The Malfoy Trial

That evening was a quiet one. There were a couple of editions of the Prophet to catch up on. Harry needed to go through various estate papers and Draco wanted to see how extensive the Lodge’s library was. Apart from drawing each other’s attention to interesting bits of news they sat in the library in absorbed silence. Their bedtime chocolate had to be spelled warm when they finally realised what time it was.

With his finger on his lips Draco made an enhanced listening spell and the noises of Kreacher’s love making became very obvious.

“See, I thought he was.” Draco said as he switched the charm off.

“So you didn’t know?”

“Not really, Winky was slightly bow legged yesterday, so I put two and two together. Kreacher’s grimace confirmed it. Didn’t it?”

“Oh … Yes, I suppose it did. “How long’s the gestation period?”

“No idea. I expect she’s passed her sell-by date, by now.”

“What?”

“Oh Harry, you’re such an innocent. The other side of her menopause, when she can no longer have babies.”

“So why were they doing it, then?”

“Because they enjoy it. Just as we enjoy wanking.”

“Oh … Right! C’mon lets get to bed and then we can.”

‘At least the topic’s in the open now,’ thought Draco as he followed Harry’s shapely bum upstairs.

They showered together, neither of them minding the other one looking at his body. Draco reckoned that there was some extra plumpness in Harry’s as he prepared for bed. He quietly admitted there was some in his. Huffs and squeaks over, Harry cleansed them and fell to sleep. Draco went to slumber-land a few minutes later.

###

At breakfast Harry looked at Kreacher in a new light. Kreacher caught him staring and smirked, lifting his eyebrows. Harry looked away, blushing.

The sun was shining and the three gardeners had cleared the third terrace of all unwanted plants, pruning the remaining ones and planting new ones by the end of the afternoon. Draco and Harry went for their pre dinner swim, laughing and splashing each other. Some bodily contact was made as they mock wrestled in the surf. Draco held back, not knowing how far his collar would let him go. Harry did likewise not wanting to set said item off. A bit of sun bathing on the hot rock helped their all round tan.

As Draco said: “The trouble with gardening is that it’s your back that gets the sun, not your front.”

Harry had his wand with him, tucked securely within his mop of unruly hair, as usual. He Accioed some sun tan oil and they indulged in another tickling session as each oiled the other, somehow they managed not to become too aroused. Draco deducted two of his hard won points in disappointment.

He soon regained them, however, by another Slytherin subterfuge. As usual they went into the cave to take the lift. Draco waded in the lead, ensuring Harry was close following him. Draco suddenly stopped and Harry crashed into him.

“Sorry.”

“No – my fault. I’ve got some seaweed caught round my ankle. Do me a favour and hold me so I don’t fall over whilst I dip my head under water and undo it.”

“Right.” Harry grabbed Draco’s hips.

Draco took a breath and bent down, making sure his arse-muscles flexed against Harry’s pubic area. After the third go, Draco knew that Harry was appreciating the supposedly inadvertent massage. Six long breaths later he felt Harry throbbing between his buns.

“Thanks Harry, you can let go now, I’ve untied the seaweed.”

Draco felt Harry quiver as they separated.

“Uh-uh … Glad to be of assistance.” Harry let out an explosive breath. “Next time let me know, and I won’t walk into you so hard.”

What Draco thought about ‘Harry hard’ he did not express but he thought he saw a few white blobs floating away from them, thinking: ‘I hope he does walk into me hard, and soon. I can hardly wait to have that length inside me.’ He smiled and led the way, secretly slapping his own intumescence to ensure it was not too obvious when he got out of the water to enter the lift. Inside the small box-room Draco felt Harry’s digits squeeze him gently and he began to swell.

“You did that on purpose didn’t you?”

“What?”

“Rubbed your bum on my cock.”

“Hmm …”

Harry gave another squeeze: “I’m hungry now … We’ll deal with this later … Don’t get too excited will you?”

“I can’t wait.” Draco added sixteen.

“What? To have your lord discipline you for impropriety … Mmm?”

“Oh … I’m not sure I want any dinner.” Draco mentally deducted twenty.

“Yes you do, you’ll need all your stamina for later.”

“Yes Milord.” Draco felt his pubes shrivel up at the thought of what might happen.

Draco was miserable all through dinner. Harry wouldn’t let him push away his food, threatening to get Kreacher to force feed him.

