Pet

*~*~*~*~
TWELVE
*~*~*~*~
Harry stood in the shadows of the landing overlooking the grand foyer. Ministry of Magic officials and important business associates were arriving for the Annual Winter Solstice Ball held yearly at Malfoy Manor. Later that evening the Death Eaters would be holding a fete in the manor as well and some of the guests were on both lists.

A nod from Lucius sent Harry waddling down the hallway to a small parlor tucked in an out of the way corridor. The music from the chamber orchestra drifted through the rooms, getting softer as he closed several large doors leading to private family areas.

He adjusted the flowing emerald and silver brocade robe and checked the final room arrangements, ending beside a small tree decorated in fairy lights and clear glass baubles. A dull pain in his scar confirmed Lord Voldemort had arrived. Harry’s hand rested protectively on his nine-month pregnant abdomen.

Sally and another house elf finished setting up a small sideboard filled with food and non-alcoholic beverages. While Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy entertained their guests, Harry, in his role as bound concubine, was hosting several pets and undesirables who would be arriving with their master or companions for the dual festivities.

Walden McNair led Seamus into the parlor, instructed him to behave himself and left with a prolonged caress to the Irish wizard’s left buttock. Seamus stood beside the blazing fireplace, trying to get warm in the late December cold; he was dressed in not much more than a few strategically placed patches of leather and black mesh. Harry tried to ignore the cross hatch of scars and bruising decorating the young man’s body.

Sally took one look at the nearly naked young man and levitated a robe from a discrete pile in the corner. She had lived through too many of these situations to be shocked. Seamus held the robe apprehensively before finally pulling the warm garment over his goose bumps.

Harry handed him a mug of hot-spiced cider. Seamus grimaced, as he tasted the spicy beverage. “Have ye got nothing stronger?”

“Sorry, Shay. Master has not provided anything stronger than cider and butterbeer. Guess he’s afraid we’ll all get drunk and crash his party.

Seamus quirked a smile and then took in Harry’s swollen figure. He set his cider aside and wrapped his arms around his old friend.

“Merlin, Harry,” he sighed. “That bastard McNair said you were knocked up but I didn’t believe him…Thought…hoped…you might have made out all right going to a public figure like Malfoy…but obviously, he’s a sicker fuck than McNair.”

Harry hugged the taller wizard. It was good to see a friendly face even if it was the worse for wear. A few more pets began to drift into the room, in various stages of provocative dress. Harry was suddenly thankful that Lucius had never found it necessary to advertise his assets in public.

Severus arrived, leading the Patil twins into the room, one on each arm. The twins were a rarity in the room; they were not pets or concubines. They were the co-wives of Antonin Dolohov. Captured early in the war, the full-blood twins were claimed by a dark wizard intrigued by the notion of bedding a matched set. Dolohov, although ruthless in battle, was not cruel to the much younger witches. Unable to choose between them, he married them both. The sisters were not attending the formal ball in the lower level because, while Wizarding society had been forced to accept the occasional same sex pairing, they were not open minded enough to accept a triad.

The twins swept over to Harry and Seamus, hugging them both. They giggled and ran their hands over Harry’s abdomen, much to his embarrassment and Seamus’ amusement. A few more pets drifted into the room, Severus was speaking quietly to several of his former students and acquaintances.

While Sally kept the buffet table filled, they sat quietly, nibbling on delicacies and sharing news of the Wizarding world beyond their individual confinements. They spoke of the war, the recent fall of Beauxbaton and those friends confirmed to be still living. They did not want to dwell too much on their losses.

*~*~*~
Familiar voices passed the door to the small parlor.

“This house is enormous…I can’t believe we got so turned around…”

“If we follow the music, eventually we should find our way back to the ballroom.”

“Trust the Malfoy’s to have totally uncooperative portraits. I know a few of them sent us down wrong corridors on purpose.”

Harry crept to the doorway and smiled.

“Ginny? Neville? What are you doing here?”

Neville looked the same as he usually did, but Ginny was exquisite. No longer wearing second hand robes, she wasn’t the little girl Harry remembered; she had blossomed into a beautiful young woman.

As Ginny chatted excitedly with the Patil sisters and Seamus, Neville spoke with Harry.

“How is life with Millicent, Nev?”

