A/N Warnings for implied Bellamort shudder. But Voldemort is a psychopath, with a psychopath's sexual proclivities. He's not going to wait until Harry is ready for action. I apologize if this disgusts you as much as it does myself.

Harry had managed to pull himself from the bath before he fell asleep. He'd debated dragging one of the blankets off his bed and cuddling up next to Nagini in front of the fireplace, but after his poor sleep the night before, the prospect of a feather mattress won out. He was thankful for that decision when he woke, as the sheets hid a variety of sins. He wished for his wand, as he'd never managed a vanishing spell without it, and was happy that he had a House Elf to care for his sleepy indiscretion. Though, now that he remembered what he'd researched yesterday, he decided to not think of House Elves and, ahem, other things in the same sentence ever again.

A set of formal robes was laid upon the table, along with a note from his Master. There was to be a celebration this evening to honour this last victory. There was a scrawled aside at the bottom warning Harry to keep Nagini with him at all times, and that he was forbidden to engage in the evening's more 'exuberant activities.' Harry guessed this meant that the rebels would be tortured, so he was relieved that he was exempt from participating. He didn't have the stomach for such a thing, at least in regards to his friends. He was rather looking forward to paying Vernon back when he got the chance.

Harry was only half-dressed, and Nagini still asleep, when there came a hesitant knock on the door. His Master would never bother, Harry knew, so it must be another of the Dark Lord's servants. He didn't bother to rush to answer the door. Whoever it was could wait.

Another knock, louder this time. Harry did up the final buttons on his black robes and called, "Enter!" not bothering to hide his irritation at being disturbed.

The door opened and Draco Malfoy stepped in. Harry narrowed his eyes at the blond boy invading his personal space. These were his quarters. It didn't matter that they were within Malfoy Manor; housing the Dark Lord and his entourage was no less than the Malfoy family's responsibility to their Lord. "Did our Lord give you permission to enter my rooms, Malfoy?" Harry snarled.

"Potter," Malfoy returned, his lips pinched tight in a satisfying mix of distaste and anxiety. "I was told to meet the Dark Lord in his study."

Harry's eyebrows raised. "And? So why aren't you next door, then?"

Draco eyed Harry strangely, his eyebrows furrowing. "This is our Lord's study, Potter. Or was," he continued, looking about the room in confusion. Harry was glad he had pulled the blankets up to hide the sheets. "Next door?"

Harry nodded, and looked pointedly at the door, hoping Malfoy would get the hint and leave.

He didn't. He stepped further into the room. Hadn't his Master told him that wards prevented others from entering? Perhaps Harry had bollucksed that up by answering Malfoy's knock. He had known it wasn't his Master, after all, as Voldemort had the ability and right to come and go as he pleased, the door be damned. He should have just let Malfoy knock until he'd given up and left. Draco glanced around even more, striding over to the desk at the far end of the room. He ran his fingers over the surface, then raised his eyes to gaze out the window.

Harry took a calming breath. "If the Dark Lord is expecting you, I suggest you don't linger in my room."

Draco looked back at Harry, taking in his formal appearance. "Those suit you," he said, finally, gesturing to Harry's dark robes. His Death Eater robes.

Harry scoffed. This from the boy who had viciously insulted him the last time they'd spoken. He didn't want to admit to himself that he was envious that Draco's home was so large that he was able to get lost in it, but the thought treacherously surfaced anyway. "Thank you," he bit out. "Now leave."

Draco nodded. On his way back to the door, he finally noticed Nagini and froze. She lifted her head, yawning. It was a harmless motion, but it revealed her long, pointed fangs. Harry heard a small, shocked intake of breath from his former classmate. He looked back at Harry, his eyes wide.

Harry smiled, his expression cruel and taunting. "Scared of snakes, Malfoy?"

Nagini, fully awake now, realized that someone other than her Master or brother was here, invading her territory. She reared up, hissing.

Draco scurried backwards to the door, faster than he had ever flown after a snitch. "Next door?" he asked again, far more hurriedly, and after seeing Harry's confirming nod, shot into the corridor, slamming the door.

Supposed threat gone (Harry snorted at the idea of Draco Malfoy comprising any sort of threat), Nagini lowered herself into a sleepy mass once again. "What was the white-haired youngling doing in brother and Nagini's den?" she asked Harry.