“This calls for action in my official residence. Kreacher; we’re flooing back to Grimmauld place.”

“Okay Harry. We’ll finish up here and follow on afterwards.”

Draco felt terrible. Grimmauld Place was in London, not very far from the Ministry and Wizengamot Hall. ‘Am I going to be returned?’ he thought. Hesitantly he followed Harry from the floo.

Harry continued Draco’s ‘torture of uncertainty’ by retiring to the library and starting to read. Draco chose a comfy chair, wondering if he’d be able to sit in a chair afterwards. He pretended to read a potions book; not that he took anything in. The words blurred and seemed to go round and round, just as Draco’s imaginings of beatings and torture and prison and … went round and round in his head.

Harry carefully squinted over the top of the book he was pretending to read. He was slightly side on to Draco and could see his buttock muscles flexing beneath the skimpy loincloth as his vassal squirmed in anticipation. ‘How long can I stretch this out for?’ he thought. ‘I need him pliable enough, but not too disheartened. I’ll give it another hour, I think.’

Draco shuffled around in his chair growing more and more agitated, almost sobbing in his anguish. ‘I wish he’d do something, at least it would be better than all the Death Eater tortures I’m imagining.’

Harry stood and deliberately put the book back on its shelf; then he deliberately adjusted the whole row so that all the backs were even. By the time he was finished a distraught Draco was kneeling by Harry’s feet, shivering.

“Get up, Snape. Wait for me upstairs.”

“Yes, Milord.” Draco sniffed back his impending tears.

Harry waited in the library listening to his vassal trundle unwillingly up the stairs.

Kreacher popped in with two mugs of chocolate.

“Thanks, Kreacher, have you put a keep warm charm on them?”

“Yes Harry. What are you going to do to him?”

“Wait and see, Kreacher. It’ll not be what he’s expecting.”

“Mmm … I thought as much … Good luck.”

“Thanks.” Harry picked up the two mugs and ambled upstairs.

Harry set down the mugs on his bedside table, letting the aroma waft around the room. Draco knelt on the carpet by his own bed.

“Snape, strip and come over here; bring that leather belt with you.”

“Yes, Milord.” Draco crawled across the intervening space with the belt held between his teeth. Just as the Dark Lord had made him do, many times.

“Stop grovelling, stand up straight and face me.”

“Yes, Milord.”

Harry looked at the fright-shrivelled appurtenances in their silver nest and smiled. Draco thought the smile was malicious.

“Loop the belt over my curtain rail.”

“Yes, Milord.” Draco took three nervous goes to get it there.

“Hands in the air.”

“Yes, Milord.”

Harry stood and ensured Draco’s hands were fully secured in a double loop of belt. Draco felt horribly exposed. He could smell his favourite chocolate fumes and wondered if he’d be able to drink it after whatever his cruel master was going to do. He remembered Voldie, dribbling boiling hot chocolate down a young Muggle’s front, scalding him terribly, and then playing with the blistered penis whilst the victim screamed. ‘Merlin, I hope Potter’s not that vindictive,’ he wished. Then he felt fingers round his scrotum.

“Have you been deliberately trying to seduce me?”

Draco knew he had to be truthful or the collar would Crucio him: “Yes, Milord.”

“All that business with oil and massage was part of it, yes?”

“Yes, Milord.” Draco felt Harry’s grip tighten: ‘Merlin, is he going to rip them off?’

“And the measuring ploy too?”

“Yes, Milord.” Draco huffed as Harry squeezed more: ‘Grit your teeth Draco here it comes.’

“You’ve already admitted about the seaweed thing, haven’t you?”

“Yes, Milord.” Draco tensed, quailing at what was to happen.

“So you won’t object if I play with you for a bit, will you?”

“Yes … I mean … No Milord.” Draco drew his breath in: ‘What’s he going to do?’ He remembered all the games Voldie used to play, all of them arousing until the finale which left the victim screaming in agony.

Harry’s fingers started to stroke. Draco tried not to respond hoping that delay might soften Harry’s heart. Harry had had a good tutor in Seamus and knew just when to squeeze, when to pull and when to caress. Draco’s resolve slowly melted and, as it did so, his member hardened. ‘Merlin, has he got hot hands.’

