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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
- 10
- 11
- 12
AN: Oh my, someone is a bit...Ferret-ist? >snicker< Perhaps I should just give you a list of chapters to avoid. But that would deprive me of the fun of seeing you get all squicked out when Draco and Harry la la la la la la la la la, I can’t hear you, not listening, not listening! (hee hee) Because you know—you know—Bella won’t be able to resist having them at the same time. (Well...if you didn’t know it before, you certainly do now.) No, my darling Kitty-Kat, I’m sorry but the show must go on. Chin up, pip-pip, soldier bravely on...and I promise I will consider punishing Draco later. Just for you. Possibly even severely. Maybe even—but no, I daren’t say too much....

Pete and Salon_Kitty, you guys are great. Thank you so very much for taking the time to review. Fairytopian, welcome! In answer to your question, I must admit that Fred is my favorite twin, so in my own little AU world it’s George who was killed. He gave his life for a good cause, though. And Fred will have lots of...er...fun with Bella. Stay tuned.
11: The Second Summons

Fortunately, Lucius was able to return to their suite before any visitors had happened by. When he arrived, Narcissa was just coming out of their bedroom. “Good morning, darling,” she said—and then she really looked at him. “Why, Lucius, what’s the matter?”

Lucius said, “I have something to tell you of a rather dire nature, Narcissa. Would you care to sit down?” With an anxious look on her face, she took a seat on the divan, and Lucius sank down next to her, thankful as always that she wasn’t the type to pelt him with questions but would let him explain.

“Draco was summoned by Bella this morning,” he began. Narcissa opened her mouth to say something, but he guessed what it would be. “You were sleeping so peacefully, my love, and I—I thought we would be back before you were even awake.” He sighed. “Bella forced Draco to make a decision immediately, and he refused to take the Mark. So she has banished him to her harem.”

“The harem?” Narcissa said, incensed. “And just what does she suppose he’ll do in the harem, for Merlin’s sake?”

Lucius cleared his throat. “Ah...much the same as the other bed-slaves, I would assume.”

Narcissa’s head shot up in outrage. “Be a bed-slave? To Bella? He most certainly will not.” She jumped to her feet, her fists clenched and a martial light in her eye. “Why, I’ll go right up there and—”

Lucius caught one of her hands and pulled her back down beside him. “No. No, Cissy. You can’t.” She looked at him incredulously, but he shook his head firmly. “I announced that I was disinheriting Draco because he’d disgraced the Malfoy name,” he went on. “Bella was in quite the mood this morning, and you know how capricious she can be. I didn’t want her to get some other, worse idea into her head than sending him to the harem. At least there he’ll be safe. Cissy, she could just as easily have sent him off to Azkaban...and we don’t want that, do we?” Wordlessly she shook her head.

“I delivered him to Arthur and said Draco would explain how he came to be there. So Arthur will know what’s going on, and he’ll keep an eye on Draco. In the mean time, Cissy, we have a lot of work to do. I need your help now more than ever. I know you want nothing more than to go attack Bella. Do you think I don’t know it? But that won’t get us anything except you confined to a cell in Azkaban.

“But,” he continued, “I have an idea. I think I convinced Bella that I agree with her decision and am disowning Draco of my own free will—but I’m certain she’ll be watching me closely for the next little while. So we need to reinforce the idea that I’ve thrown Draco to the wolves, and that’s where you come in.”

“Me?” Narcissa asked faintly. She didn’t like the sound of that, even if she did trust Lucius with her very life.

“Yes. Bella knows you would never abandon your only child. It’s fine for me to indulge my masculine pride with regard to the family name, but if you went along with it she’d know instantly that it was a sham. So when we’re in public I want it to appear as if you’re becoming increasingly distant toward me, the man who has selfishly allowed his only child to come to such an end. Can you do it, Cissy—and can you be convincing?”

Her brown eyes stared into Lucius’ blue ones as the necessity of it sank home, and she nodded reluctantly. “Yes. I’ll...I’ll do it. But Lucius—will he really be all right, do you think?”

“You have my word on it, my love. I’ll check on him whenever I’m able to, and I have faith in Arthur—he’ll look after Draco. He’ll be fine. And Cissy...I told Draco about the resistance and our involvement in it. I had to.”

“Ohhh....” She let out her breath in a long sigh. “I suppose it was time. He’s grown up so much lately, I hardly know him any more. It’s been so long since he would just...sit and talk with me.”

“I know. He’s beginning to find a place for himself in the world. Or he was. With any luck, Bella won’t hold him back for long.” Lucius kissed Narcissa’s shining hair. “But we mustn’t be tempted to rush things. We have certain events set in motion now, and they must be allowed to play out if this Dark Leader nonsense is to come to an end permanently.”

He stood and gave Narcissa his hand to help her up. “So then, we’re agreed: the Malfoys will begin to show a distinct rip in the fabric of their marriage as of right now.” He chuckled and adopted a stuck-up air. “I don’t know, though. I’m as nearly perfect as they come. It’s going to be awfully hard for you to resist me.”

Narcissa halted, her hand on the doorknob, and tilted her own nose in an admirable imitation of his snooty expression. “Just watch me,” she said. Just for a moment her eyes twinkled; then, as if a shutter had come down, they frosted over, and she swept out of the suite.