"Looking for Master. The idiot thought that this was his study." Harry glared at the door, now wishing Draco had stayed longer, if only so that he could keep enjoying the other boy's obvious fear of Nagini. He vowed that he would seek Draco out at the so-called celebration this evening, just so that he could see the blond's eyes fill with fear again. Harry was surprised at how satisfying it was.

"This den was Master's book room until brother came to sleep here," Nagini hissed, slithering now towards Harry. She started to coil up his shoulders as she did so readily with Voldemort. Without the Feather-light charm on her, she was oppressively heavy. Harry could barely move.

Harry realized, then, that this was why his Master's office was so small, so crammed with books. He'd sacrificed the larger area to make space for his Horcruxes' living quarters. Nagini seemed knowledgeable enough, in this matter anyway, to answer another of his questions. "Do you know who uses the rooms on the other side of Master's new study?" he asked. He tried to sound casual, but knew he was only fooling himself.

"Master, of course," she replied. Her tongue darted out and brushed Harry's cheek, sending a not unpleasant shiver down his spine.

Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Good," he whispered.

Draco was back at his door. Harry had ignored the knocking for a long time, until the rapping had become positively frantic, and even then he had taken his sweet time in sauntering over.

The door was locked. Oh, right. He'd forgotten that Voldemort saw him as little more than a possession, to be sealed away until needed. He picked up his novel and sat down at the table. Then, pretending to be busy, he called out for his visitor to enter.

Draco seemed more sure of himself this time, and he stepped inside without an invitation. Harry noticed that he was careful to not let the door close; he supposed it had been luck that it had remained open the last time, otherwise the two boys would have been stuck in there together. Malfoy looked smug, the bastard.

Of course Draco would have noticed Harry rattling the handle from inside, unable to open the door.

"You managed to find our Lord, did you?" Harry said, trying to divert attention away from the last few embarrassing minutes.

Draco nodded. "Hmmm, yes. I did. I'm here to collect you for the gala."

Harry sighed, then hissed, "Time to go, sister." Switching to English, he said, "Hey, Malfoy, I need you to cast a Feather-light charm on her for me. She's too heavy without it."

"Your problem, Potter," Draco retorted. "As if I would point a wand at the Dark Lord's familiar. Does it look like I have a death wish?"

Wonderful, he thought sarcastically. How was he going to make it all the way to this celebration with Nagini's dead weight on him? He stepped away from her as she glided towards him, no doubt intending to climb back on his shoulders. "You'll have to slither next to me," he told her. "We'll ask Master to make you light when we see him, and then I can carry you." Then to Draco: "We're as ready as we'll ever be."

Draco glared at him for another second, but then smirked and said, "Not quite. I'm supposed to be your escort tonight. Keep you in line, and all that. But I refuse to go anywhere with you looking like that," he sneered, his eyes glinting with derision in the general direction of Harry's head. "Haven't you ever heard of a comb, Potter? Of course, I never did expect much from a Muggle-raised barbarian such as yourself."

Harry bit back several choice curse words, instead saying, with deadly calm, "I doubt our Lord would think highly of you for shirking his orders like that."

Draco didn't back down. "I doubt he'd be pleased that you hadn't prepared adequately for tonight," he countered. "Just brush your hair so we can get going. It's bad enough that I have to waste the evening with you, of all people."

"Fine," Harry snapped, and stomped back into the washroom to brush his blasted hair. It did look disastrous, Harry was forced to admit. It had still been wet when he'd fallen asleep, and had dried awkwardly. He ran his comb under the tap, then dragged it through the cowlick, trying to make it lie flat.

It didn't help.

"I thought you were going to fix your hair," Draco said when he returned. He looked annoyed, as if it was his own stupid hair that Harry had messed up. He was a few steps closer now, but Nagini was barring the way; it looked like the blond had tried to follow him into the washroom and she'd stopped him.

"I tried. It just doesn't…" Harry waved his hand vaguely at his head, indicating his hair. "It always sticks up."

Draco eyed his black hair speculatively. "Maybe it's an inherited curse."

"My hair is not cursed, Malfoy," Harry groaned. "Let's just get going."

Draco stepped back to the door, gesturing for Harry to follow. "It's completely possible, Potter. And there are far worse familial curses than wretched hair." He ignored Harry's irritated growl, adding, "Just look at Gregory."

