ooO The Boy Who Became a SlaveOoo
As it so happened, Draco still hadn't figured out Potter's handwriting, but he was now in a calm and excited mood constantly.
He hadn't seen any sign of Potter being openly gay, but it didn't really matter, he would get there eventually.
After he'd tormented the Golden Gryffindor out of his mind! The thought made him smile.
Today they had a Helper Auction Day, in the hopes to rising funding for the rest of the Hogwarts restoration, which had swallowed more money than anyone had ever dreamed of.
Hogwarts, and other old castles, were apparently highly expensive to rebuild. After the war there were still parts, whole wings of the castle, as piles of stones and dust.
Lucius Malfoy had died in Azkaban over a half a year ago, in the summer. Draco and his mother, Narcissa, now had all the Malfoy family fortunes in their uses.
Narcissa had been wise enough to inform Draco that everything her son needed would be given to him.
Of course, she was devastated after her husband's death, but Draco still thought it was his birthright to spend money how he wanted to spend it.
That's why his right hand palm was covered in cold sweat as he waited for the next Helper to be sold.
They were called Helpers although they were merely tutoring for homework, overall small help, like tidying up and stuff – not real help like House Elves and such.
"… is Harry Potter."
The Gryffindor walked to the podium and looked a little nervous. Draco didn't blame him.
Everyone knew Potter would offer himself to be sold, because he would get the highest bids, and could draw most of the money the castle badly needed.
He swallowed, why did he have to be this nervous?
Potter might of course kill him for this, but he needed to find out what the rest of the poem said, and if it was written by Potter.
It was like a mystery that wouldn't leave him alone.
So he waited until the bids got higher, and higher, until he couldn't resist the temptation and raised his arm and said, "50,000 galleons."
The whole Great Hall turned to stare at him, and Blaise placed a calming arm around Draco's shoulders.
Potter's eyes were piercing him, and Draco turned to take a glance at the Gryffindor table where more than one student was glaring at him murderously.
Haha. This was the most fun he'd had since he was thirteen.
The Gryffindors started whispering furiously, but Draco knew there was no way they could ever reach his bid, not matter if they sold their families, family homes, or whatever, especially when the Weasleys were there too.
"Sold for Draco Malfoy for 50,000 galleons."
Poor Potter marched angrily, while the whole hall was staring at him, possibly hoping he would punch Draco in the face, but Potter only came to halt in front of the Slytherin table.
Draco gave him a curt smile, "Sit down, slave boy."
Potter did sit down opposite of Draco, and narrowed his beautiful green eyes behind the ridiculous glasses.
Blaise snickered, and leaned close enough to whisper in Draco's ear, "Seems like you got your Valentine's present in advance."
Draco rolled his eyes at Blaise and whispered back, "What's that supposed to mean?"
Blaise lifted his eyebrows before whispering again, "I was planning on wrapping him in a pink box, and giving him to you as a gift."
Draco thought this was a good joke, and grinned.
He returned his eyes on Potter, who looked very uncomfortable, and was clenching his jaw.
Poor thing. Poor, poor thing, it was only going to get worse from here. Draco gave him a curt smile.
"Let's go." Draco ordered and got up, Potter followed him, glaring.
He really wasn't keen on staying in the Great Hall until the whole show ended, because he was fed up with people staring at him.
Everyone hated him, and there was absolutely no reason to give them the pleasure of glaring.
When they reached Draco's (and Blaise's) bedroom, he locked the door and took a look at his little helper.
The Gryffindor was trying to murder him with a glare.
"Now now, Potter, there's no need for that." He muttered and took a step closer.
Potter looked so uncomfortable, this was wonderful.
"First of all, I expect everything that people associate with me, to look good. So we need to get you out of those horrible rags. Start stripping, slave boy."
Potter gritted his teeth so angrily, Draco could hear the screech. Potter's tone was low, and threatening,
"I asked you one thing, one thing only, and you made me a promise."
Draco lifted his eyebrows. Yes, he had promised, but surely these two days were an exception.
