The Malfoy Trial

Cravedom
Just wait – it comes

Tina & LexieMalfoy
Next instalment coming up

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Admiration

Harry and Draco stumbled out of the floo in the communications lobby into a much brighter Grimmauld Place.

“Home at last … this is where we will base ourselves.” Harry looked round in a self-satisfied proprietorial way.

“May I speak, Milord?”

“Yes?”

“This place looks similar to my mother’s old home.”

“It is the same house. After the battle, Kreacher got his army to blitz it for me, and we gave the shrunken heads a decent burial. After that we set about making it properly habitable.”

“Wow … Hasn’t the old place cleaned up well? I like your choice of décor.”

“Thanks; we’re still renovating the myriad rooms, so your input would be welcome.”

“Really? You’re not trying to humiliate me by reminding me of my past status, are you?”

Harry’s answer was curtailed when Kreacher popped in: “Welcome back Milord, I see we have a new visitor. I heard of your rash promise to mentor him.” Kreacher scowled at Draco and then smiled wickedly: “How am I to address your vassal?”

“I’m nor sure Kreacher … Well, Draco; how would you like to me known?”

“Does Milord, give me permission to choose?”

“Yes; and when we are alone or relaxed with my friends you may address me as Harry, okay?”

“Yes Mi … Pot … Harry …” Draco’s mouth fell open. “I think that Kreacher had better call me Draco, as you seem to have taken to doing.”

“Very well … Now strip completely.”

“What …? Oh …! Very well, H-Harry.” Draco wondered where this was going.

Harry watched his new vassal strip. Draco blushed profusely as the last of his garments came off and placed his hands strategically.

“Why so modest, Draco? We’ve seen enough of each other hundreds of times in the Quidditch showers after matches.”

“Sorry Pot … Harry.” Draco removed his hands and stood, glowing pink as Harry scrutinised his body minutely.

“Under all that prison dirt I see that you have many scars. One I recognise as my doing, plus the welts on your arse. Where did the others come from?”

“Some came from my training to be a Death Eater, not that I ever became one.” Draco showed his forearms to Harry, “some from after I was imprisoned.” Draco pointed out some of the more prominent ones; describing how he gained them.

“Right … Now give your clothes to Kreacher so he can cleanse them of the prison legacy. Put the slippers on.”

Kreacher handed Draco a pair of slip-ons, receiving the filthy clothes in return and, holding his nose, popped away. The naked Draco looked expectantly at Harry.

Harry was unsure how to deal with his new vassal, so kept things formal: “We’re going upstairs to sort out our sleeping arrangements and to cleanse you thoroughly, if you’d follow me please.”

Kreacher was now amenable and had always been a perspicacious elf. Once he knew of the sentence he had prepared Harry’s bedroom with another narrower bed in it. Harry saw what had happened as he opened the bedroom door.

Masking his surprise Harry pointed: “Draco; that bed will be yours for the time being, I suggest you go and lie on it.”

Draco winced and groaned as he lay down.

“Oh for Merlin’s sake, lie on your front; I want to heal your most recent soreness.”

“You what?” Draco was shocked that Harry would wish to help him.

“I had to mark you, we both know that. It’s not as though I owe you animosity any longer, I hope we’ve both grown out of those childishnesses. You know all about keeping up public appearances don’t you; well I had to do that today and to you. I saw the brave face and quivering lips, that’s why we Apparated immediately. Besides which, it doesn’t do Ron any good to gloat over a supposed fallen enemy.”

Draco hid his surprised expression in the pillow. By this time Harry had found the lotion and unstoppered it. Draco winced as Harry applied his hand to the bruised buttocks.

“T-thanks H-Harry, I though you wanted revenge. I wouldn’t have been surprised if you had left me there to face the Weasel’s scorn, in fact I was expecting some more humiliation.”

Harry gave Draco’s bum a sharp tap and Draco squeaked, drawing his breath in.

“Try to remember to call my friends by their given name. I might forgive you Weasley but not Mudblood for Hermione ever, understand.”

“Y-yes Harry. I’m no longer sure … Of your motivation … Any more …” Draco’s shoulders started to heave as he released his pent up anguish.

Harry realised that his vassal was crying, but disdained the need to make political capital out of it. He thought it might help his vassal to come to terms with what was happening to him. Harry just carried on with the massage of two soft downy buttocks, rubbing until the lotion removed all signs of the previously forming bruises. It took almost half an hour, during which Draco regained his composure.

“Thanks M-P … Hmm … Harry, the sting’s gone out of my behind now.”

Harry felt slightly disappointed as he removed his oily digits. As Draco turned, Harry caught sight of Draco’s somewhat distended member. Not a full hard-on, but definitely something to make Harry wonder. Draco blushed and used his hands as camouflage. So Harry pretended to look out of the window at the circling pigeons; giving Draco time to place pillow over his protuberance.

“Now is the time for you to take a long bath, Draco. Your skin is badly stained; did they not allow you to bathe in prison?”

“Yes … Once a fortnight … It was horrible. Hard soap and cold water and they used their picket-sticks to interfere with my genitals. They’d prod and flick until I grew hard and then jeer at me. If I tried to stop them they beat me.”

