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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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4: Welcome to the Harem

Harry, Ron, and Fred waited for a long time, but Arthur never returned.

“D-do you think he’s—” Ron began, but his throat was so tight that his voice ended up a mere squeak, and he couldn’t finish.

“Well,” Fred said thoughtfully, “I shouldn’t think so. I mean, it’s not like Dad has a very important position or anything; he’s not worth much. Politically speaking,” he added hastily. “Bellatrix wouldn’t stand to gain anything by—” he swallowed audibly— “killing him.”

They fell silent, each nursing his own private misery. There was no smallest crack of light around the door and no window in the cell, so there was no possibility of seeing anything, however dimly, in the unrelieved blackness. None of them really felt like talking, and the food was long gone. Out of sheer boredom and weariness, one by one they fell into uncomfortable, fitful dozes.

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the castle, drastic changes had been taking place.

As they approached the moving staircases, Arthur looked around in confusion. Something was wrong—this wasn’t how it should look. Oh, the staircases still moved, but it seemed like some of the corridors were in the wrong places; most of the portraits that had covered the walls, probably for centuries, were gone, and it all looked more...open, somehow.

They came to a branch in the corridor that Arthur knew hadn’t been there during his days at Hogwarts, and Lucius indicated that they should take the right-hand turning, toward the interior of the castle. Arthur slowed and looked wistfully up at the staircase that would have taken them to Gryffindor tower. Lucius, who was looking at something else just then, walked into the back of him and snarled. He followed the direction of Arthur’s gaze and sneered, “What the devil is the matter with you, Weasley?”

“I—I thought perhaps—it looked as if we were heading for Gryffindor tower,” Arthur said, the longing in his voice clear.

“Gryffindor?” Lucius snorted. “Your precious Gryffindor no longer exists.”

Arthur stared at him in blank shock. “No longer—what on earth do you mean, it no longer exists?”

“Bel—the Queen is having the castle reorder its interior to suit her...special needs,” Lucius said impatiently. “Or weren’t you listening?” he inquired in a sarcastic tone. “Now, move—if you know what’s good for you.”

Arthur stumbled to catch up to the other three men, his progress frequently aided by the application of Lucius’s wand in the small of his back—he was getting heartily sick of that—and they continued on down seemingly endless corridors. They passed no one—no teachers (they had all been evicted from the school and were presumably off packing up their belongings in preparation for departure—at least those who were still sufficiently able to do so after the battle), no other Death Eaters, no house-elves or ghosts, no one.

“This can’t be right,” puffed Marshall Abbott, Hannah’s father. “None of this looks familiar at all—I’m all turned around! Where on earth are we? Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” Lucius murmured.

They turned one more corner and suddenly the corridor opened onto an unfamiliar room. It was quite spacious, and an enormous chandelier hung suspended from the high, domed ceiling. The men stared in awe. All of them had attended Hogwarts in their school days, but they had never seen anything like this in the castle before.

“What on earth—” sputtered Edwin Davies.

Lucius smiled. Truth be told, he was rather enjoying himself. Until Bella did something that inconvenienced him more than he was willing to put up with and the inevitable butting of heads occurred between them, he was perfectly happy in his role as chief advisor and was even rather enjoying showing off the castle to former denizens. Bella had really outdone herself; her taste definitely ran to a grand scale. It was rather fun, really, watching his old schoolmates’ reactions to their new surroundings.

The room gave an overall impression of warmth and light. Instead of the ancient gray stone of the rest of the castle, this reception room—for that was its purpose—was faced entirely, floor to ceiling, in cream-colored marble veined with gold. The interior of the dome was lined entirely in gold leaf, so that the light from the many candles in the chandelier reflected off it almost as brightly as if it were Muggle electrical lighting. An elegant desk stood in one corner with a comfortable-looking chair behind it and there was a much grander, throne-like affair against the far wall, facing out into the room.