He shook his head just a little, and dropped his voice to match with Potter's,
"I did promise, and I intend to keep it. Because I am feeling generous today, I'll make a new promise, and this is how it goes, so listen up: While you are my property, you will do exactly how I tell you to, so I don't have to humiliate you in front of anyone. I won't ask you to do anything I couldn't take from you, if the roles were reversed."
He was silent for a moment to let the message sink in (knowing it was Potter, it might take some time), pursed his lips, and when Potter was still glaring, he said,
"You know just as well as I do, that this is an exception. You know, this is just too good of an opportunity to waste. You would do the same to me, don't try to deny that."
Potter's gaze dropped slowly and became empty. The glare was gone, that must be good.
Draco almost felt like exploding, and asking if Potter had any idea how much money he just spent just to get this chance, to for once strip Potter down from his status and get him crawling.
He decided to add, "I only promised we would act civil in public, and I wouldn't torture your friends. I never promised I would act civil to you behind closed doors, so basically I'm not even breaking my promise, although it might appear that way to you."
Okay, this was it. This was the only way he could go around his promise, and still hold it after these two days were over. There was no way Potter would crucio him for this.
Maybe Potter would crucio him for this, but it would be worth it, surely.
Potter was staring at the floor with an empty expression, but Draco knew he was listening.
It was okay, it would take Potter some time to get used to his new master. He had to smirk at the thought.
He had always wanted a pet, or a talking, human sized doll.
The feeling of power was coursing through his veins, and he walked over to his cupboard, picked up clothes he thought would look perfect on Potter, and returned.
Draco stopped behind Potter, pushed the clothes into Potter's hands, and whispered menacingly, "Put these on."
When Potter didn't oblige immediately, he added, "Don't worry, I won't watch."
He turned around, tapped his foot against the floor with impatience; he heard Potter pull clothes off, and putting the new ones on.
The loud, frustrated sigh was the sign that told Draco when he could turn around again, and he did turn around.
Draco inhaled sharply.
Potter looked simply breathtaking; there were no other words for that. Draco knew his mouth was hanging open but it took him several efforts to get it back shut.
Who knew Slytherin green would make those eyes look even greener, and brighter, they were shining like some cursed emeralds.
The robes held the green shade that was only a little less green than Potter's eyes, and from there every item took a little darker shade of green, so that everything was green, but different shades.
The fabrics were highly expensive, and perfectly tailored to Draco, but for some reason they fitted Potter quite well, and that was somewhat surprising.
Had Potter lost weight?
Draco knew perfectly well, that it was Potter's eyes that were the crown jewels in this sight.
Without those eyes the clothes were simple, boring, green clothes.
He knew he was staring, but he couldn't help it. He wished he wasn't drooling too, but he wasn't sure.
All rational thoughts had flown out of his head. Potter. Potter was hot.
When had Potter started looking hot? When? And why hadn't anyone told this to Draco earlier?
He almost felt his knees getting weak, and was glad he was so close to Potter, so he didn't have to walk without using the Gryffindor as his cane.
Solely on this purpose he placed his arm on Potter's shoulders, and walked him over to the mirror.
Potter was watching Draco's reaction with what could only be interpreted as curiosity.
Draco met Potter's eyes on the mirror, and closed his eyes for a moment, not believing this was really happening, nothing would surprise him anymore after this.
His brain was melting.
He took a deep breath, feeling almost breathless by Potter's hotness, and muttered, "I'm going to share a secret with you. Can you keep it?"
He opened his eyes and looked at the boy standing next to him, who had Draco's arm wrapped loosely around his shoulders.
Potter merely lifted his eyebrows, apparently confused about what was going on, "Um… okay."
Draco muttered, "I just decided what I'm going to do after school."
Potter waited, but was curious and asked, "And what's that?"
"I…," Draco began, then shifted his eyes back to the mirror, "…am going to become a wizard stylist, and I will abandon all my dreams of becoming a Potions teacher."
Potter met his eyes on the mirror reflection, and looked horrified, "A wizard stylist?"
