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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
- 13
- 14
- 15
Warning: This chapter contains SLASH. If you don’t like reading SLASH, you know where your “Back” button is—please exit now!

AN: Thanks to Bobby Scott and Bob Russell, wherever their Great Adventure has taken them, for this chapter’s title.
14: He Ain’t Heavy (He’s My Brother)

The next morning when Lucius arrived at Bella’s suite it was to hear that she was going to pay a visit to Gringotts about setting up a Royal Treasury—and he was to accompany her. “It’s such a dreary place; and those nasty goblins!” She shuddered theatrically. “I want you there to deal with them for me.”

“A treasury,” he said. “Really. And from where is this treasury supposed to spring, pray tell?”

Bella looked at him sharply. “Are you by any chance being sarcastic, Lucius?” He made a conciliatory gesture to indicate that he had not intended this, and she said, “Well, I’ll use the Black family fortune to seed it, of course, but then I intend to impose taxes on my subjects to fill the coffers. And I suppose I’ll...invest...or something.”

Lucius’ mind had stopped at the words “Black family fortune.” What? “Wh-what?” he said faintly, sure he must have misunderstood. She thought she could beggar her own sister, making her and Lucius totally dependent on Bella for everything, in order to—what? There was no war to finance; and she’d already taken over Hogwarts Castle and was surrounded by every luxury magic could conjure. What more did she want?

“Our fortune,” she repeated. “I’m going to use it to start off the Treasury. Every monarch needs a Royal Treasury.”

Oh, he thought with some asperity, so now it’s our fortune, is it? “Ah,” he said noncommittally, and wondered if there was any way he could manage to get to Gringotts before her.

“We’ll Apparate there together,” she said, as if reading his thoughts. “I wish to leave immediately.” Lucius sighed. No chance, then.

“All right,” he said. “It’s a bit of a walk to the gates, you know,” he added spitefully (he got his digs in whenever he could), knowing her distaste for physical exercise—at least any that didn’t provide direct, immediate physical gratification.

Halfway to the Hogwarts gates Bella asked fretfully, “Why on earth is it such a long way to the gates? And whose idea was it to make it impossible to Apparate inside the school grounds?”

“I believe it was the Founders of Hogwarts who came up with it,” Lucius said politely. “Did you never read your Hogwarts, A History as a student, Bella?” Inside he was laughing to himself. The exercise will do you good, you lazy bitch. As long as Bella was busy complaining she wasn’t poking around inside his head, looking for hints of plots against her, which she tended to see around every corner, in every face, in every whispered conversation to which she was not privy.

Finally they reached the gates and Bella, her mood growing blacker by the moment at the way things “weren’t working out” (which, translated, meant she was miffed at having to walk all that way), turned on the spot and Apparated. Lucius waited a moment longer; once she was out of earshot he allowed himself a frustrated “Gahhh!” then followed.

Half an hour later her mood had grown considerably worse and was verging on a tantrum of epic proportions. Lucius recognized the signs, and he judged Bella to be sufficiently careless of decorum that she was quite capable of subjecting everyone present in Gringotts to a blast of temper if she didn’t get what she wanted.

And to his glee and his great relief, it seemed clear that she wouldn’t be getting it any time soon.

“What do you mean,” she said, each word gleaming with razor-sharp edges, “the Black family fortune is not mine to direct? I am a Black, am I not? The Blacks are my family, therefore the Black family fortune is mine—as much as any other Black’s,” she said, dismissing the fact of her two sisters with a careless wave.

Ragnok, the Goblin who normally dealt with the bank’s more important customers, had been accorded the dubious honor of waiting on Bella today. He was well aware of her self-proclaimed royal status and, although his impassive mien didn’t show it, felt only contempt for this upstart witch who thought she could come sweeping in and upset the natural order of things.

“According to wizarding tradition,” he explained yet again, as if to a very small or very stupid child, “the Black family fortune passes down until there are no more males in the line of succession and no more husbands of female children of the line. When Sirius Black—” Bella twitched a little when Ragnok said Sirius’ name— “died, in the absence of any other males of the line, control would have passed to the husband of the eldest female.” He peered at her over the top of his glasses to see if she was attending. Bella fumed and opened her mouth to protest, but Ragnok steamrollered right over her.

“That would be your husband, Rodolphus Lestrange. However, due to his imprisonment in Azkaban Prison for crimes against the wizarding community, control of the fortune bypassed him. All quite legal,” he stressed. “It would then have resided with the husband of the next-eldest daughter.” He cleared his throat. “However, since that daughter was disowned long before for marrying a Muggle—” he consulted a bulging file on the table before him— “ah yes: one Theodore Tonks, a Muggle—control has passed to, and currently resides with, Lucius Malfoy, husband of the youngest Black daughter.”

Bella gave a frustrated little half-scream and the papers and files on the table stirred as if a breeze had passed through the room. “Are you telling me,” she asked in a dangerous tone, “that there is nothing I can do—no appeal I can make? This is your final word?”

Lucius found himself holding his breath as they waited for Ragnok’s answer. He was greatly relieved to know that the family fortune was safe from Bella’s predations, but he wondered how she was going to make him pay. Because there was no question that she would make him pay. Probably thinks I should just hand the whole thing over to her, he thought.

Ragnok nodded. “That is my final word,” he said solemnly. “It has long been Gringotts’ policy to uphold wizarding tradition in the matters of succession and inheritance.” He tilted his head on one side. “However...did you not, my lady, have a rather sizeable dowry when you married?” He started shuffling through the file, looking for the record of transfer of her dowry to Rodolphus Lestrange’s account. “Ah, yes, sizeable indeed. Perhaps you would care to use some of this money, since your husband’s death allows you to assume control of your dowry funds.”

Bella’s face tightened and she glared at him resentfully. “Do be serious,” she spat. “You know perfectly well he spent all of it—every last Sickle! We’ve been living off the generosity of Lord Voldemort for years now.”

Ragnok stood and bowed. “I am not certain, then, how I may be of service to you, my lady,” he said. The words were polite, but his tone implied that he had other clients waiting, clients who actually had money. Infuriating, all this money floating around and none of it hers.

Wait. Clients with money. Of course!

“Well, if you can’t give me money,” Bella said, “then you can help me take it from every man, woman and child in the wizarding world.”

“What are you talking about?” Ragnok asked sharply, and Lucius eyed Bella askance.

“Taxes. That’s what I’m talking about,” she said triumphantly. “If no one wants to give me money willingly, I’ll tax them—all of them. Businesses, too.” She looked pleased with herself.