Lucius made a grand sweeping gesture with his arm. “This is the reception room. When the Queen selects a companion from the harem to join her—which will happen daily, I would think—either a servant or I will report here to convey her orders to you. Or, if the Queen so desires, she may on occasion visit the harem herself; the throne is to be reserved for her sole use as she inspects her slaves or confers with her eunuchs.” (Arthur was not alone in wishing people would stop using that word.)

There were large, arched doorways on either side of the throne, and Lucius indicated that they should follow him through the one on the left. The initial length of corridor that was visible looked rather dim and they entered it to find that it led to an even larger space than the reception room, lit by candles in wall sconces every ten feet or so. Comfortable-looking sleeping pallets were set a few feet apart in two long rows, one along each of the two longer walls.

“These are the slaves’ sleeping quarters,” Lucius said. His mouth twitched as he told Arthur, “I imagine it’ll be quite like home for your son—you all share the one bedroom, don’t you, Weasley?” Arthur flushed but refused to rise to the bait. “And Potter,” Lucius continued, “I hear he slept in a cupboard under the stairs in his Muggle relations’ home for the first ten years of his life.” He surveyed the large open area. “I suppose this won’t be quite as...cozy...but it will have to do.”

Alfred Greengrass, who had been silently counting the pallets, turned to Lucius. “But there are only twenty beds,” he said, sounding bewildered. “There were far more than twenty male prisoners, even not counting the four of us. What do you intend to do with the rest of them, might I ask?” he inquired, with a suspicious edge to his voice.

Lucius replied, “It’s very simple. The remaining older men—there really weren’t that many who weren’t injured, you know—have been sent to Azkaban—”

“And the injured ones?” Alfred persisted.

Lucius’ lips tightened at the interruption. “They have been...dealt with,” he said, with a put-upon sigh that seemed to say he really didn’t have all day to answer frivolous questions like this.

“Dealt with?” Edwin repeated sharply. “What—exactly—does that mean?” Lucius folded his arms and just stared at him, tapping the fingers of one hand gently against his other arm. Edwin, shaken, was the first to look away, not attempting to hide the moisture in his eyes.

“Come now,” Lucius said briskly. “They were wounded anyway; they were of no use to the Queen in that state. You must admit they’re better off than those who’ve been sent to Azkaban. No? Well, up to you, I suppose.” He spoke with the air of one who couldn’t understand why anyone would argue with such a perfectly reasonable explanation, but a slight tinge of color along his cheekbones made Arthur wonder whether he really felt as blasé about the whole thing as he tried to make it sound.

Alfred couldn’t help himself. “But why were we not sent along with them?”

Lucius rolled his eyes. “What—did you want to be?” He shook his head. “Do you really have to ask, Alfred? You do remember the Queen’s personal inspection of your...assets, do you not?” Alfred reddened. “Yes. Well then, that’s why you were spared,” Lucius drawled. “She does like to have well-endowed men about.”

Now Arthur rolled his eyes, but it was Edwin who asked the question that was on all their minds. “Well-endowed? But I thought—didn’t she say we were going to be turned into...eunuchs?” he asked, hating to remind Lucius of this point on the off-chance he might have forgotten all about it, but at the same time desperately wanting to know what lay in store for them—as did the others.

“Indeed she did,” Lucius assured him. “I said she likes having well-endowed men about—I didn’t say she intended to use them. She’ll have the harem slaves for that.” He looked round at all of them incredulously. “You didn’t really believe she wanted you for bed partners, did you? She was merely making a point with her little...demonstrations. Her interest is in much younger men than you.”

Edwin and the others mulled that over. It wasn’t reassuring news, from the possibly-not-being-turned-into-eunuchs point of view.

