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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
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3: An Audience with the Queen

“Arfur” rose warily from the stone ledge, blinking in the glare of the Lumos spell emitted by the other man’s wand. “Yes?” he said cautiously.

“Well, come on, then. I ain’t got all day now, ‘ave I?” the guard said testily. Arthur stepped out of the cell and it slammed shut behind him. “This way,” said the surly voice behind the mask, and the Death Eater gave Arthur a hefty shove toward the door at the end of the corridor. They marched the rest of the way to the Great Hall in silence, a jab of the Death Eater’s wand now and then in the small of Arthur’s back serving as a reminder to not dawdle.

Nott—for Arthur knew the man well enough to know it was he behind the mask—stopped at the imposing double doors, which Arthur had never seen closed before. Another Death Eater stood guard outside.

“Arfur Weasley ‘as been summoned by ‘er Majesty,” Nott intoned. The other man nodded briefly and flicked his wand at the doors. They opened slowly and Arthur stared into a Great Hall vastly altered from what he remembered.

The House tables had disappeared, as had the House banners that had hung from the rafters. The staff table had been removed, and upon the platform where it normally stood was a dais that held a regal-looking—well, really the only thing you could call it, Arthur thought, was a throne. Suitable, he supposed, for one who wished to style herself a queen. A small group of Death Eaters was lined up along each side of the dais. Off to one side were three rather bedraggled-looking resistance fighters, men of about Arthur’s own age. They were dressed in rough, sack-like garments.

The ceiling, he saw, was charmed as always to show the current state of the sky outside. Ha! he thought with some satisfaction. It’ll take more than a madwoman on a throne to undo a Founder’s charm.

It was with a rather smug grin on his face that he approached the throne, where Bella sat in solitary splendor. She had exchanged her habitual trailing black lace for a midnight-blue velvet gown—something that Arthur guessed she felt was more befitting her new station in life.

She watched his approach with some amusement. He was enough older than she that she did not know much about him except by reputation—which was as doddering and ineffectual as Lucius could represent. So the fact that he smiled as he approached amused Bella; he must be as simple as Lucius had said if he could smile at a time like this.

However, as Arthur drew nearer it was obviously a smirk, not a fool’s grin, that he wore, and his eyes, when they met Bella’s, were too knowing by far. As odd as it sounded, it almost seemed as if he was laughing—laughing!—at her. Her brows drew together in a petulant frown.

“And just what is it you find so amusing about your...situation?” she asked in clipped tones, her own amusement vanishing.

Arthur made a conscious effort to make his expression neutral. “Erm...nothing, nothing at all,” he responded vaguely. One of the guards hissed something at him and Arthur, whose attention had been focused on Bella, started. “What?” he asked.

“Bow, fool!” the guard repeated.

Arthur stared at him. “Bow?” The guard gestured frantically, and suddenly Arthur understood. Barely managing to not roll his eyes, he turned back to Bella, and with a minimal show of respect he gave a brief nod—head only, no bending at the waist or knees—and waited.

Bella’s eyes narrowed. “I see your respect for your superiors is somewhat lacking,” she said conversationally. “Tiresome. But no matter; we shall address that presently. Now—what have you been told of my plans for you?” She stood and approached, halting one step above him.

Arthur shook his head. “Nothing, but I should certainly like to know—”

“Of course,” she said dismissively; which meant nothing, but did serve to stop him talking. “Now, let me see—Weasley...Weasley...ah yes. Pure-blood, but a blood traitor, as I recall. Most unfortunate; yes, indeed. Of course, as such you can’t really be trusted, can you?” Arthur said nothing but stood there trying his best to look trustworthy.

Bella smiled. “Do you acknowledge me as your Queen, ruler of wizarding Britain, with the power to decide whether you live or die? Do you promise to serve me faithfully, question me never, and obey my every command?” Arthur looked around furtively, but Bella laid her wand against his face and forced him to look at her. She was still smiling, but her voice was icy as she repeated the questions.

