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
- 15
- 16
- 17
Warning: This chapter contains SLASH. If you don’t like reading SLASH, you know where your “Back” button is—please exit now!

16: Second Chance

Arthur was somewhat surprised when Draco came and asked to speak to him privately.

“Er—certainly,” Arthur said. He led the way out to the reception room. “What can I do for you, Draco?”

Draco came right to the point. “I noticed Marshall isn’t doing the enemas or baths any longer,” he said.

“Er—well, no, I—”

“Oh, it’s all right. I know why,” Draco said. “I think most of us know.”

That figures, Arthur thought. “So what did you want?” he asked, his curiosity piqued.

“I’d like to ask that any time B—the Queen summons me, you allow Marshall to be my attendant,” Draco said.

Arthur looked at him sharply. “You’re certain you know why I took him off those duties, are you?”

“Yes. I don’t have a problem with it,” Draco said. Arthur raised a skeptical eyebrow and Draco flushed under his scrutiny.

“You don’t have a problem with it,” Arthur repeated. “With what—exactly?”

Draco gave him a look that said he couldn’t believe he was really going to have to spell it out, but Arthur, his expression inscrutable, merely folded his arms across his chest and waited.

“I don’t mind him touching me,” Draco said. When Arthur still said nothing, just continued to wait, Draco sighed. “In fact, I don’t mind pretty much anything he might want to do to me,” he clarified, and it was plain from his tone that he expected Arthur to be shocked. “Or,” he added boldly, “anything he might want me to do to him.”

In fact, Arthur was surprised; but he tried not to show it. He cleared his throat and asked carefully, “Are you telling me that he—or you—have already acted on this?”

Draco shook his head. “No. I’m not stupid—and I wouldn’t let him be, either. I’m sure Bel—she has ways of knowing if someone breaks the rules. Probably has a spy among us; I’d be surprised if she didn’t.”

Arthur had wondered as much himself, although so far he hadn’t the faintest idea who could be acting in the capacity of spy, if indeed there was one. “Exactly so,” he said. “I’m sorry you and Marshall have this—er—attraction to each other, but it’s much too dangerous to indulge in under the present circumstances.”

“I understand,” Draco said. “But as long as all someone is doing is give me an enema, what difference does it make if it’s someone who cares for me? How is that any worse than one of the others doing it?”

“Cares for you?” Arthur exclaimed. “A moment ago he was ‘attracted’ to you—now he ‘cares for’ you?”

“Actually, he does,” Draco said. “We’ve known each other a long time. He’s been my fencing instructor for years. We had become quite...close when the battle came up and everything went to hell. I’m the one who got Father to assign Marshall to the harem instead of being a castle slave at the mercy of a bunch of Death Eaters.”

“Ah,” said Arthur. That certainly explained Marshall’s fascination with Draco; perhaps the attraction between them wasn’t as sudden as he’d supposed. Still....

“I suppose when you put it like that, it doesn’t matter, really. The thing is, though, Draco, by having someone attend you to who sees you as just another one of the boys, there’s absolutely no chance of any rules being broken. I’ve seen the way Marshall looks at you—so how can I possibly put you alone together in a little private alcove where you could be doing almost anything at all?”

Draco opened his mouth to reply and Arthur rolled right over the top of him. “And what about in the pool? Even if things didn’t get too wild and you were fairly quiet about it, I doubt I could trust Marshall not to wank you right there in front of everyone! I mean, look what he did with Harry, and I don’t imagine he cares for Harry! And if I let you two have at it, then what—the next morning an execution order arrives for both of you? And possibly me as well, for allowing it to happen?”

“And if I can control him?” Draco said softly. Arthur gave him an incredulous look. “Please,” Draco whispered. His eyes looked suspiciously moist, and Arthur had a horrible feeling Draco was about to cry.

Great Merlin’s beard! How do I get myself into these things?

They stared at each other for several long, tense moments.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Arthur muttered finally. “Look, just—just keep it damned quiet, do you hear? If I see one straying hand when you’re out among the group—if there’s one sound there shouldn’t be coming from the enema room when you’re in there together—if any of us catch you in the sleeping quarters or his cubicle alone together—I’ll see him removed from the harem immediately. I’ll tell Lucius he’s too rough with you boys or something, whatever excuse I can come up with, and that’s it—” Arthur snapped his fingers— “he’s gone. Do you understand?”

Draco nodded slowly. “I’ll make certain you don’t regret it,” he said, and he turned and walked back into the main room.

“Ha! Too late,” Arthur said grumpily to Draco’s retreating back.
It was such a lovely day that the Burrow’s windows and kitchen door stood open to the sunshine and fresh air. A fitful breeze teased at the edges of Molly’s lacy white curtains one moment and threatened to rip Flitwick’s Daily Prophet right out of his hands the next.

The Order members were taking it in turns to spend their days at Grimmauld Place in London and at the Burrow. Flitwick’s team had disposed of the first two pairs of Death Eaters the previous day and were now enjoying a well-deserved day of rest in the countryside.

Actually, they were not precisely lounging idly about. Flitwick and Madam Hooch were perusing the society pages of the Prophet to find likely targets for their next foray into London in the hunt for Death Eaters. McGonagall had put them onto it by accident, pointing out rather disgustedly that it seemed there was little else in the papers these days other than a lot of useless notices detailing which high-society members were visiting with whom, who was shopping at what exclusive shops, and who could be seen attending which society events. And furthermore, she ranted, it seemed like most of “high society” were Death Eaters!

Then she’d stopped with a look of shock on her face that slowly turned to glee. “Good gad!” she said. “They’re as good as giving us a schedule of all the Death Eaters’ activities! Well, ladies and gentlemen, what are we waiting for? Where is today’s Prophet?” There was a scramble to locate the society pages, which Ginny finally found in the bin under the kitchen sink with only a few bits of cold scrambled egg and tea leaves stuck to them. She took them outside and shook them a bit and they were perfectly serviceable. She took the pages back inside to the kitchen table, where everyone gathered round to see what they could learn. (When she was safely inside again, a gnome dashed out from under a bush unseen to retrieve the egg scraps, then darted back to his hiding place with his booty.)

The Order members read that Caroline Nott and Livvy Dunstan, two society matrons and wives of well-known Death Eaters, had adopted Peverell’s Tea Room as a favorite haunt. “These leading lights of polite society can be found holding court in the Aviary at Peverell’s most days around tea-time,” the article said. There was a picture of the two ladies seated at a table loaded with a tea tray and plates of cakes, surrounded by a crowd of hangers-on who were vying for their attention.

McGonagall looked up and met the eyes of the others around the table: Molly and Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger, Professor Flitwick, Andromeda Tonks, Madam Hooch, and Madam Pomfrey. “It’s almost as if the fates are helping us,” she said.

“But how would we do it?” Hermione asked.

“And—er—what exactly are we doing?” Madam Pomfrey asked nervously. She was not a member of the Order per se, but she was lately come to the Burrow upon being evicted from her home of many years in Hogwarts Castle and felt it was worthwhile to lend her aid to the Order’s cause. However, being a mediwitch—accustomed to saving lives rather than taking them—she had some difficulty at first with the idea that she would be helping to destroy Death Eaters, especially when Flitwick explained as kindly as he could that, yes, “destroying” them did mean murdering them. Poppy was aghast at first, but the others quickly brought her to understand that Azkaban was not a viable solution. The hard-core Death Eaters would have to be removed...permanently.

It was Pomfrey who came up with a solution that, unless something went awry, would mean none of them had to personally commit cold-blooded murder. They would do so if needed; but with the battle so recently behind them, the thought of kidnapping and murdering, even though the intended victims were the worst of the Death Eaters, was hard to face. The solution was murder, but not by their hands; the splitting of this hair was admittedly not very honorable, but was nonetheless a slight salve to their battle-weary consciences.