Pop, Kreacher arrived before Harry could reply: “I’ve had the door removed from the adjoining bathroom and sealed the door from it to the passageway, Harry,” said Kreacher as he arrived in the bedroom: “It will allow you each some privacy but not flout the requirements of the order. Did I do right?”

“Yes thanks, Kreacher; I’m still coming to terms about what I’ve landed myself with. That was very thoughtful of you.” Harry turned to face the ex-Slytherin: “You can go in there now and cleanse yourself, Draco.”

Draco, having lost his hardness, did as he was told, climbing into a hot tub full of sweet-smelling cleansing agents. Harry and Kreacher stood near the doorway, in plain view; occasionally glancing over to make sure Draco had not absconded from the bath. Draco thought it odd, seeing a house lord and his house elf talking as though they were friends.

“Those clothes he was wearing, honestly Harry, they were too far gone so I burnt them.”

“So what do we dress him in?”

“Not knowing how you wanted your vassal dressed, I put some loincloths on a shelf for him.”

“Is that usual, Kreacher?” asked Harry.

“I had a chat with the court-elves and they told me that some mentors keep their vassals naked indoors to start with. Offering them clothes as an inducement for good behaviour.”

“Some of the floors are a still bit rough so trainers would protect his feet. We’ll stick to loincloths for the present, I think. His prison pallor needs a boost and exposure to the air will make him look healthier, don’t y’think? Well … at least whilst the weather’s warm.”

Draco felt odd, he was so used to being the centre of attention that having Kreacher and Harry ignore him and yet discuss him felt quite dehumanising. He longed to make a remark but remembered the strictures of the order forbidding him to venture the first word until he was bidden. He also wondered if he would feel the collar’s Crucio if he did try to initiate a conversation. After some consideration he decided not to try, just in case.

“What about food?” asked Kreacher: “Are you putting him on a punishment diet?”

“Is that usual?”

“The answer’s much like the nakedness one.”

“Um … Well …” Harry turned and stepped into the bathroom, indicating that Draco should stand. Harry did another inspection of the dripping body: “He’s quite thin … Malnourished by the looks of things … Probably the prison diet … I think, for the time being, normal rations, same as you serve to me.” Harry wandered out into the bedroom: “Then if he misbehaves we could use deprivation as a punishment.”

“You are allowed to beat him as well, Harry. The regulations are about minimum chastisement, you know.”

“Um … That’s another reserve position we can hold over him.”

Draco was still standing in the bath, where Harry had left him. From being heartened about being given decent food he felt dejected when punishments were being discussed. He started to shiver, partly from the drying water on his skin and partly in remembrance of his recent beating.

Harry peered over his shoulder: “Why are you standing shivering, Draco? If you’ve finished, step out and get dry so I can inspect you to see if any prison dirt is left. If you haven’t finished, get back in the water and start scrubbing.”

Draco abruptly sat and grabbed the scrubbing brush, feeling angry and miserable. Then he admonished himself: ‘Better here that being poked by those picket sticks, the water’s warmer for one thing, and if I behave I’ll get decent dinners instead of gruel and watery soup’.

Harry and Kreacher ignored the bathing blond and continued discussing various domestic arrangements.

The water began to get cold, without the use of his wand Draco could not reheat it. So instead of luxuriating in the bubbles, he rose, stepped out of the bath and grabbed a towel. After drying himself he wrapped the towel around his middle and walked back into the bedroom. Kreacher and Harry were still chatting so Draco hovered nearby.

Eventually Harry spotted the towel clad form: “Come here!”

Draco came nearer, Harry leaned forward and removed Draco’s covering. “Bend down let me see the top of your head … Now behind your ears. Um … So far so good! Stand on that low table, open you legs and bend down facing away from me. I must make sure everywhere is scrupulously clean, I don’t want any hideous prison diseases lurking about your person.”

Harry parted Draco’s cheeks revealing a clean pink rosebud and then pulled his balls around, looking in crevices for any lingering dirt. Draco gritted his teeth, wondering if this was obtuseness on Harry’s part, genuine worry about prison dirt, or some excuse to play in Draco’s private area.

“Um … You’ll do … Now go with Kreacher and he’ll show you your loincloths. Tie one round your waist and put some trainers on your feet. Then we’ll go and eat. Okay?”

“Hmm … Yes Harry.” Draco swallowed his pride and did as he was told.

There were some tee-shirts and shorts in Draco’s designated wardrobe; he was very tempted, but felt he should not annoy Harry by being creative, so he chose a light blue loincloth and tied it round his middle, matching it with some dark blue trainers. His covering was fairly brief, consisting of two half-oval flaps – front and back – that left his outer thighs and cheek muscles showing and he could feel a draught round his balls. ‘Merlin only knows what will happen if I get a stiffy,’ he thought despondently.

Harry had wondered how to treat his vassal. Part of him wanted to offer a hand of friendship, hence calling him by his given name. Another part of him remembered the in-fighting in the previous years and was tempted towards revenge. Part of him thought that a suitable mental distance was the way a Mentor should treat his vassal, something like that between teacher and pupils. Then Harry thought about that bond, not wanting to be as snarky as Severus had been, nor smarmily friendly and manipulative as was Lockhart’s manner. He stuck to a gruff exterior until he could work out how to relate with Draco in a dependant situation, quite different from their sparring as near equals over the past seven years.