“Taxes?” Ragnok repeated blankly. It wasn’t often that he was lost for words, but the idea had taken him aback. The Ministry of Magic had never taxed its constituents, and Ragnok could not see how Bella, without any kind of government to back her up, was going to accomplish this. “And how do you propose to tax your...subjects, Your Majesty?” he asked. “I can not imagine how you expect to enforce such a practice without a great deal more infrastructure to your...government...than exists at present.”

“Infrastructure?” Bella snorted derisively. “Who needs it?” Lucius suspected she had no idea what the word meant. “It’s very simple, really: if they don’t pay, they will be punished. After all, what good is it being Queen if no one obeys me?”

“Really, my lady—and what will you do once Azkaban Prison is full of these rebels who refuse to pay?” Ragnok inquired sourly. “Kill all who oppose you?”

He meant it as sarcasm, but it was exactly what Bella did mean. “But of course,” she said. “Once people show a taste for rebellion, there’s simply no trusting them. Voldemort taught me that much, at least.” She was starting to get annoyed by Ragnok’s air of disapproval. “Do you have a problem with that?”

Lucius looked at Ragnok and shook his head imperceptibly. The Goblin closed the file and deliberately retied the ribbon that bound it. He folded his long fingers on top of it and regarded Bella with deep dislike.

“It’s your business if you wish to undermine your own reign before you get it properly started,” he said. “But Gringotts will not help you do it. If you intend to tax the wizarding public—and businesses—you will find a mass rebellion on your hands sooner than you realize.” He held up a clawed hand when Bella opened her mouth to retort. “No, my lady. I have had my say. Gringotts can not be involved in such an undertaking. If there is nothing further, I bid you good day.” He took the file and unhurriedly left the room, closing the door behind him.

Lucius waited for the storm to hit...but Bella merely sat staring thoughtfully at the table. Finally she looked at him. “So,” she said. “What remains of the Black family fortune is controlled by you, apparently.” Lucius wisely said nothing but sat and waited for her to play the loyalty card, which he was certain she would do.

However, it appeared she could still surprise him sometimes.

“Very well,” she said briskly, and she rose and put her cloak back on. “If I can’t have the family fortune released into my keeping, then I shall just have to find something else to use. In the mean time, Lucius, I want you to consult with the best financial minds among the Death Eaters to come up with a plan for taxing my subjects. Base it on whatever system the Muggles use, if you think that will work. I want something in place soon—by the end of June.”

The Muggle system! Bella must be desperate if she was considering doing anything the way Muggles did. “You realize that’s barely a month away,” he replied. “To not only come up with a workable tax scheme but publicize it and begin enforcing it by then is asking rather a lot.”

Bella snorted. “Asking a lot? Lucius, i am the Queen—or have you forgotten? I’m entitled to ask a lot. If you’re afraid you can’t do the job, just say so. I’m sure I can find someone who can.”

“Oh no, no. I was just saying.”

“Well, don’t.”

As they walked to the Apparation point, Lucius smiled to himself. Tax her subjects? What a very good idea. If she had a few more like this, the resistance wouldn’t need to organize a rebellion—Bella’s throne would topple of its own weight. And he was in the perfect position to help things along.

Meanwhile, little segments of the British wizarding population here and there were trying to put their lives back together as best they could—seeing as there was no school for the children, precious few jobs to be had for the adults, and their little world had a madwoman at the helm.

Molly Weasley was doing her level best to keep body and soul together—or, rather, several bodies and souls, since the Burrow had, on and off, been housing a shifting collection of displaced persons in addition to some of its usual Weasley population. Without Arthur’s regular salary, even such as it was, there was no regular money coming in; and he and Molly had very little in the way of savings.

So Molly got up a gardening crew, bought seeds and slips and starts, and soon they had a tidy vegetable garden started where in better days her beloved flowering shrubs had flourished. Hermione researched the best ways to maximize the garden’s potential, and Ginny guarded the plot assiduously, de-gnoming every day without fail and keeping a sharp lookout for slugs and aphids.

Besides the three of them, Fleur and Bill had made their home at the Burrow briefly; but when word began to circulate that Bella was rounding up all male wizards who had fought on the side of the Light—for what purpose it was unclear, but it surely couldn’t be good—Bill felt it would be best if they moved to France for the time being and stayed with Fleur’s family.

Charlie had returned to Romania after the final battle; he sent a dab of money whenever he could spare it from his pay packet, but dragon handlers didn’t make much to begin with—and then, too, there was the small matter of a baby on the way, which he and Flavia had just recently found out.

Hermione’s parents seemed well and happy where she had them hidden away in Australia, and although she missed them desperately at times she knew they were better off, even now, staying out of harm’s way. Someday she would bring them home, hopefully before too much time had passed and she had changed too much. She was afraid of their reaction when they found out they’d been Obliviated, and realized how much of her life they’d missed.

Ginny missed Harry terribly. Their brief, stunted love affair was beginning to seem like a dream, something that had happened to someone else. She still loved him, but the memory of him loving her back seemed more and more distant, until at times she could hardly remember what his hand had felt like in hers, how his mouth had tasted, the exact color of his eyes when he’d kissed her. A kind of apathy had stolen over her, and she found it was easier to just accept the loss—especially since, at least for now, there was nothing she could do about it—and see where life took her.

Minerva McGonagall was a recent addition to the Burrow. Having claimed Hogwarts as home for so many years, she had no other place to call her own that she could go to when Bella evicted the teachers from the castle. Oh, she had a brother—a Muggle—up near Aberdeen, but he was busy with his shipping business and she felt out of place every time she visited. He and his family were used to Auntie Min and her odd ways, and they were always warmly welcoming on the rare occasions when she did visit, but she imagined they would be rather less so if she showed up unannounced and homeless and hinting at a stay of some length. Best, she thought, not to put the bonds of brotherly loyalty to such a severe test.

Sibyll Trelawney had stayed at the Burrow for about a week, relegated to Ron’s old room at the top of the house, which was the only space available when she arrived. But she took exception to the antics of the ghoul in the attic, which kept her awake at night, and it wasn’t long before she was preparing to depart, over the half-hearted objections of Molly and Minerva.

“Molly dear, I simply can’t live with the unhappy spirits in this place any longer,” she told Molly. “I must go where my soul can soar.” She flung out one arm dramatically to illustrate her soaring soul and knocked Molly’s prized crystal replica of the Sphinx, acquired on the family’s trip to Egypt a few years earlier, onto the floor. It smashed into tiny pieces; and although Hermione did a quick Reparo so that the Sphinx looked as good as new, Molly never felt quite the same about it and was secretly glad to see the last of the lugubrious Seer.

