Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Bella's Harem	By : Mamacita Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 28885 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
10: But When She was Bad, She was Horrid

Arthur might have intended to let Harry have a lie-in the next morning, but the other boys overrode him by the simple means of crowding around Harry’s pallet as soon as they rose and asking him questions at the top of their lungs and all at the same time. The eunuchs tried to shoo them away, but it was too late; the damage was done, and Harry was awake. Amid the noise and excitement he sat up and stretched and tried to hear what they were asking.

“How was it, Harry?”

“Do you still have everything you left with?”

“Was it scary?”

“What did she make you do?”

“Did you get to have a go, Harry?”

“Did she say if she liked it?”

Laughing, Harry held up a hand. “Come on, you guys—one at a time, okay?”

Stuart said, “What was it like, Harry? Was she as scary up close?”

“Um...no, she wasn’t scary, really. Kind of bossy, I guess. She likes to be in charge.”

There was a chorus of “aaaah”s and Ron, trying to sound knowledgeable, asked, “You mean she likes to be on top?

There was a dead pause, then everyone laughed. “On top? Do tell, little brother,” Fred chortled. “And what would you know about being on top—or on the bottom, for that matter?” Arthur was tempted to step in and stop the bickering before it went any further, but he was rather interested himself in hearing Ron’s answer.

“I know some,” Ron insisted, his face red at suddenly being the focus of attention. “I—I can’t tell the details because I never gossip about a lady,” he claimed desperately.

“Got his knowledge from a magazine, more like,” Fred muttered to Andrew, who grinned.

“Well, actually,” Harry said, drawing the group’s attention away from the unfortunate Ron, “I don’t know if she likes to be on top or not. We sort of...did other things, instead.”

The clamor arose again, and Fred exclaimed, “What—no shagging? Aw, Harry. Too bad, mate. Now that could have been interesting.”

Harry said blithely, “Well, personally I found the oral sex more than just interesting.” He chuckled at the circle of dropped jaws that surrounded him.

“Oral?” Ernie breathed. “Wow, she actually went down on you?”

“No, you moron—the other way round,” Harry said. He shrugged. “She was the one giving the orders.”

“So did you like it?” Ron asked curiously. “What was it like?”

“It was....” Harry paused, somewhat at a loss for words. Fear of what Bella would think about him gossiping about her warred with the natural wish to have done something the others hadn’t—especially not with such spectacular results. (He really didn’t know whether he should reveal that part.) “It was great. I could really get into doing a lot more of that.” He looked around. “Not likely, if I’m stuck here with you lot—you know we’re not allowed to practice on each other,” he said virtuously. The boys snickered and elbowed each other.

Arthur glanced casually around as Harry made his little joke and was dismayed to see a hungry expression on Marshall’s face. Oh gods, give me a break, he thought. He resolved still more firmly to keep an eye on Marshall—for the man’s own sake, as well as the boys’. Arthur dreaded the possibility of having to speak to Lucius about it, lest something dire should happen to Marshall. On the other hand, if he waited until something did happen, it could well be too late to save him.

“I thought I heard you come in last night,” Neville said curiously. “It was rather early, wasn’t it? I thought maybe you’d be gone most of the night.”

Arthur decided to step in; like Harry, he felt Bella would be less than pleased to hear the story of the abortive end to the evening being spread among the castle residents. He hoped that Lucius, too, would not send it any further. “The Queen has her own reasons for doing what she does,” he said briskly. “As I’m sure you’ll each find out when she summons you.” He aimed a meaningful look at them. “Now—who wants breakfast? Well? I don’t see any beds being made. Come on, look lively.”

As Harry and Ron straightened their pallets and folded their blankets neatly on top, Ron whispered, “Was it really good, Harry? She didn’t...hurt you...or anything?”

“No, she didn’t hurt me. Like I said, she was sort of bossy—wanted to control every little thing. But it was good...really good.” He could still remember some of his dreams from after he’d finally fallen asleep in the wee hours, and he ran it over and over again in his mind. In his imagination the evening didn’t end with Bella unconscious, even from something as delightful as an excess of pleasure. No, it continued from where they had left off; and Harry decided that, if given the opportunity, he would very much like to have Bella on top of him with his cock sunk to the hilt in her warm, slick channel.