"Yes. A wizard stylist. I will dress wizards up, so that they turn from looking scruffy draught junkies, into looking like wizard models."
"Oh…" Potter muttered, blushed suddenly, and his gaze dropped somewhere on the floor.
Draco blinked.
This was… this… what was going on again?
He shook his head furiously.
Potter looked too good, he simply couldn't take this.
"I don't feel too well, I need to lie down. You can do my homework in the meanwhile,"
Draco stated, and hastily emptied his schoolbag on the table, then threw himself on his bed, and crossed an arm over his eyes.
He heard Potter taking a seat, and starting to do the homework like he was expected to.
Draco knew quite well the Helpers weren't expected to actually do the homework, but rather help with it.
Potter wasn't complaining, and there was no way Draco would be able to concentrate on doing his homework tonight.
He was having a serious crisis.
He hadn't expected Harry fucking Potter to suddenly turn into the most good-looking wizard he had seen… well, possibly ever.
He groaned aloud. This was awful. He needed to calm down. He knew perfectly well he would never ever get anything from Potter.
Not sex, not a date, not anything. Potter hated him. Maybe he hated Potter too, but now Potter was way too hot to even think about hating him.
Nevertheless they were who they were, and there was nothing that could be done.
He would simply have to stare Potter from a distance and drool.
He groaned again.
"Are you alright?" Potter asked, but didn't sound too concerned.
"No," Draco groaned and took an exasperated breath.
"Good." Potter said, and sounded so amused, that Draco felt a little bit more normal.
It was still Potter, the insufferable Boy Who Suddenly Became Handsome.
Draco stretched and his fingers hit the parchment under his pillow.
His eyes narrowed, he got up, and walked behind Potter, maybe a little bit too close for comfort, his thighs were gently pressing into the Gryffindor back.
He leaned over the dark haired head, and stared at the page curiously. So it was Potter's handwriting!
One mystery solved. The last line of the poem about falling for a boy, gave him the final certainty about Potter's orientation. Potter was gay.
He leaned a little closer, pressing his body against the Gryffindor's back, and placed his hands on the table, leaving Potter there in the middle, like he was in a cage built out of Draco.
Trapped between the table and the Slytherin.
He leaned down to whisper in Potter's ear, "I might need your help with something. Can you give me a list of words that rhyme with 'boy'?"
Potter got visibly rigid and muttered, "I don't know what you're talking about."
Draco almost touched Potter's ear with his lips and whispered, "I think you know perfectly well what I'm talking about."
Potter was clenching his jaw now, getting a bit red on the cheeks as the anger started to build up, "I told you. I have no idea what you're talking about."
Draco enjoyed this immensely; he let his arms drop their weight on Potter's shoulders, so that Potter would feel a little bit more trapped and uncomfortable in his little prison.
Draco muttered softly in Potter's ear, "You don't? I think you do know. And I think you should tell me so I don't get impatient. I simply want to know the next line, that's all."
Potter was getting pissed off, "I said I don't know what you're talking about!"
Draco was feeling impatient and irritated, before he even consciously knew what he was doing; he had pulled his wand out and muttered a faint Bonding Bracelet spell.
Potter yelped and clutched his wrists shouting, "What the hell are you doing?"
"Just teaching my new puppy some manners, Potter." Draco said and walked a little further away from Potter so he could admire what he had done.
There were silvery bracelets in Potter's wrists, and a faint white mist lingered between Draco's wand and Potter's wrists.
"Watch this," He said, and Potter glared at him.
Draco began twirling, and twisting his wand so that the mist coiled around the wand like a rope.
The barely visible string got tighter and tighter, until Potter clenched his fists, and tried to hold them still.
"The mist will disappear in a couple of minutes but I'm sure you understand how this works. When I flick my wand, you come to me out of your free will, or either solely out of my will. The bracelets stay on as long as you are my property. Unless you want me to take them off. In that case I will happily vanish them, right after you have given me the rest of the poem."
Potter narrowed his eyes, "I will never give you the rest of the poem."
Draco cocked his head and smirked, "Oh really?"
