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
- 11
- 12
- 13
Warning: This chapter contains SLASH. If you don’t like reading SLASH, you know where your “Back” button is—please exit now!
12: Third Verse, Same as the First (a Little Bit Louder and a Little Bit Worse)

By the next morning Stuart was not noticeably better. His normally olive complexion was sallow, and he had not moved from the supine position in which Lucius had left him the previous night. He had not woken or stirred at all, as far as Harry and Draco could tell.

Edwin got the boys up and going and headed them out to the main room for morning ablutions and breakfast, then he came back and joined the other eunuchs, who had gathered around Stuart’s pallet and were observing him with considerable worry. Arthur had tried gently to wake him, but Stuart didn’t respond at all. His heart was still beating, but his skin was clammy and his breathing was very shallow.

“Wonder if there’s a mediwitch anywhere in this place,” Marshall muttered.

“I don’t know,” Arthur said. “I imagine Poppy was evicted along with the teachers. Severus is probably as close as we’ll get to any kind of Healer.” He called softly, “Dobby!”

Immediately there was a little pop! amid the stillness and Dobby appeared. “How can Dobby help the Weezey’s father, sir?” Marshall and Alfred looked at each other with little grins.

Arthur said, “Dobby, is Madam Pomfrey anywhere in the castle?”

Dobby shook his head sorrowfully. “No, Madam was forced to leave the castle. Dobby does not know what has become of her.”

Arthur grimaced. “What about Snape? He’s here, isn’t he? Can you fetch him?”

Dobby glanced at Stuart. “Dobby will do that very thing, master.” He snapped his fingers and disappeared.

If anything dire happened to Stuart, Arthur wondered how they would be able to let his family know...if they were even still alive. He somehow doubted Bella would allow any message to be sent.

Before long they heard the heels of Snape’s boots striding across the reception room, and the eunuchs turned as one to see his annoyed look as he walked into the sleeping quarters.

“What do you want?” he complained. “I’m quite busy, you know—I can’t be running up here for every little ache and pain.”

“Didn’t Dobby tell you?” Arthur asked.

“He said one of the slaves wasn’t well,” Snape replied shortly. “So? Where is he? What do you want me to do about it?”

The eunuchs parted ranks so Snape could see the pallet on which Stuart lay. Even in the short time since the other boys had left their beds he had grown worse; they could only see his chest moving if they stood absolutely still and stared fixedly at him for several moments. He seemed to be dying right before their eyes.

Arthur said as much, and Snape moved closer and knelt beside the pallet. “What in Merlin’s name—” he murmured to himself. He felt Stuart’s skin and bent to put his ear next to the boy’s chest. He put a gentle hand under Stuart’s neck and felt along the skin. Then he sat back on his heels and looked up at Arthur.

“He’s dying,” he said bluntly. “His neck is broken, and Merlin only knows what other havoc she’s wrought inside him.” He glanced down at Stuart’s bent cock. “It’s the Cruciatus. I’ve seen this before, you know. It’s one of her favorite things. She seems particularly...vicious...when using it on men. There were a couple of Muggles at a Dark Revel once upon a time.” His head was bowed, and he did not look at any of the men. “They ended up exactly the same way. She broke virtually every bone in their bodies, even their necks, although they didn’t die immediately. She paid particular attention to disabling their—their—well, they looked just like this when she was done with them. They died before the Revel ended.”

He stood up slowly and now he did look at the eunuchs. “His neck is broken. His heart is barely functioning, and it sounds as if one of his lungs is collapsed. I don’t know if the Healers at St. Mungo’s could do anything for him or not, but in any case if we tried to remove him from the castle, the anti-escape wards she has in place would finish him off, as weak as he is. I am truly sorry—there’s nothing I can do for him.”

Marshall blustered, “But it’s outrageous! Can’t you at least—I don’t know—give him something for the pain?”

Snape looked at him dispassionately. “Pain? Look at him. Does it look to you as if he’s in pain?”

Stuart looked quite peaceful, actually. There was none of the wrinkling of the forehead that can signify distress or pain even when a person is unconscious; he wasn’t thrashing around or moaning; he didn’t seem at all agitated.

