CHAPTER THREE
Ron was supposed to go, but Molly wasn't sure she could've handled the loss of a second son to the Malfoy family (for she considered Harry one of her own, seeing that she practically raised him.) While Ron sulked and sent irritated glares after his mother, Remus bade them farewell, nodding at all of the usual reminders: if he's seen, don't run, claim simply that he's a servant or something to that nature; if he's caught, make sure he's dead before giving away any of the Order's dire secrets… you know, the simple things like that.
It was easy to sneak onto the Malfoy castle grounds. Being one of the older members of the Order, he knew a lot about the castle and its secret passages. I would tell you exactly how he ended up in the courtyard, but – well – it's a secret, and if you knew Remus would have to kill you. He definitely wouldn't want to, but he would have to.
He had just been making his way towards the slaves' makeshift buildings (he couldn't think of anywhere else Harry might've been), when he heard voices. One of them sounded suspiciously similar to Harry's.
He stepped into the shadows of a tall oak tree and he looked around the seemingly empty courtyard he was about to cross. Sure enough, he could see the ragged outline of Harry – the tall, slim limbs and messy hair were easy to recognize, even from such a distance – as he was being led into the castle by another shadow. His heart skipped a beat when he noticed that the teen was limping. Personally, he wasn't too worried, for he knew that Harry could take care of himself in most situations, but he couldn't help but feel a bit terrified at the thought of Molly's reaction if she were to find out that Harry was hurt.
He hesitated – he hadn't expected to enter the castle itself – but he knew he had to get the urgent message to Harry. Beyond even that, Harry and he were close; he wanted to see if the boy was all right. He followed silently and quickly up the stairs and through the large doors, slipping in before the heavy doors could close behind them properly. If anyone were watching, they wouldn't have seen anything but a glance of a shadow, and by the time they would've done a double take, the shadow would've disappeared. His ears were tuned carefully to the conversation Harry was having with the other person who he couldn't quite recognize. Their feet were echoing off of the high stoned walls where portraits of old, ugly men were hung.
"You're off your bloody knackers!"
"You ought to be content with the fact that I'm not having you hung."
The arrogant voice was so familiar to Remus for some reason…
"Get one of your damned slaves to do it!"
"There isn't enough time to go looking for another person. Besides, you are one of my damned slaves, you imbecile."
Remus's foot collided with the leg of a table that was pressed to the wall of the hall. It made an echoing noise. Malfoy's son and Harry turned, but Remus had already dived behind the table, barely breathing behind the thick white cloth that hung over it.
"What was that?" Harry asked, stepping closer to investigate, but Malfoy grabbed his arm and spun him around.
"I have no time to find out what it was. Let's go. Now."
"Damn it, why are you so THICK?! I refuse, I absolutely refuse – I would rather DIE and burn in hell for all eternity – "
"This again?" Malfoy growled to himself as Harry continued his ranting. "You're wasting my time."
There was the sound of metal scraping against metal ("shing!") as Malfoy unsheathed his rapier casually. Harry stepped back as Malfoy smirked and calmly pointed it at Harry. "What's this? I thought you said you would rather die. I expected you to be jubilant, yet instead you look nervous."
Remus was just about ready to jump out from his hiding place to knock the weapon away when Malfoy said thoughtfully, "Let's make a deal."
Harry had the feeling that he had no choice but to agree with this deal. Looking at the sharp tip of the rapier that was pointed straight at his heart, he could do nothing but nod. He had a temper, yes, but that didn't mean that he was stupid.
"You will do as I say and help me get out of this little problem of mine," Draco said slowly, "and I won't kill you."
Harry was about to nod again when an idea popped into his mind. "I'll do as you say," he said, equally as slowly, with that little edge of defiance, "and you will give me my freedom afterwards."
A fair eyebrow rose and there was a hesitant pause. "We'll see."
Remus took a deep, steady breath as the rapier was sheathed once more.
"Hurry up," Malfoy snapped, tugging Harry along as if the feud hadn't even occurred. "You've wasted enough time as it is."
Harry allowed himself to be tugged along by Malfoy for the longest while. Remus was become tenser and tenser by the second. He hadn't quite gotten over the shock that it was Malfoy's only son and heir who was with Harry. His worried mind anxiously asked questions like, "What the hell is Malfoy planning on doing with Harry, and will I have to fail my mission by blowing my cover in order to save Harry from a terrible fate?" And what was this, about Malfoy using Harry to help him get out of a problem? It made no sense, even to Remus who was a scholar of sorts.
Usually, he was the one to stay at headquarters and plan missions, interpret and analyze senior Malfoy's decisions to promote his tyrannical rule, and others things of that nature. Because of Molly's interference, however, Ron, Fred, and George weren't allowed to creep past guards to pass on information. Because that used to be Remus's field of work – when he was a young, healthy boy, anyway – he decided he would complete the boys' usual missions for the night. That is, until Molly was calmed down and comforted enough to let her sons continue their work.
