Pet

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THREE
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Harry awoke the next morning to the birds chirping outside of his window and a very full bladder. After relieving himself, Harry decided to bathe and shave since he was already awake. He looked dubiously at the safety razor on the counter and imagined that it had been spelled to prevent suicide.

After wiping off the last of the shaving cream, the slight wizard examined his reflection. He still found it slightly disconcerting not to have his eyeglasses anymore; Mad Eye had insisted he get his eyesight corrected so poor vision could not become an issue if his glasses were lost in battle. Without his eyeglasses, the startling green eyes became the focus of his face, drawing attention away from the scar. Harry’s fingers lightly traced several love bites Lucius had given him the night before.

Lucius Malfoy confused him. The older wizard exuded power and sensuality. There was a dangerous edge to the man that both attracted and terrified Harry. The man’s actions puzzled him; Harry had been surprised that Lucius had not raped him the first night. He had merely pointed him to a bath and a bed. Last evening, he had teased him, kissed him, caressed him, but had made no attempts to claim him. Granted, the older wizard made him remain unclothed, but that had been more an issue of control than anything else. The man’s reaction to his nudity had been decidedly neutral.

Harry’s mind drifted back to the other men sharing the dungeon cells and standing beside him on the platform. They had all been much taller and more masculine than he. Uncle Vernon’s taunts about his effeminate body echoed in the back of his mind as well. Lucius obviously didn’t think of him in a sexual way, he decided. What was the future for a pet that did not meet expectations, he wondered.

His own reactions to the entire master slave situation were confusing as well. Other than a few glares and minor impertinence, his behavior was incredibly passive. He analyzed his reactions and was uneasy about the truth that stared him in the face. With his friends captured, dead, or on the run and his magic shattered, he was alone and defenseless. As frightening as a future with Lucius was, it was still a future.

With a bath towel wrapped securely around his hips, Harry padded back into the bedchamber. In his absence Sally or another house elf made the bed and delivered a silver domed breakfast tray. His stomach grumbled at the delicious scents; it was not to be a cold breakfast of fruit and croissants today. As Harry approached the oversized chair, he noticed a deep green silk bathrobe and a note.

“Your training begins today.”

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Harry shifted uncomfortably in his unfamiliar position at Lucius’ feet. Not used to kneeling for long periods of time, the green-eyed wizard shifted slightly to alleviate pressure on his bony knees. Lucius tugged sharply on the leash attached to the choke chain around Harry’s throat in warning.

Sally popped into Lucius study. “Master, your visitors have arrived.”

“Show them to the Library, Sally.”

“Yes, Master.” Sally bowed and disappeared.

Lucius rose from his leather wing chair and tugged gently at Harry’s leash, indicating he should rise. Harry’s numb legs burned as blood rushed back into his calves. The white blond wizard checked his always-impeccable reflection in a wall mirror and then straightened the lines of Harry’s forest green robe. He patted the slight wizard’s wayward hair.

“Lost cause,” he murmured and then assumed his mask of aloofness. “The Dark Lord has come for dinner. Do try not to embarrass me.”

*~*~*~
Severus flexed each one of Harry’s fingers individually; he examined the texture of the skin.

“No pain at all? No loss of mobility? Of sensation?”

“No, Professor Snape. They feel like they did before they were burnt. Thank you, sir.”

“Severus, Harry. Not sir, not Professor. I am neither any longer.”

Harry examined the tall, plain man he had once feared and sometimes hated. Since his captivity, the harsh lines of the Potion Master seemed to have softened. No longer buried in his beloved Hogwarts dungeons, his sallow skin had taken on a healthier glow and the enormous stress of leading a double life evaporated. Life with Lord Voldemort was often difficult, but Severus had learnt to read his moods and once the Dark Lord was secure in his absolute control over the proud man, he had rewarded him with his beloved potions.

Harry poured his companion a cup of tea and motioned for Severus to serve himself from the small buffet Sally had brought them. While Lucius and Narcissa entertained Lord Voldemort, the two pets had been sent to a small study away from the dinner party.

“How are you holding up, Potter? Lucius can be a hard master…”

Harry slowly chewed his bit of chicken breast and locked his expressive eyes on Severus’ face. Nervously, he asked, “ Am I repulsive?”

Severus stared at the elfin beauty seated beside him on the sofa. The slim fitting robe was finely tailored to accentuate the lines of the slender figure perfectly. Those eyes could mesmerize anyone; he had feared that he would be cast aside when Harry had first been captured.

“Why do you think you are repulsive?”

“He was furious when he pulled me off the platform and said I had been given to him. He didn’t get a choice in his pet…and none of the other wizards even looked at me. And the others…they were so much bigger and…’

“Slow down, Harry. You’re babbling.” Severus rubbed the slender shoulder. “Lucius Malfoy received you as a special gift from the Dark Lord. A Malfoy never would have attended a public spectacle and chosen a pet as he would select cattle at auction. You were never to have been on display at all. As for the other wizards not looking at you…you wore a numbered tag?”

“White with silver trim…most wore orange, blue or yellow.”

“That tag marked you as the property of one of the Inner Circle. Other than the dolt who sent you onto the platform, no other wizard would have been foolhardy enough to look twice at you.”

“Seamus…Seamus Finnegan wore an orange tag…sent his Irish Catholic teeth on edge.”

“I imagine it would with the significance of orange to an Irishman. His mother was a witch, his father a Muggle…the colors designated breeding. Orange means one parent was a Muggle, blue meant both parents were magical but one was Muggleborn, yellow meant one or both were Squibs and green would have meant both were Muggleborn. If you had not been pre-selected, your tag would have been blue. Muggleborn children third year and under had their magic siphoned away and were oblivated. You know most the adult first generation Muggleborn were killed?”

“Like Dean Thomas and the Creevy brothers…” Harry took another bite from his plate. Severus’ dark eyes watched the graceful creature. “And probably Hermione.”

“Why do you think Lucius finds you repulsive?” He asked gently not wanting to dwell on the dead or for Harry to dwell on them either. He was amused to see Harry blush; not too many pets were still capable of blushing.

“I’ve been here almost two weeks…he’s kissed me and petted me. Shown me how to walk, how to sit, the correct fork to use but…”

“He hasn’t fucked you.” Severus said bluntly.

“No…hasn’t made me…hasn’t even touched…isn’t that why you have a pet? So you have a fuck toy?”

Severus winced and Harry gave him an apologetic look.

“If Lucius was like most other dark wizards, he would have raped you the night he brought you home, before or after a torture session, but Lucius has never done what you expect him to do. Harry, he’s training you in proper manners and etiquette to fit into a pureblood wizarding household; teaching you things you would not have learned being raised by Muggles. He won’t claim you until he thinks you are ready…”

“Ready? Ready for what?”

“Malfoy doesn’t want a pet. Malfoys do not take pets.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Malfoys have never owned anything as common as a pet…he means to bind you as his concubine.”

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TBC