“So...what, then?” Edwin asked. “We just wait for him to die?” Tears welled up in his eyes. Suddenly this harem business was not, after all, the lark he had tried to make it seem. He had consistently tried to forget the nature of the person who controlled all of their lives, so the fact that she had ended an innocent life so casually, for her own pleasure, was more of a shock to him than it should have been.

Alfred nodded. “Yes, Edwin,” he said quietly. “We let him die. He’ll be out of all this soon...maybe he’ll go on to something better. After all, he always was a clever chap, according to Daphne. A fine boy, the pride of his family. And who knows—maybe he’ll get to see them again when he leaves us.”

Edwin sniffled and nodded, looking a bit more optimistic if somewhat damp.

Suddenly Stuart drew a deep breath and his eyes fluttered open. He wore a look of intense surprise for a few seconds, then the light in his eyes dimmed and whatever it was that made him Stuart was gone, beyond Bella’s reach forever.

The five men watched him go with a feeling of unreality, at least two of them with a renewed dedication to hastening the end of Bella’s reign.

Suddenly Dobby spoke, startling them all as they hadn’t realized he’d come back. “Dobby will take care of the young master now, yes?” he said. As they hadn’t really had a chance yet to consider about what to do about Stuart’s body, no one stopped the house-elf as he snapped his fingers, levitating Stuart’s body into the air above his pallet. Dobby looked around at their solemn faces. “Young master will go to rest with his fathers,” he said with great dignity. “Dobby knows where to take him.”

Arthur nodded. “Thank you, Dobby.”

Dobby took Stuart’s hand in his and with a little pop! they were gone.

There was a rustling sound from the floor and the men looked down to see that Stuart’s pallet had disappeared from where it had been squeezed between Harry’s and Draco’s; now Draco’s bed was next to Harry’s, and Stuart’s name plaque had disappeared from the wall.

Alfred shook his head. “And just like that, all trace of him is gone,” he said sadly. “Well, I supposed we’d better go tell the boys. And—Lucius gave me the summons for tonight. I hardly know how to break it to them. It’s...it will be a first, I can tell you.”

Beside himself with curiosity despite the tragedy that weighed on them, Snape asked, “Well? Who is it, then?”

“She wants Harry back—but not alone.” He met four puzzled gazes in turn. “She wants Draco too.”

“At the same time?” Edwin asked doubtfully. “Are you sure?”

Marshall snorted. “Well, of course. I’ll bet she found out they can’t stand each other. Nasty for them to have to do the kind of things I imagine she’ll have them doing to one another if they can’t abide the sight of each other.”

Alfred said, “Oh, I’m not sure they despise each other quite as much as they once did. They’ve grown up a lot, you know. Harry seemed to be making a reasonable effort to make Draco feel at home yesterday when Lucius brought him in. I think they’ll be all right.”

Snape rolled his eyes. The conversation was leading down a path he didn’t really want to think about; time he left and went back to Bella-sitting—er, went back to the Queen in case she had need of him.

“If there’s nothing further, I shall take my leave,” he said abruptly.

Arthur put a hand on his arm. “It was good of you to come, Severus,” he said. “I appreciate it.”

Snape snorted. “Much good it did. He was already half-dead when I got here.”

“Still. Thank you.”

Snape nodded briefly and departed without another word. Truth be told, he didn’t trust himself to say anything. The fact that Bella had killed a boy—and he was a boy, even if he was nearly nineteen—was inexcusable. This was no battle; she had taken an innocent life solely in order to satisfy a twisted desire for her own pleasure. Stuart shouldn’t have had to suffer such an ignominius end for the pleasure of a lust-crazed pretender to a non-existent monarchy

Snape was so angry he was shaking. He needed to go to his quarters in the dungeon, which Bella had allowed him to keep, and try to regain control of his emotions before he went before her again. The sheer, unrestrained force of those emotions was a shock to him. It had been a very long time since anything had shocked him and since he had last felt genuine sorrow. It was not comfortable to feel such things—it probably wasn’t even safe, since Bella was every bit as accomplished a Legilimens as Snape himself.

No, he could not see her while he was this upset. She would instantly sense something amiss and have the truth out of him before he’d been in the room five minutes. And then where would he be—in Azkaban? Dead? What other secrets would she pry out of his mind while his control was shaken? She could all too easily happen upon some stray thought or memory that would show her he was not the loyal follower he claimed to be.