In the end it proved to be quite simple. The first snatch had gone like—well, magic. It had been ridiculously easy, really. Mesdames Nott and Dunstan had repaired to the ladies’ room of the posh Peverell’s establishment, where McGonagall, Andromeda, Hermione, and Madam Pomfrey had been waiting for them.

First they had Petrified the two women, then McGonagall and Andromeda had Side-Along Apparated with them to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where Firenze and Magorian were waiting. Minerva didn’t know how Firenze had convinced Magorian to help them. Bane and Ronan refused to have anything to do with the affair; the most that could be said was that they would not interfere.

“Greetings,” Firenze said in a low voice.

“Good evening, Firenze, Magorian. Thank you for agreeing to help,” McGonagall said. “Now, you know what to do with them?”

Firenze looked down at the Petrified women. “Yes,” he said. “Pickings have been scarce since the battlefield was cleaned up. The Acromantulas will be most appreciative.” (One can only wonder at the thoughts that went through Caroline and Livvy’s minds when they heard this. They had undoubtedly expected to die, but it was unlikely that they could have foreseen the nasty way in which they would meet their end.) He glanced at Andromeda and McGonagall. “You say there will be more?”

“Yes,” McGonagall said firmly. “Yes, I expect there will be many more. If—if you object to helping us at any point, Firenze, you must let me know. I will understand. I’m very thankful for any aid you can give us. I don’t know if there’s any way I can repay you, but if there is, I will try.”

“Does Harry Potter live?” Firenze asked suddenly, apropos of nothing. “The stars show me nothing but darkness when I search for news of him.”

McGonagall looked taken aback. “Yes, he lives—he is there.” She pointed to the distant castle, where twinkling lights were just beginning to appear in the early evening twilight.

Firenze stared off at the castle. “Ah. He is a prisoner?”

“You could say that,” McGonagall said drily. “The Death Eater Queen has made him a slave, along with several other young men who were fighting on the side of the Light. For the time being, he...he serves her. In a manner of speaking.”

Firenze looked at the castle again and frowned. “You have plans to free him?” he asked, his tone implying that he expected the answer to be in the affirmative.

“We hope to free Harry and the others eventually, once we’ve cleared a path, as it were, through the Death Eaters to the Queen. Removing her is our ultimate goal.”

“I see. And will she, too, be given to the Acromantulas?” Firenze asked.

“I—no, I don’t believe so. Her death will have to be more public in nature, so people know she really is gone. I’m not sure just what we’re going to do with her, to tell you the truth.”

“These deaths—I sense that they sit heavily on your conscience,” Firenze said. Both women nodded reluctantly. “They should not. You only do what must be done. Change must come. The stars never lie.”

Magorian sighed heavily just then, uneasy about remaining in the exposed area at the edge of the forest. Firenze bowed. “Until next time, ladies. Call when you have need of us.” The two centaurs slowly moved further into the darkness beneath the trees, the light-colored robes of Caroline and Livvy barely visible as they floated upon their way to their grisly fate.

Andromeda said, “Back to Grimmauld?”

“Yes. Time we reported in.”

They both turned on the spot and Disapparated.

That evening’s edition of the Prophet was pounced on as soon as the owl delivered it. The headlines screamed, “Society Dames Disappear; Ransom Attempt Anticipated!” The article mentioned that Ted Nott Sr. and Harold Dunstan, husbands of the missing women, were combing Diagon Alley for any signs of their missing wives and would be headquartered at the Leaky Cauldron that night as the search continued.

Minerva smiled grimly. “Good to know. What say we alert Flitwick that it’s his turn tonight?” Andromeda nodded and went to the fireplace to Floo-call the Burrow with the message as Minerva read the rest of the article and looked through the society column to see if there were any likely prospects for tomorrow.

When Andromeda returned she said, “I wonder how long we’ll be able to keep this up without being discovered.”

“I don’t know,” Minerva admitted. “Hopefully until we’ve made a good-sized dent in the Death Eater ranks. But we’re off to a good start—who knew we’d be able to snatch them two at a time? Nearly four at a time if you count the men. Filius and Molly will probably be able to get them tonight.” She looked over at Andromeda. “Why—are you afraid of being caught?”

Andromeda shrugged. “Well, a little, I suppose. But it’s more that I just can’t help wishing there was a way to capture more of them at a time—to get a really big group.”

McGonagall laughed and shook her head. “You are a bloodthirsty thing. We’ll get them, never fear. It won’t do to be over-confident or careless.”

"I know," Andromeda sighed. "I just hate to have those dear boys locked up and having to cater to her every whim. Gods! Mother should have drowned her at birth."

That surprised a bark of laughter out of Minerva. “Yes, well, I daresay that would have been best, but it is what it is. Now, Andromeda dear, I realize it’s not exactly on a par with capturing twenty Death Eaters in one go, but I know something that might interest you.”

Andromeda eyed her for a moment, uncertain whether she wanted to be shaken out of her morose mood or not. Finally she bit. “Well, what is it, then?”

McGonagall stood and walked toward the kitchen. “I happen to know there’s a large tub of rocky-road ice cream in the icebox. And one of those Muggle cans of fizzy whipped cream stuff.”

Andromeda gasped. “And cherries?”

McGonagall’s voice floated back to her from down the hall. “Oh, I’m sure of it.”

Andromeda hurried after her. She intended to get her share before they traded places with the other team and Flitwick discovered the ice cream. He was a fiend for the stuff; once he got his hands on it there’d be little left for anyone else! Reluctantly she shoved her feelings of guilt over the Death Eater disappearances to the back of her mind. They would resurface soon enough when it was her turn to help with the next ones, she knew. It would be nice to have a little break from the days' dire doings.
He liked to roam around the castle, exploring places he hadn’t been able to before because Filch or Mrs Norris—the same thing, really—were likely to catch him at it. And Filch’s detentions were extremely unpleasant, especially with him hovering over the unfortunate victim, staring, always staring, with that nasty gleam in his eye that meant he wished he was allowed to give them twenty or thirty of the very finest with one or other of the rather alarming collection of birch rods he kept in fond memory of the old days.

Now Filch and Mrs Norris were gone—he neither knew nor cared where—and the castle was his for the taking. He laughed to think Bella called it hers. She had never seen a tenth the amount of the castle that he had—probably didn’t even know half of what existed in it. Possibly didn’t know that the stairways were not the only parts of the building that moved and that the Room of Requirement was not the only secret room in the building. He had no Marauder’s Map to guide him, but he knew six of the seven secret passages that were shown on it, two more than Filch knew about.

He was not alone on these ramblings. Oh, he wasn’t accompanied by any human. His constant companion was much more important than that. He had an invisibility cloak. It was not of the caliber of Harry’s Cloak of Invisibility—but then, what was? It was, however, of very good quality and had cost his father a pretty penny. Sooner or later he was bound to discover it was missing, but that could be dealt with when it happened. His son was the last person his suspicions would ever fall on.

Even going places in the castle that he might not have been able to penetrate without the Cloak, he had not found the Chamber of Secrets; not being a Parseltongue, he could never gain entry on his own anyway, but he was unaware of this circumstance and fondly imagined himself happening upon it one day and learning great secrets the likes of which no one could imagine, hidden away by Salazar Slytherin himself to lie undiscovered for a thousand years. Secrets that would help him to gain great wealth, and even greater power. Maybe even, he thought—and this idea so excited him that he often ended up having to give himself a quick wank in a cold and dusty corner in some forgotten quarter of the castle—secrets that could make him the next Dark Lord.