The only problem with continuing to think about it all the time, which he couldn’t really help doing, was that he went about with a continual hard-on, which the other boys teased him about mercilessly. After a while he gave up protesting and just stuck out the tip of his tongue and flicked it at them suggestively; and he had the dubious satisfaction of seeing several furtively hidden erections around the room as the others put their own imaginations to good use, fueled by Harry’s scanty description of the night before.

After breakfast several of the boys splashed into the pool to revisit the game they were developing and to make up some more rules for it. Justin suggested that Harry might like to join them, as he hadn’t really gotten a chance the night before. Harry was happy to join them, but for a little while—until he had to give up because it was just too awkward an angle for his neck—he valiantly resisted getting his face wet.

He could still smell Bella on himself, and he was in no hurry to wash it off.
The previous evening, when Lucius arrived back in the castle quarters he shared with Narcissa and, for the moment, Draco, he had joined Narcissa in bed, unable to stop chuckling.

She woke up to a shaking bed and a husband who appeared to be enjoying a private joke. “What is it, dearest?” she asked sleepily. “Can you tell me?”

Lucius rose up on one elbow and looked down at her. “I will...if you promise not to get angry. It’s about your sister.”

Narcissa raised her eyebrows. “Oh? Something juicy, from the sound of it.” Sleepiness fled, and she turned and curled into Lucius’ side. “Do share, Lucius.”

He rested one hand on her smooth belly covered in blue satin; he liked blue, and in his vainer moments he wished he’d been Sorted into Ravenclaw so he could wear their blue and bronze, which made his hair look platinum-blond, instead of the Slytherin silver and green which tended to give it a yellow cast. Narcissa writhed just a little, to let him know she was interested in any side trips his hand might happen to make, and he smiled at her eagerness.

“Well...you know Harry Potter was the first slave Bella summoned—he went tonight.” Narcissa nodded. “I had a meeting with Lyttelton and some of the others—castle maintenance, resetting the wards on the school grounds, minor stuff, really—after I delivered Potter to Bella’s suite. The meeting only lasted about an hour, and we were just leaving the Great Hall when I happened to look round—fortunately the others were facing the other way—and saw Potter ducking out of the elevator your sister’s had put in. He was completely naked, and my first thought was that he’d run out on Bella and was trying to escape. I wasn’t really worried that he’d hurt her, or anything—I should think as long as she has her wand she’s more than a match for him—but I don’t want to have to waste time testing out other potential harem slaves, and if he goes and gets himself sentenced to death that’s exactly what will happen.

“So I excused myself and said I had another errand to attend to, and went over to intercept him. It turned out he wasn’t trying to leave at all but wanted to get someone’s attention—and he seemed glad it was mine—to take care of a little...er, problem...that had come up.

“I went back up to Bella’s suite with him and—” he started to laugh helplessly— “oh, Cissy, you’ll never believe it. She was lying there in her bed sound asleep, half-naked, and from the looks of it she’d very recently been having Harry go down on her. I couldn’t imagine her letting him leave—you know how much she loves oral—” he and Narcissa had at times over the years been involved, both willingly and not so willingly, in threesomes with Bellatrix and even the occasional wife-swap between the two couples, incest not being considered an impediment by either Lucius or Bella, so they were well aware of her preferences— “and teaching a novice would make it even more enjoyable, I should think.

“So I went back down to the anteroom and made Potter tell me exactly what had happened—in great detail, of course.”

“Oh, of course,” Narcissa murmured, tongue in cheek.

“Just so. Well, it appears Bella actually got her fill for once. Potter must be rather good with that saucy tongue of his. At first I wasn’t certain whether he wasn’t teaching Bella a little discipline himself possibly, but he was in such a panic I don’t think that could be the case. I think he just didn’t know how to read her signals—silly git probably thought she was encouraging him, but from what he said it sounded like she was trying to get him to stop. And he didn’t, and—” he seemed almost overcome by hysterical giggles— “and apparently he disregarded all her signals and continued full speed ahead, and she p-passed out.” He was guffawing by now, and Narcissa, picturing it, joined in his laughter.

Then it occurred to her to wonder what Bella’s morning-after mood would be like. After all, she would probably realize Lucius had seen her at her undignified worst, and that was liable to be upsetting to someone like Bella.