“As for the younger prisoners,” Lucius continued, “they will undergo more or less the same sort of assessment you did. If the Queen finds them suitable, they will be sent to the harem. There will be no more than twenty slaves in residence here at any given time. The young men who prove to be...less satisfactory, let us say, will be put to work in the castle and grounds. After all, this is a large castle, and a lot of upkeep is required; they might as well be of some use. Should anything unfortunate happen to any of the harem slaves—” he shot a glance at Alfred to forestall the interruption he seemed about to make— “then the slaves among the work crews can be re-evaluated if the Queen so wishes. Of course, she will also take into her service the younger boys who have been sent home with their mothers, as soon as they are of age.”

“Not if they’re lucky, she won’t,” Marshall muttered.

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong,” Lucius said. “The Queen’s emissaries are even now making the rounds of wizarding homes throughout Britain to put tracking spells on all underage male wizards that inform us where they are at any given moment. Should they exhibit the poor judgement to try to escape their duty when the time comes—or should their mothers try to hide them away, more likely—it will be easy enough to locate the boys and turn them in to Her Majesty. Of course, one wouldn’t like to rely on her lenience in such cases, but that’s nothing to do with you.

“The Queen and her assistants will interview potential harem slaves tomorrow,” he continued. “They will undergo rigorous testing to determine their fitness to serve, and by tomorrow night all of your charges will be here in the harem. You will have one day to familiarize them with the harem rules and routine—which I will show you now,” he said, anticipating Edwin’s next question, “before the Queen arrives for her inspection three days hence.” He led them to a framed parchment scroll that hung prominently next to the doorway. “This is a list of the harem rules. You can go over them after I leave. I strongly suggest that when your charges arrive you go over the rules with them very thoroughly. The Queen’s punishments tend to be rather...harsh...and ignorance of the rules will not be accepted as an excuse for breaking them. So it behooves you to know them backward and forward.”

“I’ll just quickly go over the most important ones. No one leaves the harem without a summons from the Queen or an order from one of her Death Eaters. There are wards in place to prohibit this. You can test them if you don’t believe me, but—” his expression indicated he would rather enjoy seeing them try it— “I shouldn’t think you’ll do it more than once. The result would be quite...painful.

“The prohibition on clothing for slaves I have already explained. You, the eunuchs, are exempted from this regulation since you may be required to perform duties in parts of the castle where visitors are present. Seeing half-naked, attractive young slaves walking about is no great hardship for them; but I really don’t think anyone wants to look at a bunch of naked middle-aged men.” Alfred rolled his eyes at this, not trying to hide his annoyance at the continued digs, and Lucius paused. “You have something to say?”

“Merlin’s flaming penis, Malfoy, you’re only a couple of years younger than me! Middle-aged men, indeed!”

“Ah yes...but I will not be walking through the halls of Hogwarts naked—and if I did, well....” He looked meaningfully from his own trim figure to Alfred’s slight paunch and skinny legs and fallen arches, and no words were needed to make his inference clear. Alfred snorted but subsided.

“You may think, at this time, that there is no good reason for the third rule, but pray remember it. The situation will arise at some point, given the close living quarters and the inevitable intimacy that will exist between you. There are to be absolutely no relations between harem residents: between slaves, eunuchs, or any combination thereof. The penalty is death. Do not assume no one will know; in a harem there is no way to keep secrets. They always come out.”

“Relations,” Edwin mused. “And by that you mean....”

“Oh, don’t be dim!” Lucius snapped. “You know perfectly well what I mean. The slaves exist for Her Majesty’s pleasure—not yours, and not each other’s. Any slave or eunuch caught in flagrante delicto with another harem occupant will be taken to the dungeons and held there for execution. I understand the Queen plans to make quite a spectacle of this type of event. She is rather fond of such...entertainments. Now, let us continue with the tour. I don’t have all day.”

“Where do we sleep?” Arthur asked.

Lucius said, “The eunuchs’ quarters are this way.” He led them to a set of cubicles just off the slaves’ sleeping area. Although small, they would at least afford a bit of privacy as there were curtains across the front of the spaces. Each had a bed, a small desk, and a chair. Pilfered from the school, Arthur thought. Takes what she wants and to hell with the rest, I suppose. He was still reeling from the news that the resistance fighters who were too injured to be considered of any use to Bellatrix had been summarily executed.