Lord Nott. He tested the name in his mind. Lord Theodore Nott. Hmm. It wasn’t a very prepossessing name; he would have to think about changing it, as Voldemort had, to something more commanding of respect.

Well, and why not? He was a Slytherin, after all. The Sorting Hat had seen that he was worthy of the greatest House in Hogwarts. Who else should inherit Salazar Slytherin’s secrets and take up the mantle of the Dark Lord now that Voldemort was gone? Bella being Queen was all very well; in fact, he rather liked the idea of her being Queen.

His Queen.

Because by rights he should be King. King Theodore. King Theo. Ah! now that had a certain ring to it. “I give you King Theo and Queen Bella,” he said aloud, just to see how it sounded. Theo (he had always been Ted, in Slytherin House, but Ted was no one; Theo sounded much grander) was quite impressed. He spent all of his first day in the castle wandering around—sneaking around, really; let us call a spade a spade—thinking about what it would be like being King to Bella’s Queen.

For sad, sad Theodore Nott Jr. was in love with Bella. He was quite possibly the only person who ever had been. On his second day of living in the castle after Bella took power, he had tried gaining access to her quarters—hidden under the cloak, of course—and had been repulsed by the wards, which evidently were not a bit fooled by a mere invisibility cloak. He had attempted to enter the small elevator shaft after seeing Lucius and Bella come and go from it; Theo intended merely to hide himself away in her quarters and watch the object of his affections, nothing more. Ironically, the wards were set to keep out any magical implements—meaning specifically wands, but they worked to keep out other items as well—unless brought in by Bella or someone she authorized. If Theo had left the cloak and his wand behind he would have had no problem gaining access to her quarters; but for obvious reasons it never occurred to him to try this, so he didn’t know.

It is debatable as to which of Theo’s dreams was the more unlikely: that of becoming King, or the one where Bella fell madly in love with him and allowed him to do everything to her in real life that he had privately fantasized about for so long.

He would have given anything to be a member of the harem, but of course his parents were Death Eaters, so there went that little ambition. They were Dark, he was Dark; they were Death Eaters, he wasn’t allowed to be a harem slave. Oh, not that he'd told them of his wish; but he was so madly jealous every time he watched another slave—or slaves—being taken to Bella’s quarters at night that he could hardly stay quiet under his cloak. He thought scornful thoughts about how ridiculous they looked in their costumes, with their erect cocks on display for everyone to see. He dreamed envious dreams of what they would do with Bella when they arrived in her quarters. And then he usually had to rush off under the cloak to some abandoned corner, like he did whenever the thought of being King aroused him to the point of no return, and wank like anything, sobbing Bella’s name as he came and cursing the fate that had made him the son of a Death Eater instead of, oh, say, a Weasley or something.

But there you were. Life just wasn’t fair.

He had in fact been so jealous of the slaves that came and went from the royal quarters that on the second night, when Bella summoned Stuart, he followed Lucius when he went to fetch Stuart from the harem. Theo had been fascinated by the harem itself, so much so that he remained behind when Lucius and Stuart departed, already knowing he couldn’t gain access to Bella’s quarters in any case.

After his first startled eyeful of the mass nudity in the pool room, he had wandered around examining everything in the harem. Not above petty thievery if something interesting caught his eye, he sifted minutely through the pallets and bedding but to his disappointment there were no personal belongings anywhere. He rifled the eunuchs’ cubicles with the same result. He took a quick look through the wardrobe and laughed himself silly at the costumes that hung there waiting to be worn for Bella’s entertainment.

He wandered about the pool room, watching the boys play their unique version of water polo, but naked boys held no particular attraction for him. Being careful to avoid passing close enough to anyone that they could feel the cloak or even a disturbance of the air that betokened his passing, he explored the enema room and the bookcase, then wandered back toward the reception room. He saw the framed parchment bearing the harem rules on the wall and paused to read it through...and then he had a Brilliant Idea.

Only one of the rules bore the death penalty: no eunuch or slave was to be caught in a compromising position with another harem occupant or they would both be put to death. If they were caught. Theo smiled. He was pretty sure the adults were smart enough not to get caught; but maybe not all the boys were. And if they weren’t careful...and if he could catch them doing whatever it was they might try to do with each other (his mind balked a little at actually picturing it, but he reasoned that it would be pretty obvious if they were doing it, wouldn’t it), Bella would probably be most appreciative. After all, he was looking out for her interests, wasn’t he? Helping to keep the slaves in line and punishing the ones who broke the rules? After all, it didn’t appear that anyone was really enforcing them; they seemed to be on the honor system. Honor system—ha! He would discover someone doing...something...and she’d have to notice him then. She’d probably want to reward him appropriately. Personally. Very personally....

He drifted into yet another pleasant daydream in which his avid, fertile imagination pictured in exquisite detail just how she would reward him—detail so exquisite that once again he had to rather quickly avail himself of one of the aforementioned cold, dusty, abandoned rooms in the highest part of the castle and relieve his fevered imagination—not to mention his swollen cock—before he came in his trousers right there in the harem.

When he eventually strolled into the Great Hall that evening it was to be greeted with Lucius informing him that his mother and Livvy Dunstan had disappeared from Diagon Alley without a trace and that Theo’s father and Harold Dunstan were spending the night in London while they searched for them. Theo was a little surprised (where could his mother disappear to in Diagon Alley? Trust her to do something scatty like that) but not overly concerned. His father would probably find her; after all, it wasn’t like anything could really happen to you in Diagon Alley, was it?
That afternoon Harry and Ron were sent to rest after lunch. They lay side by side on their pallets, Ron on his side facing Harry and Harry on his back with his hands clasped across his chest, neither one feeling the slightest bit sleepy. Finally Ron spoke.

“Harry?”

Harry turned his head. “Yeah?”

“What do you think about all this?”

Harry looked back up at the ceiling for a moment. “I dunno. It’s weird, isn’t it?”

“Scary.”

“Scary?” Harry looked at Ron again. “Well...I wouldn’t have said that exactly. I mean, now you know what to expect and all."

“Well, yeah—that’s why it’s scary!” Ron exclaimed, and Harry shushed him, glancing at the doorway into the main room. “She put the Cruciatus on us, Harry,” Ron whispered. “It was horrible!”

“What—on both of you?” Harry whispered back. “At the same time?” Ron nodded. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Me neither, but she did.”

“What was it like?”

“What was it like?” Ron squeaked, and Harry shushed him again. “What do you mean, what was it like? It was—I dunno—it was like have needles stuck in you all over, and boiling water poured on you, and being pinched black and blue, and...just a whole lot of different things, all at once. Harry—what if she does it again?” Ron swallowed. “I’m not sure I can take it. At least not—not without crying in front of her.”

Harry grimaced. “If she’s putting you under the Cruciatus, crying’s probably the last thing you need to worry about. I cried in front of her—in front of Draco, too, because it was when she had us both there together.”

“Was that when she—you know—beat you?” Ron asked, wide-eyed. Harry nodded. “Did she do that just for fun, or was she angry about something?” Ron asked. “I mean, I think she cursed Fred and me because I wasn’t good enough; I couldn’t do what she wanted. But she seems to like hurting people for fun just as much as for punishment. Were you being punished?”

Harry sighed. “Well, sort of. It’s kind of a long story.”

“I’m not sleepy,” Ron insisted.

Harry smiled ruefully. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

“Well, if you’d rather not talk about it—I mean, I just want to know as much as I can so I have some idea of what to expect,” Ron said miserably. “Sorry. You’d probably rather not have to think about it all over again.”

“It’s okay,” Harry said. He turned over to face Ron, pillowing his head on his arm. “I don’t really mind. It’s just that I get so confused when I think about it—about her.”