Lucius watched her go, admiring her delicious backside as it swayed under her robes when she walked—and he and his cock, which was alert and excited by that merest of incentives, regretted that there wasn’t time for just one more quick bout of lovemaking before they went out for the day.
Bella watched Draco leave the Great Hall. There was a wicked smile on her face, but anyone who looked closely would notice that her hands were clenched very tightly on the arms of the throne. She didn’t seem quite as relaxed as she wanted everyone to think she was, Snape noticed. From long experience he recognized the signs of an incipient temper tantrum and he cringed inwardly. Bella in a temper was something no one in his right mind wanted to witness; but as one of her Death Eaters, Snape had no choice but to stay until he was dismissed. He envied Lucius, who was safely out of harm’s way as he escorted Draco to the harem.

Well, at least Draco would be safe there. Snape had done his best to see to that. He was a little sorry that he’d made the eunuchs’ potion stronger than it strictly needed to be in order to work effectively; oh, it wouldn’t hurt them, but the memory of the incredulous look on Arthur’s face when Snape had told them about the side effects of the potion made Snape feel a little guilty.

Actually, if he could have made it so that only Marshall Abbott got the dose of extra-strength potion he would have, for that little bit of devilry was aimed directly at Marshall. Snape had been the unwilling recipient of more than one sexual advance by him in their Hogwarts days, before Marshall finally took the hint and moved on—or, Snape snorted to himself, before he ended up getting Mandy Stemwort pregnant because he was so randy he’d screw anything with an orifice. From there it was a quick trip to the Ministry for a wedding and Marshall had been stuck with the redoubtable Mandy ever since. They had only the one child, Hannah—small wonder there, Snape thought, since Marshall could far more frequently be found in bed with his butler than with his wife. Now he was without either of them, both butler and Mandy having been killed in the Battle of Hogsmeade.

Bella rose, catching Snape’s eye and his cautious attention. She casually stepped down from the throne, walked across the dais, and descended to the level of the main floor. If she was at all agitated by the morning’s events, it no longer showed—but then she stopped in the middle of the floor, closed her eyes, and clenched her fists at her sides. She made no sound, but the air around her virtually screamed with magic. The very dust motes floating on the air currents shook, shimmered, and exploded with her silent fury. A great, boiling gust of wind ripped through the Great Hall and smashed against the stout doors, causing them to shudder and creak.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. Bella, now apparently recovered from her temper, shook her shoulders and flung her hair back. She looked quite peaceful. Snape supposed he should be thankful it hadn’t happened in the middle of dinner, with all its potential for glassware and food to be flying around. He’d been at one of Voldemort’s Revels some time back when Bella’s temper had flared out of control, and the damage was astounding. Two or three of the Muggles who had been procured as part of the evening’s entertainment were Petrified and unable to defend themselves and had actually been killed by flying debris. Voldemort had been very disappointed about that, Snape recalled. If anyone but Bella had caused such a disruption, they wouldn’t be alive to tell about it. But Voldemort had always had a soft spot for her—or as much of one as a creature without heart or conscience could have.

Severus glanced over at the side door to see that Lucius and Narcissa had just entered. Lucius reached for Narcissa’s hand to give it his customary kiss, but she yanked it away and gave him a cold look. Snape, amused, watched as she turned her back on Lucius, being deliberately rude, and sauntered off to talk to some of her friends. Lucius looked first mystified, then wounded, as he watched her go; a fine performance. Snape applauded mentally as Lucius walked over to join Harridge and Nott, who were deep in conversation as they surreptitiously watched Bella.

Bella made noises about “settling the affairs” of the wizarding world, but really she had done very little so far except rounding up witches and wizards she deemed deserving of punishment of one sort or another and meting it out to them. The wizarding world still hung in limbo, for all practical purposes leaderless—a dangerous state, as any survivor of a civil war could attest.

It would be a tricky thing to re-establish a solid resistance effort and actually get Bella off the throne, out of the country—off the planet, as far as Snape was concerned. And then some sort of reformed Ministry would have to be established, he supposed. Someone had to govern, after all. With all due respect to the long-established system of being ruled by the strongest surviving party of the moment in the continual conflict between Light and Dark, Snape rather thought an elected parliament might be a nice change. It seemed to work as well as anything else for the Muggles—why not the wizarding world? It would be a radical idea for wizarding citizens, but he was certain some among them would be interested in trying their hand at governing as a group effort. Possibly a Minister of Magic would still be necessary, but hopefully the position would involve much less real power than had formerly been invested in it.

Yes, things would have to be different this time to ensure that no one person ended up with all the power. It was a bit easier said than done, considering the nature of magical beings; but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be done. Snape had no wish to work in government himself, but he knew several people who would be good at it. He hoped they would have the opportunity, and before much longer. Bella was too unstable to be allowed to run loose. He knew this would probably mean not only treason—as defined by the current “government”—but murder as well. But the resistance were unanimously agreed not to balk if it came to that.

The tricky part still remained ahead of them: to work out the details and the timing. Nothing could be left to chance. Not only must Bella be removed, and preferably soon—but this time the reins of government must not be left dangling for some other would-be Dark leader to pick up.
When Arthur walked back into the pool room with none other than Draco Malfoy in tow, conversation ceased immediately and every eye stared in shock at the latest unexpected addition to the harem. Draco’s fair skin flushed at this scrutiny, and Arthur took pity on him.