“Darling...aren’t you and Draco supposed to have an audience with her tomorrow?” she asked. “To discuss...you know.”

The “you know” she referred to was Draco’s continued refusal to join the ranks of Death Eaters. So far Bella had not actually ordered it, but Narcissa knew it was just a matter of time until things came to a head and there was a Confrontation. And the more Lucius could stay on Bella’s good side, obviously, the better the confrontation was likely to go—the less chance Draco would be forced into joining against his will. And, it must now be revealed, against his parents’ wills, also.

Because no one but a select few among the resistance knew that the head of the movement to overthrow Voldemort—and now to unthrone Bella—was none other than Lucius Malfoy himself.

Oh, it was fine in the early days, when Riddle had declared himself Lord Voldemort and he and his Death Eaters terrorized the wizarding world, doing what they wanted, taking what they wanted, and never having to pay the piper. That, Voldemort had told them, was what it meant to be a Death Eater. He promised them power beyond imagining; all the world would be at their feet, he said; they would be “rich beyond the dreams of avarice”.

Well, it had certainly sounded good. But as they found out, what it really amounted to was that Voldemort had the power, and Voldemort had the wealth, and Voldemort could get away with just about anything he wanted to—well, until Harry Potter came along, of course, but that was a different story. The Death Eaters had suffered losses left and right, with the Ministry Aurors constantly dogging their footsteps and hauling groups of them off to Azkaban every so often.

When Voldemort had been all but destroyed the night he attempted to kill the infant Harry Potter and subsequently disappeared, Lucius had breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe now life could get back to normal; it would take a lot of kissing of the appropriate Ministry arses, but it was just possible he might regain his former status within the wizarding world and maybe, just maybe, he could start to live a real life again instead of constantly having to chase after the problems Voldemort created that always seemed to end up in Lucius’ lap to be fixed.

Oh, the others made a good show of it, rushing around as they “searched” for Voldemort so they could help him “return”. What a bunch of mealy-mouthed, toadying fools they were. Lucius had kept a sharp ear open for any word of Voldemort’s possible return, too, but only so that if it ever really happened he could be in the right place at the right time to make it look as if he was still loyal.

In the mean time he and Narcissa lived quietly, raising Draco, sending him to school...and then the name Harry Potter started to be mentioned around Malfoy Manor more and more frequently, always with venom, and Lucius began to get a very uneasy feeling. He had not seen hide nor hair of Voldemort, nor of Bellatrix or her disaster of a husband, Rodolphus Lestrange, in years. Bellatrix, he was pretty sure, really was trying to locate Voldemort. She had been treated badly enough by him that Lucius would have thought she’d do a dance in downtown London naked in broad daylight at the thought of Voldemort being gone forever (if she needed a reason at all; Bella tended to do things like that anyway, but it was not madness, simply caprice, that drove her). Instead, along with Rodolphus she was combing Europe, searching for any hint whatsoever of their Dark Lord so they could bring him back into the fold where he would be safely surrounded by his loyal followers.

With Voldemort’s return Lucius saw the destruction of everything that mattered to him, including his now peaceful, comfortable family life. He saw it coming, and he did what he could to prevent it. But Bella unwittingly took matters out of his hands when, overcome by greed, she killed Voldemort herself...and then took his place as their new Dark Lady. And therein lay the problem. She promised to be every bit as capricious, as restless and difficult to pacify, as Voldemort had been. And Lucius was tired of it. He wanted his life back. He didn’t really care if it was Dark or Light or somewhere in between as long as it was his. So he remained active in the resistance, although his involvement was known only to a handful of highly-placed resistance fighters, among them Minerva McGonagall, Arthur Weasley, Snape, and of course, Narcissa.

Now Lucius renewed his stroking of Narcissa’s soft skin, pinching lightly at her nipples through the nightgown and enjoying the warm smell of her body. “Don’t worry about it, my love,” he said. “I’ll take care of the bit about Harry and last night. I shouldn’t think she’d want to discuss it much. And I’ll do my best to keep Draco out of it, you know that. If worse comes to worst, I’ll send him to that uncle of Molly Weasley’s in America, but let’s not worry about it just yet.” He bent down and suckled one taut nipple through the nightgown. “I have more important things to worry about just now.” He had suddenly realized it had been several days since he’d made love to his wife, and he was feeling particularly deprived.

