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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
- 5
- 6
- 7
Bella awaited them on her throne, seated sideways with her legs slung over one padded arm and the hand holding her wand trailing just above the floor. She couldn’t have looked more bored if she’d tried. Several Death Eaters stood about, laughing and talking casually amongst themselves. A row of naked, shame-faced young men stood off to one side of the room.

Even more startling was the sight of three girls standing at the opposite side of the room who appeared not to see the naked, shame-faced young men...or much of anything else, really. They stared blankly into space with glassy eyes, not seeming to notice anything out of the ordinary. As the boys drew closer they could identify Daphne Greengrass, Pansy Parkinson, and Penelope Clearwater.

There was a stifled gasp from Alfred when he saw Daphne. “Oh, gods!” he muttered. “What on earth—I thought she was sent home with her mother!” He watched his daughter anxiously, but she made no sign of recognition, evinced no curiosity about the new arrivals, didn’t even look their way.

“What’s wrong with them?” Ron whispered, eyeing the girls in bewilderment. “They look kind of spacy. I bet she’s got ‘em drugged or something.”

“It’s the Imperius Curse, I think,” Harry whispered back, and Ron’s mouth formed a round O of surprise. He couldn’t imagine what possible function a bunch of girls under the Imperius Curse could be supposed to fulfill at a gathering like this.

“Wait—Parkinson and Greengrass are Slytherins, aren’t they?” Ron asked. “Wonder why she’d put them under the Imperius. I mean, she’s a Slytherin, isn’t she? You’d think they’d do anything she wanted, right? And Penelope—oh, man. I wonder where Percy is? He’s not going to like this at all.”

When Bella caught sight of Harry she sat up and scooted to the edge of the throne, her eyes sparkling with renewed excitement. Conversation ceased as everyone realized that here was the real attraction of the day: Harry Potter, about to submit (and what a delicious thought that was!) to the Queen’s test of his...assets. The great Harry Potter, about to become a bed-slave to the most powerful woman in all of wizarding Britain, Queen Bella. It was quite a concept.

Of course, she had no intention of not choosing him. In fact, she could hardly wait to have him all to herself, in private, behind the closed doors of her lavish and very well-appointed suite. A little revenge, a lot of sex, an absolutely gorgeous young man who she would have bet her wand was really a virgin, as he’d claimed when she pushed him on the point. It was almost too good to be true.

For now, Harry remained blissfully unaware of any of this.

Lucius quickly lined up the eunuchs below the platform, for the best possible view of the proceedings. Then he snapped his fingers and Harry, Ron, and Fred came forward. Lucius quickly ran through the same explanation he’d given all the other slaves—that they would serve as bed-slaves of the harem should the Queen so choose and castle slaves if she did not, yada yada, blah blah blah.

As he had during the Sorting ceremony in his first year, Harry found himself squeezing his eyes shut tight and wishing very hard. He repeated desperately under his breath, “Not the harem—please, not the harem!” Alas, there would be no Sorting Hat to grant his wish this time.

When he heard Bella gave the command that after the last few rounds was now eagerly anticipated by the audience, Harry’s eyes flew open in shock. No, he couldn’t have heard right. Bella had sooo not just said—

“Strip!”

Harry, Ron, and Fred stared at her for a moment in disbelief, and a smirk began to form on Fred’s face. He glanced over and saw Arthur watching him and trying, not very subtly, to warn him not to give some silly, flippant response, and the smirk died half-formed. Fred mimed incredulity, but Arthur sighed and gave a tiny shrug and a nod in Bella’s direction.

Meanwhile, from the look on Ron’s face it appeared that he was about to protest. Strongly. Harry nudged him and nodded toward the group of naked boys, nearly all of whom, he had noticed in dismay, were fellow students from Hogwarts. He knew most of them—had played Quidditch with them, lounged about in the Gryffindor common room with them, had classes with them.

Bella rolled her eyes and rose silently from the throne. “Oh, boys,” she trilled. All eyes immediately swung in her direction. “Yes, that’s better. Now, I really don’t know what they’ve been teaching you in school, but here’s a little piece of advice: when your Queen tells you to do something, you do it. You do it now. Do you understand?” She pouted in mock disappointment. “I’d be ever so sorry if I had to torture you for failing to obey a command. Really I would.” Ron thought resentfully that she didn’t look sorry at all.