He made a couple of flicks with his wand, and Potter clutched the table's edge like it was a lifeline, knuckles and fingers all white with the effort.
Potter's jaw clenched too, in a desperate, angry way.
Draco smiled at this and flicked his wand a couple of times more. The bracelets were trying to force Potter to stand up and walk to Draco; the silver looked like it was digging in Potter's skin.
Draco thought it looked so uncomfortable he couldn't help but say, "Is this the famous Gryffindor pride, Potter, or are you simply stupid?"
"Fuck you, Malfoy!" Potter growled and fought bravely against the forceful pull that was coming from Draco's wand.
Draco cocked his head a bit, "That is no way to talk to your master, Potter. When I tell you to come, you will come."
The mist had now disappeared, but this was a familiar spell to Draco, and all he had to do was twirl his wand round and round, until finally Potter gave up and stood up.
As soon as he let his fingers loose from the tabletop, his hands flew up, like he was a zombie.
Potter was still trying to fight back, while narrowing his eyes and trying to force his feet stay rooted on the floor, and not take steps towards Draco.
Draco sighed, and gave a curt smile, "Come, come. This is simply a demonstration of how this works, there is no need to fight back."
Potter looked so angry; Draco wondered why Potter didn't simply charge at him.
He knew Potter couldn't get his wand out as long as his wrists were forcing him towards Draco's wand.
Potter didn't say anything, didn't complain, and Draco felt a small pang of jealousy at the knowledge that Potter could stay so proud in any situation.
There was nothing that could make Potter turn into Draco's will, and give Draco the poem.
He twirled his wand forcefully, and Potter took the last couple of steps to reach Draco.
Draco smiled and let the wand tip drop, letting Potter's hands drop in the same motion.
Potter almost reached for his wand, when Draco snapped his up again, and Potter's hands followed the movement.
Draco smirked; this was so much fun, "Oh my, aren't you stubborn. I'm simply showing you how this works. There is no reason for you to be so resistant. Now, let's try it again."
Draco let the tip of the wand drop towards the floor, Potter's hands dropped too, and then relaxed on his sides.
"See, doesn't that feel better?" Draco asked with a mocking soft voice, and could read in Potter's eyes, and in his expression, that the pain in his wrists had stopped.
Potter didn't of course admit anything aloud, but it was alright as long as Draco could see that Potter understood the difference between being in pain, and not being in pain.
"There is no point in trying to fight back, Potter. You know very well, that tomorrow you're going to spend the whole day with me, and you're going to stay just as close to me as I wish you to. Now I want you to finish up with my homework, and then you'll be excused for the night."
Potter didn't say anything, simply glared in anger, and returned to his seat, starting to continue with the unfinished homework.
Draco sighed. He felt quite happy right now. He hadn't read the rules for the slav- Helper owners, but he did know that one couldn't keep the Helpers over the night.
Potter was his only for this evening, and tomorrow the whole day.
That was certainly enough, since Potter wouldn't be able to stand the pain the bracelets caused during the night, and would bring the poem first thing tomorrow morning.
An hour later Draco stood up from his bed, and muttered, "Come here."
Potter had understood his lack of choices by now, got up and walked to Draco, but clenched his jaw angrily.
Draco gave him a curt smile, "Don't give me that look. Surely this wasn't that bad."
He took a step closer to Potter, pressed his lips into Potter's ear and muttered,
"I know you will miss me as soon as you're out of this room. While you miss me during the night, find the poem so that in the morning I can take these off."
He touched Potter's hand gently, but Potter snatched his hand away.
Draco wasn't sure if it was because the bracelets had already made his skin sensitive, or whether it was in pure anger.
Draco smiled and then opened the room of the door, "Goodnight, Potter. I rest in peace knowing how badly you long for me."
Potter marched out of the room with quick steps, and Draco banged the door shut.
He could hear Potter's small, surprised yelp when the bracelets tightened unbearably.
Yes, Potter, the bracelets know I'm not in the same room with you, and so do you.
ooOoOoo
The next morning Draco woke up feeling happy. He stretched, yawned and got up feeling excited.