“Confused how?” Ron exclaimed. “Evil Queen, Dark Lady, whatever she wants to call herself, enslaving and abusing innocent people—what’s there to be confused about?”

Harry nodded. “I know, you’re right,” he said. “But sometimes I wonder if there’s more to her than that.”

Ron looked puzzled. “Like what?”

“Something different. A different side to her. She’s been mistreated pretty badly herself, Ron. Way worse than anything the Dursleys ever did to me. And ever since I came to Hogwarts I’ve had all you lot to care about me even if my family didn’t. I’m pretty sure she didn’t have anything like that, anyone who was there for her. It’s not too hard to see how she ended up like she is after some of the stuff she’s lived through.”

“Well, she may have been mistreated,” Ron said, not sounding at all convinced, “but still, is that any excuse for her to go around punishing everyone else for it? I mean, look at us, Harry.” He waved his hand to encompass the harem. “We’re prisoners of war. What are we doing in a harem? She’s decided she can do anything she wants with us, and since she happens to like sex and torturing people she figured, why not us! She thinks she can do any old thing to us she wants, and no one’s going to stop her! And I’m pretty sure she’s right,” he said bitterly. And asked again, “So what was she punishing you for?”

Harry told him what had happened in Bella’s quarters two nights before. As he talked, Ron’s eyes grew wider and wider.

“You have got to be kidding me!” he blurted out when Harry’s recitation ended. “She beat you until you couldn’t sit down and then cursed Malfoy because he couldn’t make you come?” He fell back on his pallet dramatically and closed his eyes. “I’m a dead man!”

Amused, Harry asked, “Why do you say that?”

“Well, no offense, Harry, but I don’t exactly get shivers up and down my back at the thought of having to—to—do what he did to you! Or, well, maybe I do—but not in a good way!” Ron groaned. “I’m just not cut out for this kind of stuff, Harry. But gods, I don’t want to be a castle slave, either. D’you know the Death Eaters take turns with all of them? What is it with this place, anyway? Buggery every way you look!”

Harry lay there and looked at him for a moment. “Will it help if I tell you she wants you to improve?” he asked finally.

Ron snorted. “Of course she does,” he said. “Or she’ll probably curse me again. Or beat me.”

“No, Ron—she said she wanted me to bring you with me tonight because she wants to make something out of you.”

“Yeah. A whipping boy,” Ron said, feeling this was a witty response. Harry punched him on the arm. “Hey!”

“Are you even going to try?” Harry asked. Ron opened his mouth but Harry shook his head. “Look. You can either be a bed-slave or a castle slave. I don’t know if there’s a third choice; maybe she’d just kill you. You say you don’t want to be a castle slave—well, I don’t blame you there. But that only leaves bed-slave. And if you don’t want to constantly be suffering the Cruciatus, or beaten for not living up to her expectations, you’re going to have to play the game.”

Ron looked sulky, but at least he didn’t say anything.

“Actually,” Harry said, warming to his analogy, “that’s a good idea: think of it as a game.” Ron’s eyes cut toward him in mocking disbelief, but Harry persisted. “No, really. Come on, Ron, you love games. You’re good at them. Wizard chess—you’re the champion. You’re great at strategy.” Ron looked flattered, and marginally more interested. “So just think of this as a game where you have to out-strategize her. Get to know what she wants and give it to her. Because if she’s happy, you’re alive, Ron. And that’s how you win the game: the last one standing wins. Make sure that’s you, not her.” He could see Ron was thinking about it.

“Yeah, but I still don’t—Harry, I've never done any of that stuff with guys,” Ron whispered, blushing furiously. “If I have to do stuff to you tonight—well, what if I can’t? Then what?”

“If you can’t, then she’ll probably torture you,” Harry said matter-of-factly. “Or send you to join the castle slaves. So it’s not really a choice, is it? You do have to. That’s the first rule of the game: whatever she says goes. Think of it as a challenge. You have to be man enough to take up whatever challenge she gives you, or she’ll punish you. Or maybe both of us,” he added, thinking of the challenge she’d set Draco.

“What—man enough to bugger you, you mean?” Ron asked snidely.

“If she says to, yes,” Harry said calmly. “Or you might have to let me bugger you. Or suck you off. Or whatever else she makes us do. But if you want to win the game, you have to do it.” He looked at Ron with concern. “You’re thinking of it as immoral or against your principles, or as something you don’t like. Well, don’t. Think of it as ‘If I do this, I get to live one more day.’ That’s what I do.”

“I—I guess when you put it like that...” Ron said slowly. “I can try. If you can do it, I can try.”

“Good.”

“But if she makes me suck you off or if I have to kiss you, I don’t want you thinking I’m hot for you or anything,” Ron warned.

“Understood,” Harry said, grinning at him. “Git.” It was said fondly.

“Prat.”

“Wanker.”

“You wish,” Ron said, and Harry laughed.
That night Edwin and Alfred were once again called to enema and bath duty. Arthur caught the story group up on the disgrace in which Lydia Bennet had sunk her family, and a few boys worked on finishing up their essays he’d set them on the previous night’s reading.

In the wardrobe Alfred flipped through the rack of clothing. “Well, boys,” he said, “what’ll it be tonight? Aha!” He emerged triumphantly with a loincloth type of affair in a very nice royal blue. “This will do for you, Ron—match your eyes, it does.” Ron took it from him and looked at it, not quite sure what to do with it. Arthur pulled out another one in a deep burnt-orange for Harry. “Twins! How about it? And look here, Harry—no harnesses! Count yourself lucky.” He grinned at Harry, who grinned sheepishly back.

The waistbands of the garments—though they barely deserved the name—tied at one side. There was a panel that hung down about ten inches in the front, and one in back that was exactly the same. Nothing was really hidden, and if the boys should have erections—which, at the moment, neither did—they would merely make the front panels jut out tellingly. Harry made a “This is crazy!” face, echoed by Ron, but Alfred just shook his head. “Now, now,” he chided, “don’t start. I’ve no doubt they’ll be coming off as soon as you get there anyway. You can stand it that long.” He hurried them into the scanty garments and chivvied them out to the reception room so they wouldn’t have time to argue.

When Lucius arrived he chuckled at the sight of them. “I truly think each time I see you,” he said to Harry, “you’re wearing less than the last time. And tonight, you—both of you—seem less than excited about the whole affair.” He was staring meaningfully at their crotches as he said this. “Let us hope the situation improves before you meet the Queen.” He indicated that they should precede him out of the harem and watched the rear panels of the loincloths flutter as they walked. “Gods.” He chuckled and followed them out.

Actually, whether by accident or design, the front panels of the loincloths served a purpose even if they didn’t cover much of anything. By the time they reached the elevator, the constant fluttering of the silky fabric over their cocks had caused quite respectable erections to emerge in both boys. Had Lucius been walking in front of them, Ron at least would have indulged in a quick, furtive rub to prepare himself, but he could hardly do so with Lucius watching. He could feel the man’s amused gaze on his ass all the way down from the harem. Ron looked over and noticed that Harry’s loincloth must have affected him similarly, as he was experiencing the same result as Ron.

When Lucius rang the gong and walked back down the stairs to the anteroom, he glanced down at Harry’s cock and smiled. “Better,” he said approvingly. Then he looked at Ron. “Much better. I’ll leave you to it.”

The elevator had scarcely sunk below floor level when they heard Bella. “Please come up, boys,” she called. Ron looked at Harry nervously.

“Remember,” Harry said as they moved forward, barely whispering, “play to win.” Ron nodded. They jogged up the metal stairs and found Bella waiting for them.