“Er—Draco has been sent here because—because, erm—”

“Because I refused to take the Dark Mark,” Draco said flatly. There was a gasp or two and a soft “Whoa!” from somewhere in the room.

“You—you—refused?” Ron asked incredulously. “I don’t believe it.”

“Believe what you like,” Draco said hotly. “I never had any intention of becoming a Death Eater, but Bella wouldn’t take no for an answer. So...here I am.”

Harry stared at him. He noted the nervous gray eyes that darted from face to doubtful face despite Draco’s attempt to appear nonchalant, and he felt a faint stirring of sympathy, quite against his will. Draco had just lost everything: his family, his freedom, his magic, and his standing in the wizarding world. He was now no better off than the rest of them.

“Well, welcome to the harem,” Harry joked. Draco stared coolly at him for a moment, waiting for Harry to add a sarcastic remark, but when none came he gave a little nod of acknowledgement.

Arthur put a hand on his shoulder. “Well, let’s have a think for a moment, figure out where to put you. The Queen seems to be getting a bit ahead of herself here; the plan was for twenty slaves, so we’ll need to rearrange things a bit to fit you in.”

He led Draco to the sleeping quarters and pointed out the framed parchment bearing the harem rules. “You’ll do well to look these over, Draco, and memorize them. There are some very severe penalties for rule-breaking.”

Arthur glanced down at the neatly aligned pallets. “Perhaps it would be best if we put you here at the end for now,” he said thoughtfully. They both jumped, startled, when all at once the row of pallets shifted and an eleventh one appeared next to Stuart’s, at the end of the row. “Ah! See there?” He pointed to the wall above the newly added bed and, sure enough, there was a new oval bearing Draco’s name.

“Well, then.” Arthur clapped his hands together. “You’ll be all right and tight here by Stuart, won’t you?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Arthur looked at him kindly. “I know this isn’t easy for you,” he said quietly. “You were absolutely right to do what you did, you know.”

Draco observed him somewhat doubtfully. “I don’t know that,” he said, sounding disheartened. “How right could it be if it ended me up here—in a harem, intended as a sex toy for my insane aunt, who’s declared herself Queen of the wizarding world?” He shook his head. “That’s just wrong on so many levels, I’m having a hard time believing it’s real.” He looked around and gestured at the pallets and the room beyond. “I mean, seriously—is resisting worth all this? I honestly don’t know.”

Arthur studied him gravely. “Well,” he said at length, “I think it is. You’re not dead, your soul is still your own, you’re not incarcerated in a dank cell in Azkaban—all she can do is try to humiliate you. Whether she succeeds or not is up to you. And, too,” he added, trying to end on a positive note, “maybe she feels that you’ll be chastened enough just by being here—her own nephew, a Malfoy at that, naked and enslaved. Perhaps she won’t summon you to...attend her...at all.”

Draco snorted. “If you think that, you don’t know her very well.”

They walked back out to the main room just as the boys were getting out of the pool for their math lesson. Arthur quickly explained about the informal schooling, and Draco allowed as how he thought it might be kind of interesting to sit in on the classes. Arthur watched as Draco made his way over to the group and Roger made room for him on a nearby cushion.

Marshall sidled up to Arthur. “If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I’d never have believed it,” he said quietly.

“What’s that?” Arthur asked.

“Bella sentencing her own nephew to slavery—a bed-slave, at that. Poor kid.” Marshall watched Draco as he listened to Alfred lecture...and Arthur watched Marshall watching Draco and sighed. He suspected it truly was a form of torture for the man to have to live in a harem full of lithe, fit, rather beautiful boy-bodies and then to be prohibited not only by a law that carried the death penalty for disobedience, but by the damnable potion, from being able to follow his natural inclinations. Not only that, but Arthur suspected that as easily and strongly attracted to the boys as Marshall seemed to be, the little “something extra” in Snape’s potion virtually guaranteed that his more or less constant state of sexual desire ensured that he would experience a corresponding amount of misery.

Arthur shook his head; if only Draco weren’t quite so...pretty! It was too much to expect that Marshall would be able to just ignore him. Arthur really didn’t care so much what went on in the harem, but if there was a spy among them—whether now or at some point in the future—well, every way he looked there was potential trouble.

Just why, again, had he got the unenviable job of Chief Eunuch? Merlin’s beard!

Arthur’s gaze sought out Stuart, who sat near the front of the group. As soon as the lesson was over, he would have to be told of his summons for tonight. Arthur thought he would put Edwin in charge of the enema and bathing; apparently the choice of wardrobe this time was to be left up to the eunuchs, as Lucius had not mentioned any specific instructions along that line from Bella. Arthur looked at Stuart assessingly; his skin was a rather intriguing olive tone, and with his black hair...Arthur remembered seeing a flash of warm burgundy silk in the wardrobe that he thought would be quite nice.

Alfred wound up the lesson just as lunch appeared on the table. The boys willingly left off a discussion of geometric formulas to sit down at the table, and once they were gathered Arthur held up his hand for quiet.