It would be a miracle if Potter didn't bring him the poem.
After a shower, and dressing up in black clothes, he opened the Slytherin common room door on the way to breakfast, and he found Potter standing there.
Potter sighed in relief, and Draco gave him a small smile. Poor Potter, it had probably been a very painful night.
"Good morning, my Chosen One. Let's go to breakfast before we can have a nice Saturday morning walk. It's not snowing, is it?"
Draco thought acting civil was very easy now.
He couldn't wait to go for a walk with Potter so he could solve the mystery of the poem.
Potter didn't reply anything, poor thing, must be angry, Draco didn't mind.
Potter was wearing the green clothes Draco had given him the previous day, and Potter sat at the exact spot where Draco told him to sit, opposite of his owner.
Even thinking about it made Draco smile.
Blaise came soon, and sat next to Draco, they exchanged 'morning' greetings, and Potter kept his eyes more on his plate than on his owner.
Draco spoke, "Blaise, haven't you seen what Potter is wearing?"
It sounded lame but he couldn't understand why Blaise hadn't drooled all over the table.
Blaise lifted his eyes and took a look at Potter, frowning. Potter rolled his eyes in annoyance.
"He's wearing you're clothes?" Blaise asked, and lifted his eyebrows at Draco.
Draco almost snapped, "Yes. But I meant, doesn't he look good? Have you ever seen him look good before? No, you haven't! This miraculous sight was created by me, Blaise! I turned this poor, scruffy looking boy into looking like the Saviour of the Wizarding world that he is."
Draco smirked at Blaise's expression, who frowned, then looked at Potter, and then looked at Draco again,
"Um, sorry to disappoint you, Draco, but he looks just the way he always does. Except that he's wearing green." Blaise muttered.
Potter sighed, and exchanged a look with Blaise, but Draco didn't react to that.
He was serious, he knew he was talented when it came to picking clothes for other people,
"How can you say that? Look at him! Are you blind, Zabini? Am I not the best wizard stylist you have ever met?"
Blaise shook his head, and sighed, "Okay, right. I guess you're right."
Draco frowned, "Of course I'm right."
Draco shifted his eyes to Potter; Potter met his eyes briefly before dropping them onto the table in front of him. Potter looked hot, there was no denying.
Suddenly he heard a familiar, angry voice, "Draco Malfoy! How dare you treat Harry like this? If you break the rules one more time, I will come to you and – "
Granger slammed a piece of parchment in front of Draco, and marched away before Draco could answer anything.
Potter was looking after Granger, and shook his head to her, as if saying, 'Don't'.
Draco picked up the Helper Owner's Rules, but folded them into his pocket. He would take a look at them after the walk with Potter.
He picked up a piece of toast and ate, while watching Potter pour some tea.
That made him say, "I'd like some too."
Potter tensed a little but did pour the tea in Draco's mug, and as a reward Draco gave him a small grin, "Good boy."
Blaise snickered and they exchanged looks. If only they had Slave Auctions more often, it would make Draco's life permanently preferable.
When he had eaten, he couldn't resist the temptation any longer, "Come on, Potter, time for a walk."
Blaise laughed, and the Slytherin left the hall with his Gryffindor pet. They went outside, and luckily it wasn't snowing at least.
It was quite warm, a little bit windy, possibly about plus twelve Celsius degrees. Perfect.
Draco kept walking, and Potter was obediently walking beside him.
Finally Draco stopped near a tree and pushed Potter against it. The knowledge of Potter being gay, and the fact that Potter had suddenly turned hot, were making his life so much sweeter right now.
He stared into the green eyes, which were holding a grudging look; he muttered softly, "The poem."
Potter shook his head, and Draco frowned, "Potter, I want you to give me the poem."
Potter didn't say anything, simply kept staring at Draco.
Draco sighed with annoyance, "Fine. I'll give you another piece of jewelry then, that should make you think again."
He stepped back and cast another spell, this time the mist coiled around Potter's neck, and took a form of a silver necklace.