After rushing down a last flight of elegant stairs, they suddenly stopped. They were in a wide hall with a low ceiling (at least, low enough for a fairly tall person to jump up a few feet and touch). Pillars gave the illusion that, if the pillars were to be knocked down, everything would crash down on top of them. At last, the walls and floor wasn't made of stones; or, if they were, the wall was covered by red and gold plaster; the floor, by thick, rich red carpet, which was covered by rugs with intricate patterns. There were gorgeous antiques decorating the hall, such as golden lamps and sensual candles. On a desk that was pushed to the side of the wall, there was a collection of jewels. There were framed paintings of sensually beautiful men and women, reclining on couches and beds. Both Harry and Remus flushed as they noticed that some of these men and women were quite naked indeed.
"Stay here," Malfoy ordered. He walked over towards a wide, oak door and knocked with a brass knocker one, two, three times.
It opened a few moments later, and there was a politely annoying giggle from an unseen body. "Oh, Draco! You haven't visited in such a long time – "
The voice was immediately shut off as the door closed behind them. Remus figured this might be his only chance.
"Harry!" he hissed from behind a pillar, which glinted from the numerous beaded jewels snaking around it.
The poor boy looked like he had a heart attack. He jumped high into the air and whipped his head around.
"It's all right, Harry, it's only me," the older man said gently.
"Remus?!" Harry looked bewildered as he saw the man step out from behind the pillar. His hand was clutching his chest where his heart was rapidly beating. "What the hell are you - ?!"
"I don't have much time," Remus interrupted quickly and apologetically. "I must pass this on to you."
He had already reached into his pocket where a piece of paper held the following message, which Harry read quickly: stay where you are until further notice; if you try to escape you will definitely be caught (guards are literally lined up along the outside of the courtyard walls) and you will be realized…
Harry knew that if he was realized as a traitor to the nation, he would be executed immediately.
…Instead, use this situation for spying. Gather as much information on the Malfoy's as possible. A spy in disguise will come to you periodically to take the information you've gathered back to head quarters. Meanwhile, everyone at headquarters will be planning to create an efficient rescue plan. Only when you are given orders are you to do anything other than what you've been told.
Harry dead panned.
"I know this is difficult, Harry," Remus put a hand on Harry's shoulder as he carefully took the note back. "But you really have no choice. It's safer to remain where you are. Besides," he offered a tired smile, "haven't you always wanted the chance to be on an important mission?"
Harry couldn't even nod. Here he was, thinking that perhaps he was being rescued, wouldn't have to go through with this ridiculous plan to be given his freedom…
"Are you all right?"
Harry made a noise from the back of his throat.
"Someone will visit occasionally to make sure you're okay," he said in an assuring tone.
"But Remus, if you managed to get pass the guards, then surely I can – "
"It's dangerous and risky as it is for one person to sneak by. For two to do so is nearly impossible."
"But – "
"Listen, Harry, I have to go – "
"Wait," Harry said, grabbing Remus's hand. "I have to tell you something."
"What is it?" Remus turned back.
"This evening, I spilled red wine into Draco Malfoy's lap."
Remus's eyes widened and he let out a bark of laughter, which was a sign that he truly had been around the late Sirius Black for too long. He regretted it and bit his tongue, choking back the hearty chuckles. "Dear Gods, Harry – don't tell me that you're following him because you're about to be punished."
"Nope," Harry shook his head. "I was already." He turned around and lifted his shirt so that Remus could see the angry red welts on Harry's back.
"Oh, Harry…" Remus was frowning. He obviously didn't feel very happy about leaving him there. Harry dropped his shirt and turned back to Remus.
"I'm okay, though, really – "
The door opened. Remus disappeared behind the pillar and Harry spun around.
"Who were you talking to?" Draco Malfoy asked with a raised eyebrow. He was standing there beside a stranger dressed in nothing but a blue cloak.
"Myself," Harry said quickly, his eyes landing on the boy that was standing beside Draco. Harry felt himself flush slightly. Though Harry definitely wouldn't have known, it would be fair to have the reader realize that the boy that was standing beside Draco was none other than the slave Draco seduced while he was in the academy. It would seem that the slave boy never returned to Pansy's rooms.
"This is Blaise Zabini," Draco said absently. "He'll be helping us."
The boy named Blaise was eyeing Harry with obvious distaste. "Why him, Draco? I would have done better." He had a thick accent (what the reader might consider is a French accent) that made it hard for Harry to understand him.
"Everyone would recognize you," Draco replied.
Blaise didn't bother to hide the jealousy that burned in his eyes.