Narcissa’s face was suffused with love as she watched his tongue flick gently over one breast, then the other. A little frisson of delight ran through her when he suddenly ripped the nightgown open down the front. He looked at her and winked wickedly, and she held her breath as he moved down and his head sank between her thighs. He made her wait until she was almost ready to come from the mere anticipation of what he would do. His hot breath wafted over her skin, but he didn’t touch her; just a strand or two of his hair tickled the insides of her thighs.

So lightly she could hardly feel it, he kissed her beside the crease in one thigh...then the other. Lucius liked the sensation of her pubic hair against his own and on his face, so Narcissa didn’t shave it, as some of the other, younger women in the wizarding world were beginning to do. She loved to accommodate Lucius, and anyway she couldn’t imagine putting up with the itchiness—especially down there—that wizarding depilatories and shaving spells left in their wake.

Lucius ran his tongue along the edge of her outer labia, skirting the boundary line between hair and naked skin, and Narcissa shivered with delight. His tongue was close...so close to that one vital place...yet not close enough. She sometimes envisioned his tongue in her mind as a little snake, crawling through her nest of hair to twine round her legs, slide over her clitoris, and ultimately ravish her. She began to breathe more quickly, and her shaking hands smoothed his hair. He glanced up for a moment and saw that her eyes were tightly closed, and she was making the little humming noise in her throat that she always did when she was aroused.

He went back to work, flicking his tongue with barely-there pressure along the same ridge he had just followed. Narcissa’s inner lips had begun to plump and he could see her pearly wetness shining where it trickled slowly down into the crack of her ass. His tongue made one long, slow swipe from anus to slit, carefully avoiding her clit, and he savored the bouquet of her familiar vintage before moving on.

Finally he passed his tongue lightly over her clit—just once. She jumped. He made the circuit of her outer lips once more, then returned to her clit. Flick—flick—was all it took, and with a soft cry she was gone, flown to some far universe of the mind with stars that only she could see.

Lucius quickly moved up and kissed her belly, chest, and neck, then her lips so she could taste herself on them as she liked to do. He looked down at this woman who had given him so much for so long—her loyalty, her support, her fortune, her adoration...a son, by all that was wonderful—and, as he always did, thanked whatever gods there were that he and no other had the right to make her happy.

“Tell me you want me, Cissy,” he whispered as he hovered above her, poised at her entrance. She opened her eyes and drew in a gasping breath.

“Lucius—please...please, I need you now,” she whispered. He plunged wildly into her, afraid he might come just from the feel of her wetness closing around his cock and the throaty sound of her voice. He growled as he felt his release begin after only a few strokes; the events of the past few days had been almost more than his poor cock could withstand, and he was so ready to come that a stiff wind would have set him off, let alone the clutching of her wet, fragrant sheath. He was almost sobbing with relief when he finally came, groaning with the exquisite relief of it as spurt after spurt of Malfoy seed, lava-hot as it left his body, drenched his wife’s pussy.

He continued to rock against her gently for some time after he came, basking in the comfort of her arms, knowing she was enjoying their closeness and was in no hurry for him to stop. Finally the prosaic intervened: his arms were beginning to fall asleep from holding his full weight off of her. So he rolled off to one side and they continued to exchange caresses and kisses until first Lucius, then Narcissa, drifted off to sleep.

The next morning Lucius rose early and dressed quickly. He blew a kiss at his still-sleeping wife in order not to wake her, as he wanted to talk with Draco alone. He walked out into the suite’s common room; Draco’s door, on the opposite side of the room, was still closed, but Lucius was determined it wouldn’t be for long. He didn’t want to have this talk with Draco, but it had to be done.

He walked over before he could change his mind and knocked firmly on the door. There was no sound from within, so he waited a moment and knocked again. “Draco, please come out. I need to discuss something with you,” he said. Now there was a faint stirring on the other side of the door, and he heard Draco swear. “Now, please. Join me in the common room, if you’d be so good.” Trusting that his request would be obeyed, Lucius went and sat down in a comfortable overstuffed chair and put his feet up on the ottoman in front of it. He could tell from the noises issuing from Draco’s room that he was up and moving, a good sign.