For a short time following the final battle, as people made their way back to their homes—those who still had homes—or searched for family members who had gone missing, the wizarding world existed in a state of chaos. Without the Ministry to oversee the regulation of businesses, even some shops whose proprietors were able to return and start up again were somewhat disorganized; and many had difficulty obtaining merchandise, or clerks to help sell it.

In the midst of this disorder Lucius used Hermione’s old spelled Galleons to summon the remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix to a meeting. He called them to Malfoy Manor, reasoning that that would be the last place anyone would think to look for a group of traitors.

It was a small and motley group that gathered in the Malfoy family parlor exactly one week after the battle. In groups of two or three they Apparated to the Manor. On this May evening the place seemed deserted; to Muggle passersby it appeared to be nothing more than an old, bombed-out wreck of a house, with caution and keep-out signs posted liberally around the perimeter of the property.

Lucius and Narcissa greeted everyone civilly. “Thank you all for coming,” Lucius said. “I want to bring you up to date on Bella’s latest doings and see if there is anything anyone would like to add or ask at this time.” He went on to tell them of the enslavement, either as laborers or bed-slaves, of their menfolk, omitting the more salacious details of Bella’s “testing”, and said that Bella had thus far spent most of her time rounding up supporters of the Light who had not by now found safe refuge and locking them up in Azkaban to face some as-yet-unspecified fate. He pointed out that she seemed far more interested in satisfying her own wants and wishes than doing anything serious about reorganizing the government of wizarding Britain.

“I have given this matter a great deal of thought,” he said. “I know some of you may be reluctant to agree, but I feel that nothing short of regicide—if we even acknowledge Bella as Queen, which I, for one, do not—can be a permanent solution. I realize I may be taking my life in my hands—or, rather, putting it into yours—by saying this, but I fear Bella’s death is necessary. She can’t be trusted to remain in a cell in Azkaban; she was instrumental in the mass Death Eater escape last time, as—ahem—Narcissa and I have good reason to know. For the same reason, I refuse to consider the Dementors’ Kiss as a viable solution. If Bella is alive at all, she will find a way to pose a danger to any kind of normal life for the wizardfolk of Britain. Bella has got to go.

“And I think I know how it can be accomplished. But we will all have to help with the preliminary steps—in short, separating her from the Death Eaters. It will take some time and may well prove dangerous; but they must be dealt with or we’ll be tripping over them every time we turn around, and it will be that much harder to get to Bella.

“With that in mind...here is what I’ve come up with so far.”

When Bella and Lucius returned from Gringotts and walked into the entrance hall, Bella took off her cloak and handed it to the Death Eater on door duty. She swept across the flagged floor to the foot of the stairs and then came to an abrupt stop, causing Lucius to have to break his graceful stride and swerve to avoid running into her.

She turned and walked a short distance back down the hall and stopped before the House point counters, which still retained their gleaming jewels although now they all resided in the lower halves of the hourglasses.

“Of course,” she said softly. “Lucius!”

“Your Majesty?” he inquired, stepping forward.

Bella pointed to the hourglasses. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. The basis of the Royal Treasury was right here all along! I’ve taken ownership of the castle, so everything in it belongs to me. All these jewels, Lucius—they’re worth far more than the paltry Black fortune! And they’re all mine.” There was an acquisitive gleam in her eye as she walked closer and put a hand on the Slytherin hourglass, which was full of hundreds of emeralds in every shade of green.

But as she touched it—it disappeared! Bella stared at it in horror. “No! Make it come back!” she cried, pounding on the wall. “They’re mine—mine!” She raised a trembling hand to the Gryffindor hourglass and it, too, vanished. Bella started to cry hysterically. “No, no! What’s happening?” She turned to the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff hourglasses and before she could even move toward them they were gone. Bella wailed, a high, keening sound that went on and on and made Lucius long to cover his ears.

Suddenly she whirled and snapped, “The house-elves! Bring me all the castle elves immediately. I’ll get to the bottom of this if I have to torture every single one of them!” She stormed to the doors of the Great Hall and Lyttelton, the Death Eater on duty, hastily moved to open one of them before she tried to go through the solid wood, as it didn’t appear she had any intention of slowing down.

Lucius smirked. He suspected Hogwarts herself had removed the jewels, as she had the portraits, to some safe place to await, forever if need be, a more deserving chatelaine. To Lyttelton he said, “Summon all the house-elves to the Great Hall immediately.” Lyttelton nodded and headed for the kitchens.

Lucius waited outside the Great Hall for a moment to compose himself. It would never do for Bella to see that he was laughing at her, or to get the idea that he knew something about the disappearance of the jewels—which he didn’t know with absolute certainty, although their disappearance amused him greatly. When he felt he was sufficiently poker-faced, he opened one towering door and followed Bella inside. He would enjoy telling Narcissa about it that evening. He glanced about, looking for her, and when they locked eyes hers warmed briefly. Then she lifted her pert little nose and pointed it in another direction, as if she had caught some rank odor that displeased her. It was all Lucius could do to not laugh aloud. His darling girl. He couldn’t wait until they were alone in their rooms.

He made the rounds for a bit, listening to the latest castle gossip and dispassionately observing the two Death Eaters whose wives he knew to be the Order’s first targets. Then Bella, who had been glowering sullenly from her throne, motioned to him and he walked unhurriedly over to her—his own little touch of rebellion, had she but known it.

“Where are the bloody house-elves?” she hissed.

“Lyttelton’s gone to fetch them,” he assured her.

She fumed, tapping her fingernails on the arms of the throne. Then, “I suppose you’d better deliver the summons to the harem for tonight. I want that Weasley bloke—the older one, what’s his name?”

“Fred, Your Majesty.”

“Fred, yes. I want Fred...and his brother...?”

“Ron.”

“Just so. Too bad the twin is dead. This could be interesting—brothers, and Weasleys at that. You know what prudes their parents are; it ought to be interesting to see their brats’ reaction to the thought of a little incest. And the older one...quite the rebel. Yes, I think this could be a very interesting evening. See to it, Lucius.”

“You don’t want me to stay and oversee the questioning of the elves?” he inquired.

“No. I can handle that. I doubt they’ll know anything, but I’ve got to try. Those jewels are somewhere in this castle, I’m sure of it, and even if the elves don’t know where they are, who better to search for them?”

“As you say,” Lucius murmured. He bowed—but not too low—and left to go inform Arthur of Bella’s choice for the evening.

Arthur stared at Lucius, willing him to have said some words other than the ones he knew he’d heard. But Lucius merely stood there, albeit with a sympathetic look on his face, waiting for Arthur to acknowledge the summons he’d delivered for that evening.

Fred and Ron. She wants Fred and Ron! No, by gad, she’ll not have them! his fatherly heart cried in outraged denial.