“A moment, please, before you dig in,” he said. “When the Harem Overseer brought Draco to join us, he notified me of the Queen’s summons for tonight.” Suddenly every eye was fastened upon him with a sort of hypnotic fascination.

Arthur did not keep them in suspense. “Stuart, my boy...if I could have a word after lunch?” he said.

Like Harry when he’d been told of his summons, Stuart’s face first reddened, then paled. He gave a wordless nod and stared down at his plate. Andrew, next to him, held out a platter of sliced ham, but Stuart waved it away and sat there with a curiously introspective look on his face all through lunch. Eventually normal talk resumed and the others stopped staring at him, only to start again when Arthur rose to lead Stuart to the sleeping quarters.

“Finished, boys? Find something to do, then,” he said mildly. “Chores need to be done before this evening—I noticed only about half of you have been checked off so far today.” To Stuart he said, “Come along.”

When they reached the sleeping pallets Arthurs said, “It would be a very good idea if you got some rest before tonight. I won’t insist that you sleep, but if you’d like to, perhaps a bit of potion...?”

Stuart nodded gratefully. “Normally I can sleep anywhere, any time—the other chaps are always teasing me about it. But right now I don’t think I could fall asleep without some kind of help. Just too—I don’t know, excited’s not the right word—” He shrugged and downed the small dose of sleeping draught Arthur gave him.

“That’s all right, you needn’t explain. I understand perfectly,” Arthur assured him. “You just rest, and I’ll come get you when it’s time for dinner. Then we’ll get your—your enema taken care of and, er, your bath—and a massage, if you’d like one,” he finished. “Rest well, Stuart.”

“Mr Weasley—er—what should we call you, anyway?” Stuart asked.

“Arthur will do,” Arthur said. “Was there something you wanted to ask me?”

“Yes.” Stuart looked a little abashed, but soldiered on. “I don’t know if I’m allowed to ask this or not, but—could I possibly request someone other than...Marshall...for the, you know, after dinner tonight?”

Arthur winced. “Ah...certainly. I—I’ve had a talk with him, and he knows he’s not to be indulging himself with you boys. But yes, of course—someone else can see to your...needs tonight. Certainly.” He smiled and left Stuart to sleep if he could.

So it wasn’t just Arthur and Edwin who had noticed Marshall’s lustful preoccupation with the slaves. Damnation! Well, enough was enough. Marshall could oversee the chores and his history class, and that was it. There was obviously no trusting him in situations where he would be required to come into physical contact with the boys. He was what he was, and Arthur bore him no ill-will on that account, but as long as he was assigned to the harem the penalty for going counter to this particular rule was just too severe to take any chances.

As it happened, when Arthur went to wake Stuart, Stuart requested that either Arthur or Alfred be his attendant that evening, and Arthur agreed since Alfred had indicated a preference for wardrobe duties.

Dinner was unhurried, and tonight Edwin was on story duty when Arthur took Stuart behind the curtain and performed a quick but thorough cleansing of his insides, followed by that of his outer person. In an effort to put Stuart at ease, Arthur kept up a steady stream of chatter about anything and everything: what part of Britain he was from (Nottingham), how many siblings he had (two sisters, both younger), what his best subject had been at school (Herbology), and so on.

In no time they were finished and Arthur was helping Stuart out of the bath and handing him a warm, dry towel. As the water in the pool refreshed itself, Arthur gave Stuart a little slap on the ass and pointed him in the direction of the wardrobe.

“Off you go. Alfred’s waiting to help you dress,” he said.

Stuart nodded and moved off in that direction. He was back ten minutes later, accompanied by Alfred. The burgundy silk Arthur had suggested for him consisted of a tight garment rather like a tank top that stretched across his chest, clearly outlining his nipples as it rubbed across them relentlessly with each mvoement of his torso or arms.

On the bottom he wore an extremely abbreviated pair of shorts of the same silky, stretchy fabric. They clung lovingly to his nicely rounded ass cheeks, and his Quidditch-strengthened thighs were almost competely bared. His cock was not harnessed as Harry’s had been, but hung on display through an opening in the front of the shorts that was intended for just that purpose.

A chorus of catcalls and giggles greeted his appearance and he looked at the boys with a sheepish grin. “Just wait until it’s your turn,” Stuart said in reply to the jokes about his costume. He stood there looking a bit out of things, and Arthur took pity on him.

“Well, we might as well go out,” he said. “The Harem Overseer will be here soon—don’t want to keep him waiting.” He ushered Stuart out to the reception area, where indeed Lucius was just arriving.

“Perfect timing, Arthur, as always,” Lucius murmured. He eyed Stuart’s costume and winced. “Ah. Delightful. Well, we shall have to walk quickly to get you to the Queen’s quarters before you turn into a solid block of ice in these icy corridors, eh?” He nodded to Arthur, then his eyes drifted almost imperceptibly to the dim corridor that led to the main room, where Draco was.

His eyes met Arthur’s and Arthur said, “All’s quiet; everyone’s settling in well.” He gave Lucius a reassuring nod.

Lucius stared at him for a moment, then nodded abruptly. “Excellent. Good night, then.” He swept out of the harem with his usual panache, and Stuart strode after him.