Tonight she wore a sparkly black velvet dress with a high collar and long sleeves. When she turned to walk over to the bed they could see that the back of the gown plunged nearly to the dimple at the top of her ass cleavage. She wore a delicate diamond tiara and long, dangling diamond earrings that caught the light as she moved.

Try as he might, and as nervous or unwilling as he might have felt, Ron couldn’t take his eyes off her. He suspected his mouth was hanging open inelegantly, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. She was absolutely gorgeous.

Harry thought with some amusement that she looked like she was playing the part of a queen in some imaginary drama that existed only in her mind. He wasn’t sure if it was for his benefit or Ron’s, or if this was merely Bella’s idea of what a queen should look like. He wondered where she’d got the tiara, seeing as the castle had never been home to royalty of any kind.

“Well?” Bella asked. She’d been waiting and waiting, but no one had complimented her outfit. “What do you think?” She did a little pirouette and then posed in front of them.

“Er—very nice?” Harry tried.

“Yeah. Beautiful,” Ron said quickly.

Bella pouted. “What’s beautiful?” she asked petulantly.

“Everything,” Harry said honestly. “The tiara is a nice touch. Is it—um—is it new?”

Apparently that was what she’d wanted to hear. Bella put a hand up to touch the tiara. “Yes! Isn’t it lovely? I had it made specially. It’s Elf-wrought, the finest silver in the world. Cost me a pretty Knut, I can tell you—or it will when I pay for it.” She laughed. “If I pay for it. After all, they should be paying me homage as Queen; perhaps I shall just keep it, count it as tribute.”

Harry looked a little askance at this. While the Elven race—what was left of it—was not particularly prone to warmongering, neither did they look kindly upon those who sought to take advantage of their easygoing natures. He didn’t think they would be inclined either to acknowledge Bella as their sovereign—the Elven folk had their own royalty, after all—or to forgive what they would no doubt see as little more than theft.

How ironic if Bella should end one war by killing Voldemort only to start another one, this time between Men and Elves. No doubt some of the other magical species would be persuaded to take sides, and once again the wizarding world would be embroiled in battle. And with no cohesive government yet in place, Men would find themselves at a distinct disadvantage. Harry shuddered.

Bella stepped up to Ron and put an arm around his neck. She gave him a melting look and said, “The last time you were here, I wasn’t in the best of moods. It had been just a horrid, horrid day, and I needed something more than you seemed able to give me.” Ron’s face turned red, and he suddenly looked worried.

“No, no,” Bella continued. “Don’t give it another thought. We’re starting over tonight, you and I. You...you do want me, don’t you?” Ron, who thought he could at least agree that at this particular moment one part of him wanted her very much indeed, nodded dumbly. “Good. Well, what do you want to do with me? Show me.”

Rather tentatively he pulled her closer and slid one hand down the long, smooth stretch of her bare back to rest on the gentle curve of her bottom where it disappeared inside her dress. Bella tipped her head back languorously and Ron’s other hand came up to cradle one porcelain cheek. She rubbed her face against his hand and gazed up at him with a dreamy expression. This was such a different Bella than last time that Ron seemed to be gaining confidence right before Harry’s eyes.

He bent and kissed Bella gently, then she caught his lower lip in her teeth and made a little noise in the back of her throat and flung her other arm around his neck, and Ron responded by slipping both hands down inside the back of her dress and cupping her cheeks, gently kneading the flesh as she pushed back into his hands. Her kiss promised everything; it was hot and wet and breathless and delightful. Most of Ron’s blood had deserted his brain and stood ready to act on that promise.

Harry stood watching in bemusement. It seemed Bella had decided to play the girlie-girl and play up to Ron’s need to feel he was the stronger of them. He wondered how much experience Ron had and whether he would be able to satisfy Bella. Harry thought it might be possible, at least for as long as they could avoid any punishment scenarios. Punishment tended to make Ron sullen and intractable, not cowed and malleable. Harry didn’t know how much of that Bella realized or how accommodating she was prepared to be; her moods were difficult to predict.

“Is—is it okay if I undress you?” Ron breathed. He cringed mentally, not certain if Bella had really meant it when she told him to show her what he wanted to do with her. But she nodded and reached behind her neck to unhook the high collar. He eased the dress down over her shoulders and she pulled her arms out; somehow she looked even more erotic bared to the waist, with the sumptuous velvet hanging from her hips and the diamonds twinkling in her hair.

Ron put his hands on the delicate span of her waist and swept them up her sides, then cupped her breasts, circling his thumbs over her nipples. He looked her in the eye to see if she would object as he slowly bent his head to her breast, but she merely laid a hand against the back of his head and pressed him closer as he began to suckle. Ron flicked his tongue against her nipple, amazed at how large it was. He caught it gently between his teeth and whipped it with his tongue, and Bella gave a sound that was half laugh, half cry. He moved to her other breast and repeated the process with that nipple.

Harry had never been particularly into voyeurism, but he watched, fascinated, as Bella’s eyes fluttered shut and she made a little bucking motion with her hips. He slipped behind her and pulled her dress down over her hips, and it slithered to the ground in a heap. He was content to have this be Ron’s show, but since he was right there anyway Harry kissed his way down Bella’s back and gently bit one plump cheek, then the other. Then he sneaked round and untied Ron’s loincloth, which fluttered unnoticed to join Bella’s dress on the floor.

As Harry bit her, Bella gave a little shriek, muffled by Ron’s mouth as he had begun to kiss her again. Unaware of what Harry was doing, and interpreting the shriek as a sign of Bella’s excitement, Ron’s hand snaked around and with his long middle finger he delved between the soft thatch of her pussy lips and found the hot, wet center of her. His finger slid inside, aided by copious amounts of her natural lubrication, and he slowly slid it in and out and around her clit, over and over. Bella flung her arms around him and plastered her body against him, rubbing her breasts against his chest and moaning.

Ron, not perfectly sure she hadn’t come yet, she was so wet, stopped and withdrew his hand.

Bella cried out in disappointment. “Ah, no! Don’t stop—don’t stop!”

Ron stared at her in consternation and Harry, feeling sure that the sooner the action resumed the happier Bella would be—and the less like punishing anyone she would feel—mimed that Ron should take her to the bed. So Ron swept Bella up in his arms and carried her the few feet to the bed, laying her on it and crawling up to join her. As he went, Harry murmured into his ear, “Eat her—she likes that.” Ron flashed a doubtful look at him, but Harry motioned that he should get on with it.

So Ron moved Bella’s legs apart and knelt between them. He looked down at her pussy, spread open before him, and zeroed in on it with unerring instinct. Bella, seeing that he was at least enthusiastic and had some idea of what to do, lay back and closed her eyes, prepared to enjoy herself immensely.

Watching as Ron’s tongue proceeded to turn Bella into a shivering, moaning pile of nerves—What was he worried about? He’s practically a pro!—Harry’s mind wandered a bit and he couldn’t help wondering whether Ron’s apparent expertise had been gained with Hermione. Somehow, as much as Ron had always been drawn to her and professed to love her, Harry couldn’t quite see Hermione letting him do this.

He chuckled to himself as he imagined her instructing Ron in the art of cunnilingus, giving a running commentary as he labored to bring her to orgasm. “No, Ronald, harder. Harder. You can use your fingers too, you know. No, don’t get sidetracked. That’s it. Now your tongue...that’s it, now you’ve got it. No, wait—I didn’t mean to stop! Come on, Ronald, pay attention. Are you even trying?”

Harry snickered. Well, maybe it hadn’t been quite that bad—if he’d ever actually done it with Hermione. Somehow he thought it much more likely that “Won-won” had learned at the willing, extremely eager hands of Lavender Brown, who had made it no secret that she had the major hots for him, being openly demonstrative to the point of embarrassing everyone who had to watch their public displays of affection once she’d finally got her hooks into him.