He turned his steps toward the dungeon. He would brew some potions. And possibly have a large Firewhisky while he was at it. Wasting a morning in drunken potion-brewing was not something he would normally recommend, but right now he felt it was just what the Potions Master ordered.
The eunuchs went out to the main room where the boys were sitting about quietly reading or playing chess, or lounging in the pool. There was none of the rowdiness that usually followed breakfast, when everyone was well-rested and well-fed.

Arthur cleared his throat and immediately had the attention of everyone in the room. “Boys, I’m very sorry to have to tell you that Stuart has...passed away.” He continued, hardly able to meet their shocked gazes. “It might help to know that we don’t think he suffered at the end. He went very peacefully. Dobby has—has taken him away to be buried with his family.” At least that was how he supposed he should interpret Dobby’s offer.

Neville raised his hand, and Arthur nodded. “Why—why did she do that to him?” he asked in a low voice. “Did he do something wrong?”

Arthur cleared his throat. “I wish I could say he had.” At the disturbed muttering that followed this statement, he hastened to add, “Only because it would mean there was something specific that the rest of you could avoid doing. But I truly don’t think that’s the case. From what little I can gather she was in something of a mood already, and she simply took it out on Stuart. I wish I could guarantee this won’t happen to anyone else, but I’m afraid I can’t. We all know who we’re dealing with, even if we’re not allowed to say it; the painful reality is that this could happen at any time, to any one of you.”

He looked at the other eunuchs. “In the mean time, I have a message for you about tonight’s summons.” At the frowns and whispers among the slaves, he said, “Oh, yes—life goes on for the rest of us, make no mistake.

“Tonight the Queen wishes to summon Harry—”

Stuart’s demise was momentarily set aside as a clamor broke out.

“Way to go, Harry! You must have made quite a first impression!”

“Attaboy, Harry!”

“Better watch yourself, Harry—looks like you’re the favorite.”

Arthur held up his hands for quiet, and the good-natured ribbing died down. “As I was saying, she wishes to summon Harry—and Draco Malfoy.”

Draco’s head popped up from where he was floating on his back in the pool, and he sputtered and stood up. “What—both of us together?” he spluttered. “But that’s—that’s—just weird,” he finished lamely.

“I’ll say,” said Ron. “Doesn’t she know you hate each other?”

Draco looked at Harry...and Harry looked at Draco...and they both smiled slowly.

“What—you don’t hate each other?” Ron exclaimed. “Since when?”

“Shut your gob, Weasley,” Draco said casually. “Some of us have grown up a bit since school days.”

Ron’s ears turned bright red and he looked daggers at Draco, then appealed to Harry. “So, what—now the two of you are best friends or something?” he said bitterly. “You’re being a bit gullible, aren’t you, Harry? Quite a coincidence that Draco Malfoy, of all people, should land in the Queen’s harem, isn’t it?” He snorted. “After all, it’s not as if she’s going to boink her own nephew, is it? So why is he here, if not to spy on us?” He glowered at Draco, who looked back at him with no discernible expression on his face.

Harry, however, looked rather uncomfortable. “Come on, Ron,” he began. “You’re not even giving him a chance to—”

“A chance to what, Harry? Turn us in for saying out loud what we’re all thinking to ourselves—that his Auntie Bella is a squid-nosed, cock-sucking, squint-eyed bint who’d probably blow her own father for a lark?”

His audience stared at him aghast, and Arthur gasped a faint “Ron!” but seemed unable to say more.

Then Draco laughed. “Well, I don’t know about the squid-nosed, squint-eyed part, but yeah, other than that you’re probably right. I know for certain she wouldn’t stop at blowing her own brother-in-law—” he noted Arthur’s scandalized look and shrugged— “so I can’t see any reason she wouldn’t ‘boink’ me if it suited her.” He looked downright defiant. “If she’s summoned me for tonight, she obviously has something of the sort in mind.” He looked at Harry. “But I don’t intend to end up like Stuart. There will be two of us, so...I’ll watch your back, Potter, if you’ll watch mine.”

“Count on it,” Harry said fervently. “Thanks.”