Gregory? Oh, that was one of Draco's idiotic minions. The one that hadn't try to cook them all in the Room of Requirement. "What about Goyle?" muttered Harry, not really caring.

Draco led Harry down the corridor, then out of the Dark Lord's wing. Nagini slithered alongside, hissing that she was tired and that Harry had better let her up soon. It wasn't until they were striding down a broad staircase that Draco continued. "It's a well-known secret that Goyle's family was cursed centuries ago, which rendered the male line nearly mute. Surely you've noticed that Gregory rarely speaks. Much more than a grunt causes him considerable pain."

Oh, for fuck's sake. "Nice try, Malfoy. I'm not that gullible."

Draco shook his head, steering Harry across a beautifully appointed landing. "No lie. Almost every family has some kind of bewitchment on them. The Weasleys—"

"Shut up about the Weasleys, Ferret-face!" Harry spat, venomously. Beside him, Nagini, thinking Harry had been threatened, shot out towards Draco.

Draco let out a small shriek."Call her off, Potter!" He was backed against the wall, his eyes glued to the massive serpent that looked posed to strike.

"Why should I! You were going to say something horrible about the Weasleys. They're a far better family than yours, Malfoy!" Were a far better family, Harry corrected silently and reproachfully.

"Far better Blood-traitors, you mean! Don't forget which side you're on now!" Draco returned, though his face was still white and he was in obvious distress. "I was only going to say that they're cursed to have male children. I wasn't going to insult your precious girlfriend's honour, except in saying it was practically a miracle she was conceived at all."

Harry didn't know if he believed that this was really what Draco had intended to say about the Weasleys before Nagini involved herself. He decided to let it go. "Don't bite him, sister. He won't hurt me."

Nagini's tongue darted out to towards Draco. "Brother must be careful. This one smells of fear, and prey can kill if they are too afraid."

"So don't back him into a corner," Harry insisted. He realized, then, that this applied to himself, too. If he pushed Draco Malfoy too far, he would do anything to remain safe. It was the Slytherin thing to do.

Harry knew this first hand. It had been the reasoning for all his actions this past week, after all. He should keep in mind that he wasn't the only one who might act out in fear. He vowed to try not to push Draco too far.

But he still didn't have to like the spoiled git.

Nagini tasted the air around Malfoy a few more times, then slithered back to Harry. "Is brother certain he cannot carry Nagini? Nagini is tired." Hissing should not be able to sound so much like a whine, mused Harry.

Still, he managed to get her moving again. "I didn't know that about the Weasleys," he admitted to Draco.

Draco gave a subdued snort, still shaking a bit from his supposed brush with death. "I'm not surprised. I've always known you knew next to nothing about most things."

Nagini had complained the entire way to the Malfoy ballroom. She didn't even stop when Harry was kneeling before Lord Voldemort. The Dark Lord didn't need prompting; he silently cast the needed charm and, light as air, Nagini wound her way up Harry's body and made herself comfortable. She was soon fast asleep.

Harry wasn't the only one kneeling at Voldemort's feet. Bellatrix was already there, fawning over the Dark Lord. With a cursory "Off you go, Harry," his attention was all on her. Harry couldn't help regretting, then, how long he'd taken in getting down to the celebration. If he hadn't argued so much with Draco, perhaps his Master would be paying attention to him instead.

Harry scuttled off the dais as quickly as his Firebolt when the Dark Lord beckoned Bellatrix forward between his thighs.

Harry pushed down a wave of nausea. He couldn't look at that, wouldn't look at that. It wasn't that Harry was jealous of her. No, not that at all…it was just that it was… "Draco," he began once they were well out of earshot (though never out of the range of his Master's Legilimency), "Why are they even…isn't she married?"

Draco looked at him as though he'd suddenly grown two heads. He looked a bit offended, Harry thought, but then all the Malfoys managed to continuously appear vaguely offended and put-upon, as if the entire world was found sorely lacking and not up to their standards. Still, Harry suddenly felt that he'd put his foot in his mouth, having made some unwitting social blunder and broken one of the bazillion completely tosh Pure-Blood etiquette rules.

"And?" Draco said bitingly, blushing. No, Harry suddenly realized—he sounded defensive. That was embarrassment reddening his cheeks, not anger.

