Miscalculations

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Miscalculations

By Janus Eris

Translated by Lex

Betaed by Beth

Chapter 1

The Savior of the Wizarding World


"Potter." Draco spat; satisfied with the amount of malevolence
he'd been able to put into this one word.

His opponent met him with eyes void of emotion.

Draco tried to rise but the spells prevented it. He was too weak to
fight them. The bonding ceremony had robbed him of a lot of his

powers, not to mention the friendly attention from his guards.
Finally he managed to ball his fists and glare hatefully at his
master.

"Who'd have thought? …" he said with all the mocking he
could

come up with. "The savior of the Wizarding World is so lonely, he

needs a slave for entertainment. Or do you just enjoy seeing me on

my knees in front of you? My goodness, how our noble Gryffindor

has fallen."

Potter cocked his head as if studying a rare animal specimen. "You

will show me respect or you will be punished."

"Really?" Draco taunted. Still, he couldn't quite keep the trace of

fear out of his voice. He was only too aware that Potter could do

whatever he wanted to him. A slave didn't have any rights. He

wasn't even considered human any more.

Potter smiled coldly. "Yes, really."

Draco suppressed a shiver. Potter's unmoved manner made him

feel uneasy. He tried a different tactic. "I never supported

Voldemort." He had difficulties saying the name out loud, but he

wanted to be clear. "I was neutral."

For the first time a hint of anger flitted over Potter's face. "I'm not


interested in your lies, slave. The Ministry doesn't make mistakes.

Apart from that, you've said the word Mudblood once too often so

you can't be believed. Stand up, time to put you to use. By the

way, you will call me 'Sir'."

"Yes, Sir." Draco replied angrily and staggered to his feet.

Potter slapped his face. "Watch your tone, slave. That's your last

warning."

Gritting his teeth and ignoring his burning cheek, Draco lowered

his eyes and said, "I'm sorry, Sir."

"Not perfect, yet, but better." Potter commented coldly. "Come

on."

Draco followed the green eyed Gryffindor up a wooden stairway to

the upper floor of the house. "There's the bathroom." Potter

elaborated with a gesture at a door. "That's my study. It is off-

limits for you. Kitchen and living room are downstairs." He pushed

open a door, which led to another small room.

Draco froze when he caught sight of the big bed. It was covered, of

course, with a red bedspread. At the left side of the room was a

closet, on the right was a door, that he assumed lead to the en-suite

bathroom.

"What are you waiting for?" Potter barked. "Get in."

When Draco didn't react Potter grabbed his arm and dragged him

into the room and to the bed.

"Strip."

Draco reluctantly shook his head and backed away from Potter. It

was obvious what was about to happen. Even though he had no

choice, he wouldn't give up without a fight.

Potter seemed to sense it; he examined him with a calculating look.

"You plan to keep on wearing those rags?"

Draco scowled at him. Those 'rags' had been one of his best robes

… that was to say they had been before he'd been dragged to

Azkaban.

"If you think that I'll be your willing plaything, think again,

Potter." he hissed. "Haven't you got enough groupies just eager to

hop in your bed?"

It took only a fracture of a second for Potter to point his wand at

Draco. "Crucio."

The curse took him completely by surprise. He hit the floor

screaming. It wasn't the first time that he was on the receiving end

of this particular curse. That didn't make it feel any better this time


around.

"I told you it was your last warning." Potter said. "Now get up and

get undressed."

Draco stood, gasping and shook his head. "No."

For a moment Potter seemed to consider repeating the curse.

Instead he put the wand away and stepped up to rip off the robe

with his hands. It was dirty and torn and didn't put up much

resistance. Draco was bare underneath.

Potter took a step back and scrutinized him. "A decent body. A

little on the skinny side, but we'll take care of that in time."

Draco ruthlessly suppressed an angry retort. It had been a long

time since someone had called his body only 'decent'. If he was

skinny it was the sole fault of Azkaban.

"But you certainly are quite filthy. There's no way I'd let you get

into my bed before you've cleaned up." Potter pushed the second

door open and indeed it lead to a bathroom. "Go and wash up. And

hurry or I'll do it for you."

