back. "I'm just dying to see where you sully my catamite. You do know I'm going to get him back, don't you?"
Draco opened the door leading into his chambers. He looked back over his shoulder as he entered the room. "You can try."
Tom followed him inside, his smirk vanishing the moment Draco turned back around. "Oh, yes, I will try," he whispered to himself. He reached inside his pocket and dropped something small and shiny on the floor. He kicked it under the chaise lounge sitting against the wall to his left, and smiled at Draco again when the man turned back around to gloat. He threw his hands up, impressed. "So this is it; where the magic happens. Must be nice to have been born to people with bucket-loads of money to throw at you."
"It's very nice, actually," Draco replied, giving off a superior wicked smirk. "Let's get something straight: Harry is a human being. He is not your play-thing any more. He's happy now, and I'm going to do everything I can to keep him that way, even if it involves killing you."
"Oh, but we both know what a gigantic coward you are," Tom quipped, glancing around the room. "I fear your poor taste in colour schemes more than I do you."
"I've warned you," Draco piped in, completing this chit chat. "Now get the fuck out of here before I take you down right now."
Tom held his hands up as he backed out of the room. "Fine, fine. You win, Malfoy. Congratulations."
The excitement of confronting Tom began to fade. Draco's smirk wore off. He was certain they would fight, but Tom gave in so easily. He shrugged and left the room, locking the door to head back down to ask the Dark Lord to allow Harry to sit with them during dinner at the table, rather than at his feet again.
As Draco reached the dining room, he saw Harry sitting between the Dark Lord and Tom at the long rectangular table, seated across from his parents. Bellatrix was at her husband's side. Harry looked more calm to him, giving him a small smile as he sipped a glass of red wine. Voldemort kept patting his shoulder while Tom conversed with Lucius as if they were buddies, but Draco knew better. He took his seat beside his mother, across from Tom. "All right, Harry?"
"I'm good," he replied, glancing briefly up at his lover. That lovely grin curled back up on his lips as he held up his wineglass. "Everything is going well."
Draco felt himself loosen up. "Good."
Tom also began patting Harry's person as he lightened up the room with an uncharacteristic jovial attitude. "I was just telling you father about that office building we raided last week, Draco," he said, wagging his eyebrows at his partner. "Such a thug you've become, hanging that banker upside down to shake all of his secrets out of him." He laughed as he sat back in his seat. His hand dropped down on Harry's shoulder again.
Draco glanced at Harry before shrugging. "We're all quite used to how easily you lie when you try to make others look bad. I'm not even going to dignify your boasting with a denial."
"Whatever." Tom nuzzled up against Harry and whispered something in his ear.
Draco saw his lover's cheeks grow flush, his eyes close as he tensed up, and his head sway as he politely turned him down to whatever he had asked him.
The rest of the meal was uneventful. They all got through it without upsetting Lord Voldemort and gathered around the fireplace to say their good-byes. Draco excused Harry and himself, taking him by the hand to lead him back to his chambers, intent on shagging the smile back into him no matter how long it took.