They reached the elevator to Bella’s suite and Stuart stepped inside at Lucius’ urging, not sure what to expect in the small, closet-like space. When the floor began to rise, he looked down and exclaimed, “Whoa—awesome!” Lucius smiled to himself.

All too soon they reached the anteroom and Lucius pointed to the level where Dumbledore’s desk had formerly stood. “Up there,” he said. “And wait for further instructions.” He reached for the mallet hanging next to the gong and rang it loudly.

Stuart obeyed with alacrity. When he turned to look back, Lucius was gone. Stuart looked around, wondering when Bella would appear.

Suddenly he heard the sound of a whip cracking, and he jumped. It came again—a sharp report that echoed off the stone walls, all the more ominous because there was no sign of the wielder. Then he heard a sultry voice.

“Stuart...oh Stuuuuuu-art! I’m waiting for you.” He peered into the gloom of the middle level, but he couldn’t see anyone. Bella’s voice turned cross. “Don’t keep me waiting, Stuart. Come up here—now!”

As Stuart started toward the stairs, the whip cracked again, and he licked his lips nervously. When he reached the mezzanine level, he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and turned. Bella stood there holding an enormous bullwhip. She was a wet dream in black leather: microscopic shorts, which her wide-legged stance clearly showed were crotchless; a bustier that displayed rather than merely enhanced her luscious, creamy breasts; and stiletto-heeled boots that crawled halfway up her delectable thighs.

Stuart gulped. Bella gestured with the whip at the large wooden table which, like Harry, Stuart recognized as Dumbledore’s former desk. “Up,” she said shortly. Stuart quickly edged his hips up onto the table and Bella made an impatient sound. “No, no,” she said. “Arms here—” with the whip she indicated the manacles at one end of the table— “legs here—” she pointed at the other end. Stuart complied and instantly, of their own accord, the manacles snapped around his wrists and ankles, binding him firmly to the table. His arms and legs were stretched wide, although not uncomfortably so.

Bella came to stand at his head. “So...you are one of our Slytherins.” She walked slowly down along the table, trailing the handle of the whip down his torso as she went. “Very nice.”

Stuart essayed a cocky grin and said with as much cheekiness as he could muster, “You’re n-not so bad yourself.” Bella’s gaze snapped to his face immediately, but she chose to ignore his insolence and continued with her “tour”.

By the time she focused her attention on his cock it was fully erect and straining backward over his abdomen. The whip handle ran teasingly along its length; Stuart’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed convulsively and tensed. The whip handle made a brief, teasing foray between his legs, and his ass cheeks clenched involuntarily. Bella laughed, but it was not a nice sound.

Apparently she was in a talkative mood; it quickly became clear that she was not pleased with him, although the reason was random enough that he wasn’t expecting it.

“So—another Slytherin who sees fit to ignore tradition and duty, I see. And what—if I might be so bold as to ask—is your reason for failing to join the Death Eaters?”

Stuart wasn’t sure what to say, and he waited just a little bit too long to respond. Bella hissed, “Answer me when I ask you a question, slave!” Her wand was already coming up; it was as if she had only been waiting for an opportunity—any opportunity, even one as spurious as this, fabricated on the spur of the moment—to wield it. Her eyes glittered menacingly and she made a sound that was almost a purr. “I see you need something to loosen your tongue. Well, you’re in luck. I get so few chances to do this, so really it’s perfect timing, don’t you think? Crucio!”

Stuart couldn’t move much, bound as he was, but his body bowed to the extent the manacles would allow. He didn’t utter a sound, grimly determined even through his shock not to give her that satisfaction if he could possibly help it.

And, mercifully, the interval was short-lived. After only a few seconds Bella lowered her wand. Stuart lay heaving on the table, trying to catch his breath and mentally assessing his aches and pains. Well, he thought, so that’s the Cruciatus. I guess I can stand it—that wasn’t so bad. Poor Stuart. Poor, poor, misinformed Stuart. He had no idea what Bella could do if she really put her mind to it.

Bella had a strange look on her face, a blend of sympathy and curiosity. “Ah, Stuart...you won’t make me do that again, will you?” she asked. She dropped her wand on the floor and ran a gentle hand over his torso in circles, soothing and comforting. Then the hand edged lower, into his dense nest of pubic hair, and his wilting cock revived immediately. “Ah, that’s better, isn’t it?” Bella murmured. Stuart nodded breathlessly—although now it wasn’t due to the Cruciatus Curse—his eyes never leaving hers.

With a lithe, cat-like movement that would have failed miserably in anyone else dressed as she was, Bella leaped onto the table and loomed over Stuart. She smiled down at him. “How do you like my outfit?” she asked. She ran one hand over her buttocks, around to her stomach, and up over her breasts. “I got it specially from a Muggle sex shop. I’m rather fond of it myself. It’s very...snug.” She did a sexy little shimmy that, despite everything, made Stuart’s mouth water.

She cracked the whip again in the air above her and Stuart winced. Bella noticed—of course. “What—oh, this?” She drew the whip through her fingers and then dropped the end of it to drag teasingly across his chest. “I’m getting quite proficient, you know. It takes a lot of control to make the tip land in just the right place...just hard enough to snap but not tear off bits of skin.”