Lucius didn’t tarry for long but strode further along to a doorway that led into a long, narrow closet-like space hung with brightly colored fabrics. He came to a halt and waited for them to catch up. “This is the slaves’ wardrobe,” he said. “Whoever is on dressing duty will choose appropriate attire for the slaves when they are summoned to an audience with the Queen—that is, if she does not specify the outfit herself.”

“An ‘audience’?” Alfred asked. “Is that what she’s calling it?

Lucius looked him straight in the eye. “Yes, Alfred. That is what she’s calling it. Is there a problem?” When Alfred shook his head in disgust, Lucius went on, “I must repeat that the only time the harem slaves are to be clothed is when they attend the Queen in her chamber or at ceremonial functions. When they are merely spending time in the harem, they will be naked. You might have noticed that the rooms up here are quite warm, even though you only have rather light garments on.” Now that he’d pointed it out, they realized it was true. “Warming charms have been put on the harem; the prohibition on clothing for slaves under any circumstances other than a royal summons is absolute. Any slave who breaks this rule will be severely punished, and with him the eunuch who allowed him to have the clothing.” The men made no reply; there seemed to be nothing to say.

Lucius led them back to the sleeping quarters and indicated a large doorway on the opposite side of the room, flanked by latticed walls. “This corridor leads to the main area where the slaves will spend their time when they are not with the Queen or sleeping. The second doorway in the reception room leads directly here,” he said. He led the way into the largest space in the harem. Unlike the sleeping quarters there was plenty of light here due to the tall windows that marched along one wall. A large, shallow pool at one side of the room took up a sizeable amount of space. Arthur gazed at it, thinking it looked vaguely familiar; hang on, it looked suspiciously like...

“The Prefects’ bathroom!” Marshall breathed just as Arthur thought it. “But—it's been altered.”

“Yes.” Lucius nodded. “The showers and taps for scented bath water have been removed and the room itself enlarged to accommodate the slaves when they eat, exercise, bathe, and are prepared for the Queen’s summonses.”

Most of the wall around the doorway was covered with bookcases stuffed full of books and parchment scrolls. The portion of the room set aside for general use was sunken, divided from the pool level by a few broad steps. Two massage refectory tables were set up over by the windows and low tables supplied with chess sets (wizarding) and cards stood here and there, surrounded by piles of cushions for sitting. A long table at the far end of the enormous space, presumably where they would take their meals, was faced with benches along both sides. A doorway—there were no actual doors in the harem—on the far wall led into a small room, little more than an alcove, that contained two toilet stalls divided by a little wall about four feet high, barely enough for a modicum of privacy. They walked around the day room, examining everything minutely, until Lucius recalled them to the end of the room near the loos. The shower stalls had formerly been on this wall; there were still a couple of alcoves that could be curtained off, but instead of shower fixtures, each alcove held something similar to a massage table.

Lucius stood before a large row of cabinets and opened the first one. “In here you’ll find everything you need for bathing the slaves—cloths, towels, soap.” He opened the next door. “Massage oils, brushes, combs.” He paused with his hand on the handle of the third door and glanced at them. “There is one facet of harem life that some of you might not have experienced in your previous lives. Nevertheless, it will eventually become as routine as all the rest.” He opened the door to reveal shelves with a strange-looking collection of hoses, nozzles, and rubber bag-type affairs.

Marshall groaned and Lucius looked at him. “I take it you know what these are?”

Marshall nodded glumly. “Enema bags.”

“Yes. Every slave who is summoned by the Queen is required to receive an enema as part of the bathing and general preparation for their audience. She actually thought it would be quite lovely if they were all to receive one every day, but—” he coughed discreetly— “that would be rather hard going for them, so we managed to convince her that it would take a much larger staff to accomplish this on top of all your other duties.