“Arthur.” Still he stared blankly, not really seeing Lucius. “Arthur,” Lucius said more loudly, and Arthur jerked back as if he’d been slapped. “I know how you feel,” Lucius said. “After all, she had Draco just last night. Is—er—is he all right, by the way?”

Arthur said absently, “Oh, yes. He and Harry were exhausted, so they’re having a bit of a lie-in this morning. And with all due respect, Lucius, you don’t know how I feel. Having her summon Draco—I can see how appalling that must be. But my sons—both of my sons, together?” He lowered his voice. “Lucius, you know what she’ll make them do—to each other! I don’t give a good damn what they do to her, but how will I—how can I ever explain something like this to their mother?” His eyes held so much pain for the loss of his children’s last remaining bit of innocence that even Lucius winced.

“Strength, Arthur.” Lucius gripped Arthur’s hand and held it firmly. “They’re good boys. They’ll survive. They still live, Arthur—remember that. They still live.” He whispered very softly, “Which is more than I can say for a couple of Death Eaters’ wives who went shopping in Diagon Alley today.” Arthur’s eyes widened and Lucius nodded. “It’s begun,” he murmured. “Have faith.” In a normal voice he said, “Eight forty-five, then, as usual.” With a final squeeze of Arthur’s hand he walked out of the harem.

A fierce rush of exultation swept through Arthur. “It has begun!” He had never been so glad to hear anything in his life. He wondered how Lucius and the Order were going about it. Of course it made sense to reduce the ranks of the Death Eaters before anything could be done about Bella. From the sound of it, they were using a divide-and-conquer strategy: kidnap the wives, and when the men went looking for them, take them out as well. He wondered briefly what had been decided as far as just how to dispose of the Death Eaters and then thought perhaps he’d rather not know. But, he reasoned, there was no point in being squeamish now.

And there was no point in wishing someone other than his own sons had been summoned for tonight. It was what it was—if not his boys, it would be some other father’s son. Feeling very old all of a sudden, he turned his reluctant footsteps toward the main room.

When he entered, several boys looked up. Arthur’s eyes immediately sought out his two; his heart swelled with love at the sight of Fred’s teasing grin as he poked fun at Ron about something, making Neville and Roger laugh.

Arthur cleared his throat. “Boys, I’ve just had a visit from the Harem Overseer with the summons for tonight.” He swallowed. “F-fred a-and Ron...the two of you will be going to the Queen tonight.”

Ron did a double-take. “What—both of us?” he asked in astonishment, darting a glance at Fred. Even the normally insouciant Fred seemed taken aback, staring at Arthur as if waiting for the punch line of a particularly bad joke.

“If—if you boys would like a spot of rest after lunch,” Arthur said, “I think that might be a very good idea.” He stood there uncertainly for a moment, then wandered over to the window and stared blindly out.

Alfred and Edwin went and stood with him in silence for a time. Then Edwin said, “Looks like you’re on story duty again tonight, Arthur.” Arthur looked at him and Edwin patted his arm. “Don’t you worry. They’ll be all right. We’ll look after them. And she—well, I reckon last night was rather intense, from what Marshall said about Harry’s state when they got back. I expect tonight she just wants to have a bit of fun.”

“Fun?” Arthur said bitterly. “Ha!”

Alfred said, “Come, Arthur, it was kindly meant. And I think Edwin is right. She’s probably as worn out as they were and only wants to be entertained. And Fred can probably keep it lighthearted if anyone can.” Arthur gave him a look and Alfred grinned crookedly. “Well, I’m just saying I wouldn’t worry. I think they’ll probably be safer than Harry is when he’s with her.”

Arthur sighed. “You’re probably right. I just wish Ron, especially, could have gone a bit longer without—without—”

“You wish he could have gone without for a little longer, you mean,” Alfred said drolly, and Arthur smiled weakly.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” he said. “Although, come to think of it, I don’t know if he’s ever actually...but Fred, now—” He stopped short, realizing with a start that he had actually been speculating about his sons’ sex lives! He put his head in his hands and groaned.

Alfred and Edwin chuckled, although not without sympathy. Arthur turned to look back at Ron and Fred. They were talking quietly with Neville and Roger. Seeing them in the light of what they would be doing that night, he winced. How had the world come to this?

That night, as Edwin and Alfred performed enemas and bath duties for Arthur’s sons, he wondered again just what they were doing here, slaves to the lustful whims of a madwoman. Why don’t we just walk out? he thought recklessly. She can’t kill all of us, surely! It has to be said that his reading that night left something to be desired, so far were his thoughts from anything having to do with the mishaps of the Bennet clan.

When Alfred took Ron and Fred back to the wardrobe, both with cocks decently limp after their baths, Arthur called a halt to the story for the night. “If I’m not mistaken,” he said mildly over the protest, “roughly half of you still haven’t completed your homework for Muggle History tomorrow, isn’t that right?” There was some good-natured grumbling, but within moments the boys were quietly at work or had found other pursuits, leaving Arthur to himself.

Before long Fred sauntered out from the sleeping quarters, closely followed by Ron, who seemed to be trying to use his brother as a shield. When Arthur got up to accompany them out to the reception room he saw that both boys were startlingly erect, and he wondered uneasily how that had come about in the short time they’d been alone with Alfred in the wardrobe. Fred stood hip-shot, more or less flaunting his erection; Ron hunched over oddly, as if trying to hide his.

“You—you both look very nice,” Arthur said inanely. That much was true. Ron wore a copper-colored pair of harem pants like the ones Harry had worn for his first summons, with a gold rope-chain harness rather than the fabric one Harry’s costume had involved. It looked particularly uncomfortable where it disappeared into the cleft between his buttocks, but he seemed more intent on hiding his enormous erection than fussing with the chain. Fred’s outfit was identical, except his trousers were black and his harness silver. The effect they presented as they stood there side by side was striking.

Arthur felt strangely like weeping.

Marshall came up beside him and clapped a hand onto his shoulder, gripping it sturdily. “Buck up,” he said quietly. “You can let go after they’ve gone if you want, but not now.” It was startling enough to hear this advice from Marshall that Arthur actually took it.

“All right, boys,” he said, “let’s get you out there before Lucius arrives.” Fred strutted out to the reception room at the head of the little procession and Lucius, just entering from the outer corridor, looked him over appreciatively.

“Very nice,” he said. He looked at Ron. “Do stand up straight, boy. You’ve nothing to be ashamed of—rather the opposite, in fact,” he said, admiring Ron’s impressive display.