(For the reader's convenience, it would be good of you to note the intensity of Blaise's jealousy. As said before, Blaise never returned to Pansy. Draco – kidnapped him, I suppose would be the fair word although Blaise didn't object at all. Shortly after the kidnapping, Blaise became infamously known as Draco Malfoy's little whore, among both the peasants in the streets and the higher classes. Pansy became furious and embarrassed, but she made only three attempts at taking Blaise back. I suppose you could consider it what she deemed was revenge, trying to claim back what was rightfully hers. After the third attempt, Draco, fed up with the girl's insistence, sent her a bag of coins in exchange for Blaise. Blaise officially became his little pet.
The gossip of this scandal spread like wild fire amongst everyone, especially the peasants the higher class royalty would often pretend to be above behavior such as gossip. Some said that it was just a rebellious phase Draco would soon get over, as many teenagers did in the beginning stages of their adolescence.
His father and his reaction is a completely different issue that would probably take too much time to get into. I will simply say this: he had male lovers when he was young also, yet he was the most embarrassed and upset of all at Draco's, "phase." This hypocrisy made Draco red with rage, as I'm sure you can imagine.
While father and son would spend hours yelling at each other, the other family royals and royals who were visiting didn't dare say anything to Draco's face. In fact, the only thing most of them did to suggest that they disapproved of these actions was look at the whore in disgust and refuse to acknowledge him in any way other than that. There were the scattered few that would hiss insults at Blaise while no one else was listening.
Blaise did get upset at times. Who wouldn't? People often become offended by the truth. Deep down, he knew that he was nothing but Draco's sex slave, but he preferred to consider himself Draco's respectable lover. It was just as Bagoas once became offended greatly by a man who came to honor Alexander. When he was ordered to honor Bagoas instead, he replied bitterly, "I came to honor Alexander the Great; not his whore." Bagoas was so upset that he had Alexander execute the man.
Do you know anything of Alexander the Great and his whore, Bagoas? Of course, Draco and Blaise wouldn't, seeing that they're in alternate universes, but perhaps you could compare Draco to Alexander and Blaise to Bagoas.
Bagoas, a eunuch, was once the slave and lover of a Persian enemy, Darius, but once the Persian enemy was defeated, Alexander saw Bagoas and took him home as his own. Alexander had many lovers, but Bagoas was unique. Bagoas received many gifts from Alexander, besides his love. Alexander granted Bagoas a separate estate. Festivals were even thrown in his name.
The relationship was rather similar between Draco and Blaise, besides the related positions of roles. As you know, Draco took Blaise, a slave, from another territory and claimed Blaise as his own. Draco had more lovers than he could keep track of, but Blaise alone he let sleep in his room after making love. Don't think that's such a big deal? Believe me, it is. Draco at times would rip another person's virginity from him or her, then throw him or her out into the rain to stagger away to find shelter without a second thought.
His bed and his chambers were private to him. They were a place of utter tranquility; it's where he went when he wanted to be alone or when he was too lonely. It was his shrine of peace. He thought of his room as a place for him to seek sanctuary when the outside world seemed like anarchy. It was the only area throughout the entire castle that he thought of as more than just an area; it was his home. To share that with Blaise after having sex meant more than you could possibly realize.
Beyond that, he invited Blaise on trips to erotic islands and historical sites. Every now and then, Draco would give Blaise gifts, and nothing that could be held lightly. His smallest gift to Blaise was a gold necklace with a sapphire on the end of it, to match the boy's blue eyes. Shortly after Blaise once expressed his interest in stories that focused on war, Draco gave Blaise an entire section of his library, the section being war novels.
And yet Blaise could never be satisfied. He was an eternal drought on a desert plain, constantly expecting and needing Draco's love and gifts and access to his bed. He was always very easily thrown into jealousy. There was a time when Draco messed around with a particular boy on more than one occasion, and shortly after, the boy had turned up badly beaten, his face permanently disfigured. He would've died hadn't he been given medical attention.
Draco was suspicious that it had been Blaise's doing, but he never followed through on any form of investigation whatsoever. He merely began to slowly but surely stop showing Blaise the attention he once gave him. Frankly, he would always love Blaise's body that is, as long as it was young, but he was tired of Blaise's clingy nature from the start. It was no loss to Draco, really. Yes, he loved Blaise, though he would never admit it to himself, but he didn't need this love, and he didn't need the love to be returned. He ignored it, to put it simply, and began ignoring Blaise except for times like these when he really needed him. Blaise, of course, wasn't too happy, but what could he do?
If you've already forgotten, the scene before this polite interruption was Draco introducing a jealous Blaise to Harry within the erotic hallway.)
