The Death Eater

Malfoy stepped back after a moment’s kiss. He licked his lips, before they curled into a vicious smirk. He eyed Harry from head to toe, taking his time to make him uncomfortable. He finally gave a nod of satisfaction, bowed to Voldemort, and left.

After an endless second’s pause, in which time Harry realised he was expected to follow, Harry left as well. He was angry and humiliated that he was following as expected, but the only other option had been to stay surrounded by Death Eaters; and he would likely have faced another round of the Cruciatus in punishment as well. So he pushed down his anger and trailed submissively after Malfoy through corridor after corridor, shifting uncomfortably closer to him. There was something creepy about this manor; even the shadows seemed to hide a lurking evil; and Malfoy was Harry’s best hope of protection.

Eventually, as Harry was beginning to despair of even Malfoy knowing where they were, they arrived at the “coming and going” room. Malfoy snatched up the pot of Floo powder and glared imperiously at Harry.

“After you, Pet.” He motioned the fireplace and raised a challenging eyebrow. Harry wondered momentarily if Malfoy actually wanted him to argue, but he stepped eagerly into the cold fireplace on his own. No where Malfoy sent him could be worse than this place.

He swallowed uncomfortably when Malfoy stepped in as well, pushing unnecessarily close to his body and dropping a handful of Floo powder to the floor at their feet. Harry experienced the unusual sensation of magical fire springing to life around him, before they were spinning through fireplaces to Malfoy’s destination.

Harry tumbled out of the fireplace when they came to a halt, scrambling up from the floor as quickly as possibly, embarrassingly aware that Malfoy had stepped out calmly, walking over Harry’s body and ignoring the new parts on show. He smoothed his clothes out compulsively as Malfoy led him out of a far more opulent coming and going room than the one they had left, and into an equally lavish corridor.

Once again Harry was at Malfoy’s mercy, as this new building looked large enough that Harry could die from starvation before being found if he got lost. They walked past several closed doors and portraits of what had to be Malfoy ancestors, before climbing up a set of stairs and down a new corridor into another Wing of the house. Malfoy spoke throughout the walk.

“I inherited the Manor last month when I came of age, as Father was still in Azkaban. I’ve only been interred for a month, so I have not finished sorting through the hidden areas and dark objects. If there are any areas that are closed, do not go in them. If I tell you not to go somewhere, do not go there. I’m certain whatever gets you would be worse than any punishment I could think up.

“This is the family wing. I have moved into the Master’s suite, and you will be housed in the Consort’s chambers. The Nursery has been cleaned and aired in preparation for our first child, but the actual contents and decoration will not be added until you are pregnant.” Harry shuddered at the thought of his imminent pregnancy, but he also felt a deep pain knowing that he would have no control over anything of his child’s life.

Malfoy reached a door set partway through the corridor and opened it, leading Harry into the most sumptuous rooms he had ever seen. They had walked into a small sitting area, with a bedroom visible through one door and a bathroom through another. Each room, or what he could see of them, had been done to great expense, and it looked beautiful.

Malfoy had been watching him explore and admire the rooms with his typical smirk, but when harry turned his speechless gaze on him, the smirk turned into something resembling a smile.

“The walls are white at the moment because each new consort adds his or her own decorative touch. When I have left, call one of the Elves using this bell and instruct them as to your favoured decoration. I would prefer it if the rooms did not in any way resemble the Gryffindor common rooms, however.

This door here is attached to the Master’s suite. It only opens from my side, but if you need me at night then pull the bell cord and I will come through. This door,” Malfoy motioned to another door across the room, mostly disguised by a tapestry. “Leads to the nursery. It’s locked as well, since the nursery isn’t in use.

For now, unless I or one of the elves leads you anywhere, you’re confined to these rooms. This is for your own safety as well; until you’re more used to the manor you’re likely to get lost.”

Harry tensed, but he had to agree that Malfoy was correct about this. He nodded slowly in agreement. Malfoy seemed to sense Harry’s change in attitude, and corrected his as well, his posture tensing and any semblance of a smile vanishing from his lips.

“There are rules and a schedule on the desk, read and memorise them. Any infringements of the rules will be punished. Dinner is in one hour, I’ll send your Elf Tidus to lead you to the dining room. If Tidus is forced to fetch me for any reason you will regret it.”

Malfoy stalked out before Harry could respond, leaving Harry alone in his new prison. He looked around, for the moment avoiding the desk and its set of rules. He found a chess set beside the bookshelf, obviously Malfoy was expecting to play it with him. The bookshelf itself held several books on childbirth, pregnancy and infanthood; all of their textbooks; a few books that looked suspiciously like they were pureblood culture and etiquette guides and several fiction books. Harry was particularly interested in these – beyond Ron’s Mad Muggle comics; Harry had never really read Wizarding fiction. The bottom shelf held empty parchment tubes, the corresponding parchment and ink likely waiting in the desk to be filled.

It was a quite nice room, under other circumstances Harry would have enjoyed living here, he was certain. The grounds he could see out of the window were expansive and there was enough space to fly safely without fear of Muggles seeing him.

Now, however, knowing he was being kept here to be Draco Malfoy’s personal whore and incubator, the room made him feel just as cold as the man himself did. Harry hated him, and he hated this room. Most especially he hated the bed he could see through the door, certain that one day soon that bed would be the scene of Malfoy’s worst victories over him and his body.

Uncertain of what else to do, and still refusing to read the rules set out for him, Harry decided it was time to really see what had been done to his body. He entered the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror, caught for a second by the deadened look to his eyes and his hollow cheeks. He glanced away and warily slid the tunic off, allowing it to pool carelessly at his feet as he stepped closer to the mirror.

Nothing seemed to be different at first. He was much thinner, making his hips more prominent. He thought they may have become a little wider, but couldn’t say for certain if that wasn’t merely the effects to being in the cell. His nipples were much darker than normal, and a little larger as well, the flesh around them softer and swollen, but nothing like true breasts, he imagined. Importantly, his penis was still there, it appeared larger even, but Harry realised that this was because of the lack of pubic hair. He wondered if that would ever grow back.

Nervously, he pushed his penis and ball sack to the side, wondering if this was just insanity or a bad dream as he explored the area behind them. He felt tears blurring his eyes as his fingers caught a little on a small lip of flesh on the once flat expanse of skin, a little hole that wound deep into his body to form the birth canal Voldemort had been so proud of. He really was a hermaphrodite, a freak who wasn’t even male any more.

He jerked his hands away from his skin as though burned and tugged the tunic back into place, no longer caring about wearing the dress-like outfit. He washed his hands mechanically, struggling to cope with this new information. He just wanted it to all go away. He wanted to throw up, or cry. Or hit something, very hard.

It was into this destructive frame of mind that Tidus entered, coming to fetch his new Master for dinner. Harry had to remind himself that Tidus, like him, was a prisoner of Malfoy’s pleasure and meant nothing by the summons. Wearily he followed the Elf to dinner, and to his fate.