Ron’s face turned even redder, if that was possible. He had accustomed himself somewhat to the constant nudity in the harem, since all the other boys had to comply as well, but the thought of going out into the castle looking like this, in full view of anyone and everyone, horrified him. Even his imaginings of what would happen when he and Fred were alone with Bella didn’t worry him as much as the anticipation of appearing ridiculous in front of the dozens or maybe even hundreds of onlookers he just knew would be populating the halls as he walked through them.

The very fact of his erection, acquired as it had been due to Fred’s ministrations while Alfred had absented himself from the wardrobe briefly, shamed Ron deeply. He was sure everyone would know how it had come about and expected that they would point and laugh as he passed. (Mind you, however, the shame was not sufficient to make his erection wilt. The touch of a hand—any hand—on his cock had, for years now, had a better than even chance of giving him a raging hard-on, a fact that made his life more than a little awkward at times.)

So even though Lucius’ words had been complimentary, Ron hung his head. He couldn’t look at anyone, especially not his father. Nor Fred. The fact that Fred had been able to arouse himself in mere seconds (“thinking about Angelina,” he had explained to a gape-mouthed Ron) and Ron in little more (“because this—” he’d given a little yank on Ron’s harness— “needs something to do besides just sit there looking silly, yeah?”), and that Ron couldn’t stop thinking about what his brother’s hand had felt like on him, was causing him no end of embarrassment, even if Fred seemed not to give it a second thought.

It was all so confusing. What Fred had done was something Ron was sure their parents would never have allowed, in the normal course of things; and it wasn’t that he himself really wanted to have it happen again...but it had felt good, and it had definitely had the desired effect. And he wondered whether it was going to happen again tonight, when he and Fred were with Bella. He rather thought it might, although so far his brain had kind of stopped at that point and hadn’t yet progressed beyond to thinking about what else she might make them do with or to each other.

Had Ron been asked what he thought tonight would consist of, he would have said he expected Bella would make both him and Fred shag her silly—and after seeing Harry’s buttocks, still red from the night before, Ron might have added that “perhaps she would spank them a bit or something.” Beyond that he was not, so far, sufficiently experienced (and his imagination did not have the proper bent) to understand how much more could happen.

“Well, let’s be off,” Lucius said. “Good night, Arthur—Marshall.” He turned and led Fred and Ron away. Like lambs to the slaughter, Arthur thought, wallowing in misery as he allowed Marshall to lead him back to the main room.

To Ron’s great relief, the throngs of people he had imagined were nowhere to be seen. In fact, the only person around was the Death Eater on duty at the doors to the Great Hall. There would soon be a fuss kicking up over the disappearance that day of two Death Eaters and their wives, but so far it was simply thought that the ladies were late returning from London and their husbands had gone to retrieve them.

When they got to the elevator, Fred examined it with interest. “This would have come in handy when we were in school,” he commented, and Lucius snorted. He escorted them up to the mezzanine level and rang the gong to indicate their arrival, then said very quietly as he passed Fred on the way back to the anteroom, “Be careful.”

Startled, Fred looked after him, but then they heard Bella’s voice from somewhere above.

“Is that you, boys?” she called. “Come up here where I can see you.” Fred grinned and headed for the stairs, glancing at Ron to make sure he was following. They found Bella in her be-robed, tousle-haired state at the back of a giant bedroom area. “Come here,” she ordered. Fred strode confidently up to her while Ron hung back a little, distracted and awed by the size of the bed.

Bella surveyed Fred’s outfit appreciatively. “Oh my,” she murmured, walking around him and squeezing one ass cheek with a delighted expression. “Black—what an inspired choice.” She tugged a little on his chain harness and he braced himself but didn’t object. “You’re a bold one, aren’t you?” she purred. “So determined to stand up to your Queen. Such a rebel.” She ran one pretty pink-taloned finger over his lips and he captured it in his mouth and sucked on it, holding it firmly in his teeth. Bella laughed and then groaned. “Oh yes, I think you’ll be able to give me what I like.” She nodded at Ron, who was still gazing at the bed. “What about him? Is he as slow as he looks?”

Fred, caught between brotherly loyalty and the necessity of telling the truth since Bella would know soon enough in any case, finally said, “Teachable—very teachable. And eager to learn. Enthusiastic.” Bella nodded.

Ron, belatedly realizing that he was being talked about, went the rest of the way over to stand with Fred. Looking at them together, Bella couldn’t stifle a grin. “Two Weasleys,” she said. “Double the pleasure, eh, boys?” She let her robe falll open and watched Ron’s face as his eyes were drawn irresistibly to her breasts. “See anything you like, young Weasley?” she asked softly. She smoothed her hands over her belly and breasts and shrugged her robe off the rest of the way, and Ron gulped. Fred rolled his eyes.

Bella said, “We’ll get back to that later. First I have something I want to show you.” She reached for a cord that hung next to the tapestry behind her and gave it a tug. The tapestry pulled aside to reveal two sets of chains set into the wall, with manacles at the ends. Ron took an unconscious step back, but Fred stood his ground.

“And just what did you have in mind?” he asked, his voice not showing the consternation he was beginning to feel. He was pretty sure the manacles could only mean one thing, and he wondered who she intended to have occupy them first.

A haughty look crossed Bella’s face, but then she laughed and shook her finger at him. “I think you know just what I have in mind,” she said. “Who wants to be the first one to try out my new toys?”

Fred saw that Ron was literally shaking, so he stepped forward. “That would be me,” he said. “Do your worst.” Bella indicated with a twirling motion of her fingers that he should turn to face the wall, and he did so, looking back over his shoulder at her, clearly expecting her to come fasten the manacles. To his surprise, there was a clank and suddenly they fastened themselves, first the ones round his ankles, then when he held up his arms, the upper ones closed about his wrists. The chains slowly tightened until his legs were spread widely and he was unable to move much of anything except his head.

Ron stood observing mutely, his mouth agape. While the idea of being so completely at Bella’s mercy was terrifying, at the same time a part of him found it titillating. He wasn’t sure whether to be fearful for Fred or envious of him.

Bella said, “I must tell you, there’s a secret to these manacles. They’re charmed to not release until the person in them has come. So if you want to get out of them, you know what you have to do.” She turned to Ron. “Come here,” she said sternly. “It’s your turn.”

My turn? Quaking, he went to her. He didn’t see a second set of manacles, but he thought her quite capable of producing them out of thin air, if she had a mind to.

“Oh, relax,” Bella snapped, her seductive demeanor slipping for a moment as irritation with his tentative manner got the better of her. “No one’s going to hurt you. Well,” she corrected herself, “not just yet, at any rate. Take this,” she said, and she handed Ron a strange affair that resembled a thin paintbrush, about half an inch across, made of three-inch-long soft hairs, pliable but not floppy, attached to a long, flexible metal rod with a thick, sturdy leather-wrapped handle at the other end. He looked at it and then at Bella, clearly not knowing what she expected. “Use it on him,” she said, nodding at Fred. “Tease him with it. See if you can make him come with nothing more than that.”