Just then Ron looked around. “Harry—Harry!” he whispered urgently. Harry went over to the bed. “Make yourself useful,” Ron suggested, nodding at Bella’s breasts.

Harry gestured Are you sure? and Ron nodded, then went back to nibbling at Bella’s clitoris. So Harry climbed onto the bed at Bella’s side and with firm, smooth strokes massaged her breasts and belly. He took one nipple in his mouth and sucked it in, then let it slide out of his mouth with a little plop! He reached across and did the same with her left breast, enjoying the feel and taste of her in his mouth.

After a few minutes Ron apparently stepped up his ministrations, because Bella began to whip her head from side to side and was breathing in jagged, gasping sobs. Harry backed off a little, smoothing his hand softly over her skin in a soothing manner.

Suddenly Bella cried, “Oh gods—oh—I’m—I’m—” Ron abandoned his post below and moved up to hover over her, then he gave one long thrust and buried himself inside her. Instantly she shattered. As she shook wordlessly, he stroked into her steadily. Her inner walls squeezed him relentlessly until he couldn’t take any more, and he came with a helpless shout. His cock jerked and pulsed, the intensity of the jolts causing him to see stars, and he dropped his forehead onto her breasts, panting, dizzied by the warm scent of her.

For a long while they lay there, Ron supporting his weight on his forearms and Bella seeming content to lie beneath him as their bodies calmed. Harry, who had backed up so as to be out of Ron’s way, moved closer now and circled a soothing hand on Ron’s back, which was all he could reach at the moment. He enjoyed feeling connected to them in some way, not that he had particularly felt left out during the proceedings. He was glad Ron had acquitted himself well—and, moreover, that Bella was allowing him a chance to redeem himself. And he was glad, too, that she seemed to be in a less brittle mood than on some nights. The longer he could keep her mind off punishing anybody, the easier the game would be to play.

Finally Ron rolled off to the side, and Bella slowly sat up. “Harry...cushions?” she said, and Harry quickly grabbed several nearby cushions and propped them behind her. She lounged comfortably back against them and said, “There! That’s better. Now, tell me: how has the training been going?”

Harry and Ron looked at each other. “Th-the training?” Ron asked.

“Yes, yes—you know, that the eunuchs are providing. Teaching you to remain in control of yourselves whilst you’re being punished.” She narrowed her eyes. “They are doing the training as I ordered, aren’t they?”

“Yes,” Harry said truthfully. After all, they had had the one disastrous session.

“Good. And how did it go?” Bella wanted to know.

Harry shrugged, and Ron avoided Bella’s eyes. “Er, not all that well, actually,” Harry said finally.

“Why not?”

“Well—” Harry wasn’t sure what to say that wouldn’t get him punished. He decided he could only be honest...while giving her the least informative answer possible. “They tried—they really did—but...most of them see paddling or whipping as a punishment. It’s not a turn-on. Almost no one could get it up after they were whipped.”

“You say ‘almost’ no one. So there is someone who did well in the training?” Bella asked curiously. “Who?”

Harry threw Ron a wry grin. “Fred.”

“Oh. Well, I can see that. And how do you feel about being spanked, Harry?”

Be careful. “I...don’t really enjoy it.”

“No?”

“No.”

“And you?” she asked Ron. He shook his head. “Ah. But you know, we’re not here for your entertainment, are we, but for mine. And boys, I do like spanking. So here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to have a little contest.”

Ron’s heart sank like a stone, and Harry felt a peculiar sense of inevitability.

“You will take it in turns to spank each other—shall we say ten strokes, so as not to drag this out all evening, but enough to get those cheeks nice and hot. Might I suggest that the one being spanked bends double and grasps his ankles—a time-honored position. When the first person has finished spanking his victim, he will then proceed to bring him erect once more. Then you’ll trade off. I will be timekeeper and judge. Whoever brings the other to erection in the shortest time wins. How does that sound?” She seemed quite excited about the idea.

“What does the winner get?” asked practical Ron, hoping perhaps it would be a week-long exemption from visits to Bella’s suite or something equally desirable.

“Hmm, yes, what shall I give the winner?” Bella mused. Suddenly her eyes sparkled. “I have it! The winner can pick whatever he would like to do to me, and I’ll submit to him.”

“All right,” Harry said instantly, and Ron nodded his agreement—because, really, what else could he do? Besides, if he won he fully intended to put her over his knee and spank her until she was too sore to sit down—and not with his hand, either.

“Good! Ron—you’ll go first,” Bella announced. “Now remember, you may only use your hand to spank him. And nothing half-hearted, either, or you’ll be adding to the number you get from Harry to make up for it. Well? Begin, begin!”

Harry asked Ron, “Where do you want me?” He untied his loincloth, which he was still wearing, and tossed it aside.

Ron stood up and said, “I dunno—just over here, I guess.” Harry came to stand before him and, turning to face away, bent over and clasped his hands around his ankles.

“Make it good,” he whispered.

Ron nodded and, bracing himself, swung. “One!” Bella crowed. Ron stared at the red handprint he had left on Harry’s cheek, but when Bella cleared her throat warningly, he stopped gawking and quickly administered the second stroke on Harry’s other cheek. He alternated sides so as to spread out the pain as much as he could, and he took Bella’s order to not spank half-heartedly seriously. When he had completed all ten strokes his hand was stinging and Harry’s ass cheeks were bright pink. Ron cringed looking at them, knowing he was next.

But first....

“Very good,” Bella sang out. “Now, bring him back to life!”

Harry straightened a bit stiffly and turned, and Ron reluctantly went down on his knees in front of him. “S-sorry, Harry,” he muttered, and Harry shook his head.

“No worries,” he gritted out.

Ron gingerly took Harry’s shrunken cock in his hand and, taking a deep breath, dipped his head forward and took it into his mouth. He wrapped his lips tightly around it and dragged his tongue heavily up and down the sides, then sucked gently as he worked his head back and forth on its growing length. It seemed to take forever before it was finally hard enough that he could just use his mouth. He tentatively let go to see if it was erect enough that he could stop, but although it had gained in size it was still not fully erect.

He flicked his eyes up at Harry’s face as he moved forward again; Harry was looking down at him with a peculiar expression on his face. Ron raised his eyebrows in question and Harry shook his head, closed his eyes, and clasped the sides of Ron’s head firmly as Ron’s mouth closed over his cock again. Ron bobbed his head faster and Harry’s hands began to clutch his head more tightly.

Ron took that as a sign to let go again and Harry let out his breath, panting heavily. His cock was a deep red, jutting out and up. In truth he had been very close to coming; part of him wished Ron had taken him to completion, but the saner part was glad he hadn’t, as Bella would no doubt have devised some punishment for both of them if that had happened.

“Very good,” Bella said. “Now then—time to change places!”

Ron chanced a glance at her as he got to his feet, before he bent over. She was flushed with excitement. Doesn’t seem to matter what we’re doing, he thought, she just likes to watch. He doubled over and clasped his ankles firmly. “Ready when you are, Harry,” he said steadily.

Harry’s answer was a quick volley of strokes that got a yelp out of Ron, both at the suddenness of them and the vigor with which he struck Ron’s burning backside. Ron hung there, the blood rushing to his head, and tried very hard not to cry. He was damned if he’d let Bella see him cry.

Fortunately, the rapid succession of Harry’s strokes meant that Ron’s spanking was over relatively soon. From Bella’s expression it was plain to see that she was rather disappointed about that. Nevertheless, she waved at him to proceed with bringing Ron’s hidden assets back to life.