The torn robe disappeared with a flip of Potter's wand.

For a moment Draco stood rigid, then he pulled himself together,

went into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

The bathroom was as ridiculously small as the rest of the house.

There was a toilet, a sink and a bathtub that was too short to fit his

whole length. Draco opened the taps and took a moment to find the

plug for the drain. Not only was everything small but hideously

muggle. You'd think the hero of the Wizarding World would live

in something better than a cabin. He made a face. Maybe it was his

homage to the Weasleys.

Draco found the soap and stepped into the tub. He winced when

the warm water came in contact with his half healed wounds. But it

felt heavenly to wash away all the dirt and crusted blood. It took

him a while to wash and comb his knotted hair, but finally he felt a

little more like himself again. He dried himself off and slung the

towel around his hips, then looked at himself in the small mirror

above the sink. His still damp hair fell below his shoulders. He'd

managed to wash out all the dirt but it still wasn't as shiny as it had


been. He glared bitterly at the branding mark that disfigured his

chest. A phoenix and a thunderbolt. It wasn't the original Potter

family crest, but a new one that Potter had designed after his

victory. He stroked it carefully with his fingers. They'd literally

branded it onto him and it still hurt.

The door opened and Potter stood in the doorway. "Are you

finished, yet?"

Reluctantly Draco turned around. "Yes, Sir."

Potter mockingly gestured into the bedroom. When Draco passed

him he grabbed the towel. "That's not necessary. Lay on the bed,

I'll join you in a minute." He closed the door behind him.

The door to the hallway was also closed. Draco regarded the rune

pattern painted there in bewilderment. He could have sworn it

hadn't been there before. The room was windowless. The only

source of light came from a Muggle lamp on the ceiling. He kept

standing on the side, unwilling to go near the bed. He knew that

would just get him into more trouble, but he didn't care. He needed

to hold onto some of his dignity.

It surprised him when Potter returned fully clothed. He walked by

Draco to the closet and opened it. Shortly after rummaging through

it, he took out a bathrobe and threw it at Draco. Baffled Draco

caught it and reluctantly put it on. It was made of silk. Not as fine a


garment as he had been used to, but definitely better than staying

nude.

Potter gestured to the bed. "Sit down."

Draco watched him uncertainly and stayed put. He didn't know

what this was all about but he wouldn't go willingly on that bed.

"Fine." Potter sighed and pulled out his wand. Draco stiffened but

to his confusion Potter only made a chair appear beside the bed.

"Sit down, Draco." he repeated.

Taken off guard by Potter's use of his name, he did. Potter sat

cross-legged on the bed and eyed him.

"The Ministry has exact regulations regarding the treatment of

slaves," he finally said. "Everyone who's been proven unable to

handle a slave will have him withdrawn from his care. He'd be

compensated, of course."

Draco frowned at Potter. He couldn't quite fathom what his so-

called Master was saying.

"To protect us from dangerous wizards", Potter made a face when

he said this, "the Ministry puts every household where a slave is

kept under surveillance. I have tried to get them to abolish the

surveillance, but the Ministry insists that it is only in my best

interest." He settled against the headboard. "Personally I think I've
 

talked out against this stupid law once too often." Potter smiled

fleetingly. "They'll have to live with the fact that I won't let them

watch my bathroom or my bedroom."

Draco stared at him incredulously, speechless for a moment. "If

you are against this law, then why did you buy me?" he finally

asked.

Potter looked at him over the rim of his glasses. "Because, even if

it pains me to admit, you are innocent. I have to say I almost

admire how you managed to keep yourself out of all of it. You

don't deserve to end as somebody's whipping boy."

"Oh, I'm sure it's far better to end as your catamite, instead." he

bitterly replied.

Potter's brows climbed up. "I'm not that ugly. And it's not as if

you mind me being male. You slept your way through half of our

grade, female and male, if I'm recalling right."

Draco rose with a jerk. "That was different!"

"How so?" Potter quietly asked.

"It was always consensual."