Draco concentrated a little more, until there formed a small silvery plate on the front.
He knew he wasn't very good at this, but he clenched his jaw, and finally the letter 'D' carved itself in the plate.
He sighed happily. It would've been nicer, if he knew how to plant fake diamonds there too, but that was way too complicated.
Besides this was only to let Potter, and everyone else who saw it, see who the Gryffindor belonged to.
He took a couple of steps back, and started twirling his wand, and Potter yelped as the necklace tightened around his neck, and started forcing him towards Draco. Potter didn't move though, he took a tight grip of the tree behind him, and tried to lean his weight against the tree to stay there.
Draco kept taking steps back while twirling and twirling the wand, Potter groaned and closed his eyes.
"Potter, I kindly asked you to give me the rest of your poem. Do you want to read it aloud to me now, or will you simply hand it to me?"
Potter clenched his jaw hard, and his knuckles were white while his face started to take a red colour.
Draco knew it would be impossible for him to breathe soon, and wondered why Potter had to be so damned persistent.
"I don't have it," Potter croaked.
"I doubt that. I told you to take it with you." Draco muttered, and took another step back.
Potter's breathing did sound difficult, "I've burned it! A long time ago!"
Draco didn't believe this, and took another step back. He could see how the silver was digging in the skin forcefully in the three places.
"I'm sure you remember it anyway, so let's hear it. Come on now, Potter. I said I'd take the spells off once you told me the poem."
It was quite impossible to tell if Potter was breathing at all, he was maybe holding his breath; his face was taking an unhealthy blue shade that had already tinged his fingers.
"Can't remember it." Potter whined.
Draco sighed. Potter was too proud. It would've been almost admirable, unless it was simply stupid.
He slowly walked right into Potter, and put his wand back in his pocket. Potter gasped for breath, and almost slid down along the tree but Draco pushed him tightly against the tree, holding him still.
"Stupid Gryffindor. I know that's a lie." He watched Potter's expression in fascination as the last traces of the pain drained away.
The frown smoothed itself, and Draco forgot all about the poem, it didn't matter anymore.
The necklace had loosened, but had left a faint red line where it had dug deep in the skin, Draco traced it with his finger, and in the spur of moment planted his whole palm there, smoothing and massaging the skin.
Potter was possibly too relieved to feel angry, because he kept his eyes closed and didn't react to Draco's stroking in any way, only kept taking deep breaths.
"Hi Harry," Draco heard a voice say, and both Potter and Draco twitched and turned their heads towards the sound.
"Hi Neville," Potter said sounding breathless.
"Everything alright?" Longbottom asked.
"Yes. I'm fine." Potter said, but Draco kept glaring at Longbottom, wondering if the Gryffindor would suddenly attack Draco, if he turned his back at him.
"Okay. I'll see you later, Harry." Neville called and started walking towards the lake.
Draco's eyes snapped back at Potter, who didn't answer Neville.
Instead Potter was watching Draco with a curious expression.
Draco watched right back, but couldn't read the thought behind the glasses and behind the green eyes, it made him ask, "What?"
"You do realise that he possibly thought we were..." Potter began, but suddenly stopped, and then shook his head.
"What, Potter? He thought we were what?" Draco asked, and pushed Potter a little tighter against the tree trunk with impatience.
He hated when people stopped things in the middle – just like Potter had done with the poem too!
Potter's voice was quiet, "I think he might've thought we were… snogging."
Draco frowned, and realised his hand was still on Potter's neck, on the necklace, and on the faint red marks – Merlin the necklace was powerful, he hadn't known they could actually inflict wounds.
Potter was gay, so did it really matter if someone saw them and made some stupid conclusions?
Maybe he should torment Potter about it, just a little, as a punishment because Potter still had failed to inform Draco of his gayness.
Since Draco was gay, he thought it should've been something Potter should've told, it was Draco's right to know these things.
He also couldn't understand why no-one had told him Potter was gay already long ago?