Harry couldn't help himself. Curiosity and something he wouldn't name (no, it wasn't jealously. It absolutely wasn't!) won out over his concern for not rocking the boat, and all that. "Well, shouldn't she be with her husband? Rodolphus, or whatever his name is?"

More blushing. Harry didn't think what he'd asked was that embarrassing. "My uncles are no doubt busy entertaining each other," said Draco, delicately.

Was that supposed to be some kind of explanation? When he just stared blankly back at him, Draco gestured to the more dimly-lit part of the ball-room, where Harry had been desperately avoiding looking. All he could make out was a sea of writhing bodies, a mixture of pleasure and pain. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, regardless.

This was what his Lord had meant by 'exuberant activities!' Harry was even more happy that he was forbidden to participate. He wasn't ready for that. He doubted he would ever be ready, but it did explain how his Master managed to recruit so many young and healthy witches and wizards. Harry doubted that Dumbledore had offered such lurid incentives; no wonder his group could comfortably fit around the kitchen table at 12 Grimmauld Place. Still, the comparison had been made, and that brought forth some rather uncomfortable ideas. Harry forcibly banished the mental imagery of any of the Order of the Phoenix members engaged in sexual activities, regardless of knowing that was exactly how Mrs Weasley had ended up with so many sons.

So, the Lestrange brothers were engaged in…that. But 'entertaining each other?' Harry began to ask what that meant, but then a disturbing, and no doubt accurate, picture formed in his head. He refused to scan the moaning crowd more closely to see if he was right in his assumption.

"NevermindforgetIasked," Harry mumbled. By the burning in his cheeks, he expected that his face was even more red than Draco's, probably rivalling the brightness of Fawkes' plumage. Then, more articulately, he asked, "So, how about a drink?"

Draco seemed relieved to lead the way to the buffet table set up, thankfully, far away from the mass of sex-enthralled wizards and witches, as well as from the quiet groans his Master was making from his throne. Harry had adamantly refused to look back towards the Dark Lord once Bellatrix had settled in front of him. She was obviously giving Voldemort a foot massage. A very, very good foot massage. One that washed over the link in waves of intense pleasure through Harry's scar. He wished he had a migraine, instead.

Lucius and Narcissa were conversing in low tones near the punch bowl, though they stopped abruptly as their son and Harry came near. Harry couldn't help but think that Draco must be pleased that his parents were here, talking, rather than making a spectacle of themselves with the rest of the celebrants.

Draco poured a glass of punch for himself and one for Harry.

"You're not my date, Malfoy. I can serve myself."

"My task tonight, as I explained earlier, is to escort you. The Dark Lord made me understand that I was to ensure your safety." To Harry's horror, the blond took a sip from both drinks. He flashed a toothy, sadistic grin at Harry's look of disgust and held out one of the glasses for him to take. "See? Not poisoned. The snake might keep my aunt from getting too curse-happy with you, but she won't taste-test your food."

Harry ignored the proffered drink. "I'll take my chances." He might not be ready to die by his Master's wand, but Harry wasn't willing to spend his life living in a state of constant paranoia, like Mad-eye Moody. And there was not way his Master expected him to drink Malfoy leftovers. Draco was just being an arse.

Draco grinned, flashing his evil little pointy teeth. "Just so that I have a memory to show the Dark Lord, that I tried to keep you safe. A bit of insurance."

Harry poured himself his own glass of the punch. It was actually quite delicious. It was possibly the most heavenly thing Harry had ever tasted.

Malfoy must have noticed his appreciation, because he bragged, "It's a blend of Champagne and Elvish Banta juice. Prohibitively expensive, and Banta berries are impossible to import without the right connections. Especially now, with the war and all."

Of course. The wanker. "It's okay," Harry lied.

The two boys nursed their drinks. Harry hadn't had much experience with alcohol, and knew better than to drink too much. No matter how tasty it was, he wasn't willing to be tipsy in a room filled with so many dangerous people, all of them drunk on a mix of endorphins and swanky punch.

"So, what is the point of all this, um…stuff?" Harry asked, finishing lamely. He refused to name it.

"The giant orgy?" Draco deadpanned. Harry noticed for the first time that he was also avoiding looking in that general direction. "What do you think?"

"Sex magic?" he asked. After spending most of that afternoon searching through ancient texts on the subject, it just popped into his mind.