"Ah." Potter closed his eyes and smiled. "You don't have to sleep

with me. Have sex I mean. If you don't want to share this bed

you'll have to make do with the floor, I'm afraid."

"I thought …"

Potter's eyes snapped open. "That I would rape you?" he sharply

asked. "Yes, with luck those idiots at the Ministry will think that,

too."

"Do you want them to take me away from you?" Draco asked

confused.

Potter laughed without humor. "Didn't you get what I've told you?

The regulations aren't in place to protect you slaves, but to make

sure you are appropriately punished. I can do anything to you
– as

long as I'm not too friendly."

"I understand." Draco said faltering. In truth he didn't understand

most of what Potter had said. Potter had bought him to help him?

Why should he care what happened to him? Why …

"If you oppose this law so much why didn't you do anything to

prevent it? You are the great hero of the war, people worship you

… why didn't you say anything?"

Again Potter laughed, bitter this time. "Don't you think I tried? I

did, more than once. But oddly enough not one of those interviews

has been published anywhere. After I complained to the Prophet,

reporters started to avoid me. Strange, isn't it? Some explicit words

to the Lovegoods said that it would mean the closing of their paper

if they so much as thought about printing such an obviously

falsified interview. Even Luna's dad wouldn't take that chance.

Finally they told me to remember my responsibility to the

Wizarding World and that I shouldn't let the fame get to my head."

His voice was dripping with sarcasm. "After Hermione almost lost

her position at the Ministry, because I could have influenced her

with my subversive thoughts, I changed my tactics."

"They blackmailed you?" Draco had difficulties believing that.

After all, it wasn't just anybody in front of him.

Potter shrugged cynically. "That's nothing new. Fudge got an

appropriate successor."

"I thought you liked the Weasleys." Draco couldn't keep himself

from saying.

"Percy ceased to be a Weasley in my eyes." Potter replied darkly.

Draco rose and paced in front of the bed. "What does that mean?

The Ministry is watching us everywhere outside of these rooms?

I'll be sold to someone else as soon as you fail to treat me like

scum?"

"Essentially, yes."

"Great." He pushed his hair back and noticed absentmindedly that

it was almost dry.

"Should I be grateful that you took me in out of the goodness of

your heart? Or do you want something in return?"

Potter looked at him thoughtfully. "To tell the truth, none of it."

"How so?"

"Someone asked me to look after you."

Draco froze. "Severus."

Potter nodded with sad eyes.

A knot started to grow in Draco's stomach. He and his godfather

had drifted apart after he'd finished school, but when he was a kid

they'd been close. "What happened to him? Is he … dead?"

Potter gave him a grieving look. "No, Draco. He is in Azkaban."

"What?" he shouted. "How can that be? He spied for you, he

risked his goddamn life! How could he end up in Azkaban? He

should be a fucking hero!"

Potter balled his fist. His eyes burned in rage at someone who

wasn't there. "He is a Death Eater. You know what the law says

about that. Everyone with the Dark Mark on his forearm is

sentenced for life. No exceptions."

"That's a fucking injustice! Didn't anybody stand witness for

him?"

"No exceptions." Potter repeated.

"That's unfair!" Draco cried. He couldn't believe it. It was one

thing if it happened to him. But Severus?! Severus, who had fought

with all his might for Dumbledore! The man almost died when he

was exposed as a spy when Draco was in his seventh grade. It had

made Draco think and eventually he'd realized what Voldemort

really was – an evil psychopath. And he certainly hadn't been
the

only Slytherin who'd come to this conclusion.

"Yes, it is." Potter agreed. "It is wrong, the whole way they are

going about this is wrong. One day they'll pay for their mistakes."

The ire in Potter's voice surprised Draco.

Suddenly Potter stiffened and listened to something only he could

hear. Then he jumped up and ripped the bedspread off the bed.

"Quick, lose the robe and up there!"

"What?" taken by surprise, Draco stammered.

Potter hastily stripped.

"Get moving, someone's coming!"

Draco ceased his hesitation. Potter donned the bathrobe as soon as

Draco took it off. With Draco on the bed Potter pointed his wand at

him. To his surprise, Draco found himself with a collar around his

neck and a chain locking it to one of the bedposts.