Arthur just put his head in his hands and wished he’d thought to ask Snape for a headache potion before he’d left. Fred patted him on the shoulder.

“Buck up, Dad,” he said. “Safety in numbers, you’ve always said.”

A muffled voice replied, “Believe me, when I said that I’m sure I never had anything like this in mind!”

The day passed all too quickly; sooner than Harry could believe, it was lunch time, and afterward he and Draco retired to the sleeping quarters. Neither wished to take a sleeping draught, so Arthur left them alone, intent on acquiring a headache potion before the day got much older.

Harry and Draco lay on their pallets, directly beside each other now that Stuart’s intervening bed had been removed. Neither was sleepy, but they both wanted to talk about their upcoming night with Bella so they were glad to have this time alone together without an audience.

“I wonder why she’s having us go together,” Harry mused.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m sure someone did tell her we hate each other. It’s just the sort of thing she gets her kicks from,” Draco said knowledgeably. “Pitting people against each other, making them fight each other. I mean, she probably thinks if we hate each other she can make us miserable by forcing us to...do things to each other.”

“Do things? To each other?” Harry looked faintly shocked. “You mean—”

Draco shrugged nonchalantly. “Probably. Why—would it really bother you that much?” He studied Harry seriously. “I mean, you don’t hate me any more, do you?”

Harry shook his head quickly. “No, of course not.” He thought for a moment. “Still, I don’t know that I’d be comfortable doing...you know—things with you.”

Draco laughed softly. “Why not? Have you ever tried it before?” He grinned teasingly. “I’ll bet you’ve never even kissed another guy, have you?”

“Have you?” Harry retorted.

“Duh. Of course.”

“Really? Who?” Harry asked doubtfully.

“Does it really matter?” Draco asked. “It’s not something I generally go around talking about.”

Harry nodded slowly. “Oh. Right. Well...but wasn’t it kind of weird?”

“Because it was a guy?”

“Yeah.”

“No.” They lay in silence for a minute or so, then Draco said, “I could show you. If you want.” He managed to make it sound as if it mattered not in the slightest to him.

Another minute passed while Harry thought about it. He had an uneasy feeling Bella might insist on him and Draco kissing tonight—at the very least—and maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to get the first time out of the way so he’d know what to expect. A practice run, so to speak. He swallowed. “Um...okay.”

They both scootched a little closer until they were within easy reach. When Draco reached out to put his hand on Harry’s hip, Harry jumped and Draco chuckled. “Oh, calm down,” he said. “It’s just a kiss, for Merlin’s sake.”

Harry watched as Draco’s face came closer, and his eyes finally crossed. Draco rolled his eyes. “Look,” he said, not unkindly, “why don’t you just close your eyes? Just let me fly the broomstick for a bit until you get the hang of it. Then if you want to join in...do.”

That seemed reasonable, so Harry let his eyes close. He licked his lips nervously, and Draco, whose eyes were most emphatically not shut, followed the gesture avidly. He was not at all averse to kissing Harry, to whom he’d been attracted, even through all their misdirected anger and bitter rivalry, for almost as long as he’d known him.

He moved closer, until Harry could feel Draco’s breath on his face, and laid his lips on Harry’s, barely brushing them before lifting again. Harry made a little sound, but Draco put a finger against his lips. “Ssh,” he whispered, and his mouth descended again. Harry’s lips were soft, and Draco tickled them with the tip of his tongue and placed soft kisses all along them, sucking Harry’s lower lip in and nibbling on it gently before letting it pop free.

Harry groaned, and suddenly Draco felt something hard and hot against his leg. He smiled to himself. Good; it was always more fun when the other person entered into things whole-heartedly.

Draco attacked Harry’s mouth again, more firmly this time. His tongue pressed for entry and he lifted his mouth only the barest amount to whisper, “Open for me, Harry.” Harry did, and then Draco’s tongue was in his mouth, exploring the space between Harry’s lips and his teeth, tracing along the roof of his mouth—Harry marveled at what a long tongue he had—and wrestling with Harry’s own tongue.

Suddenly Harry was surprised to find himself kissing Draco back. Somehow it didn’t matter that he was kissing another guy. Draco was caressing his face softly, placing little nips along Harry’s jawline, whispering that he’d always wanted to try kissing Harry, and wasn’t this nice after all?