Quite soon the rest of Draco’s body was cooperating, humping as Harry played. Draco tensed holding back the impending consummation remembering Voldie shoving a hot poker down someone’s urethra and gloating as the victim spurted sizzling spunk. The tension grew. Although because of the collar, he could not bend his neck and see what was happening down below, Draco knew that he was shiny purple by now and nothing could stop the impending flood. His balls were tight in his scrotum and he could feel the rising tide of ejaculate.

“Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah!”

As the first shot pulsed out, a finger rubbed his slit. Draco’s legs shuddered and another splurge emerged behind the rubbing digit. Draco’s lower half thrust forward, he felt as though his glans was on fire. Another climax was cushioned by the same caressing manipulator. Draco lost count of his emissions. Because of the finger’s rubbing, every muscle in his body spasmed and he would have collapsed but for the belt holding him upright, but more was yet to come.

Harry clasped the base of Draco’s extension not allowing it to subside; his fingers stroked the glans’s edges sending further shocks of salaciousness all through Draco’s body. The hanging teenager squirmed and spasmed, shouting suggestive epithets, with all his being concentrated on his shiny mushroom. Some minutes later, Draco came again; squirting his satisfaction onto fondling fingers and arching his back so far that his long tresses tickled his lifted heels. He groaned as his glowing groin gifted its gratification. Draco had never felt such fulfilment as this. He hung limply crying in ecstasy with sweat running off him in buckets.

“Have you learnt your lesson?” Harry’s fingers pinched the hyper-sensitive tool.

“Y-y-y-yes, M-m-m-mi-l-l-l-lord.” Draco’s whole body convulsed and he passed out.

As Harry stood and uncoupled the belt, Draco collapsed bonelessly onto the carpet.

Harry bent down and picked him up, carrying him to Draco’s bed. Harry laid Draco out on his back, ogling the still three-quarter hard piece of flesh. Draco stirred and shivered. As he drew up the bedclothes Harry couldn’t resist dragging the sheet slowly over what was exposed. He was gratified to see that Draco’s body arched and lurched as each inch scraped the now re-hardened boner.

As he heard his lord scramble into bed; Draco lay there trying to unscramble his thoughts, lust or torture, punishment or fulfilment, nothing lodged for more than half a second. His mind in a whirl, he drifted off, whilst Harry huffed, coming at the fantasies based on what he had finally achieved. His final Scourgify cleared everything up wherever it had squirted.

###

By morning Draco was still uncertain as to his lord’s motives; but had managed to sort out some alternatives at least:

1. Harry was a vindictive bastard who would take great joy in rubbing Draco’s dong sore to bleeding point and beyond that, until he had no reproductive organs left at all.

2. Harry, having proved his point, would thrash Draco soundly and send him back to Azkaban; revealing to the Wizengamot all the sordid ploys of a diseased ex-Malfoy mind.

3. Harry would reject any contact with Draco out of hand, and deal with him in a coldly clinical way until Draco was forced to commit suicide or was admitted to the loony ward at his ex-home.

There had been a change in the weather overnight and the bedroom was chilly, so Draco snuggled fearfully under the warm bedclothes; mulling over his morbid forebodings.

Harry woke and sat up feeling for his glasses.

“Brr-rr, it’s a bit nippy. Are you awake, Draco?”

“Yes I am, Milord. It’s chilly so I snuggled back down.”

Harry looked over at his vassal and grinned wickedly. “If I have to endure the cold, so do you.”

Steeling himself against the cold and oblivious of his piss-proud woody, Harry rose and walked towards Draco’s bed intending to rip the blankets off his vassal.

Draco’s eyes widened in fear, dreading Harry’s next actions. “P-please, Milord; what are you going to do to me this morning?”

Harry gripped the sheets and attempted to pull them off Draco. Draco clung on to the bedclothes hoping to stay his execution. Despite his dire straits, the remembrance of the happenings of the previous evening caused Draco’s dong to begin to expand. Harry tugged the blankets again. Draco’s fright gave him extra strength, so when Harry let go the second time, Draco shot up the bed untucking the coverings at the foot. This gave Harry another channel of attack. He threw the sheets over Draco’s head and grasped the exposed erection. Draco’s hands were still tangled in the sheets so Harry had time enough to consolidate his grip.

“Now; are you going to get up; or shall I pull it off?”