"Who ever it is, I'll try to keep them out of this room." Potter said.

He pointed the wand at himself and a series of scratches appeared

on the side of his neck. "In case I fail, try to look as if
… you

know."

Potter slipped on some sandals and left the room without closing

the door.

"What is it?" Draco could hear him call. "I'm busy."

Draco pulled the blanket over himself hiding beneath it. He could

think of a number of things to make it look like he'd really been

'raped'. But he didn't feel like reveling in it. He contented himself

with tousling his hair and curling into himself beneath the blanket.

It didn't take him much to look miserable. The sickness in his

stomach was absolutely real.

"There's a problem with the surveillance spells, Mister Potter," a

male voice answered Potters query.

"You don't say, Dawlish." Potter replied mockingly. "Would that

be in my bedroom?"

"Um … yes." came a hesitant answer. "I'm terribly sorry, if
I

disturbed you …" Obviously the Auror had just taken in
Potter's

appearance. Draco had to make an effort not to laugh. Odd how the

thought that he really could have caused those scratches, aroused

him. Potter just looked too good in that bathrobe. When he moved,

the chain at his neck made itself known and those thoughts

vanished all of a sudden.

"You can bet your life on it. Now, leave. You can tell your

superiors to go and indulge in their voyeuristic tendencies

somewhere else."

"But Mister Potter, your safety …" the Auror complained.

"I've beaten more Death Eaters than you've seen in your whole

life." Potter barked. "I destroyed Voldemort. Do you mean to

imply that I cannot deal with a little weakling who isn't even able

to perform magic?"

Draco winced. He hated to be reminded of it. Another little side

effect of the mark on his chest. It bound his magic.

"Of course not, Mister Potter …" The Auror sounded
intimidated.

"So, fuck off already, and don't you dare bother me again."

"I'm sorry Mister Potter, but I really need to make sure …"

"Fine!" Potter hissed. "Come on."

Draco froze. Potter barged into the room a second later, the Auror

right behind him. He grabbed Draco's collar and roughly lifted him

up. It effectively cut off Draco's breath. Draco choked and blindly

flailed his arms.

"There you go." Potter evilly said. "You can see how inordinately

dangerous he is. Are you satisfied? Or do I have to fuck him in

front of you to show you that I can keep him in line?"

"No, no." The Auror hastily withdraw. His face was beet red.

Potter let go of Draco. Draco gasped for air and coughed.

"I'm truly sorry," the Auror said from outside the door. "We won't

bother you again."

"I hope so." Potter spat. A little later he came back and closed the

door with a sigh of relief. "He's gone."

Draco pulled the blanket protectively around himself. "Do you

think they'll be back?"

"Yes, I'm afraid." Potter flipped his wand and the collar

disappeared. Then he went over to the closet to throw Draco

another bathrobe. Draco hastily put it on.

Potter sighed regretfully. "Too bad, that you're so eager to cover

up your wonderful body."

Draco scowled at him. "I thought I'm too skinny."

Potter laughed in delight. "That bothered you? I always knew you

were vain."

"I'm not vain." Draco growled. "I know that I'm good looking."

Potter just laughed harder. "I bet you do." He got serious and

regarded Draco intensely. "And I know it too."

Draco returned the gaze uneasily and unconsciously backed away.

Potter just smiled unhappily. "You don't really have to fear me

raping you. Although, if you wanted me to make love to you I

wouldn't say no…"

"Maybe, sometime." Draco surprised himself with this confession.

He drew a long look over Potter's body. The Gryffindor had lost

his youthful lankiness. The combat training had left a well-

proportioned, muscular body. The glasses made him look childlike,

but that just lead his opponents to underestimate him. The emerald

eyes behind the glasses, though, weren't childlike at all. The

bathrobe revealed a slightly hairy, athletic upper body, adorned by

a few scars from past battles. That just added to Potter's appeal in

Draco's eyes. His gaze locked on the artificial scratches on Potter's

neck. "But not today."

Potter just nodded, understanding. Then he grinned. "Pity."