“Now, let’s try again. Do you remember what I asked you to do?” She pointed her wand at Ron and he gulped.

“S-strip?” he stammered. It was all he could do to get the word out. He threw a nervous glance at the three girls who still stood frozen, oblivious to the proceedings.

“Ah, so you did hear me. Well, then?” She looked at the boys and raised her wand slowly. Having already seen what that wand could do, Harry hastily toed off his shoes and peeled his socks off, letting them fall where they would.

“That’s it,” Bella said. Her voice was brightly encouraging, but her eyes had a strange, hot glitter to them that was distinctly unsettling. She motioned for them to continue and then went back to her throne, looking completely relaxed and ready to enjoy the entertainment.

Ron and Fred followed Harry’s example, starting with the more inocuous items of clothing. Ones that, when removed, didn’t really show anything that mattered. And they did it as slowly as humanly possible—until a loud throat-clearing from the throne urged them to better efforts.

Fred took the lead. Apparently he had decided to go with the direct approach: to brazen it out. Looking Bella straight in the eye, he ripped his shirt open in a dramatic gesture, causing a rain of little buttons to shower the nearest onlookers. There was scattered applause among the other naked boys, but it was quickly suppressed when the guards turned and glared at them. Fred flung the ruined shirt aside and, with a little smile that was echoed by the one on Bella’s face, wrenched the button on his jeans waistband out of the buttonhole and unzipped the jeans with a flourish. He grasped the waistband at the sides and in one fluid motion bent over and pulled them down; then he stepped out of them (he’d gone commando that day, as he did more often than not) and kicked them away. He planted his feet firmly on the floor in a wide stance, hiding absolutely nothing, and crossed his arms over his chest, as if defying her to comment.

Bella gave a slight nod. “Bold,” she murmured, amused. She looked at Harry and Ron who, along with everyone else, had been riveted in place by Fred’s grand performance. She didn’t say anything, just looked. Finally, alerted by the sound of her toe tapping on the floor, Harry glanced at her and belatedly realized that she was waiting for him and Ron to get on with it.

“Come on,” he muttered, “let’s just get it over with.” So they, too, removed their shirts and jeans and underwear and stood there in all their naked glory, trying not to meet anyone’s eyes and wondering what on earth to expect next.

Bella motioned to the Death Eater nearest the three girls, and he led them over and positioned one girl in front of each of the boys: Daphne with Ron, Penelope with Fred, and Pansy with Harry. Harry forgot his determination not to look at anyone and looked searchingly at Pansy's blank face; yes, he would have bet his last Galleon that she was under the Imperius Curse.

The Death Eater said, “Showtime, ladies.” As if this was a code of some kind, the girls obediently let go of the heavy cloaks they’d been clutching around themselves and let them fall.

Pansy might have been a snot, a snob, a snitch, a bitch, and a lot of other nasty things, but you had to say one thing for her: she had a magnificent body. It was hardly noticeable most of the time, she was so busy trading insults with people she thought were beneath her and, of course, pestering the life out of Draco, who led her on shamelessly just for the fun of it. But there was a decent body under the robes, Harry saw now, and one well worth taking the time to look at.

Harry knew his mouth was hanging open and that he probably looked like a complete idiot, but he couldn’t seem to stop staring at Pansy. He soon became aware, however, that his eyes were not the only part of his body that appreciated her finer points. Things in other areas were waking up rapidly—things that would have been better off asleep—and he was rapidly attaining a state he would have much preferred to only attain when he was alone in his room, in bed, with the curtains securely closed. He glanced around furtively, but of course there was nothing to hide behind, nowhere to escape the hundreds of eyes that were avidly observing his discomfiture...and enjoying it.

He wasn’t the only one having difficulties, however. It had been common knowledge in their dormitory at Hogwarts that Ron spent most of his waking hours thinking about sex. He was just as mystified about women in general as the rest of his friends, but women and sex—and sex with women (and sometimes even women with women, although he never mentioned this to anyone because he could imagine what they’d think of him if they knew, and it was certainly nothing good)—fascinated him endlessly.

So, while to be standing naked in the midst of so many people, all of whom seemed to be staring at him—and not only that, but to be faced with the wet-dream-inducing Daphne Greengrass who was, to his amazement, every bit as naked as he was—well, he wasn’t sure whether it was the stuff of dreams or of nightmares. Perhaps a little of both. Well, but look—on the other hand, they were both naked; there he was...and there she was...could it be that he was finally going to get lucky, and with La Greengrass, of all people? He—every bit of him—positively quivered with eagerness to get on with it. (Whatever “it” was.)