Stuart’s eyes widened. Tear off...?

“Oh yes,” Bella said, warming to her subject. “Shall I show you?” She widened her stance for added stability, standing between his own widespread legs. Stuart shook his head quickly and Bella frowned. “Oh, now don’t be a spoilsport,” she said scoldingly. “I know—let’s make a game of it! I’ll practice my whipping technique, and you—you, Stuart, must maintain that erection no matter what. I hope you can manage it; I’m afraid the consequences if you don’t may be rather...ugly. I’ve really had quite enough of uncooperative Slytherins today.”

Stuart, eyes wide, stammered, “I—I don’t know...but I’ll try,” he said quickly when the frown came back for a return engagement, this time accompanied by a pout.

“Well, I should hope so,” Bella said, as if he really ought to have known the correct answer all along. “All right now...ready? Here we go!” She let the whip fly, pulling it at just the right moment so it viciously snapped his right nipple. Stuart yelped and jumped, and Bella lowered her arm.

“Now, really, Stuart. Show a little stoicism. How you became a Slytherin I’ll never know,” she muttered, and raised her arm again. Stuart tensed—which, of course, only made it hurt that much more when the whip, with amazing accuracy, this time landed across his left nipple. He bit his lip to keep from crying out, but tears sprang to his eyes.

Bella nodded. “Very good.” She looked at his cock and revised her opinion. “Oh, but Stuart...we have a little problem.” A bit wild-eyed, he followed her gaze to where his cock had, not surprisingly, gone almost completely limp. He glanced back up at her with a stricken look.

“All right, tell you what. You’ve tried to cooperate, so I’ll help you out a little,” Bella said graciously. She knelt and took his cock in her hand. “Mind you,” she said warningly, “I don’t do this for just anyone. Now concentrate, Stuart. I mean it. Concentrate as if—oh, as if your life depended on it.” She gave him a wicked smile that was far from reassuring and then engulfed his cock in her painted lips, which stood out like a smear of blood against her fine white skin.

The sight of his cock repeatedly disappearing to the hilt into this succulent refuge would have had a predictable effect on any man, and it was no less so in Stuart’s case just because a sexy she-devil in black leather was likely to start whipping stray body parts at any moment. Bella was pleased to find that he responded with great enthusiasm with a minimum of effort on her part, and she stood and took whip in hand once again. Stuart quailed just a little but was determined to avoid worse punishment by giving Bella what she wanted, if it was humanly possible.

“Let’s try that again, shall we?” she said brightly. As he watched, she drew back her arm with perfect form—

How long has she been practicing, anyway?

—and let fly two flicks of the whip in rapid succession, landing it unerringly on each nipple once again, just hard enough to turn them bright red but not—quite—break the skin. She looked at them assessingly and then glanced down at his cock. She dragged her eyes back up to his with a show of reluctance and said reproachfully, “Oh, Stuart...are you even trying?”

“Your Majesty, I’m—”

“Silence!”

“But I—”

Bella’s free hand came up and she pointed at his head and cried, “Obstructio!” Stuart seemed quite surprised to find that a ball gag had been placed firmly in his mouth, held in place by ties behind his head. “That’s better,” she said approvingly. “Now, what are we going to do about this lamentable lack of control you’ve demonstrated?” She gave a put-upon sigh and said as if to herself, “Really, I didn’t think I’d have to instruct my bed-slaves in such basic matters. Perhaps the harem keepers could—hmm. Yes, I shall have to talk to Lucius; some practical training, perhaps. Now,” she said, focusing on Stuart once again (while he was afforded the momentary amusement of imagining Edwin or Arthur trying to teach the boys to remain erect during torture...and the not-so-amusing thought of Marshall doing the same), “you must concentrate, Stuart. I’ll help you out just one more time—then we’ll try something a little different.” At his panicked look she laughed and said, “Oh, just wait. You’ll see.”

Again she knelt and took him into her mouth. Of course he could not be so lucky forever, and it did take her a bit longer this time, but he was young and still had hopes that it would be a night to remember, so fairly soon he was once again the proud possessor of a raging hard-on. Bella gave it a final swipe of her tongue and patted his thigh approvingly.

“Of course, I could just put a cock-ring on you,” she said conversationally, “but that wouldn’t really help you, would it? You wouldn’t learn a thing. No, I think this is the best way. Now—” she tossed the whip off to the side and Stuart watched it go, wondering what she intended since he had thought he could just about stand more whipping if he had to— “Accio wand!” Her wand flew up from the floor and slapped into her hand. “Ahhh,” she crooned. “Yes, that’s it, that’s good.” She caressed the wand as she gazed down at her now not-so-willing slave.

“Now, Stuart,” she said, “once more, the object of the game is to see how long you can stay erect. If you can do it this time, I’ll give you something quite nice afterward. Are you ready?”

Stuart, having a bad feeling about that wand, was fairly sure he wasn’t ready, but he assumed it was a rhetorical question.

Which, of course, it was.

Bella raised her wand. “This is going to be a good one, so brace yourself. And remember—” she nudged his cock with one leather-booted toe— “you are a Slytherin, Stuart. Act like one. Show me there’s still one Slytherin out there who’s a real man!” She laughed.