A faint sheen of sweat popped out on Arthur’s brow. He was torn between outraged denial, a sense of the ridiculous, and the need to placate this madwoman who could kill him here and now if she wanted to—before witnesses and apparently without her authority being questioned in any way.

“Well—no, I—” he stammered, trying in vain to dredge up some idea of what to say that she would accept but that would, at the same time, not compromise his integrity...losing sight, in his desperation, of the fact that Bella was mad and there was not one thing he could say that would not compromise either his integrity or his life, and probably both.

“No? I see,” Bella said pensively. “So...you do not acknowledge my superiority. You doubt my power over you. Perhaps you require a little...demonstration?” She shrugged. “Very well.” She ran her hand slowly down his cheek and then stepped back. Arthur cringed a little, but only on the inside; he would not let her see he was afraid.

“Strip.”

Having expected the Cruciatus Curse, Arthur merely blinked and stared at her blankly. “Wh-what?” But that’s ridiculous! Surely she can’t mean—

“I said, strip!” When he still didn’t move, Bella grew impatient. “You were right, Lucius,” she said in an aside to Malfoy, “he is rather a slow one.” She spoke to Arthur again, slowly, as if he were a child or mentally feeble, pointing her wand at him to emphasize her words. “Did you hear me? I said to strip. Remove your clothing. All of it. At once.” She leaned closer. “Do not make me tell you again. I promise you will not like the consequences.”

Now, Arthur was only human. And he thought of himself as an eminently sensible person. Still, what suddenly occurred to him then was not fear of what Bella might be about to do or what kind of harm she intended but something quite different. He had never thought of himself as a vain man—if asked, he would have said his looks were passable, average enough. But he was suddenly assailed by the unpleasant awareness—possibly just a bit vain, and definitely not very sensible at the moment—that he held a job that consisted mainly of sitting at a desk all day shuffling papers, which meant perhaps he wasn’t quite as fit as he should be. He rarely gave it a moment's thought—any bit of flab or excess girth he possessed had never really caused him any undue anxiety. Molly loved him and seemed happy enough to share his home and his bed, and that was enough for him.

Until now.

He looked around, without any real hope, for a screen or door or some other indication of where the aforementioned stripping-down was to take place. “Er—where do I, um—where do I go to, er—ah—”

Bella tinkled a musical little laugh. “Oh, you mean for a spot of privacy whilst you disrobe?” she asked, affecting an exaggerated upper-class air. She chuckled. “All the same, aren’t you, the lower classes, such prudes!” As if a switch had been turned off, her smile turned into a scowl. “You’re not going anywhere. Strip off, I say—right here, this instant—or you’ll feel the Cruciatus Curse as you’ve never felt it before!” Her wand hand quivered with excitement. “I wouldn’t test my patience, if I were you. I haven’t done a really satisfying Cruciatus in—oh, at least an hour!”

Arthur sighed. There was nothing for it, then. He had never experienced the Cruciatus Curse, and quite truthfully he was in no hurry to experience it now. Reluctantly he removed his cloak and began to unbutton the tweed jacket he wore beneath it. Bella tapped her toe impatiently, causing his fingers to move a bit faster. There went his jacket—his shirt—his shoes and socks—and finally, blushing crimson, he dropped his trousers and underwear onto the pile of garments on the floor.

He stood there completely, gloriously nude, and stared straight ahead. He had no wish to see Bella’s smirk or the Death Eaters laughing and pointing, or even the pitying looks of the other prisoners. He wondered miserably whether they too had had to submit to this public humiliation, and supposed it was likely. Perhaps, now that Bella had had her fun, he would at least be given a covering like the other men wore.

But in fact, Bella was not done with him. Not by a long chalk. She descended the platform until she was on a level with Arthur and walked around him slowly, examining every bit of him—with accompanying commentary.

“Shoulders: strong enough. Bit of flab there—” she poked his midsection with her wand, and he winced— “we’ll have to do something about that, won’t we? Legs: rather good, actually. Hmm, now this is quite lovely.” She ran her hand slowly down his buttocks and he jolted in shock at the unexpected contact. Bella tittered. “Calm down, no one’s hurting you. Yet.” She continued round to stand in front of him.