He lifted his eyes from Potter's neck, the green eyes were watching him with a secret hidden in there somewhere,
"Well… " Draco began, and noticed he was hesitating although he shouldn't have been, "Does it matter?"
Potter blinked, confused, mouth open, then muttered, "No-one will ever believe him anyway."
Draco let his hand drop from Potter's neck, and Potter said quietly, "I think we should go back in."
Draco lifted his left eyebrow but turned to leave, and Potter was by his side.
ooOoOoo
They ate lunch in silence, Draco chatting casually with Blaise, but not with Potter.
He wondered how well Potter had been behaving, like the Gryffindor barely minded being bossed around by Draco. Then again, maybe it was easy for the Gryffindor to act civil, since he had been the one insisting they act civil this year.
He suddenly remembered Granger's outburst in the morning, and decided he would take a look at the rules as soon as they were back in his room.
Several hours later the Gryffindor had done study notes for Draco, for the next lessons they'd have on Monday (there wasn't any unfinished homework so it was all Draco could think Potter could do).
Potter had also tidied up the room, although there hadn't been too much clutter in the first place.
Draco was reading the rules over and over again, debating with himself.
The rules were simple; don't inflict pain or use magic on your Helper, don't spend the night with them, don't harass them sexually, don't touch the privates, no nudity, don't accept money or make them use money on you.
Simple.
Why hadn't Potter complained about the bracelets then? They broke the number one rule both in using magic and causing pain. Draco felt irritated by the stupid Gryffindor pride.
That gave him the idea of what they should do after dinner when they only had a couple of hours left before Potter would be free again.
At that time Potter was reading a book by the table, and Draco read the rules one more time before getting up lazily.
"Come here." He said, and Potter was ever so obedient, and walked to Draco without making even an irritated face anymore.
Draco looked at his slave, measuring him from head to toe; feeling already disappointed at the knowledge that tomorrow Potter wouldn't be wearing green any more. What a shame.
The necklace with 'D' on it, was resting gently on Potter's neck but the bracelets looked quite painful most of the time.
Draco wondered how much they must've been hurting all through last night when Potter had been sleeping. Potter did look a bit tired indeed.
"So, slave boy. I was quite surprised when Granger mentioned the rules this morning." He watched Potter's green eyes steadily, and Potter twitched only a little under the gaze.
"Apparently I've been breaking a rule. I simply cannot understand which one I could have been breaking since surely if I caused you any pain, you would have told me, right? You haven't made any complaints so I have no idea what I possibly might have done wrong."
He tilted his head a little, and gave a curt smile. Potter's eyes got that tiny flame of anger in them at this point.
Draco took a step closer, then another, and smirked a little at Potter's expression, which remained unaffected, but behind the ridiculous glasses there were clearly some emotions rushing by.
Potter was too proud, he could have said at this point that the bracelets had been torturing him like hell, but he didn't say anything.
Stupid Gryffindors.
"I was wondering which rule I broke. I thought since I haven't caused you any pain, was it when I told you to take your clothes off? Surely that won't count since I wasn't even watching."
He took one step closer until he could lean right into Potter, and mutter in a soft tone, "So which one did I break, huh?"
Potter clenched his jaw but didn't say anything.
Draco smiled a little, their bodies were barely touching but that was a perfect distance between them.
It was very easy to tilt his head just so that he could whisper in Potter's ear,
"Since you didn't spend the night in here, and didn't spend any money on me, I think there are only a couple of rules left. Did I touch your privates?"
He pulled back just a little so he could take a look at Potter's face, the Gryffindor said nothing, but seemed all tense, clenching his jaw in irritation.
Draco leaned closer again, and muttered gently in Potter's ear,
"I'm sure I would remember if we did something like that, but what do we have left after that? What is sexual harassment? Is this it? Am I standing too close? Am I harassing you sexually?"
Draco pulled back a little; Potter was clenching his jaw hard, and had closed his eyes, probably trying to calm himself down so he wouldn't lash out.
Draco stepped just a little closer, so that their bodies were actually meeting now, not just brushing but really touching.