A minute or so later Draco emerged, looking somewhat the worse for wear. Lucius studied him coolly. “Out all night again, were you?” he guessed. Draco looked resentful, belatedly remembering to cover it up with a bored look. “Come now, Draco—if you haven’t something worthwhile to do, I’m going to have a much harder time convincing Bella to let you off Death Eater duty. She’s quite determined to have you join, you know.”

Draco slumped down on a leather sofa; he was wearing Muggle sweats, which promptly caused him to slide off the cushion onto the floor. From this unpromising vantage point he scowled moodily at his father. “Well, I’m not going to. She can’t make me.”

“I beg to differ, Draco—she mostly certainly can ‘make you’. If you don’t have some very good reason to not join—and I’m afraid mere disinclination would be seen as more of a reason to get rid of you permanently than let you off Death Eater duty—you will find yourself with a Dark Mark burned into your forearm very shortly. Probably today, in fact. You do remember we have an audience with...the Queen this morning?”

Draco’s lower lip jutted out, making him look far more like a little boy who had just been told he had to go to bed early when all his friends were still playing outside, than a young man with a life-changing—and possibly life-threatening—decision to make.

“I know,” Lucius said. “But you’ve put it off long enough. I told you we could arrange to have you go to America and stay with Molly Weasley’s uncle—no one would ever think to look for you there, and after a while Bella would probably forget all about you. At least you’d be safe there. That means a lot to your mother...and to me.”

Draco glared at him resentfully. “Live with a Weasley? You must be joking, Father. I mean—a Weasley? They’re blood traitors—you’ve always said so.”

Lucius sighed tiredly. “Look, Draco, I’m going to tell you something. Listen to me,” he said sharply when Draco’s attention seemed to be wandering. Lucius slammed his hand down on the arm of the chair and Draco’s eyes snapped back to him instantly, startled. “This is important. What I’m about to tell you is known by only a very few people. You can’t go talking about it to your friends, Draco.” He looked at his son intently. “You’ll get us all killed if you do.”

That got Draco’s attention. He was about to be told something that was so important people could be killed over it? He took a closer look at Lucius and suddenly noticed the lines of strain around his eyes and mouth; meeting his father’s eyes, he realized this was not just another fuddy-duddy fatherly lecture on Draco’s behavior or his future.

“Sorry, Father,” he said quietly. “What did you want to tell me?”

“You know there’s been a rebellion underway for some time—first it was against Voldemort, and it continues now against Bella.” Draco nodded, and Lucius hesitated, then put his life in his son’s hands.

“I am the leader of the resistance,” Lucius said.

Draco stared at him incredulously. “But—but you don’t—you’ve always—” he sputtered. He got an odd look on his face. “Father—is this some sort of test...of my loyalty, or something?”

“No, Draco,” Lucius said quickly. “No. It is, if you will, a family secret. But more than that, it is the secret of several other people, all of whose lives will be worthless if this becomes known. What I just told you is true: I am the leader of the rebellion against Bella—your aunt, my sister-in-law, our Queen. We want her to be rendered powerless, and I rather think we will end by destroying her. I don’t see how we can let her live, even in Azkaban, once we get her off the throne. She escaped once already, after all.” He smiled crookedly. Draco looked stunned and sat where he had slid onto the floor, speechless.

“The reason I’m telling you this, of course,” Lucius said more briskly, “is that I expect a summons from the Queen at any time now, when you will have to to defend your decision to not become a Death Eater. I will endeavor to bear the brunt of Bella’s displeasure in your place if I’m able to, but you must understand I can't guarantee that.”

“No,” Draco said at once. He got up off the floor and said, “I won’t make you take my punishment for me. If I have to decide today, then I’ll just tell her I won’t join. I refuse. And I’ll take whatever punishment she decides to hand out.”

“Even if it’s death?” Lucius said deliberately.

Draco paled but nodded. “Even that. I’ll be damned if I let her kill you for a choice I’ve made.”

Lucius nodded to himself. His son was turning out to be more of a man than he’d given him credit for.

He had a sudden memory of Draco’s first Christmas holiday home from Hogwarts. Draco had told him, “I held out my hand, Father, just like you said, and told him my name, but he refused to take it. Said he could tell the wrong sort when he saw them, something like that...are we the wrong sort, Father?” As he remembered it now he wondered how things might have been different if Draco had spent those years as a friend of Harry Potter’s.

