Pet

~*~*~*~*
TWENTY-NINE
~*~*~*~*
Kevin paused in the application of his false eyelashes as he watched Mark dismantle the empty port-a-crib still tucked into the corner of the dressing room.

“So, Emmy’s really gone?”

“Yeah,” Mark said slowly as he pulled several lengths of tubing apart. “Stopped by his flat the other day…it’s stripped clean.”

“I saw that white haired gentleman bodily drag him out the other evening. Why didn’t you try to stop him?”

“It wasn’t my place.”

“Not your place? That man looked fit to kill him.” Kevin asked incredulously. “What the hell kind of bouncer are you? I thought he was your friend.”

Mark ignored the accusation in the transvestite singer’s voice, remembering the memories Tom had planted in his mind at the Leaky Cauldron.

“Emmy’s where he’ll be safe. Lord Malfoy took him back to his manor in Wiltshire.”

“Lord? Wiltshire?…That man was furious. You don’t think he’ll hurt Em, do you?”

“He’s angry at Emmy in the same way a mother is angry when her toddler wanders off at the grocers. He’s an old family friend and was horrified to discover Emmy’s uncle threw him out with a newborn…He’s been searching for him for months…That bloke we thought was from Child Welfare was actually a private investigator…Imagine being Lord Malfoy…already informed that his missing bunny is washing dishes in a disgusting strip club…comes to rescue him and discovers his little one isn’t washing dishes, he’s taking his clothes off for money…

“I never thought to ask Emmy how old he was…did you know he was just seventeen? Lord Malfoy has young kids of his own…can you imagine his reaction to discovering Sid was trying to force Em into prostitution?”

Kevin set down his tweezers. “Heard he came by the next morning to see Sid…The girls said Sid near shit himself after the man left…Emmy’s lord friend could have done us all a favor by offing Sid.” Kevin was quiet for a moment. “You think we’ll ever hear from Emmy again?”

“I hope not,” Mark continued his battle with the thin metal tubing. A memory drifted into his head; Em had gone by another name, but for some reason the name escaped him. “Lord Malfoy’s going to hire a nanny for Rosie, and Emmy’s going to go to University to make something of himself. I hope for his sake he forgets all about us.”

~*~*~*~*
Feeling refreshed after a short shower and a change from his heavy Ministry robes into a lightweight silk, Lucius entered the library in search of his concubine. When Harry was not to be found in the large room, or tucked among the stacks, Lucius stepped through the open French doors leading out to the balcony. Harry was curled up in a chaise lounge, reading a heavy book; realizing his master had returned, the younger man set his book aside and gracefully slipped into a kneeling position beside the chaise.

“Up, Pet,” he said softly. “I will no longer require you to kneel in my presence.”

Harry blinked and pulled himself up from the stone floor. He was glad he did not have to remain in the submissive stance; it was hard on his boney knees. Lucius ran a manicured finger lightly over the bridge of Harry’s nose. His cheeks and nose were sun kissed.

“Severus stopped by to check for residual curse damage and the house elves set up a picnic lunch in the gardens.” Harry explained. Lucius liked his skin to be pale. He held out both of his hands; they no longer trembled. Lucius caressed his fingertips.

~*~*~*
Harry adjusted his hips, his back supported by Lucius’ muscular thighs, as he straddled the dark wizard. Lucius stroked his cheek and settled them both comfortably in the chaise lounge.

“I am to understand that I missed an exciting morning. Pippi was all atwitter about owls trying to enter Rosamond’s nursery and Tillie informs me that you were attacked by a number of Howlers.”

“There were owls addressed to Rosamond…mostly small gifts…stuffed bunnies, rag babies, picture books…”

Lucius paled. “You opened them? They could contain something dangerous.”

Harry looked at him in irritation. How dare he think he was a brainless twit. “Some of them actually did contain hidden dangers…curses and poisons…but those were addressed to me and the house elves intercepted them. Draco and Pippi banished all owl post into a room in the dungeons…I would never accept anything from a stranger without having it checked for curses…and especially not anything addressed directly to Rosamond. And, since I can not defend myself or our daughter…the post is waiting for you and Draco to sort.”