He whispered, "What's the matter, Potter? I bet you are enjoying this. Am I touching you now? Just tell me when I'm harassing you sexually, so I don't have to break any rules, okay? So how about this?"
He pressed a little closer still, and Potter took a deep breath, possibly bracing himself for whatever was coming.
Draco pressed his lips so close to Potter's ear, they almost touched the sensitive skin.
The air from his lips, on the other hand, did touch Potter's skin, he could feel that on his lips,
"Does it include the tone of my voice too? How about my words?"
Draco swallowed, and let his voice turn into satin,
"If I tell you, you are hot, and I can't take my eyes off you, and uh… if I call you darling, just like this, darling, do you think that's wrong? No, I don't think you do."
He let his lips even closer to Potter's ear, almost touching, almost, and he whispered,
"I bet you actually like this. I bet you'd let me touch you too. In fact, I bet you're waiting for me to do that."
He pulled back a little, grinning, but Potter didn't see his grin, because he had his eyes squeezed shut like he was in pain.
Draco glanced at Potter's wrists; the bracelets were still digging into the skin even though Draco wasn't deliberately tightening them right now. He muttered,
"Oh my poor, little slave boy, aren't your wrists aching? I'll take them off."
He pulled his wand out and touched Potter's left hand gently, but Potter snatched it back like the touch had burned him.
Draco frowned but kept his tone soothing silky, "Shush darling, I'm taking them off. Don't you trust me?"
He touched the hand again but this time Potter didn't pull it back, so he held it, gently, and performed the spell.
Draco almost gasped with surprise as the bracelet disappeared and revealed badly bruised, damaged skin.
He hadn't known the spell could do that, the skin looked awful, and he could almost see how the blood had stopped circulating and started now rushing with freedom.
He moved a little so he could reach for the right hand, and performed the spell there too. He wasn't sure but the bracelets might've caused some bleeding at some point, because the skin was definitely broken although the wounds weren't bleeding right now.
Potter sighed, possibly in relief, and Draco removed the necklace too.
It had only caused that one red line where it had been strangling Potter by the tree this morning.
Draco pocketed his wand and grabbed Potter's left hand, smoothed his thumb over the bruised skin.
Potter twitched, so he knew the skin hurt or was very sensitive for touch.
He leaned closer again, still holding the hand, and whispered, "Silly Gryffindor. You could've told me it hurt. Am I hurting you now?"
Potter didn't reply, and he didn't feel like pulling away so he continued muttering with low, soft voice,
"Where were we? Oh right, how would you feel about if I touched you now? I bet you'd like it, and wouldn't consider it as harassment. Or would you?"
Draco breathed slowly, in and out, letting the air brush Potter's hair, and then he let his lips brush Potter's skin,
"I'd touch you very gently, and you would love that, wouldn't you? You like blokes, and you would be so hard under my touch."
He moved his head a little, to take a look at Potter's face. The Gryffindor still had his eyes closed, and he was breathing mouth open.
Suddenly Draco noticed it; a single tear was running down from the corner of Potter's left eye.
He placed his hand in front of Potter's crotch but didn't touch, just placed it there, ready to touch, before he whispered,
"It's okay, I won't tell anyone." He moved his hand.
He pressed it against the trousers, brushed Potter's dick through the fabric, but suddenly his hand wasn't there anymore, and his butt hurt, and he was gazing at Potter from a distance, in a weird angle.
Potter had pushed him violently, Draco sprawled on the floor, and Potter was now shouting with burning eyes,
"You bloody bastard! How dare you do this to me? If you touch me again, I'll tell McGonagall how you broke almost every rule there was! Also, if you ever treat me in any way that's not civil and polite, I will take it as my personal goal to make your life even more miserable than it already is!"
Having said that Potter marched out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him, and Draco slowly got up from the floor.
Oh well, it had been fun and exciting as long as it had lasted.
Potter's one single tear made him wince though.
Why would any gay boy be so upset, when someone as good-looking as Draco offered to rub them in nice places?
That had never happened before. Potter was a (hot) mystery, and Draco's feelings were a mess right now.