Winky’s dinner was delicious, and she was pleased when both teenagers decided to have seconds. Kreacher had set a small table at one end of the formal dining room and they sat opposite each other. This formality was echoed in the stilted conversation between Harry and Draco as they manoeuvred towards a working relationship.

After various forays Harry asked: “Draco; why are you being so hesitant? Your cruel bumptious attitude from school seems to have disappeared all together.”

Draco nearly started an argument about Harry’s description of his mind-set, but pulled himself up short: “Hmm … It’s this condition in the Mentorship Contract … You know … about not speaking until I’m bid. I find myself considering every word before I utter it.”

“I believe I can give you permission …” said Harry, pressing the jewel on the control ring, “… to initiate discussions, as long as you do not use derogatory words about me or my guests.”

Draco felt a slight tingling round his neck: “Thanks Harry. I’ll endeavour not to call you bad names. Am I allowed to openly disagree with you?”

Harry pressed the bezel again: “You may openly disagree with me whilst we are in an informal gathering at any of my homes, as long as you remember to toe the line in public or at official functions.” Harry released the ring: “How’s that?”

Draco rubbed under his collar and smiled thankfully at his mentor.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not really, it’s less troublesome than the prison one, I’m almost sure that they fitted and extra stiff one deliberately. No … It just tingles when you press the control ring to alter the conditions.”

“The clerk said that I can ‘haul you up short’ – to use his words – if you start ‘mouthing off’ when you shouldn’t. Do you want to see what that feels like?”

“Please don’t? I’m told it feels like a Crucio. I had enough of those when that dark monster was displeased; it was his favourite way of punishment for minor offences.”

“Yes, I know what you mean; I’ve suffered a few myself. By-the-way, we call him Voldie, it’s an irreverent way of referring to him that seems to lighten the awfulness of what he did.”

“He’d have been livid if one of his Death Eaters had ever called him that … Hmm … I like it.” Draco managed a quiet giggle.

“I think in future we’ll use the breakfast room if it’s just the two of us eating.”

“Hmm … That’s what mother did at our former home. Is there any way that I’m allowed to see her, d’y’know?”

“I’m not sure. We can find out. I’m one of the governors at your old house, now it’s a convalescent home. I visit every week, it’s sort of expected of me to go and chat to some of the more lucid inmates. You’d have to accompany me, so I’m sure we could find time for you two to have a quiet chat.”

“Thanks, that’d be great!”

Because both of them had started listening to the other one, and trying to be positive, avoiding the old need to trip each other up, they found that they had more in common than had divided them. Over coffee and liqueurs in the tapestry room the two had a long debate about the implications of the genetic research, eventually coming to a common mind which partially vindicated both sets of views.

It was quite late when they retired. Draco was quicker in his evening ablutions and so had time to watch Harry as he nakedly prepared for bed. Draco already knew where his lustful intentions lay; his budding homosexuality had been another of the contentions that had set father and son apart.

Voldie had expected every person to do their duty and bring at least an heir and a spare into the pure-blood world, spreading his favours around and hinting that Lucius ought to do the same. With these thoughts in mind; Draco watched his Mentor, noting the delicious curve of his buttocks, and the presentable pink cock snuggling in its nest of black curls. ‘Slack, it’s not quite as big as mine and it hasn’t been cut. It’s a lovely handful nevertheless.’ Draco let is hand squeeze his own erection, hidden under the bedclothes.

“Goodnight Draco, sweet dreams.” Harry climbed into his bed and muttered “Nox”.

“G-goodnight Harry.” ‘They’ll be about a certain black haired Black,’ Draco added in the privacy of his mind.

Hand on cock, Draco waited patiently until his neighbour’s breathing steadied and he thought Harry was asleep. Quietly he started pumping; imagining lascivious pairings with the young man nearby. As he drew near his climax Draco realised that his bed had developed a reciprocating squeak. He was too far gone to think of lessening his activities, so he just hoped that mentorial ears were deaf to the evidence.

Harry lay in bed trying to regularise his breathing. As usual, his mind had to put in order the happenings of the day and he knew that regular breathing relaxed him enough to find calmness in preparation for slumber. He had just got to the point where he had been caning Draco when noises from the other bed interrupted his train of thought. ‘I know what he’s doing,’ Harry told himself: ‘I wonder what he’s fantasising about whilst he does it.’ This sent his thoughts in another and understandably adolescent direction. His hand travelled down his belly at much the same rate as his erection grew up it. They met and Harry indulged himself in wanking relief.

As Draco came down from his high he realised he could not cast the usual cleaning charm without Harry’s permission. He lay there wondering how Muggles went on after a masturbation session. Then he became aware of rhythmical snuffling sounds coming from his lord’s bed. A big sigh denoted Harry’s completion. Draco heard Harry utter the cleansing spell and was pleasantly surprised when his own gooey mess disappeared also.