“Well, so far, so good. Now, what should I do with you? I wonder. You are rather old for my taste—“

For her—oh good gods, Arthur thought. Yes, well, thank Merlin for that!

“—but there may be a bit of fire in you yet, hmm? Perhaps we should find out—” she pressed up against him and spoke the last two words so close to his lips that he could feel the warm moisture from her breath— “right now.”

Her left hand disappeared between them and he looked down in disbelief as she took his balls in her hand. His cock, which until now had behaved as well as could reasonably be expected, instantly sprang to life, jutting out and upward in a display of which even a younger man would have been justifiably proud.

Bella’s eyes sparkled. She looked intently into Arthur’s eyes and squeezed his balls carefully but with increasing firmness. A sort of whistling noise came from his parted lips, and his face turned a deep, purplish red.

Suddenly Bella released his balls and grasped the base of his cock. Arthur looked as if he might faint at any moment. She squeezed him in her fist and slowly moved her hand up and down the length of his impressive erection.

“Well?” she taunted. “What’s the matter, then? Nothing to say? So righteous, aren’t you...such an upstanding citizen.” She tweaked his cock as she spoke, and Arthur grimaced, but he said nothing.

Quite truthfully, he was beyond speech just now. Bella’s hand moved up and down his cock, increasing in speed until it was a blur of motion. She never took her gaze from his, and as much as he wanted to close his eyes—or look away, or sink into the floor, or Disapparate to some faraway place where no one knew him, perhaps—he stood rooted to the floor, lost in the depths of her black eyes. The whistling sound turned into a low, continuous moan.

Then Bella’s hand abruptly stopped. Arthur’s breathing was so heavy it almost sounded as if he was sobbing, and his eyes fluttered shut in a kind of agonized relief. But not for long. Bella slowly rubbed her thumb across the wetness that had become smeared across the head of his cock—once...twice—he squeezed his eyes shut more tightly and seemed to stop breathing altogether, and on the third pass his body gave an enormous involuntary jerk. His eyes flew open and with a yell he spurted into the air, his body convulsing in paroxysm after paroxysm as he spent himself, his expression a confusion of triumph, shame, and despair.

When he had recovered enough to open his eyes, his knees so weak he was afraid he might collapse, it was to see Bella licking his cum off her hand. He stared at her, bewildered and thoroughly appalled at what had just transpired. She smiled wickedly and motioned off to one side, and Lucius stepped forward. They conferred briefly; then, after aiming a quick Scourgify at the mess on the floor, Lucius took Arthur’s arm and led him, tottering rather stiffly, over to the prisoners who waited with sympathetic faces at the side of the room. Arthur was given one of the rough garments, which he hurriedly donned although it soon became obvious that it wouldn’t do much to protect him from the chill and dampness of the dungeons.

Bella returned to her throne to address them. “No doubt you are all wondering about the purpose of this little interview. It’s very simple: I am the Queen. There is no one above me—certainly not my undearly departed husband, not even Voldemort himself. There is no longer a man in charge of my life.” She looked around at the Death Eaters. “I hope none of you harbor any delusions along that line. You are Voldemort’s creatures, not mine. You continue to exist as long as I say—as long as you prove loyal to me. If I hear any slightest whisper of mutiny among you—and believe that I will hear it—you will be lucky if you only end up like them.” She nodded at the prisoners.

“No, rather than being ruled by men, it is my turn to rule them—to see men cowering at my feet, awaiting my decision as to their fates. It’s high time the men of wizarding Britain bowed before a superior power. The Ministry—pah! Ineffectual, doddering old fools. Built by men, run by men. But no more.” She had a dreamy smile on her face as she imagined it; Arthur thought to himself that Ron would have called it “creepy”.

Bella went on, “I have no intention of allowing any man to dictate my life and my business; instead, I will dictate theirs. In fact, I will make it their business to submit to my dictates. To that end, I intend to keep a harem—a male harem. You lot—” she indicated the prisoners— “will be in charge of my harem slaves. I have learned through hard experience that no man can truly be said to be trustworthy, but the four of you come as close to it as any I know. You have sterling—if boring—reputations amongst your peers. Were you of Darker persuasion, I might be tempted to keep you around me in some more noteworthy capacity.”