“Make him—me make him—” Ron sputtered, aghast.

Bella looked bored. “So you are as slow as you look,” she said, sounding disappointed. “Perhaps if I give you a taste of the whip I’ll get better results. What do you think?” She caressed the butt of the whip that had suddenly appeared in her hands and Ron, staring at it fearfully, automatically raised the brush and aimlessly moved it around on Fred’s back.

Bella tsk’d. “Not like that,” she said in disgust. “Gods, we’re going to have to teach you from the ground up, it appears. Well, if we must, we must. Give me that.” She took the brush from him and indicated that he should move out of the way. “Now watch,” she said. “Like this.” She tickled Fred’s ears lightly with the brush and swirled it around his shoulderblades and back and forth across his back. She teased the sides of his waist with it and then, with a look of concentration on her face, she slowly drew it along the underside of first one buttock, then the other.

She swirled it around his balls and Fred made a little noise in his throat. The brush slowly traced his cleft all the way up, then back down. His cheeks clenched and Bella did it again. He hissed, and she smiled in satisfaction. “There, you see?” she said to Ron. “Now you do it. Just very lightly.” She peered around at Fred’s face, which was quite red. “It won’t be long before he comes, if I’m not mistaken. Ah well—we’ll get the first round out of the way and then have some fun.”

Ron took the brush and gingerly imitated her movements, teasing Fred’s cheeks and reaching it between his legs to tickle his balls and the underside of his cock. Even with this half-hearted effort it was only a few moments before Fred gave a loud groan and his body jerked—as much as it was able to in the manacles—and he came against the stone wall in a series of gut-wrenching spurts that left him panting. His head hung down as he slowly regained his breath, and the manacles snapped open to release him.

Ron stared at him in perplexity, his mind having trouble accepting that he had just provided his own brother with enough sexual stimulation to come—to actually come, right there in front of him...and Bella. It was a bit much to take in.

Bella stroked Fred’s back soothingly and murmured to him in a low tone for a few moments, something Ron had never imagined seeing. She pointed her wand at the wall and performed a silent Scourgify.

Then Bella turned to Ron. “Your turn, I think,” she said, and she beckoned to him with one white finger. He stood frozen, and her brows began to turn downward in a displeased frown. Seeing this, Fred gave Ron a little shove and he unwillingly moved to stand facing the wall. “Strip first, boy—then turn around,” Bella said. Ron hurriedly removed his trousers and the hated chain harness, flinging them aside, and turned to face away from the wall. “I want to see your face when you come,” Bella explained, and Ron’s own face immediately reddened. “Yes, like that,” she laughed. “But don’t waste it all now—save something for later.”

She caressed his cheek with her palm and suddenly he felt the manacles close around his ankles and yank his legs apart. “Hands up,” Bella reminded him, and with great reluctance Ron raised his arms and the upper manacles snapped around his wrists. He felt extremely exposed and vulnerable and wondered if she would tease him as she’d had him do to Fred or if she would take the bullwhip to him. As he found out, it was neither. Bella herself was going to do nothing but watch.

Fred was going to make his brother come.

Bella said, “On your knees,” and Fred, immediately knowing what she intended, sank to his knees, glad of the thick Persian carpet that shielded him from the hard, icy stone floor. Although Ron wouldn’t have been his first choice of sexual partner, he had no qualms about his ability to make his brother come or about his partner being male. The way Fred saw it, it was an easy enough thing to do if it used up time and, more importantly, kept them both safe. He wished Ron could bring himself to see it that way, but he suspected it would take a lot longer than just a few hours out of one night.

Bella tapped him on the shoulder. “Any time,” she said, and Fred roused himself from his ruminations and looked up at Ron. Who looked back with a disbelieving expression as Fred scooted up and took Ron’s entire cock in his mouth in one swift motion. He bobbed his head back and forth a few times to get used to Ron’s size and then began to work in earnest.

He flicked his tongue along the underside of Ron’s cock, sucked just the tip into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it a few times, then took the entire cock in again—no mean feat considering that, like all the Weasley men, Ron’s proportions were quite impressive, and full-throated acceptance of him was not as simple as it sounded.

Quite against his will, Ron’s eyes slammed shut and he grunted each time his glans hit the back of Fred’s throat. He tried desperately not to think about the fact that it was his brother doing this to him, but imagined it being someone else—anyone else—Hermione, perhaps. Or Lavender Brown. Or...or.... But it was too hard to maintain conscious thoughts at all, let alone use his imagination. His cock didn’t care who had hold of it; it was just very, very happy to be buried to the hilt in someone who knew just what it liked.

Fred reached behind Ron and grabbed onto his buttocks to keep his balance, and Ron’s eyes flew open again at the unexpected contact. He looked down to see his brother’s red head moving back and forth, and his own cock disappearing and then re-emerging from Fred’s mouth. It was too much for him, and with a despairing cry Ron let go and his cock, quickly swallowed once Fred realized Ron was about to come, pumped furiously, bathing the inside of Fred’s throat with flood upon flood of his little brother’s semen. When Ron’s cheeks finally relaxed and Fred could feel that his cock had stopped pulsing, he gently pulled his mouth back to release Ron and squeezed his butt gently.

Ron looked down and Fred nodded reassuringly. “All right?” he asked, his face serious for once. Ron nodded and averted his eyes in embarrassment.

“Sorry to break up this little love-fest,” Bella said briskly, “but do you know—” she looked up at the manacles as they released Ron’s hands— “I’ve rather wanted to try these myself.” She looked at Fred and Ron, and said, “Ever spanked anyone, boys?” They shook their heads. “Would you like to?” Fred nodded, but Ron nervously shook his head.

“Sure,” said Fred, “but not if you’re going to turn around and torture us for daring to beat you.”

“I said spank, not beat,” Bella said. “There is a difference. I trust you are aware of that?” She shot him a warning look.

Fred shrugged. “Yeah, no worries. But what’s to keep us from just leaving you chained up and taking off? You trust us that much?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Bella scoffed. “I don’t trust you at all. But I’m desperate. I haven’t had a spanking for ever so long now, not since Rodolphus died, and I’m simply dying for one. And I have these lovely manacles and—” she nodded toward the implement rack— “you have all sorts of toys to choose from over there.” She pouted and tilted her head to one side. “Don’t tell me I’m going to have to beg.”

“Do it,” Ron said from a few feet away where he rested cross-legged on the bed. “Make her beg.”