“Crucioooo!” It was half-shout, half-wail. Bella’s eyes were closed in sublime ecstasy. Her body all but vibrated as she willed the torture into his body, his brain, his very soul.

For the brief moment during which Stuart was still able to think coherently, he wondered how it was that, if the Unforgivable Curses required true intent to harm in order for them to be effective, this one was working so well. How could Bella be so angry with him? What on earth had he done to deserve this? Surely his failure to maintain an erection was understandable under the circumstances—that couldn’t have enraged her enough to enable her curse to have this strong an effect.

And then he couldn’t really think any more at all. He knew he was in pain but it just was, he didn’t have to think about it. A series of distorted images and colors whirled through his mind and he wasn’t sure if they were his thoughts or hers. He thought he saw Draco, and Bella’s face twisted in fury. The Dark Mark floated before his swiftly disappearing consciousness and morphed into a puff of smoke punctuated by hot red and orange bursts of pain. Suddenly he was somewhere very high up and was endlessly falling into a thicket of up-ended knife blades, and he felt every one as it punctured his flesh and dug deep. Then he was standing in the middle of a burning forest, unable to breathe with the smoke filling his lungs, and a giant tree crashed to the earth, pinning him under it and piercing him with thousands of needle-sharp, flaming branches, every one of which he felt intimately. He was gripped in the savage teeth of some huge sea-beast and dragged down to the depths of the ocean where he couldn’t breathe; the pressure in his chest was building and building until his eyes popped out of his head and bounced into a frying pan, sizzling in hot oil while someone nearby screamed with laughter and there was the sound of knives sharpening and oh gods, no! his cock was being peeled like a banana and gnawed by rats make them stop make them stop oh Merlin, just let me die—

Suddenly there was blessed quiet and a cessation of pain. Stuart lay there and wondered where everyone had gone. Where were the rats? Where was he? Where was—

Bella?

His eyes fluttered open; his eyelids felt very heavy, but he made the effort anyway. He really had to know where he was. He tried to lift his head, but his neck felt wrong somehow so he stopped. He just stared upward until finally something came into his field of vision. Someone.

Bella.

She stared down at him impassively and shook her head, tsk-ing. “I’m afraid the news is not good, Stuart,” she said. He wondered what news that might be. “You, my boy, haven’t got what it takes. You’re no good, Stuart. No good at all. I’m afraid you’ll have to go.”

He heard the words, but it took a few moments for them to register. He was going to say something, then felt the gag in his mouth. Ah yes...the gag. Now he remembered. You’re no good. His eyes flicked down to look at his cock, but he was unable to see it from that angle, since he couldn’t lift his head.

But Bella knew what he wanted. She nodded. “That’s right, Stuart. You’re no true Slytherin—nor a real man, either. A mere touch of the Cruciatus never hurt anyone—and here you folded like a child before I even got well started! First Draco, now you: worthless idiots! And to think I was lenient and sent him to the harem. Eating me out of house and home—living a life of luxury and enjoying every minute of it, I have no doubt!”

Stuart made a noise in the back of his throat and Bella gestured absently; the gag disappeared. He wet his lips as best he could and croaked, “Doesn’t like—Potter—much. Or—the others. N-not enj—enj—” He gasped as he felt a sudden piercing pain in his groin.

Bella glanced down at his cock. “Oh dear,” she said unconcernedly. “I do believe it’s broken. No stamina. So, so disappointing.” She sighed. Then something Stuart had said registered and she turned back to him. “So...my little nevvie hates Harry Potter, does he? I suppose it’s mutual, is it?”

Broken? It’s broken? was all Stuart could think. What in Merlin’s name does that mean?

“Slave!” Bella thundered, and her face appeared above Stuart’s again. “You say Draco and Potter hate each other?”

“Y-yes,” he said faintly. His vision was starting to go gray around the edges, and his head felt funny, like it would float away if he tried to move it. Not that he could, since he couldn’t move his neck at all...but still.

Bella looked pleased about something. “I think I have an idea for tomorrow night,” she said. She glanced at Stuart in disgust and heaved another sigh. “Dobby!” she called.

There was a little pop! and the house-elf appeared. “Yes, mistress?” he inquired. Although when he was with Harry he no longer acted afraid, Bella got the full benefit of his habitual cringing subservience.

“Do something about...this,” she said, wrinkling her nose and tossing a nod at Stuart, who lay there still manacled to the table and nearly unconscious. “But first—” Bella bent and whispered into Dobby’s ear, causing an apprehensive expression to appear on his wizened face. But he bowed low and said only, “Yes, Mistress.”

Satisfied that she would be obeyed, Bella disappeared up the stairs to one of the galleries, leaving Stuart to be disposed of like so much detritus. As soon as she was gone Dobby scurried over to the table and with a snap of his fingers released the manacles. “Young master is not to worry,” he said. “The Harem Overseer will be here any minute and he will take the young master away, oh yes, to somewhere safe.” He hovered over Stuart anxiously, but it was obvious that the boy was not really aware of him.

The house-elves still had the ability to Apparate anywhere within the castle, so Dobby quickly went to find Lucius and then returned to Stuart’s side. In a few minutes the elevator arrived bearing Lucius. He hurried up the stairs to where Dobby waited, wringing his hands. “Oh, sir,” the elf cried, “Dobby thinks we are losing him!”