Harry rested a hand on Ron’s back and said softly, “You can stand up now.” Ron straightened and looked at him a little accusingly. “Sorry,” Harry whispered as he knelt. “I tried to get it over with as fast as I could.”

He reached for Ron’s cock which, even in its dormant state, was quite sizeable, and sucked and slurped it into his mouth. Almost as soon as he touched it, it began to grow, and in seconds it had reached its fully erect state and was almost more than Harry could fit in his mouth. He let it out of his mouth and with a wet plop! it smacked up and bounced against Ron’s stomach. Harry stared. “Whoa!” Ron flushed. He’d been afraid this would happen. And he’d so wanted to win the contest and give Bella a little of her own back.

Bella slid off the edge of the bed and came to stand beside them. “Very good, Harry,” she said. “I do seem to remember that Ron here responds very quickly to the touch of a hand...or a mouth.”

Ron stared at her in disbelief. She knew Harry would win!

Bella read the thought in his face as easily as if it had been written in ink across his forehead. “I never forget anything,” she said softly. “Not anything.” She turned to Harry. “So...what’s your pleasure?” She smiled sweetly.

Harry didn’t hesitate. “I want you in the manacles,” he said. “Facing us.” He walked over to the cord Ron had told him about for the tapestry and pulled it to reveal the manacles.

Bella strolled over to the wall as if she hadn’t a care in the world. “And what will you do with me then...Harry?” She pouted her lips at him and drew a finger down his chest. She stepped up to the wall and the manacles closed securely around her ankles. Slowly she put up her arms, and there were two soft snicks as the upper ones closed over her wrists.

Harry nodded in satisfaction. “Just a moment, please,” he said, and he motioned for Ron to join him over by the bed. Mystified, Ron did; Bella waited, as that was all she could do.

“What’re you going to do, Harry?” Ron whispered.

“Not me—us,” Harry said. “You said she can’t get out of the manacles until she comes, right?” Ron nodded. “Well, I think we should drag it out a bit, don’t you? I mean, what fun is it if she comes right away? Besides, I kind of think she deserves to be strung up there for a while.” Ron nodded again, more enthusiastically. “You’ve noticed she likes to watch, right—to just be an observer?” Another nod, but a bit puzzled this time.

Harry looked at Ron. “I don’t know if you’ll be able to do this or not,” he said softly. “If you don’t want to, just tell me and I’ll just spank her or something and then get her to come. But...I thought maybe if you and I got each other off it would be a kind of torture for her. I mean, she likes to watch...but she likes to finger herself while she does it, and she can’t do anything while her hands are chained. It’d get her hot, but she wouldn’t be able to do anything but watch. She’d be begging to come. And she can’t until we say so.”

Ron looked at him admiringly. “Merlin, Harry, no wonder the Sorting Hat wanted to put you in Slytherin!” He glanced back at Bella, who was beginning to look a little impatient. “But wouldn’t it be better to just spank the hell out of her and then get her off real quick?” He looked resentful. “I bet she doesn’t have any problem coming right after she’s been spanked. We could get a little of our own back, yeah?”

“True. But the other is more subtle. Anyone can give physical pain. I think it would be a lot more frustrating for her to have to watch us and not be able to relieve herself. Besides, I think she expects you to talk me into spanking her. It might not be a bad thing to do the unexpected. As bizarre as it sounds, she seems to like it when people do that.”

Ron heaved a sigh. “Oh, all right. But remember, don’t start thinking I’m after your body or anything.” Harry gave him a little shove and he grinned. “How do you want to do this?”

Harry walked over to the bed and patted it. “Come on over here,” he said invitingly. Ron followed him over and got up on the bed.

Bella, only about ten feet away, had a perfect view of them but seemed puzzled as to what they were doing. “Boys!” she called. “What are you doing over there? I told you you could do whatever you wanted to me. What are you doing on the bed when I’m chained to the wall? Harry! Harry, answer me!”

Harry looked up from where he was poised over Ron. “But I am doing something to you, Your Majesty,” he said politely. “I’m going to get you so aroused you’ll beg me to let you come.”

“But—but I thought you’d spank me...or something,” Bella said in a small voice. “You’re just going to play with Ron?”

“Mm-hmm,” Harry answered. He couldn’t say more because his tongue was currently engaged in a duel with Ron’s inside the warm, wet cavern of Ron’s mouth. Harry moaned, and Bella rattled the chains on her arms and made an impatient sound. Harry lifted his head and smiled down at Ron, who looked rather bemusedly back at him.

Harry took his time, using what he had learned from Bella and Draco to seduce Ron into a quivering pile of freckles. He delicately touched the tip of his tongue inside Ron’s ear, and Ron groaned loudly and shuddered. Bella snapped to attention, wondering what she’d missed while she was fretting about the manacles. She watched as Harry’s tongue tickled a path along Ron’s jawline back behind his ear, then around and down his chest, stopping along the way to nibble at his nipples. He sat astride Ron, moving further down his legs as his talented tongue flicked its way along the dusting of hair that led down the center of Ron’s belly. Ron hurriedly pulled some cushions behind him so he was at a better angle to watch Harry’s progress.

As Harry paused above Ron’s cock, he flicked a glance at Bella. She stood there with her mouth slightly open, her breasts jiggling slightly with her rapid, panting breaths. With no warning, licked Ron’s cock broadly from base to tip. Ron and his cock both jumped, and Bella whimpered. Harry smiled to himself.

He moved down and picked up Ron’s left foot.

“What’re you doing?” asked a puzzled Ron.

“You’ll see.” Harry gently rubbed Ron’s foot and massaged up his calf muscle. “Just relax.”

“Yes, but Harry, I’m awfully tick—”

“Shhh. I’m not going to tickle you. I promise.” So saying, Harry raised Ron’s foot up to rest on his chest and slowly licked all around his big toe. Ron’s eyes grew huge as he assimilated this new experience. Then Harry sucked the toe into his mouth and swirled his tongue all around it, and Ron’s head fell back against the cushions, an expression of pure ecstasy on his face. Grinning, Harry left off sucking Ron’s toe and put his left foot down. Then he picked up his right foot and started the process all over again.

By the time he finished, Ron and Bella were both reduced to little puddles of humanity, Ron gazing at Harry in amazement and something else Harry couldn’t name, and Bella begging to be allowed to come.

“All in good time,” Harry told her, and she had to be content with dry-humping the air in a frantic, fruitless attempt to satisfy herself.

“You, however,” he said to Ron, “are another story.” He scooted back up to Ron’s lap and licked Ron’s cock all over, then smeared the copious amount of pre-cum that had pooled on Ron’s belly all over it. “I’m going to ride you,” Harry said so Bella could hear him. “You might feel like ramming right into me as soon as you’re inside—but please don’t. Slow and easy, okay?”

Ron, his eyes enormous, nodded. “Okay,” he said hoarsely.

Harry rose up a little and moved forward, then reached behind him to position Ron’s cock at his opening. “Remember—nice and easy,” he warned. Little by little he sank down onto Ron’s cock, stopping every little bit to get used to the impressive size of the object that was entering his body. Finally he was fully seated, and he closed his eyes and shuddered. Ron gulped. “Gods, Harry,” he said, “I’m not going to last very long.”

Harry smiled down at him. “That’s okay. I think we’ve pretty much accomplished our purpose.” They both looked over at Bella, who was engaged in a futile attempt to rub her legs together, prevented by the unforgiving chains that would not stretch to let her close them.

“Nearly there,” Harry said, and Bella stopped struggling and looked up as Harry began to raise and lower himself on Ron’s cock, carefully not touching his own, though it was rock-hard and each time Ron’s cock rubbed that marvelous spot inside him he was afraid he would come. He began to move faster...faster; Ron’s increasingly hoarse cries had melded into one long, silent scream.