There was some muttering among the Death Eaters, and she looked at each one in turn. “You disagree with your Queen’s judgement?” she said, narrowing her eyes the tiniest bit. There was a startled shuffling among them and much backpedaling ensued, with exclamations of “No, Your Majesty!” and “Certainly not, Your Majesty!” and even a “Well, you’re the Queen, after all.” (That one caused her to lift one perfect eyebrow in displeasure; and Dolohov, who had uttered it, ducked his head and edged round behind Lucius in the hope of avoiding Bella’s sharp gaze.)

“So,” she continued, “instead, you will be the keepers of my harem.” She giggled. “My harem eunuchs, you see?”

The men exchanged startled glances. Eunuchs?

Bella saw, and chuckled. “Well—I didn’t mean that literally, of course. But—” she twirled a lock of hair around one finger as she considered— “now that I think of it, perhaps it would be a good idea. We don’t have to go to any...messy extremes; I do have an expert potions master in my service, after all.” She threw a quick glance at one of the Death Eaters and he acknowledged it with the barest of nods.

Arthur saw the tell-tale greasy black locks, and thought, Snape! So he’s declared for the Dark side after all.

“My house-elves and personal servants are reassigning space within the castle according to my orders,” Bella said. “You will be shown to the harem and assigned your duties presently. I will be busy settling the affairs of wizarding Britain, in any case,” she said offhandedly, “so I will give you—shall we say three days?—in which to prepare, and then I will make my first...selection. Oh, I can’t wait!” she squealed, and she laughed maniacally.

Three days to “settle the affairs” of wizarding Britain? Arthur thought, somewhat dazed. Is she crazy? Then he heard his own thought, and laughed mirthlessly to himself.

Suddenly a crafty gleam came into Bella’s eyes. “Mind, you are slaves now,” she warned, “and slaves are not to practice magic. I’ve had powerful wards put in place to prevent the use of magic within the castle by all except my most faithful servants. You serve at my will...my pleasure. Do not forget that. I will not accept anything but your complete loyalty. Anything less is punishable by death. Oppose me and die.” She said it so matter-of-factly that she might have been announcing she would have roast beef for dinner.

While Arthur was glad he wouldn’t have to return to the dungeons in his current state of dress—or undress—he was dismayed that he couldn’t go back and reassure his sons and Harry that Bella had no immediate plans for their execution—at least he hoped not; he wasn’t absolutely certain in Harry’s case.

Then again, he didn’t know how he could possibly have told them what she did have planned for them. And how he was to explain his own status—he shuddered. Well, they would know everything soon enough.

Arthur couldn’t understand why, with the power at Bella’s disposal, she evidently meant to use it for nothing more than to imprison a collection of male prisoners and use them to satiate her sexual desires whenever the mood took her. But then, he reminded himself yet again, this was Bellatrix Lestrange. There was no knowing what went on in her twisted mind, and no point in trying to guess what notion might take her fancy at any given moment. Come to that—and this was something he very much hoped would be the case—this whole harem business might prove to be nothing more than an impulse; maybe they would all be released and reunited with their families before long.

Again he thought of Molly. He blushed to think of his lack of control when Bella had manipulated him into coming, right there in front of friends and enemies alike—and in the Great Hall of Hogwarts Castle, no less! He hoped Molly would never know of it, whether he ever got back home or not.

Lucius hurried them through the silent castle. They were headed in the direction of Gryffindor tower, if Arthur wasn’t mistaken—his old stamping grounds during his Hogwarts days. In spite of the circumstances, his nostalgic side rather looked forward to seeing the old common room again, and the dormitories.

He spared a thought for the boys in their dungeon cell far below, and the others who were about to become Bella’s slaves. But the same thought came to him as before: Let tomorrow take care of itself.

And for now, he had to be satisfied with that.
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Bella's Harem