“Now, although Marshall appears to have had some experience with enemas, I rather imagine none of you have had occasion to perform this task yourselves. Am I correct?” A collection of reluctant nods confirmed that he was. “As I thought. Your assignment for tonight is to practice—on each other.” A clamor instantly broke out.

“What?”

“Surely you can’t exp—”

“Really, Malfoy, this is too mu—”

“No one’s getting me—”

Lucius held up his hands, a wry smirk on his face. “Now, now, gentlemen—I didn’t say you had to enjoy it—although if approached in the proper frame of mind I assure you an enema can be quite enjoyable—but in order for you to not waste time fumbling about when the Queen is waiting, you will need to know how to perform the process. And you had best keep in mind that the Queen hates to be kept waiting. I’ll leave it up to you to select your own...partners.” His smirk grew; he would have loved to be a fly on the wall when they got down to business, but he had other duties to attend to that evening.

He rubbed his hands together briskly. “Well, I think that should be sufficient to start you off. And gentlemen, should you be in any doubt: the practicing is an order, not a suggestion. Of course, if you still had your wands, you could simply accomplish the task with magic (although hardly any fun), but as it is, that’s hardly possible.”

Absently, he rubbed his chin. “Let me see...what else? Ah, yes: the house-elves will bring your supper when you are ready.” He started toward the door, then swung round again. “Oh! I almost forgot—knew there was something else. This eunuch business.” There were four furtive gulps. Deep down, the men were really hoping Lucius had forgotten about that. “Enjoy yourselves tonight; tomorrow you have an appointment with the Royal Potions Master. He will administer a potion to each of you and then its...potency—” that smirk again— “for lack of a better word—will be tested.”

He strode swiftly to the exit as if anxious to be gone. Turning at the doorway, he gave them a brief nod. “Until tomorrow, gentlemen. Sleep well.” Then he was gone.

There was silence for a few moments, then Edwin hesitantly said, “Do you...think we should get started, then?”

Marshall snickered. “In a hurry to take it up the arse then, are you, Edwin?”

Edwin reddened as the others tried unsuccessfully to hide their grins. “Look, if you think he won’t find out, fine—we’ll just skip the whole thing.”

“Oh, no—after all, he did say we were to enjoy ourselves,” Marshall said virtuously. Just as Edwin opened his mouth to retort, Arthur stepped forward.

“Look here, this isn’t getting us anywhere. I suppose if we have to, we have to.” He wandered over to the open cabinet and gazed inside, fascinated in spite of himself by the tangle of odd-looking equipment. He reached in and picked out a piece of parchment that lay more or less on top of the pile. “I say, someone’s written out instructions on how to use all this stuff.” He grimaced as he read it. “Doesn’t sound terribly difficult. Not much fun, I daresay, regardless of Lucius’ opinion; but survivable, surely?” He appealed to the others, trying to look upbeat and cheerful.

Alfred, ever the good sport, went over to join him. “Here, let’s have a look at that.” He took the parchment and scanned it, and Arthur began to rummage around in the cabinet.

“Hoses...nozzles—oh my—clamps...bags...buckets....” He emerged from the cabinet holding several items and consulted the parchment again. “Yes—I believe this constitutes a complete set.” Edwin and Marshall reluctantly joined him. Alfred passed the parchment to them and dug in the cabinet for another set of paraphernalia, comparing with Arthur to make sure he had all the same items.

“So—er—I guess we’re doing this then, eh?” Edwin said nervously. “How shall we work it?”

Arthur heaved a sigh. “Come on, Edwin, old boy,” he said resignedly. “I’ll have a go at you first, then we’ll trade off. Okay?” He went over to one of the little alcoves and Edwin trailed behind him, looking decidedly unenthusiastic. He gave Arthur a rather plaintive look, but Arthur shrugged. “Welcome to the harem,” he said. He held up the enema bag. “Shall we?”

Edwin gave a crooked smile. “Be gentle with me,” he said, and he joined Arthur in the cubicle and pulled the curtain closed behind them.
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Bella's Harem