And then Harry felt the cock inside him begin to jerk wildly and was aware of gushing warmth as Ron came. Harry slowed and came to a stop as Ron lay there breathless. Carefully Harry rose up once more and Ron pulled out of him with a gasp at the unavoidable stimulation of his spent member.

Harry bent and whispered into Ron’s ear, “Think you can get up?” Ron nodded. “I think it’s time we got her out of those manacles,” Harry said.

Bella looked at them eagerly as they rose from the bed and strolled back over to her. “Please, please let me come!” she cried. Her thighs were sticky with her juices, though she hadn’t managed to come. “Oh, Harry, I need to come so badly—please!”

Without a word Harry sank to his knees and, grasping her cheeks to hold himself steady, he fastened his mouth to her clitoris and sucked as hard as he could, at the same time flicking his tongue madly over the little knot of flesh.

In seconds Bella screamed and bucked her hips as she came, sobbing wildly. “Yes, yes, yes, gods yes!”

Harry, not wanting a repeat of his first night, stopped immediately and pulled away. As he stood up he heard the click of the manacles releasing and Bella fell heavily forward onto him, her legs too shaky to hold her up. Ron picked her up as he had before and carried her over to the bed, laying her down on the furs where she stretched lazily and moaned.

Finally she opened her eyes and looked over at Harry. “Clever boy,” she said. “But that was wicked of you, Harry, truly it was. I did so want a spanking. And I really wanted you inside of me.” She got a sly look on her face. “I suppose I have enough strength for one more little game,” she said. She looked at Ron this time. “Not that you have a choice, eh?” She reached out and grasped his cock firmly, and even as drained as he’d thought he was, it amazed him by springing to life again under her touch. It had never occurred to him to find out how many times in a row he could come.

Good to know, he thought.

Nevertheless, he didn’t trust that look she’d given him, or her tone for that matter. Something was coming that he was quite sure he wasn’t going to like.

Bella got up on her hands and knees. “You left me hanging there a very long time, Harry.” She pouted. “Here’s what we’re going to do. I want a spanking. I deserve it, I’ve waited long enough for it, and Ron, you’re going to give it to me. Bare-handed. And you’re going to take me while you do it. And Harry, I want you to take Ron from behind at the same time. That ought to just about do it for tonight,” she said happily.

Gods! That ought to just about do me in! Ron thought. But he obediently got behind her and held onto her hips, running his trembling hands over the smooth skin of her cheeks and down her thighs. He felt Harry kneel behind him and glanced at him apprehensively over his shoulder. “Harry, I—I’ve never done this before.”

Harry nodded. “Don’t worry,” he said. “It’ll be okay.”

As Ron delivered the first stinging slap to Bella’s rump, he felt Harry pull his cheeks gently apart and there was a sudden shock of coolness on his anus as Harry spat on it, then smeared the spit around and worked a single finger inside. Ron tensed up, but Harry whispered, “Relax,” and he made a conscious effort to not clench his ass. His cock was responding eagerly to Harry’s efforts, and Ron guided it slowly into Bella’s pussy. There was almost no resistance at all as she was so wet. For good measure, he slapped her again, on the other cheek this time.

Harry eased two fingers in and pushed them gently in and out. With his other hand he stroked up and down Ron’s back. If he didn’t think too much about who was doing it, Ron reflected that it all felt rather good, really. Knowing it was Harry was awkward, it was true; he kept wondering how he would face his best friend the next day after everything they’d done here tonight. But in another way that he couldn’t quite understand, he wouldn’t have had it be anyone else, not even Fred. With Harry he felt safe; they knew each other so well that Ron knew Harry wasn’t judging him. It still felt awkward, but safe at the same time.

Talk about conflicted.

He gave Bella another slap and slammed into her, just because he could, and she squealed in delight. He gave her another sound slap on each cheek and then squeezed them to make her squeal again.

And while he knelt there not moving his hips for a moment, Harry spread him wide, smeared pre-cum around his cock and Ron’s opening, and then pushed slowly inside. Ron, who had been amazed at how huge Harry’s fingers had felt, froze in place as this enormous thing invaded him. A long, low groan came from his lips and he dropped his head to Bella’s back. Harry pushed inexorably further, and Bella gave a backward twitch of her hips suddenly, and Ron was pinned solidly between them.

Harry let him get used to it for a minute, then he couldn’t wait any longer. He had to come—just had to. He began to move slowly in and out, Ron furnishing most of the motion as he moved forward into Bella in an attempt to escape the monster embedded in his ass.

Then suddenly Ron clutched Bella’s hips harder, his fingers leaving indentations in her skin, as Harry’s cock bumped against that little spot inside of him that was so hard to find, and so very, very good whenever anything touched it. He slammed back against Harry, then forward into Bella, setting the pace for all of them. Ron slapped her ass again, and again, and yet again, and his hands were stinging and his ass was stinging and he didn’t care because oh gods, he was coming

and Bella pumped against him furiously and yes, YES! I needed that so badly

and Harry’s roar as he reached his own completion echoed through the stone chamber because Merlin, Ron’s so tight! I shouldn’t be enjoying this so much, but—oh, the hell with it!

Bella’s knees gave out after she’d come and, like a chain of dominos, they fell in a heap, still connected by their most intimate parts, and lay there dazed.

Finally Harry roused enough to pull out of Ron. He scooted away to give Ron room to get up off Bella, who had ended up on the bottom of the heap. She sighed contentedly as his weight left her, and turned onto her side and curled up.

“Go,” she said sleepily, waving a hand vaguely at them.

And they went.

Lucius waited for them at the bottom of the elevator, as usual. “All quiet, I assume?” he asked. Harry and Ron nodded. “No...problems this time?” Lucius asked Ron. Flushing, Ron shook his head. “Good. Well, let’s get you back to the harem. Harry, I’m afraid she wants you alone again tomorrow night.” And isn’t that just interesting, Lucius thought to himself. He wondered if some little weakness like this could be used to help bring about Bella’s downfall. Perhaps he would talk to Narcissa about it, see what she thought. He wished there was a way he could talk to Arthur alone outside the harem, without being overheard. Well, just one more thing to work on, he thought.

Arthur, not wanting to go to bed until he’d assured himself Ron and Harry were all right, came out to the reception room when he heard Lucius’ boots on the marble floor. “Everything all right?” he asked.

Lucius nodded. “All quiet, it seems. Rather a peaceful evening tonight—no punishments, no curses, just fun and games.” Harry gave him a look, and Lucius chuckled. “Now, now, no sass from you. Off to bed.” Harry and Ron trudged tiredly back to the sleeping quarters and all but fell onto their pallets, exhausted.

In the silence before they fell asleep, they each experienced some disquieting thoughts.

Ron was beginning to wonder if it was possible that he was, if not gay, at least bisexual. He rather enjoyed shagging Bella, and the oral sex with her wasn’t bad either. But after having been on both the giving and receiving ends of sex with Harry tonight—and, if he was honest with himself, having enjoyed both more than he felt he should have—he was uneasy, and the idea raced around and around in his brain like a maddened wasp, jabbing him with twinges of confusion and guilt.

And Harry wondered why Bella hadn’t insisted that either he or Ron be chained to the wall but had wanted to be chained there herself—and she hadn’t seemed in a mood to hand out any punishments, either. Which was a good thing, admittedly, but rather out of character.

And why did she keep summoning him by himself—why not any of the others? She’d only had a handful of the slaves so far. Why him? Was that good? Was it bad? Should he be worried?

Of course, not knowing the answer, he worried.

Neither boy slept well that night.
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Bella's Harem