Harry knew Neville had been wed to Millicent Bulstrode, a Slytherin girl in their year; he had seen their wedding photographs in the Daily Prophet society pages several months before.

Neville smiled a genuine smile. “On, Harry, she’s wonderful…not at all like I thought she was…She was so relieved when her father ordered her to marry me…The Bulstrode’s are neither wealthy nor particularly powerful and well…Millie’s beauty does come from within…she wasn’t going to attract anyone in the Inner Circle…she was terrified she’d end up with a sadistic prick like Marcus Flint.

“I knew Millie a little from Hogwarts…we were both really good in Herbology. Her father has hundreds of greenhouses and herbal gardens. He supplies apothecaries and potion makers throughout Western Europe….He’s teaching me the family business.”

Harry watched Ginny as she sat between the sisters and exchanged gossip. Seamus backed away from the giggles and joined Harry and Neville. Like Harry, Neville avoided looking at the Irishman’s scars.

“Ginny looks well,” Seamus said. “And from the looks of it, hooked up with a bloke with money.”

Neville’s smile faded. “They married her into the Zabini Clan…dark, but not Death Eaters. On the surface, they’re neutral, but they play both sides of the fence and usually play them against one another.”

“Is she happy?” Harry asked.

“She’s a bit afraid of them, but as long as she inherited the Weasley fertility genes and fills the house with grandchildren…”

Ginny drifted toward the three wizards and Harry noticed she, too, was pregnant. She made him laugh as they shared stories of morning sickness and odd cravings. It was wonderful to talk nonsense with Ginny Weasley again; if Harry didn’t focus on the bizarre subject matter, he could almost pretend they were back at the Burrow and the rest of the family would soon descend upon them.

“Ginerva.”

Ginny tensed as her husband, Blaise, stalked into the parlor. His dark eyes surveyed the room in disgust, settling on the very pregnant woman beside his wife. His eyes flickered in recognition and his lip curled. Swiftly, Ginny gave a quick hug to the twins and approached her husband.

Blaise grasped her elbow none too gently and locked his hard eyes on Neville.

“May I suggest, Longbottom, that if you ever decide to take my…wife…for a walk again…you do not sully her with a room of whores and…freaks.” Blaise’s voice was pure venom. With a quick flick of his wand, Blaise blasted Neville into the hallway.

Severus pulled himself up to his full height and sneered down his hooked nose at Blaise.

“Mr. Zabini…I would temper my words if I were you. Do not forget exactly whose…whore…I am. Think of the damage I can cause to a wizard’s…reputation…with a few well placed comments during…pillow talk.”

Blaise’s eyes widened fractionally before narrowing once again. He propelled Ginny angrily down the hallway. Neville gave them an awkward, apologetic smile and hurried off after them.

*~*~*~*
Harry slipped out of the parlor unnoticed while the Winter Solstice guests were dining in the main dining hall. He stepped into the main foyer where many of the guests had arrived and would depart from.

He nodded mutely in greeting to several of the lower echelon Death Eaters guarding the lower floors, gracing a few with a seductive smile. They watched him, but not too closely. As pretty as the young wizard was to look at, none of them were foolish enough to be caught openly staring at the property of Lord Voldemort’s second in command.

Pretending to be admiring the opulent holiday decorations, he slowly circled the room, occasionally picking up a bauble or two to examine. Beside the fireplace was a table containing a number of festively decorated boxes containing floo powder. Harry picked one up to examine and made a show of replacing it while slipping another into the sleeve of his robe. He traced the ornate garland decorating the mantle with a finger and continued to wander the room, the guards sneaking appreciative glances his way.

Slowly, he made his way down the hallway and back to the parlor just in time for the house elves to bring fruitcakes and puddings.

Harry sank into a chair in the corner, away from the desert table. Severus joined him, handing him a plate with a few sweets.

“Where did you run off to, Harry?” Severus pulled Harry’s swollen ankles onto his knees to levitate them.

“The baby is active tonight. Sometimes when I walk it settles her down.”

“It will be over soon.”

“January fifteenth, unless I go into labor before hand.” Harry tried to stifle a yawn.

“You’re exhausted. Why don’t you go to bed?”

“I wish I could, Sev…but Master wants to parade his little whore around at the fete tonight.”

“Don’t call yourself that.”

“Call myself what? Little?”

“Insufferable brat.”

~*~*~*~*