Draco had been in this kind of fight before and his hands automatically flew towards his opponent’s tackle. Harry sidestepped and Draco fell out of bed; as he did so Harry released his grip, chuckling.

Draco looked up from where he lay on the carpet. Harry was grinning, not malevolently as Draco expected, but mischievously. He had a quick rethink, realising that all his fears had been groundless.

“You prat, Potter. I’ll get you for that!” Draco made a grab for Harry’s hard-on.

Harry sidestepped again. “Malfoy’s missed the snitch again,” he taunted.

“That’s no snitch. It’s much bigger.”

Harry looked down: “Sirius said my dad was well endowed … Family trait I suppose.”

“Not that, I meant the snitch!” Draco managed to flick Harry’s end.

“That so? Yours must be no longer than its wings, then.” Harry returned the flick somewhat harder.

Draco gasped and took a step back. “Right you would-be torturer, this is war.”

A mock battle ensued ending with a naked and very erect Draco chasing an equally stiff Harry into the bathroom.

“Pax!” Harry groaned, standing in front of the toilet: “I need to pee, badly.”

“Okay, pax! Move over a bit, so do I.”

Harry shuffled round enough for Draco to squeeze in beside him. Draco made sure to rub accidently on Harry’s body. Both of them stood there concentrating hard. The problem was that they both were concentrating on the shape of the other one’s prick. Harry realised that, at sometime, Draco had been circumcised. Draco marvelled at the colouration of Harry’s now fully revealed glans protruding out of its sheath. Neither of them concentrated on where their water was going to go.

They squeezed, trying to get the water to emerge, but thinking lascivious thoughts about the other. Nothing came out. They closed their eyes hoping to concentrate on what their bladders were saying and not on the urgings of their very active libidos.

Harry managed first. However, because his eyes were closed, his aim wasn’t as accurate as it should have been.

“Merlin, Potter, what are you doing?”

Harry opened his eyes to find Draco’s genital area receiving his full stream of light yellow liquid.

“So you want a piss-fight do you?” Draco grinned evilly and directed his stream in direct opposition to Harry.

Harry was new to this and wondered what the challenge really meant; so he moved his hose around aiming and finding Draco’s belly button, and then gasping when Draco did the same. Harry found the feeling quite erotic.

They were still hard when the last dribbles actually went where they were supposed to go: into the lavatory pan.

“You’re a kinky devil, Draco. I’ll get my wand to clean up the mess; you start the shower running so we can clean ourselves properly.”

“You’re the kinky one. After all, you started it,” said Draco leaning in to the shower to control the temperature and remembering the mind-boggling thrill of the previous evening.

Harry returned, wand in hand: “Scourgify! … Is it hot enough?”

“The shower is and so are you.” Draco caressed Harry’s tool in emphasis.

Harry didn’t draw back. Placing his glasses on a convenient shelf he gently pushed Draco under the jets of hot water.

“Is this to my lord’s liking?”

“Mmm … I like my shower hot as well as my partner.” Harry now had hold of Draco’s intumescence and stroked it gently.

Silence reigned in the shower, except for the sound of falling water. Harry used both hands, one to gently pump his vassal and the other to explore his balls and buttocks. Harry reckoned that Draco was much the same size as Neville if slightly fatter. Draco was using both hands as well, he marvelled at the sheer size of what he was handling for the first time and imagining how it would feel inside him. Soon both of Draco’s hands were engaged round Harry’s eagerness, pumping and massaging the purple glans. Draco could see Harry’s thigh muscles twitching, so he caressed the top of Harry’s glans. A trick he had very recently learned.

“Oo-oo-ooh, Draco!” The whole of Harry’s body twitched.

Draco repeated the performance paying particular attention to the slit. Harry’s body performed a little jig of pleasure and thrust upwards. Remembered something from one of Voldie’s games, Draco’s carefully manicured little finger pressed down, disappearing up to the knuckle.

“Ah-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h.” Harry thrust up, almost standing on the tips of his toes.

Draco could feel Harry’s urethra pulsing so he wiggled his finger slightly. Harry screamed loudly and Draco’s narrow finger was surrounded by slippery fluid.

“Got you back for last night, Potter.”

Then Draco screamed.

However this was not a scream of passion but one of agony. The collar had misinterpreted Harry’s passion for distress and assumed that Draco was attacking him.