“Well,” Lucius said now, “let us just hope it doesn’t come to that. Are you positive you don’t want to go to America? There could be a lot of interesting opportunities there for a young wizard just starting out. And I think,” he said gently, “I think you could come home again someday, Draco. Nothing lasts forever.”

It was Draco’s turn to sigh. “No, but it would seem like forever.” He thought for a moment. “If I did go to America—I said ‘if’, Father,” he hastened to clarify when Lucius suddenly looked more hopeful, “what would I do there? What does this...Prewitt person...do?”

“Mr Prewitt—a brother of Molly’s father—is a professor of advanced curse-breaking at the wizarding university in New York City,” Lucius said. “He’s offered to get you admitted as a student there, should you wish it. Your grades at Hogwarts were high enough that they could easily waive the entrance testing requirements.”

Draco thought about it for a minute. “That could be kind of interesting,” he allowed. “But it would still cause trouble for you with Bellatrix, Father.”

“You leave that to me,” Lucius said. “I tell you what—now, this isn’t a guarantee, because with Bella nothing is ever guaranteed. But I think if you were to ask her for one more day to think about it before making your decision tomorrow, it would give us enough time to make the arrangements and get you out of here. What do you say? I leave the decision up to you; as you say, it is, after all, your life.”

“I’ll do it,” Draco said. “I’ll do it. But Father—wait. Would I just be running away from her, do you think? Would it seem cowardly?”

Lucius put an earnest hand on his son’s shoulder. “I suppose some might see it that way. But, Draco, one of the most important lessons you will ever learn in this life is when to fight and when to run. ‘The better part of valor is discretion’—that’s from the Muggle playwright Shakespeare. Man knew what he was talking about. Never underestimate the value of discretion.”

Draco nodded slowly. “Right. So when are we supposed to see Auntie Bella?” He smirked.

Lucius chuckled but said, “You can say that to me, Draco—but if you ever say it where anyone else can hear you, be assured she will make you pay for it most painfully. Now go get dressed. I imagine a summons will come fairly soon. Bella is an early riser.” He got caught up in a fit of coughing just then. “Although this morning I suspect she might be having a bit of a lie-in.” He chuckled to himself. Draco didn’t know what the joke was, but Lucius motioned him to go get dressed and he went back to his room.

The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea of going to America. After all, this Prewitt person wasn’t exactly a Weasley. Maybe he at least had hair some other color than red.... At any rate, if asking for one more day in which to think over his options gave him a chance to make his getaway, he would do it. He would miss some things about England, but America would be a marvelous new experience—and as Lucius said, no doubt he could come home again someday.

To think that his own father was not just a rebel, but their leader! It was positively shocking. Draco wished he could tell someone, but he wasn’t stupid; he’d never take a chance like that with his father’s life. He’d lived in the Dark for so long that he was well aware there were spies everywhere. It would never do to accidentally betray his father, who was willing to give up his own life for his son’s, for something so foolish as wanting to tell a secret. It was time to grow up and learn responsibility, including controlling rash impulses that could only lead to trouble.

He dressed in record time and re-entered the common room just as the door was closing. Lucius stood with his hand on the doorknob and said, “That was Harridge. The Queen commands that we attend her immediately. Are you ready?”

Draco swallowed hard and nodded. Lucius opened the door again and, without waking Narcissa, they left for what both hoped would be a brief audience with the Queen.

When they arrived at the Great Hall, Lucius nodded to the guard at the door. The guard nodded back civilly but said, “Her Majesty said only the boy was to go in. You’re to wait out here.” Lucius stared at him, but the man just shrugged. “Orders.”

So Draco, unaccompanied by anyone who would stand up for him, went in to Bella, and Lucius paced nervously outside the closed doors, straining to hear anything he could from inside. But it was useless. Draco was on his own.

Less than fifteen minutes had passed, and Lucius had nearly worn the leather off the soles of his boots with pacing before the doors to the Great Hall, when finally they opened. His head snapped up and he waited for Draco to emerge, but instead Harridge, looking extremely reluctant, emerged.

“The Queen requires the Harem Master to attend her, if you please,” he said almost apologetically. He looked suspiciously sympathetic, and suddenly Lucius had a very bad feeling. He followed Harridge inside with leaden feet and the doors boomed shut again behind them—almost like prison doors, he imagined. His eyes immediately sought out Draco and found him, but the sight was far from reassuring.