Fred indicated that Bella should turn around and put her arms up, and the chains descended so the manacles could reach her slender wrists and snap shut over them. Fred gently nudged her feet apart with his own and the manacles closed over her ankles. Bella gave a little shudder of delight.

“Oh, I’ll make her beg, all right,” Fred said. “But not for a spanking. She can’t get out of those manacles until she comes—isn’t that right?” he asked Bella. “The charm applies to you as well?”

She nodded her head and said, sounding a bit breathless, “Yes—the magic makes no distinction between victims. But—you are going to let me come, aren’t you?”

Fred walked over to the implement rack. “Oh, eventually,” he said, as if he hadn’t really given it much thought. “But first....” He selected an interesting-looking paddle that was full of holes and showed it to Ron, chuckling. “Remember old Griddicote at primary school?” he asked. He whipped the paddle through the air and all the little holes made a whistling noise. “He had one just like this. Stung like anything.” He said to Bella, “What do you think about this one, my lady?”

“Yes, yes, whatever you want. Are you going to make me wait all night?” she said.

“Oh-oh,” Fred said, wagging a finger at her. “Now don’t be impatient, my girl.” Ron gasped at his disrespectful tone and darted a glance at Bella to see how she was reacting. She didn’t appear angry; he wasn’t sure she’d even noticed.

Fred continued, “You’ve been a very, very bad girl, haven’t you? I don’t know if this is just the right paddle for a bad girl like you. Let me see....” He feigned indecision, then took up a leather riding crop and smacked it into his palm. “Oh! Yes, that’s much better.”

He carried it over to Bella, whose eyes sparkled at the way he was getting into the spirit of things. She looked at the riding crop and smiled. “Yes, I think that will do very w—”

Fred smacked her across the buttocks and Bella glared at him. “I was talk—”

Smack!

Helpless in the manacles, she haughtily turned her face to the wall and proceeded to ignore him. However, she could not ignore the repeated smacks with the riding crop, and soon she was writhing and rubbing her breasts against the wall and moaning. Fred stopped for a moment, just to see what she would do, and she begged, “More! Don’t stop, please!”

He looked at Ron and shrugged and, since she couldn’t see him, made a rude gesture in Bella’s direction. Ron let out a little snort of surprised laughter, and Fred put a cautionary finger to his lips. He alternated smacks of the riding crop with sticking out his tongue behind Bella’s back, giving her the finger, and cupping his balls and cock and grinding his pelvis at her rudely, and soon Ron was rolling on the bed, helpless with laughter.

Then Fred let the riding crop fall to the floor and stepped closer to Bella. He blew in her ear, making her moan. He licked his way down her back, reaching around to pinch her nipples mercilessly as he did so, and then suddenly slapped her right buttock with one hand, making her jump. He reached between her legs and pinched her clit and she squealed. She was drenched, the whipping had excited her so much.

Fred looked at the riding crop and then at Bella’s pussy, and got a wicked look in his eye. He picked it up again and took the handle and teashed her with it briefly, then pushed it barely into her dripping slit. She gasped and flung her head back. “Gods! More, I need more!” she cried.

Fred yanked the handle out and smacked her buttocks several times in rapid succession. “You’ll take what I give you and be thankful for it,” he snapped. Ron looked at him in surprise. Fred was really getting into this. He’d never given any thought whatsoever to his brothers’ sexual habits, but now he found himself rather curious as to just what Fred and Angelina got up to when they were alone together.

Fred reached down and pinched Bella’s slippery clit once more, at the same time smacking her with the riding crop, and she squealed and shook in her chains as an orgasm took her. With no warning, the chains suddenly released her and she slumped against the wall. Fred spun her quickly, before she had time to react, and, lifting her against the wall, he held her tightly as she sank down onto his rigid cock. He lifted her over and over again, pumping her up and down on his aching cock as she sobbed and begged for more. When he began to come, Fred slammed Bella against the wall. He grabbed her face and ravaged her mouth with his, absorbing her sobs as he filled her hot sheath with his second load of the evening.

The kisses became more gentle as the pulsing inside of Bella slowed, and finally Fred lifted his head. They stared at each other for a long, silent moment, their bodies trembling, and then he gently lowered her to her feet. Bella seemed disinclined, for some reason, to let go of him and kept her arms wrapped round his neck as she gazed up at him with the look of somone who has just had an epiphany.

Sudenly she stepped back and her eyes hardened. “So,” she said. “You like to take the initiative, do you?” She turned and snapped her fingers at Ron. “Fetch my wand, boy.” Ron got up and retrieved it from where she’d dropped it on the floor. Bella held it out to Fred with an assessing look in her eyes. “Perhaps I should give you a little test of obedience...just to make sure of where your loyalty lies. After all, anyone can inflict pain on someone they hate. I want you to put the Cruciatus on him.” She handed him her wand and indicated the hapless Ron who, as seemed to be happening a lot tonight, stood there gaping in disbelief.

Fred looked down at the wand and then back up at Bella. “The Cruciatus? But why? He’s done nothing.”

“You dare question me? I don’t need a reason, slave! I am the Queen. I have no need to justify my actions—certainly not to you. Now, either you do it...or I will.” Bella had been shocked to the core by the sudden unexpected desire she felt to be held by those warm, strong arms—to stand there wrapped in that lovely kiss until neither of them could breathe—to just feel normal for a while. But she couldn’t let Fred know that. She was extremely anxious to put things back on their proper footing with these slaves. She would not give in to desire in front of slaves—blood traitors, at that!

Fred said truthfully, “I don’t know if I can.” He gripped the wand tightly and looked at Ron, who stood frozen before him, and suddenly a cunning look came over Fred’s face. He turned, but not fast enough. Even as he was aiming the wand Bella reached out and snatched it from his hand.

“I thought as much,” she sneered. This is why you can never show weakness, she thought. “Fool! Now you can suffer with him. Family togetherness, and all that. Crucio!”

Neither Ron nor Fred had known that an Unforgivable Curse could be aimed at more than one person at a time; not good news, certainly, and when one of those persons was you was not a good time to find out. Ron crumpled to the floor immediately with a gasp of shock; Fred stayed standing somewhat longer, gritting his teeth against the pain and sending Bella a murderous look. For a few moments, during that odd, unexpectedly tender kiss—in which Bella had participated just as eagerly as he—he’d allowed himself to forget what she was. Or maybe he’d fooled himself into thinking, just a little bit, that maybe she just needed someone to save her. Maybe him.

But as madness of a different kind gripped him, he gave up trying to fight the spell and collapsed next to Ron. The pain was not as severe as it would have been had Bella only directed the spell at one of them; still, she was angry at having shown even that one small moment of weakness, so the curse was quite strong enough to be effective.