Fred, meanwhile, was more than a little dismayed to find his naked self face to face—and chest to breast, and...well, with other bits matching up nicely as well—with none other than the fiancée of his estranged brother Percy. Well, this certainly ought to help with family relations—not, he thought, once he got over the first shock of seeing Penelope’s unclothed self.

And then, if you please, it got worse. You wouldn’t have thought it could...but it did.

The Death Eater made a twirling motion with his wand, and the three girls began to undulate where they stood, twirling and shimmying for all the world as if they were exotic dancers and it was Nude Revue Night at the Tinley Street Saloon and Dance Hall.

The boys’ eyes gradually turned nearly as glassy as the girls’, albeit for a different reason. So much pale, shimmering flesh—so close, within an arm’s length. But not one of them moved to reach out and touch it. So Bella upped the ante.

After a quick glance in her direction, the Death Eater made another motion with his wand, flipping it up and down a couple of times. Immediately the girls started to hop up and down. It was quite the show-stopper, all those breasts jiggling up and down; soft, firm bums ditto. Ron nearly forgot to breathe until Fred fortunately glanced over to see what effect all this was having on the other two boys and noticed Ron’s face turning an unusually dark shade of red (even for him) and jabbed him with a pointed forefinger in the ribs. Ron hardly seemed to notice—at least he didn’t take his eyes off Daphne for even a second—but he did start breathing again.

Harry was a bit worried about Ron, completely apart from the not-breathing thing. For the last couple of minutes Ron’s hands had been sort of twitching, and Harry was afraid that any minute he might reach out and grab Daphne. He wasn’t sure why that was such a bad idea, but he was pretty sure it was. Some inner voice warned him to not touch Pansy, no matter what. He wasn’t sure what all this was about, to start with, and not knowing made him very uneasy. But in any case he certainly couldn’t see how feeling up Pansy Parkinson while she was under the Imperius Curse would help their situation. And to be quite honest, he wasn’t perfectly sure she wouldn’t know he’d done it, and get revenge on him later. Pansy was quite famously vengeance-driven.

Bella fumed inwardly. Most of the other slaves-to-be had reacted predictably, showing every evidence of normal libidos and a great deal of enthusiasm for what they thought was being granted them. But these three...they were remaining annoyingly stoic, even when faced with the most tempting female flesh (besides her own, of course) she could procure from among the female prisoners and Dark families who still had living daughters once the war was over.

So Bella turned it up yet another notch. She wondered how far she could go before they broke. She nodded to the Death Eater, and he made a gesture clearly indicating that the girls should make physical contact with their victims. Pansy, Daphne, and Penelope advanced on the boys, who could have been under a Petrifying charm for all they tried to move away.

Showing no evidence of shyness—since, of course, they couldn’t while under the Imperius Curse—the girls moved right in close to Harry, Ron, and Fred, and started to rub against them.

Harry groaned audibly. Pansy rubbed those gorgeous breasts against his chest, then she reached around to cup his ass in both hands and ground her crotch against his cock. He was almost seeing stars, his cock ached so badly. He didn’t know what Bella was after, but he hoped he wouldn’t disgrace himself in front of all these people...who he had almost forgotten about as he watched Pansy shimmy and prance. Now he looked around at the watchers and observed their varying reactions to what was happening on the platform.

As Pansy nibbled on his neck, Harry gazed over her shoulder, trying desperately not to react any more than he could help. His eyes lit on Bella, whose hands were curled tightly over the ends of the throne’s armrests as she leaned forward, a lustful expression in her eyes. Weird, Harry thought.

In an effort to distract himself further—

—oh gods, Pansy’s skin is so soft—

—he looked round at the rest of the people in the Great Hall. Arthur was determinedly averting his eyes from the proceedings; the three men with him looked vaguely embarrassed, as if they didn’t want to look but couldn’t help themselves. Some of the other naked boys grouped along the side wall were taking advantage of the fact that no one was paying them any particular attention just then; more than one hand had stolen down to furtively touch an engorged cock or soothe a pair of aching balls. One or two were openly masturbating. Harry wondered vaguely what would happen if they were discovered.