"What?" blurted Draco, spilling his punch all down the front of his robes. Harry handed him a serviette, which Malfoy completely ignored.

"What I said," Harry repeated, not understanding why Draco had suddenly lost his composure. He hadn't even reacted this strongly to explaining his incestuous uncles. "Sex-magic. Transference of, uh…" what was the term? "…vital energies," he ended, trying to sound like he knew more about it than he did. Even after spending hour after hour researching the topic, he still had no idea what it was all about.

"Is this what that old goat was teaching you?" Draco asked, looking vaguely disturbed.

Harry started, taken aback by Draco's complete lack of respect. "How dare you speak about our Lord like that!" he spat, ignoring the vow he'd made to himself not an hour earlier. He reached up and began to stroke Nagini vigorously. She shifted, hissing nonsensically as the firm caresses began to rouse her.

Draco paled. "That's not what I meant and you know it! You don't need to wake her up, for Merlin's sake!"

"Then what did you mean?" Harry replied through clenched teeth. He relaxed the hand on his sister, and her disgruntled hissing settled back into a sleepy wheeze.

"Is something the matter, gentlemen?" Lucius interrupted. He must have been eavesdropping, or had at least sensed the tension flowing between the two teens. "Are we not meant to be celebrating our Lord's newest and last victory this evening?"

"Nothing's wrong, Father." Draco was too quick to answer, in Harry's opinion. Judging by Lucius' narrowed eyes, he thought so too.

Harry surveyed the older man coolly before he answered. "I had asked your son a question, and he responded by insulting the Dark Lord."

"I didn't! You completely misunderstood." Draco glanced frantically at his father. "He did, really!" he pleaded. "I was talking about Dumbledore."

"And why," Lucius asked, disdainfully, "would you even bring up that manipulative old coot, tonight of all nights. I suggest that you both find something more palatable to discuss. I will not hesitate to Silence you, Draco, if you cannot control that careless tongue of yours."

"Why just me?" Draco whined. "It was Potter that—"

"Have you so quickly forgotten what our Lord said regarding our guest? Do not even think about casting anything upon Mr Potter, Draco, unless you wish to be reacquainted with my cane." He banged it loudly on the polished floor in emphasis. "And for Salazar's sake, Draco! Clean yourself up."

"Thanks so much!" Draco bit out after his father left. He cast a quick Evanesco on his robes.

Harry shrugged, not caring if Lucius beat Draco black-and-blue. "No need to get your knickers in a twist," he said, dismissively. "But your father is right about one thing, Malfoy. Don't ever bring Dumbledore up in my presence again. He isn't a fit topic for polite conversation."

"A-and what you said is?" Draco spluttered. "About the Sex Magic?" This last was given in a desperate hiss.

Harry sauntered back to the buffet table. Draco could get all worked up; it was nothing to him. "What's the big deal."

Draco looked at him as though Harry was the biggest idiot he'd ever seen. But, Harry thought, that wasn't far from his usual expression, so it didn't really phase him. "Were you raised in a ditch, Potter?" A cupboard, thought Harry, but he wasn't about to admit that to the arrogant boy before him. "Sex-magic is really taboo. It's not quite the Darkest magic there is, but close."

"We're Death Eaters, Malfoy," said Harry, pointing the cracker he'd just picked up at Draco's left forearm in emphasis. "Who gives a shit about that?"

Draco just shook his head. "You don't get it. It's simply not done."

"It can't be more taboo than incest," Harry retorted, his nose curling in disgust.

Draco at least had the good sense to look embarrassed by that. He sighed before admitting, "Well, maybe it's not that it isn't done. But really, Sex Magic has caused all kinds of problems in the past, has torn families apart. It used to be the leading cause of line theft, which was responsible for the ruin of several Pureblood houses in this century alone. And that's just the beginning of the havoc it can cause. So, no, it's not something generally discussed," he finished. "And certainly not over appetisers. Despite what my aunt and uncles might get up to, the rest of my family has some sense of decorum." He tugged his robes back into alignment, then ran his hand over his head, as if to smooth down the strands of his perfect hair. "We are respectable."

Harry snorted. The Dursleys had prided themselves on being 'respectable.' "Malfoy, your family is literally hosting a Death Eater orgy right now."

Draco sighed, then perked up. "No, it's over, thank Salazar." He turned to Harry and grinned. "Ready for some real entertainment?"