Draco stood in the center of the Great Hall...wearing a defiant look and nothing else.

Oh, gods, Lucius thought. Not that—not Draco!

“Well, Lucius,” Bella said in a frosty voice that did not bode well for the Malfoy men. “It appears your son is inclined to thwart the request his Queen makes of him. Oh, he tried to procrastinate by seeking another day to ‘think about it’. But really, Lucius, another day—would it make any difference to the way he feels?” She glared at Draco. “I don’t think so. I pressed him to decide now, and what do you suppose? He doesn’t want to be a Death Eater—in fact, he actually refuses to take the Mark. Refuses! Really, I don’t know where he gets his rebellious disposition.” She gave Lucius a sharp look. “Not from his father, one hopes.”

“No, Your Majesty,” Lucius said stoutly. “Absolutely not. As a matter of fact, I counseled him to accept your most generous offer. I told him that if he did not—” he cut his eyes to Draco, hoping he wouldn’t jump to any conclusions but give Lucius time to explain— “then he could expect to be disinherited. I’ll have no blood traitors sullying the Malfoy name.” He assumed a haughty look, although he was trembling on the inside, and waited.

It worked. “I should certainly hope not,” Bella said at length, apparently satisfied that he was sincere. “I’m sorry, Lucius, I truly am, but I think it’s time little Draco learns who makes the decisions here.” She waved them away. “I believe I would like to see him join the harem. He’s rather pretty, and I’m sure they can find somewhere to put him.” She didn’t seem particularly concerned about it one way or the other.

Lucius snapped his fingers at Draco, who seemed so deep in shock that he didn’t comprehend what was going on. “Come, boy,” Lucius said, as he would address any slave. His feet moving automatically, Draco shuffled after him out of the Great Hall and down the corridor, staring dully at the floor.

Lucius waited until they were nearly to the harem before he stopped. “Draco,” he whispered. “Draco!” Huge dilated pupils stared back at him out of his son’s tortured face. “Oh, gods,” Lucius said. He gently slapped Draco’s face. “Draco! Say something!”

Suddenly Draco thrashed out of Lucius’ hold. “Say something? Say something! I’m standing here, naked, in the halls of Hogwarts Castle, and you want me to say something? Just what would you like me to say, Father? Oh, wait—I suppose I’m not allowed to call you that any more since you just disinherited me!” he spat.

Lucius held up a hand and Draco, who was fighting angry tears, fell silent. “Draco, remember what I told you before we left our rooms? The secret I shared with you?” He stared intently at Draco, who refused to meet his eyes. Knowing he had to get back to the audience chamber to keep up appearances, Lucius pressed on. “Look, we don’t have much time. Just remember what I told you and remember that not everything is as it seems. You are my son, Draco. Always. Nothing will ever change that. Can you understand? I’m sorry things didn’t go as I’d hoped, that she wouldn’t agree to another day, but compared to—the other place you could have been sent, this is a far safer place for you.” Draco looked at him incredulously, but Lucius nodded. “Believe it. Just remember, Arthur Weasley will see you’re taken care of. If anything goes wrong, go to Arthur. You can trust him.”

He motioned for Draco to keep walking. “We’re nearly there. I’m sorry, Draco. I had to make her believe...well, what you seem to believe. It’s not true, Draco.” Draco shot a glance at him, and Lucius shook his head. “Actually it’s probably a good thing you didn’t know I was acting, or your response wouldn’t have been so genuine. Here we are.”

They had arrived at the reception room of the harem, and Lucius pulled Draco to him for a quick, awkward hug. “Try to hold on,” he said softly. “This isn’t what I wanted for you, but...well, just remember what I told you.” He raised his voice. “Will the Chief Eunuch please report to the reception room?”

There was a sudden hush in the living quarters beyond and Arthur appeared in the doorway. “Why, Lu—Draco?” he gasped. “What—”

Lucius shook his head. “No time,” he said quickly. “Draco will explain. Please have Stuart Evans ready for tonight. Eight forty-five, as usual.” With a last look at Draco he turned and all but fled. He had to get back to Narcissa before some busybody raced to tell her the news. He could quite imagine her going after Bella with her bare hands, and he hoped to avoid that if at all possible. He walked faster.
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Bella's Harem