Across the room, the reaction among the Death Eaters was just as lustful, if somewhat more subtle. One male Death Eater rested an arm casually along the shoulder of a woman next to him, and as Harry watched, the man’s hand stole down to toy with the nipple that stood out prominently from her robes; another female Death Eater licked, nibbled, and blew into the ear of the man beside her, and his eyes closed as he shuddered in enjoyment.

Harry’s attention was abruptly brought back to Pansy when she suddenly gave a loud moan. He looked down at her, startled. She was doing the oddest thing—inserting her fingers into her mouth one by one, sucking them so hard that her cheeks went concave, then ever so slowly drawing them back out of her mouth. In...out...in...out.... Harry shifted his weight restlessly. Was it considerably warmer in the room than it had been a moment ago? Funny, he’d had no idea something like that could be erotic, but he had to admit it was effective. His cock was as hard as iron, and every time Pansy moved against him he was afraid he was going to explode. He’d been leaking pre-cum for some time now, and drops of it were smeared across her belly and in the thatch of dark hair below.

Harry looked over to see that Daphne and Penelope were mirroring Pansy’s actions; Ron and Fred seemed to be struggling every bit as much as Harry to keep their composure. Thinking about it, Harry wasn’t really sure why he had to keep himself from coming; he just had a vague sense that he should resist as long as he could. Maybe it was because he wanted to thwart Bella in whatever it was she was trying to make him do; or maybe he just didn’t want it to happen for the delectation of a lustful crowd.

He peeked at Fred, who looked over just then and caught Harry’s eye. Penelope was doing her utmost—which was saying quite a bit—to engage Fred’s attention and entice him into coming. Like Pansy, she moaned and panted and feverishly ran her hands all over Fred—except, Harry noticed suddenly, realizing it was the same with all three girls—not once had she actually touched his cock with her hands.

That interesting fact registered briefly, but it was quickly pushed aside when a new move was added to the girls’ repertoire. This time it was Daphne who led off. She moaned loudly and then, leaning against Ron as if for support, she ran a hand down over her breasts and stomach to the—

—shaved? Why on earth would she shave her—

—delicate lips of her own sex, and slipped two fingers inside. Ron looked almost hypnotized as he watched intently, waiting for the fingers to reappear. Which they did a moment later, coated with Daphne’s own glistening juices. She made a sound that was more sob than moan, and Ron whimpered (he would have denied it stoutly had anyone mentioned it, but it really was a whimper) in response.

There was a muffled cry from Alfred, but Arthur put his arm round the distraught father’s shoulder and gave an empathetic squeeze, and Alfred subsided into soft weeping, burying his face in his hands. Marshall, meanwhile, had his eyes firmly glued to first one cock, then another—completely disregarding the girls except when they blocked his view of the luscious male flesh on display. He was rubbing his crotch energetically, not trying to hide the fact, and to judge from his expression he was becoming increasingly frustrated when the usual response produced by energetic rubbing was not forthcoming. The harder he rubbed, the more pained and desperate he seemed to become. More than one Death Eater, fully aware of the cause of his frustration, pointed and snickered; even Bella noticed and directed a smug nod at Snape.

Daphne brought her soaked fingers up to Ron’s nostrils and his eyes nearly crossed when he caught her scent on them. His head leaned closer...his mouth opened...but just as he was about to capture them with his lips, Daphne put her fingers in her own mouth and sucked them noisily, leaving Ron standing there gaping stupidly.

It was too much to expect that someone as constantly steeped in sexual thoughts as Ron would be able to reist the heady combination of sights, sounds, smells, and sensations that were bombarding him. He gave a sudden strangled gasp and, completely without benefit of manual stimulation, jet after jet of milky white fluid flew from his beleaguered cock. A good deal of it hit Daphne, but she didn’t seem to care or even notice. She did, however, stop moaning as soon as he came, and stood quietly docile before him once more.

Fred was having difficulties of his own. Of the three of them, he was the only one with any very extensive sexual experience. He had thought he was a man of the world, at least enough to not be swayed by a pretty face and an attractive body if he didn’t wish to be. Like Harry, he meant to delay the outcome Bella so obviously wanted—indefinitely if he could—but Fred’s only motive was to flout her authority. However, Penelope was making it increasingly difficult to resist, or even to remember why he would want to.