Harry finally opened his eyes to see Draco, who had propped himself up on one arm, looking down at him with a strange expression. “What did you say?” Harry asked confusedly. “You’ve always wanted to kiss me? Really?” He sounded breathless. “Why?”

Draco grinned. “I know a good thing when I see it,” he said with a little shrug. He looked down at where the proof of Harry’s eager compliance lay. “And I’m looking at it right now. Er, Harry—you know, we have a bit of privacy right now. I won’t push you to, but do you think maybe....” He bit his lip and stopped.

“Maybe what?” Harry asked, awash in sensation and desire and no little amount of confusion.

Draco said nothing, just looked at him. Harry waited, and finally Draco said hesitantly, “I’d really like to suck you off...if you wouldn’t mind?”

Harry looked puzzled. “But I’m not gay,” he said. “Are—are you?”

Draco shrugged. “Gay is just a label, Harry. Like Slytherin...or Gryffindor...or Chosen One.” Harry’s lips twitched. “Or Ferret.” At that, Harry laughed outright. “I’m not asking you because I’m gay. I suppose I am, I’ve never really thought about it. I just know what I like—or would like, if you’ll let me.” Draco held his breath as he waited for Harry’s answer.

“Do you think she’ll make us do that tonight, too?” Harry asked.

“Dunno. Maybe. But I’m not asking because of that. Just....”

“...just...?”

“Because I really want to.” Draco’s cock jumped up and bumped against Harry’s and he squeezed his eyes shut. “I really, really want to.”

“Then do it,” Harry said recklessly, before he could change his mind.

“We can’t make any noise,” Draco said in a low voice. Harry shook his head wordlessly, and Draco said, “I mean it. Not when you come, not at all. And we can’t leave any evidence, so—” he reached down and took Harry’s cock in his hand, and felt it jump when he said— “I’ll have to swallow every drop of your come.” Harry just stared at him, and when Draco squeezed his cock, he hissed softly.

Draco scooted down. “Remember,” he said, and he passed a finger softly over Harry’s lips. Harry nodded, and Draco smiled. He looked down at Harry’s cock and thought how lucky he was. And he hoped Bella would be merciful and let him get lucky again tonight when he and Harry were with her.

Sighing in anticipation, he sank his mouth down on Harry’s weeping cock and slowly began to bob his head up and down, stopping now and then to run his tongue around the tip. With his left hand he reached down and found Harry’s balls. They were soft and warm in his hand. He gently rolled them between his fingers and Harry groaned. Immediately Draco gave a warning nip and Harry jerked.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

Draco answered with another swipe of his tongue. He felt Harry’s hands slide through his hair, tangling themselves in it. His hands were shaking. Draco increased his speed gradually, ending each up-stroke with a swirl of his tongue, and soon the hands in his hair were clutching his skull frenziedly and Harry’s hips were pumping in counterpoint to Draco’s strokes.

Draco plunged Harry into his throat as deeply as he could and held him there, swallowing repeatedly to massage Harry’s cock with his throat muscles. There was a soft grunt from above him and suddenly Harry’s muscles tensed and his cock flexed in Draco’s mouth as he spurted wildly, uncontrollably, down Draco’s throat.

The pulsing of his cock seemed endless, but it finally stopped. Harry lay there and panted, exhausted, seeing stars behind his eyelids. Suddenly he chuckled, then remembered and shook with silent laughter.

Draco released his hold on Harry’s cock and looked up. “Care to share the joke?” he asked.

“Well, we’re supposed to be resting up so we’ll be able to perform for Bella tonight,” Harry whispered. “But I’m so exhausted right now, I feel like I could sleep for about a year!”

Draco smiled and returned Harry’s cock to his mouth. Harry looked at him questioningly and Draco said around the obstruction, “Just cleaning up the last little bit.”

“Oh. Well, it feels good.” A sudden thought struck Harry. “But wait.” He looked down to see that Draco’s own cock was a vivid pink against the pale skin and paler hair of his groin. “What about you?”

“It’s all right,” Draco assured him. “It’ll go away in a while, after we—er—go to sleep.” I am such a liar, he thought to himself.