Harry looked between Blaise and Draco, who had started to argue over the situation. ("I could wear make-up!" "Makeup would never hide your true features. A wig and some powder would do nothing for you.") Gods, he didn't even know how to react to this. He knew that if he followed through, he would have a chance to become free, perhaps even before Remus returned with the rescue plan… yet this was a nightmare, an absolute nightmare. This definitely wasn't how he pictured his first mission.
"Let's go," Draco said swiftly.
"Go where?" Blaise asked.
"My rooms, where the hell do you think?"
Blaise was about to retort that his rooms were private, but Draco had already sauntered off. Instead, he decided to throw Harry a heated, scrutinizing gaze before following Draco quickly. Harry looked behind him, at the pillar, but he knew that Remus had already left. He hadn't even been able to ask Remus to pass on the story to the others… With a sigh, Harry followed the other two up the staircase.
The candle flickered proudly in the darkness of the night. A steady breeze came in through the balcony doors, chilling the room and making Goosebumps rise all over Harry's tanned skin. Draco had provided him with a heavy quilt and a pillow so that he could sleep relatively comfortably on the floor, but Harry hadn't thought to wear the quilt around his shoulders as he held the candle holder and skimmed through the blonde's journal. A lot of what was written was about his father's plans, all of it being information the order already knew about. Him wanting to build a larger army, wanting to traitor a neighboring ally and make the entire population his slaves… Harry snorted as he read Draco's opinion: basically, that his father was a cretin if he truly believed this entire population would become slaves willingly, the ally didn't suspect what he would do, and if he figured the men to build this army would pop out of thin air.
Glancing back at the large bed with the heavy, translucent draperies, Harry attempted to peer through the darkness to see if the Lord's son was truly asleep. He wouldn't want to be caught looking at the journal. Perhaps Draco wouldn't come to the instant conclusion that Harry was a spy, but he would have to think of something to explain himself. Content enough that he was in dreamland, he bent over and began reading the page in the journal he had seen Draco writing in earlier than evening before pushing it onto his shelves.
The writing was neat, legible, and – dare he think it? – beautiful. If Ron knew that he'd thought something along those lines, he would probably start reconsidering his position as Harry's best friend. Harry let his long, thin fingers ghost over the page and brought the candle closer.
Tonight, there was nothing about Lucius's idiotic and political quests. Instead, it started off simply by saying he started the morning with an interesting debate with his tutor. More details through out the day, boring and having nothing to do with the story at hand, and then finally it came to what Harry had been looking for.
A slave – I've only now realized I never asked for his name – was found earlier this evening, attempting to escape over the twenty-foot wall surrounding the courtyard. Really, he's lucky I came along. If I hadn't, he and his guts would be spread across the courtyard floor right now instead of pretending not to watch me from across my bedroom. He's now part of my plan to get out of my evil marriage with Parkinson. It's a plan my three-year-old nephew would come up with, yet it's also original. It'll keep me amused, at the very least. I think my father might be expecting an elaborate plan filled with affairs of state, with me perhaps presenting a number of laws and rules showing reasons why I can't marry Parkinson. I could do something like that, but it would be too boring and would take too much time. I know my father can decide at this very moment that he wants me to marry Parkinson in the next hour if he wanted to. That's why I've decided to eliminate her immediately. I needed a reason why I couldn't marry her, I realized quickly, so my first stop was to get Blaise. I interviewed him this evening about what it was like being Pansy's slave. He couldn't remember much, though he did seem to recall that girls were always with her, the snot Millicient being among them.
Now, this is entirely immature and below my level, I must agree, but it really does make perfect sense to claim that Pansy is a lesbian, doesn't it? Tomorrow morning, bright and early, I'll burst into my father's office and start raving about how I refuse to marry a lesbian. Blaise has already promised to testify against her. My father would agree, seeing that he believes that a wife ought to be focused on her husband. If Pansy was a lesbian, she would most likely be focusing more on my mother more than on me.
After the marriage is called off, my father will want to marry me off as quickly as possible, and to a girl whose family is powerful and owns wealthy lands. He'll instantly think of Bordeaux, I suspect. I'll have Hermione quickly suggest that a romantic ball is thrown as an occasion in order to change the course of the peasants' gossip. At this ball, I'll allegedly meet the perfect girl – who will, of course, be the slave dressed up as a lady. Hermione will also have to create foreign lands, of course. My father is fool enough to believe such lies, I'm sure. Either way, the slave and I will quickly marry before my father could find the truth about anything: the fake lands, the slave not being a royal lady, etc. By then, we would be married and it would be too late for him to do anything about it. We wouldn't be allowed to divorce, I won't be able to produce an heir with a man, and so, in the end, I won't be able to succeed my father. Brilliant, yes? But of course it is, seeing that it's my plan.
TBC...
AN: Please tell me what you thought? Do you like the direction this story is headed? I'm sorry to everyone out there that absolutely HATES it when people use Blaise, since he's not a real character, just a mentioned name…