As she laid one hand on his chest and sent her other hand questing between her legs, where Fred would have given just about anything to go himself just then—

—no, she’s Percy’s, I can’t. Percy loves her. Oh gods, I wish it was my hand down there—

—his subconscious, which had no regard for rules of proper conduct and no intention of passing up the opportunity to respond to the seductive efforts being made on his behalf, gave an unmistakable thumbs-up to his cock, which said, “Finally!” and jerked once, then sent copious amounts of cum flying through the air, following Ron’s impressive example.

When it was over and he’d stopped seeing stars (he was sure he’d never come that hard before), Fred straightened up and directed a defiant look at Bella. Then he deliberately pulled Penelope to him in a tight embrace, trying to see if he could get any genuine reaction out of her at all. The Death Eater directing the girls became suspicious and dragged Fred away; when he looked back at Penelope he saw that she still wore the same calm, unruffled expression as the other girls.

Harry, alone of the three of them, had not yet succumbed to the charms of his intended seductress; but surprisingly, it seemed Bella had seen enough. She rose from the throne and motioned impatiently to the waiting Death Eater, who herded the girls away. Harry’s cock still stood at attention, hard and aching and unsatisfied. The onlookers seemed disappointed that his humiliation had not been complete. Bella, however, looked satisfied enough.

“Excellent,” she said, her voice thick with lust. “Your Queen is very pleased.” She walked down the steps of the dais and went to Harry. “I was assured you were a virgin—yet your control is magnificent.” Her eyes narrowed. “Perhaps a little too magnificent. Tell me, Harry, are you still untouched? Shall I be your first? Hmm?” She caressed his cheek and suddenly her hand gripped his chin almost viciously, but her lustful expression never changed. “Will I be your first, Harry?”

Harry stared into the black depths of her eyes and did not even consider lying. “Yes,” he muttered resently, and he jerked away from her hand.

“Yes, what?” Bella persisted.

“Yes, I’m a virgin,” Harry ground out. There was a chorus of sighs—some female, some male—from the Death Eater ranks, but Harry ignored them.

Bella turned to address the eunuchs. “See that he stays that way,” she warned them, “or you will all pay for it. No one touches him but me.” The four of them nodded, as she seemed to be waiting for some kind of acknowledgement.

Bella indicated the group of naked and now shivering young men. “I’ve made my choice. They are acceptable as harem slaves, and—” she nodded at Harry, Ron, and Fred— “these. In two days I will make my first selection. See that they are ready.”

She eyed Harry hungrily, and his heart pounded. The anticipation of being with an older, obviously experienced woman warred in him with fear, because that woman would be Bella. What would she do to him once she had him alone? Physically she was beautiful, there was no denying it—alluring, exciting, and unabashedly sexual. But Harry couldn’t ever forget she was still Bellatrix Lestrange—Death Eater extraordinaire, Voldemort’s one-time right hand, crazy as a fox, and as unpredictable as they came.

If she grew bored with him—or, Merlin forbid, he angered her in some way—well, he just wished she wasn’t quite so fixated on him. He felt instinctively that the forefront of Bella’s thoughts was not a safe place to be.

Well, for now he would just have to be careful and keep his wits about him. Surely this ridiculous state of affairs couldn’t continue forever. Someone was bound to get hold of a wand or escape, and the rest of them would make the best use of it they could. Maybe there would be something Dobby could do to help, although Harry was reluctant to involve the elf in anything that could endanger him or get him ejected from the castle. Dobby could potentially be very useful, and Harry intended to be extremely careful with him.

When he tuned back in Bella was dismissing the slaves in care of the eunuchs to make their way to the harem. A small group of disgruntled-looking boys was being led off in another direction, presumably to be trained in the care of the castle and grounds. The unchosen. The lucky ones, Harry thought.

Arthur and the other eunuchs went over to Harry, Ron, and Fred. Arthur looked as if he was near tears, as did Alfred as he watched Daphne being led away with Pansy and Penelope. It had shocked Alfred to the core to see his daughter there, obviously under the Imperius Curse, and his heart had nearly failed him when he saw how she was to be used. Like Arthur, he had refused to watch her involuntary seduction of Ron. A couple of times he had lifted his eyes when the crowd made an especially satisfied noise, but when he could stand it no longer he clapped a hand over his eyes and tried not to hear his daughter’s lustful moans as she did things no father wanted to see his daughter do.