“Are you sure? I mean, I can—don’t you want me to—it seems only fair that I should return the favor,” Harry stammered.

Draco, his tongue lapping up the last bit of Harry’s come from his cock, glanced up at him, then back down, effectively shuttering his eyes, afraid that Harry would see how very badly he did want Harry’s mouth on his cock.

“Er...well, if you’re sure,” he said. “That—that would be great. If you’re sure.”

Harry reached down and tugged at Draco’s arm. “Then come up here,” he said. Draco slithered back up on his pallet and waited to see what Harry would do.

He began by pushing Draco over on his back and running a hand softly over the blond’s torso. Draco’s muscles quivered as Harry’s touched passed over them, and his cock quivered eagerly. Harry, looking somewhat breathless, bent and buried his nose in Draco’s crotch. Draco watched, surprised. He had expected Harry to more or less do the same as Draco had done to him. Harry pushed Draco’s legs further apart and moved to lie between them. “Easier this way,” he whispered, and Draco nodded and lay back again.

Harry had had the inspiration to use on Draco what he’d learned from Bella, but he didn’t think he could wait through all the sucking-on-toes business she’d had him doing, so instead he started with a line of small kisses up the inside of one of Draco’s thighs. When he reached the top, Draco’s cock lay back over his abdomen so there was no obstruction to Harry’s taking first one ball, then the other, into his mouth. He gently tongued them and sucked them, working up a mouthful of spit and swishing Draco’s balls around in it. When he finally let them plop out of his mouth they were wet and shiny, and Draco’s cock was smearing prodigious amounts of pre-cum across his belly.

Harry took the cock in his hand and ran his thumb repeatedly over the head while he leaned over and cleaned up the puddle Draco had left on himself, so as to leave no trace of their encounter for prying eyes.

Draco was wound so tightly that each pass of Harry’s thumb was a kind of torture, especially since he couldn’t make any noise. Draco was a moaner, as all his dorm-mates in Slytherin had been well aware, and this keeping-quiet business was nearly killing him. He couldn’t imagine how Harry had stood it.

Then a warm, wet cave engulfed him—he was in Harry’s mouth! Draco was so excited by this thought that he nearly came then and there. He tried frantically to think about something unexciting—flobberworms...detentions with Snape spent cleaning cauldrons by hand...Hagrid in a bathing suit...Weasley and Granger’s eventual wedding night, euuuuchhhh!—but he could feel himself coming inexorably closer to that elusive peak. He watched Harry’s messy black hair bobbing up and down and was assailed by a wave of tenderness he hadn’t expected to feel. Enjoyment, yes; this was fun, certainly, and he’d imagined it and wished for it for a very long time. But he hadn’t expected to feel protective of Harry, of all things. His mind firmly drew the line at calling the emotion anything else.

“Harry,” he whispered, and Harry made a little noise of acknowledgement deep in his throat that vibrated on Draco’s cock. That was all it needed for Draco to frantically pump his hips, grasping Harry’s head in both hands so all he could do was hold still and go along for the ride. Draco’s cock erupted in a splash that completely filled Harry’s mouth. Harry swallowed convulsively, not wanting any of it to escape. As he did, he held Draco’s ass cheeks in his hands, swirling his thumbs soothingly along their sides.

Finally Draco’s little jolts stopped and he heaved a sigh of ultimate satisfaction. Harry crawled up to him and they lay there for a while, each with a hand against the other’s chest. Then they fell asleep and did not wake until Alfred came to get them for dinner.
As it happened, Harry’s initiation into the joys of male oral sex did not go unnoticed.

The absence of one of the eunuchs for a brief period after lunch, however, did.

Marshall had gone to the eunuchs’ loo, book in hand, for a few minutes of privacy after lunch. The coleslaw had made him a little gassy, but it turned out he didn’t have to go after all, so after about five minutes of nothing happening he tsk’d and began to head back out to the main room.

When he heard Harry and Draco talking he stopped just outside the last cubicle. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Cautiously he edged his head around the corner just in time to see Draco’s first tentative kiss. Immediately he ducked back so as not to be seen, but the noises coming from the pallets at the end of the row were irresistible, and soon he was sliding noiselessly back around the corner. Harry and Draco were so caught up in each other that they never noticed him there.