Lucius strode over to the table and bent to look at Stuart. “Do you know what’s wrong with him?” he asked.

Dobby nodded toward Stuart’s cock. “Er...Dobby thinks that doesn’t look quite right,” he said hesitantly.

Lucius glanced down and cringed. When Bella had told Stuart that his cock was “broken”, she was literally correct: it had a distinct bend in it that had not been there before. He winced.

“And Dobby thinks young master can not move his head,” Dobby said. His huge eyes filled with tears. “He is not speaking much. Dobby thinks he has gone away inside his head.”

Lucius frowned. What in Merlin’s name had Bella done to the boy? Well, there was nothing for it. “Very well, Dobby,” he said. “I’ll take him back to the harem—for now, anyway. We’ll keep an eye on him and see how it goes.” He pulled his wand and pointed it at Stuart. “Petrificus Totalus!” Stuart’s body tensed and became visibly rigid as the spell took effect. Lucius murmured, “At least this way we won’t damage anything else, my boy. Wingardium Leviosa!”

He levitated Stuart off the table and down to the anteroom, and Dobby helped him fit the Petrified boy into the elevator without knocking any of him against the walls. Just before the elevator descended, the house-elf motioned to Lucius and whispered something to him, then ducked quickly out of reach from force of old habit. Lucius stared at him in disbelief.

“Are—are you quite sure?” he asked. Dobby nodded, and Lucius closed his eyes and sagged against the wall and swallowed hard. Then he mustered his strength and nodded and straightened up again. “All right, then,” he said in a low voice. “If the Queen orders it, I suppose I have no choice.” He looked at Dobby curiously. “I imagine you quite like seeing me brought low like this, don’t you?” he asked quietly.

Dobby looked at him for a long moment and then shook his head slowly. “No,” he whispered. “Dobby is a free elf now...so he can say what he likes. But he does not like this, no he does not, not one bit. Dobby thinks things are very wrong.” He wrung his hands, as was his habit when he was distressed.

“Wrong?” Lucius surveyed him judiciously. Was it possible Dobby was not loyal to Bella, that he could be of some help to Lucius—to the resistance? Even after what Lucius had put him through when the elf had served the House of Malfoy? Hmm. It would take some thinking about.

The elevator descended swiftly then, and Lucius hurried his silent burden through the quiet corridors of the sleeping castle to the harem. “Arthur!” he called quietly when they arrived.

Arthur’s head popped around the corner, a surprised look on his face. “What? Not again!” he exclaimed. Then he got a closer look at Stuart. “Lucius—what on earth is wrong with him?”

“I’ve Petrified him to protect him while I brought him here,” Lucius said. “We need to put him down on a hard, flat surface. I think he may have internal injuries, and—” He waved vaguely to indicate Stuart’s crotch area, and Arthur glanced down and did a visible double-take. He looked back up at Lucius with a horrified expression.

“Bella—did this?” he whispered. Lucius nodded, and Arthur felt his face flush with anger. He led Lucius into the sleeping room, where the other slaves had just retired for the night, and Lucius carefully lowered Stuart onto his pallet and then released the spell holding him rigid. The other boys sat up, exclaiming over Stuart’s Petrified state; then the sight of his damaged cock silenced them.

Arthur said, “It looks like Stuart has sustained some very serious injuries tonight, boys. How serious we won’t know until he regains consciousness. Lie back down, now, and try to keep the noise down. You can see him in the morning, but I daresay he needs every bit of rest he can get just now.”

He walked back out to the reception room with Lucius. “I wonder what he did?” Arthur mused. “Surely he couldn’t have done anything to make her that angry. We’ve stressed over and over that the boys are to do everything she asks of them—everything! And Stuart’s not exactly a shrinking violet. I think he was actually rather looking forward to a little adventure tonight. I simply can’t see what could have gone wrong.”

“I think I know,” Lucius said slowly. “I don’t believe it was Stuart himself that was the problem...Bella was already primed to take her temper out on someone. Severus told me she had a pretty major tantrum in the Great Hall today while I was bringing Draco here. Said if anyone had been wearing a wig, the wind she had ripping through there would have left them bald.” He shook his head. “It’s quite likely she was expending more of her temper on Stuart. Just bad luck that he was there, I suspect.”

Arthur grunted. “Well, let’s hope it doesn’t happen again. Good gods, they’re bed-slaves, not scapegoats.” He looked up and saw Lucius’ guilty expression. “Oh, don’t torture yourself over it, Lucius. She’s going to do whatever she’s going to do—” he lowered his voice— “until she can be stopped for good.”

Lucius nodded. “The sooner the better,” he muttered. “I don’t want to see this happen again.” Then he remembered. “Ah...I’ve been informed of the Queen’s selection for tomorrow night,” he said. Arthur met Lucius’ eyes apprehensively.

“For tomorrow she wants Harry again—and Draco too, this time.”
Harry and Draco, on either side of Stuart, turned to lie facing him. Their eyes met over his head and they saw in each other’s faces the awareness that his fate could easily have been—and some night still might be—theirs. They continued to watch over their friend until they could keep their eyes open no longer, and they fell into uneasy sleep.
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Bella's Harem