“A number of Howlers found their way to my office today…as well as a few marriage proposals. They seemed to think I could do better than you.” Lucius’ voice held a hint of amusement.

‘Gee,” replied Harry with bitterness. “Would they have been along the line of ‘deserving better than a slut’ or ‘a two-knut Knockturn whore’? With the exception of the few who think I should have died with my Mudblood mother or done the respectable thing and either committed suicide or aborted my child…I don’t think I have been referred to a whore in quite so many ways before…Almost tempted to invite them to Fiddlesticks so they can actually meet a few whores in person.”

“Mine ran more along the lines of blaming me for Narcissa’s insanity, calling me a pedophile, of being so insecure in my sexuality as to need to own a catamite, an insult to Pureblood wizards…” Lucius cupped Harry’s face in his hand. “You are not a whore, Pet, and I never should have called you one. Did the Howlers upset you?”

Harry shrugged. “Of course they hurt…but I’ll deal with it. The Wizarding world has alternately worshiped me or attacked me…Three years ago I was a ‘pathological liar’ and ‘a mentally unbalanced attention seeker’…I did receive some very kind owls today as well, and I think that surprised me more. Madam Zabini told me to keep my head up and keep my wits about me.”

Lucius chuckled. “Siobhan Zabini is a force to be reckoned with…she will be a powerful ally in your path to respectability.”

Harry’s muscles tensed involuntarily as Lucius stroked Harry’s inner thigh with his thumb; although he could not refuse, he hoped that his master was not expecting intercourse a third time in one day. As if reading Harry’s mind, Lucius moved his hand, his eyes lighting upon Harry’s book on the table beside the chaise.

“Accio book,” he murmured and caught the heavy tome. “What are you reading, P…er…Harry?”

“I don’t mind if you call me Pet, Master.” Harry said softly. “Pet carries with it the illusion of affection.”

“Unlike slut or whore?”

“I do not especially like being called a slut or a whore.”

“Lucius.”

“Sir?”

“If you are to become my consort, you must begin to call me by my name. Lucius.”

Lucius glanced at the title of the book. “’Sex and Politics – The Behind the Wand Influence of a Strong Witch in a Wizard’s Rise to Power’…Once again, your reading material never ceases to amaze me…Are you picking up pointers for when you become my…witch?

“It’s a collection of biographies of powerful witches and sorceresses.” Harry set the book back onto the table. “If there is a chapter on near-Squib concubines, I haven’t read it yet.”

The dark wizard caught Harry’s wrists, wrapping his hands over the control bracelets. “These are only temporary, my not so Squib-like concubine. Prior to our hand fasting, they will be removed. Ollivander will fit you with a new wand and we will begin to re-train your magic. If nothing else, these irritating postal owls have proven to me that I cannot continue to leave you defenseless, even in my own home.”

“You would trust me with a wand?”

Lucius gave him a calculating look. “Do you hate Severus?”

“No.”

“Did you ever?”

“Yes,” Harry replied slowly, wondering where the conversation was heading. “I hated him when he was my greasy git of a professor and I hated him when I thought his lack of action had gotten Sirius killed.”

“But you don’t hate him now. What happened?”

“I grew up. He may not be a nice man, but he is a good man.”

“Do you think Severus hates Lord Voldemort?”

Harry paused. “I think that Sev has fallen in love with his master, but does not condone his master’s actions…In his heart, Sev’s master and the Dark Lord are not necessarily the same person.”

“Do you hate me?”

“No,” Harry whispered, admitting it to himself for perhaps the first time.

“How does that make you feel?”

“Confused. I don’t know if it is the Ritual of Possession, the Stockholm Syndrome, or if it’s real…I have become attached to you…when I was in the Muggle world…I kept dreaming about you and thinking I saw you in the audience. I wanted to know if my dance would arouse you…I…I missed you.”

“I missed you, too, Pet.”

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