Marshall watched, one fist jammed against his mouth to stop any inadvertent noise from escaping and the other hand furiously squeezing and pumping his tragically flaccid, nonresponsive cock, imagining himself in Harry’s place as first Harry, then Draco came in the other’s mouth. When they fell asleep he tottered into his own cubicle and collapsed on his bed in silent, shuddering sobs, wracked with pain and so gripped with desire for Draco that he thought his heart would break of it.

When he was in control of himself once again, he shuffled wearily into the loo and ran a facecloth under the cold water and then held it to his eyes for some time, checking in the mirror to be sure his eyes were no longer red before he went back out to join the company.

Arthur, watching a heated game of wizard chess between Ron and Fred, saw Marshall emerge from the sleeping quarters and frowned in annoyance. What had he been doing in there—and come to that, how long had he been in there? Arthur didn’t recollect seeing him for some little while now. He sighed and was about to get up when Marshall strolled over.

“Miss me?” he grinned. “I laid down for a bit—that coleslaw didn’t agree with me, I’m afraid—and I fell right asleep. Sorry about that; didn’t mean to be derelict in my duty.”

“It’s quite all right,” Arthur said. He was still suspicious, but what could he say? After all, what could the man have been doing—watching the boys sleep? Little enough harm in that, he supposed. “We’re just having a quiet afternoon of it all round.”

It was true. Whether it was the shock of Stuart’s death or merely the fact that the skies were gray and moody today, the rain pelting against the leaded glass windows, no one seemed very interested in playing water polo or engaging in the hundred and one other normal, boisterous activities bored young men could think up. They were engaged in various quiet pursuits or just talking in twos or threes. An occasional laugh broke the quiet, but overall there was a general air of peace.

Arthur got up and gestured to Marshall. “Actually,” he said, “I’ve been meaning to talk with you. Why don’t we go out to the reception room, where we won’t disturb anyone?” Mystified, Marshall followed him out to the marble room, which was somehow bright even on this gloomy day. Arthur sat down at the Chief Eunuch’s desk and Marshall stood before it, unconsciously assuming the positions of authority and subordinate.

“This isn’t easy to say, Marshall,” Arthur began, “so I’ll just lay it out for you and we can hash it over afterward.” Marshall’s eyes took on a guarded look; he wasn’t sure what was coming, but it didn’t sound good.

“First, I want you to understand quite clearly that neither Edwin, Alfred, nor I hold any grudge against you for your sexual inclinations,” Arthur said. Marshall said nothing but stood frozen before him, staring at a spot just above Arthur’s head, his face slowly gaining a rosy flush.

“But it seems logical to assume this is a difficult job for you, being here amongst all these boys. And as Snape has admitted, the potion can’t be helping any since it makes your desire even stronger and leaves you in pain because you’ve no way to satisfy it.” Marshall’s mouth twitched but he said nothing. Arthur rolled his eyes, but he was determined to get it all out.

“Lastly, you know the penalty for sexual involvement between eunuch and slave,” Arthur said. “You know it as well as any of us. Which begs the question: who are you trying to get killed, Marshall—you, or Harry?”

“H-Harry?”

“Yes, Harry. Did you think no one noticed your little games in the bath the other night? I couldn’t see what was going on behind the curtain when you were giving him an enema, but from what I saw in the pool, I can imagine well enough.”

“Oh. That.” Marshall had thought Arthur had somehow discovered he’d been watching Harry and Draco a few minutes ago, and quite frankly he hadn’t given much thought to the consequences if he had been caught—or the danger to the boys if they’d been caught together.

“Yes, ‘oh, that’. Really, Marshall, what were you thinking? I—I just don’t know what to say to you.”

“You, er, you think everyone noticed, did they?” Marshall asked quietly.

“Well, the eunuchs did, certainly. The boys...well, I don’t think so. Although they certainly noticed Harry’s state when he got out of the pool, as you heard.”

Abashed, Marshall shuffled his feet. “Ah—yes—well—”

Arthur held up a hand. “No, Marshall. There’s no ‘well’ you can give me that excuses what you were doing. If you don’t care about your own head, at least don’t drag the boys to the executioner along with you, all right? They don’t deserve that.”