Arthur had moved over a bit to press his shoulder against Alfred’s. Buck up, it said. We’re here for you. But it was little enough comfort, and Arthur knew it. He, too, had no wish to see his children—or anyone else’s—in such a situation. Unlike the boys, Arthur had a fairly good idea of the reason for Bella’s insistence on this demonstration with the potential harem slaves. It was just another frivolous desire of hers—not merely to choose the slaves, because they had more or less already been vetted by Lucius.

No, she was merely indulging her curiosity as to the demeanor and looks and behavior of the slaves she would be taking to her bed—especially Harry. There was, of course, the irresistible opportunity to humble them all by means of this very public form of humiliation; but mostly, as with every other urge she had, it was simply something Bella wanted, and what Bella wanted she got—or if she didn’t, someone paid dearly for it. Well, now she’d got Harry Potter, and Arthur suspected she wouldn’t tire of her new plaything any time soon.

Like Harry himself, Arthur felt it was only a matter of time before a rebellion of some kind erupted. He didn’t know whether it would be in the harem, or in the castle at all; maybe the wizarding populace that remained would muster the wherewithal to overthrow Bella and the Death Eaters for good. After all, there were a lot of good, strong witches out there who Bella had for some inconceivable reason allowed to have their wands returned to them. Hermione, the smartest witch of their time; Ginny, with her superior hexing abilities; Molly was no slouch, either, when it came to battle. He knew none of them would be meekly sitting at home, waiting for Bella to ruin what was left of wizarding Britain. He just hoped that a rebellion, however it came about, wasn’t too far off; he didn’t know how much of harem life he could stomach.

Snape was right: the Pas Potens potion he’d brewed for them must have been extra-strong. Arthur had done his level best to remain oblivious to the goings-on in the Great Hall, but in spite of his best efforts he’d come out of it with the worst case of blue-balls he could ever have imagined. He wasn’t sure he’d ever walk properly again. Sorry, Mollywobbles, he apologized mentally. I tried my damnedest.

He sighed. “All ready? Come along, then. It’s a harem rule that bed-slaves—” he waved down the group protest at the title— “yes, yes, I know, but we've been told that’s what you’re to be called, so get used to it. Bed-slaves are to remain naked at all times except when you go to be with the Queen or attend ceremonial functions. Oh, cheer up, lads; there’s a warming charm on the harem, it’ll be quite comfortable. What? Well, if you’d walk just a bit faster, Ron, you’d warm up. Not much further now—just along here.”

They arrived at the harem and the boys burst into excited chatter as they looked around the reception room, eager in spite of themselves to have a look at their new quarters. Arthur held up his hands for quiet. The other eunuchs seemed all too eager to cede the position of Chief Eunuch to him, and he assumed the mantle of leadership without demur as simply one more thing that must be endured.

“We’ll show you round in a minute,” he said, “but first we have some rules to go over.” When there was a token protest, he said sternly, “The punishment for breaking rules is decided by the Queen, so I advise you to take them seriously. She might demote you to castle slave; she could decide to send you to Azkaban; or she could do something much worse. Without saying anything that could—er—be considered treasonous, I must remind you of who you are dealing with. Decisions are likely to be made on the spur of the moment, they will almost certainly involve some form of pain or other unpleasantness, and they could easily prove to be fatal.” He looked at them gravely. “I mean that quite literally.”

After a thorough going-over of the rules and a warning that the eunuchs’ quarters and the costume area were strictly off-limits, the boys were released to explore the living area. Soon a lot of splashing and hilarity was issuing from the pool.

The eunuchs looked at each other wryly. “They don’t seem overly concerned,” Marshall said, sounding a bit put out.

Edwin patted his shoulder. “Oh, let them be,” he said. “they’ll have enough to put up with soon—we ought to let them forget their cares when they’re not with her.”

But Arthur suspected at least one person was feeling anything but carefree. He went to the arched doorway that led to the living quarters and saw Harry sitting by himself on a windowseat, watching the boys in the pool with an abstracted air. There was a little worried frown on his brow and his thoughts appeared to be elsewhere. No doubt he was wondering what Bella intended for him. Well, he had one more day before he had to face it. It would have been clear to a blind man that he was to be Bella’s first victim.

One more day...and then the Dark Lady would lay claim to him.
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Bella's Harem