Fred had a moment of clarity in the midst of the stinging, burning pain that engulfed him. If only I’d moved faster! he thought. I had her in chains, for Merlin’s sake! But he’d been too focused on his own enjoyment, first punishing her and then taking her, to keep his wits about him, and so it had come to this. He cried out, pained every bit as much by the knowledge that he would have to tell his father he’d muffed the chance he’d been given as by the curse Bella was subjecting them to.

Ron, sunk in misery and pain, wished only to have this over with and be somewhere else—home, preferably. He tried to think of the Burrow: Molly, Ginny...Hermione. But the pain was too distracting; he had to breathe just right in order to get a good breath in between the stabbing pains in his ribs.

But even Dark Queens eventually get cold standing around naked in stone castles, and finally Bella lowered her wand. It took a few moments for Ron and Fred to realize the torture had ceased. Ron sniffled rather pitifully and Bella regarded him with disgust. She poked him in the ass with an ungentle toe and he cringed and yelped.

“Get up!” she snapped. When they didn’t move quickly enough to suit her, she shouted, “Now!” They dragged themselves to their feet and looked at her out of pain-heavy eyes. “Get out,” she said, her voice controlled. “This was a mistake. You—” she pointed at Ron with her wand, and he cringed— “are worthless. And you—” She looked at Fred out of narrowed eyes. “Well, you show promise, but you’re far too weak-willed.” She shoved her face into his and hissed, “This is not a love-fest, and don’t you forget it! Now go!” She pointed imperiously toward the stairs, and Fred and Ron, the latter with many mistrustful backward glances, moved stiffly down the stairs and across the mezzanine to the anteroom. When they reached the elevator Ron looked back once more, but Bella was nowhere to be seen.

Then Fred was urging him into the small chamber and the elevator descended rapidly to the first floor. Fred poked his head out into the hall to see Lucius just coming to meet them. He surveyed the two of them as they stepped out into the corridor.

“Leaving early again? What is with you people?” he asked sharply. So far the longest any of the summoned slaves had spent with Bella was a little under two hours.

“Oh, just suffering a wee touch of the Cruciatus,” Fred said with a ghost of his usual jauntiness. “You know, the usual.”

Lucius shook his head as he started them walking. “A joker to the end, aren’t you?” he murmured. “Although not with impunity, it would seem.” He looked over at Ron. “And you—what did you do to set her off?” he asked.

“Me?” Ron asked with as much indignance as he could find the energy to muster. “I didn’t do anything. Not a thing! She’s crazy, that one.” Fred shushed him and he lowered his voice. “Well, she is. You two were being all lovey-dovey after the chains came off her, and suddenly she—”

Lucius stopped abruptly and held up a hand. “She—she was in chains? Bella was chained?”

Fred nodded. “She thought it’d be fun if I spanked her.”

“You had her in chains....” Lucius seemed to be in the grip of some strong emotion; he could hardly get the words out. “And where, might I ask, was her wand when all this was happening?”

“On—on the floor. I think.”

Lucius just looked at Fred and shook his head. “Unbelievable,” he said, and started walking again. He looked as if he was thinking very hard about something. Ron glanced at Fred, wondering what that was all about; Fred, who had a pretty good idea, hung his head and said nothing—certainly not that he had actually had her wand in his hand.

Arthur met them in the reception room with a tentative smile, which disappeared when he saw Lucius’ expression. “Er—did something go wrong?” he asked.

“Ask your sons,” Lucius said sourly. “Ask them what happened tonight—everything that happened. I’ll leave you to decide for yourself.” He started to leave, then turned back. “Oh, and by the way—she doesn’t want the younger one back for the foreseeable future. She says he bores her. And...she wants Harry again tomorrow. Alone.”

Arthur raised his eyebrows but nodded. “All right, then.” Lucius left and Arthur shooed Fred and Ron into the main room. “Perhaps a quick dip to wash off before bed,” he suggested, and peeling off his garment he joined them in the pool. “Now, tell me everything,” he said. “What happened? What on earth did she do to you? You look like hell.”

“It’s more like what did Fred do to her,” Ron snickered, and Arthur hushed him.

“Keep your voice down,” he warned. “Everyone’s gone to bed.”

Fred sank down in the water, kneeling on the bottom so he was covered in warmth to his chin. “Malfoy’s right to be incredulous,” he said. “I—I had her in chains, Dad, and her wand was on the floor—and I was sort of getting into spanking her.” At his father’s incredulous look he quickly added, “She put her own hands in the manacles and told me to.” He looked shamefaced. “But...then I sort of...made her come, and...the manacles came off and—” he looked at Arthur apologetically— “I just couldn’t help it, I had to have her. And afterward I think we both kind of got lost in the moment...and then suddenly she started being her wicked old self again and decided maybe she’d just hit us with a Cruciatus...and afterward she ordered us to leave.”

Arthur looked at his son and nodded thoughtfully. “Well, don’t beat yourself up over it, Fred. I can see how that could have distracted you. But, son—next time you have an opportunity like that, for Merlin’s sake, don’t let it pass! I mean really, Fred. I don’t mean to make you feel bad, but you do realize that tonight you had an extraordinary chance, don’t you? One that might not be repeated for a long time, if she’s on her guard now.” At Fred’s abject expression he relented. “Ah, well. I’m not sure we’re quite ready for that yet, anyway. Don’t let it worry you. You’ll know what to do next time.” He wondered if he should just have a brief word with Harry before he went to Bella tomorrow.

I’ll know what to do if there is a next time, Fred thought pessimistically.

“And don’t worry,” Ron piped up, “she never wants to see me again, so next time I won’t be there to ruin things for you.” At Arthur’s questioning look he said, “I just couldn’t do what she wanted, Dad. I couldn’t stop thinking what she was really like and I just...couldn’t. She knew, too. She knew I wasn’t into it.” He gave a gusty sigh and played with a rough spot on a tile on the rim of the pool. “It was my fault she blasted us with the Cruciatus.”

“No,” Fred said immediately. “It wasn’t. And I’m glad you were there. I think it was maybe kind of diluted or something since she was holding it on both of us at the same time. So don’t go running yourself down.” He grabbed Ron’s toe and gave it a comforting tug. “If you hadn’t been there I might have ended up like old Stuart.”

They sat there lost in their own thoughts for a bit until Ron fell into a doze and let go of the side, sliding down into the water to come up spluttering. Arthur handed out dry towels all around and they dried off and headed for the sleeping quarters.

Arthur, walking between them, put a hand on each boy’s shoulder. “Well,” he said, “whatever happened, I’m just very happy to see you both back safe and in one piece. Sleep well, boys. Tomorrow is another day.”
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Bella's Harem