Marshall looked at him forlornly. “I know. I know, Arthur. You don’t need to tell me. I don’t know why on earth she put me here. I’d die rather than hurt one hair on any of their heads, but—I just can’t seem to help myself!” He looked as if he might cry at any moment.

“Well, I don’t know why she chose to put you here either, but she has, so you must learn to live with it like the rest of us do.”

Marshall’s eyes narrowed. “Like the rest—you mean you—”

“No, no, no,” Arthur said, seeing that some clarification was needed. “I just meant we’re all being deprived—not of boys, but of our usual lives. Wives, sweethearts, what have you.”

“Oh.” Marshall seemed to be growing restless. “I don’t know, Arthur. I mean, I’m sure you do miss your wife and all, but—but you don’t have twenty nubile young girls flaunting themselves in front of you all day, especially one in particular who you just can’t help wanting.” He caught Arthur’s eye and shrugged. “I truly can’t help it. I’m trying, Merlin knows, but...he’s always there, and he’s so...beautiful.” He sighed.

Arthur was almost afraid to ask. “Who?”

“Draco. I—I’m in love, Arthur.” He met Arthur’s incredulous stare head-on, without flinching. “I know how ridiculous that must sound, an old fart like me in love with a young bloke like him. You probably think it’s just lust, but it’s more than that. Much more. Has been for years, only I haven’t ever been able to spend this much time around him before—certainly not with him naked! And I’m having the devil’s own time not saying something...or doing something.”

Arthur paled and swallowed hard. “Marshall—”

“I know. I know! Gods! I want to get out of this place so badly I could scream sometimes. Why on earth should she mind if we care for each other? Deprivation for its own sake is what that is!” He ranted on for a while longer in this vein, and Arthur sat there helplessly and tried not to think about where this would all end.

When Marshall finally ran down, Arthur sighed heavily. “So tell me, Marshall—where does all this leave us? I don’t want to report you to Lucius—you do remember Lucius? Draco’s father, the Harem Overseer?” he stressed with uncharacteristic sarcasm. “But if I feel you’re putting Draco or anyone else in jeopardy, I’ll have no choice. I’m not saying you don’t know your own mind, and I’m not judging you for whoever you care to fall in love with. I am, however, responsible not just for their safety but for yours. And if I think you’re going to prove a danger to their safety—or to your own—I’ll see you’re removed from the harem. I’ve no idea where she’ll put you if that happens, but I don’t imagine she much cares whether the castle slaves diddle each other silly every night of the week, since they aren’t the ones who are supposed to be saving themselves for her exclusive use!”

His voice had raised gradually and there was a quiet “Ahem!” from the doorway to the main room. Alfred hovered there hesitantly. “Everything all right?” he asked.

Arthur sagged back into the chair. “Yes, thanks, Alfred. Sorry, was I that loud?”

“Oh, no one could hear just what you were saying, but I thought I’d come warn you before they could.”

“Well, since you’re here,” Arthur said, “you might as well hear this, too. Marshall, I am relieving you of all duties that pertain to the boys’ grooming or preparation for audiences. That means no enemas, no bathing, no wardrobe. I don’t want to find you at any time—for any reason—any reason at all,” he stressed, “alone with a slave in the sleeping quarters. You may continue to supervise errands and teach your history class, but you are to be strictly hands-off with all the boys. No physical contact whatsoever. Is this clear?”

Marshall’s face was as red as if he’d been standing in front of a roaring fire. “Yes, quite,” he said in a strangled voice. “And Draco—”

“No,” Arthur said, holding up his hands and shaking his head. “Just—no. I don’t want to hear it. This is for his sake as much as yours. Someday, Marshall—if we ever get out of this situation—then you can pursue your own path, whatever that may be and whoever it may involve. But not here, not now, and most definitely not with Draco Malfoy. Is it worth dying to have a few stolen minutes alone with him, Marshall? Is it worth his death?”

Marshall just stared at him, but Arthur could see the answer written plainly on his face.

“That’s all I have to say,” Arthur said dismissively. Marshall nodded stiffly and returned to the main room. Arthur murmured, “It’s little enough to say, at that.”
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Bella's Harem