Harry's Pet

Part one of three

A/N ~ this fic has grown a little bit in the writing of it, this is now chapter one of three not two



When Draco awoke, he could not move his arms. They were pulled tight above his head and affixed to a metal headboard, encircled in leather cuffs and held securely. He was lying on a bed, naked, on silken sheets. ‘Oh my God,’ he thought. ‘I am no longer in the real world; I’m in the middle of a fucking porno cliché.’

“You think?” said a voice, “Hmmm, could be that you are right. Mind you, I could have chained you in a dungeon; would have been just as much of a cliché, but not nearly as comfortable for you.”

‘Oh fuck,’ he thought, ‘I said that out loud.’

“Umm no,” said the voice. “You did not. It is just that I own you. All of you, every last bit. Your body, your soul, your thoughts, everything! You are my reward for defeating Voldemort. The Ministry said I could have anything I wanted, anything in the world, so I asked for you. And they acceded to my request. So you’re mine now. Forever.”

“Potter?” It was Potter who had him chained to a bed; perfect goody, goody golden boy, equally naked and very buff, Harry Potter?

“Not such a goody, goody golden boy any more, my little pet,” Potter said. His hands were running up and down Draco’s inner thighs, causing him to shudder. He tried to move away, but then realised that his legs were tied too. It didn’t hurt; his bonds were as soft as butter, they encircled his skin like a caress. But his ankles were fixed to a spreader bar, which gave Potter access to any part of his anatomy that he wanted to touch and he, Draco, was completely helpless.

He gulped, and then squeaked as Potter grasped his cock and squeezed it. Hard.

“Get the fuck off me, Potter!” Draco yelled, trying to arch away from those invasive, exploring hands. “They can’t do this. I’m a wizard, not a house elf. I can’t be given away like this!”

“But Malfoy,” Potter purred, “it’s too late. You already have been given away: to me. And, if I wanted to treat you as a house elf, then I could do, and nothing and nobody could stop me.” He squeezed Draco’s cock again, eliciting a moan from the prostrate man. “I have far better plans for your time and your body though, than cooking and cleaning. I suspect that you are not very good at that. But I bet you will be a very, very good little pet. At least, when I finish your training you will be.”

Draco was trying to see his nether regions, see what Potter was doing, and it was bloody uncomfortable because he couldn’t quite lift his head. Finally, he caught a glimpse of his shiny pink cock and his naked balls.

“Potter!” he yelped, “What have you done? Where has all my hair gone? There is nothing left.”

Potter smirked, evilly.

“I removed it,” he said coolly, “Though it was nice to see that you are a natural blonde!” And with that, he leaned over and licked Draco’s cock as if it were a lollypop. Draco couldn’t help himself; he found his arse rising towards Potter’s mouth, seeking that delicious warm wetness. Then Potter ran his tongue around the tip of Draco’s cock and nibbled the skin around his urethra. “I didn’t want a mouth full of hair when I did this,” he muttered licking back down Draco’s cock to the base. “Of course, I don’t care if you get a mouth full of hair when you suck me off, but it isn’t an equal relationship, after all.”

Draco was barely listening. He knew what Potter was saying was important, that he ought to pay attention to what was being said. He was panting now, desperate for release. Who knew that Potter would be so good at this?

“By the way,” he continued, “You are not allowed to call me ‘Potter,’ or ‘Harry,’ for that matter. I am your Master and you will address me as such.” He ran his tongue over one of Draco’s balls, sucking it into his mouth for a moment. “If you forget again, then I will have to punish you.” With that, he moved his hand along Draco’s tender thigh, following it with his mouth, kissing and sucking. Then he took the tender skin between his teeth and bit it.

Draco yelled, “Ow, fuck! What did you do that for? Fuck, Potter, that hurt!”

Potter grinned again, his green eyes danced with glee.

“Tsk, tsk, Draco,” he said, moving his tongue back down Draco’s leg towards his groin, “You do disappoint me! I thought you were a quick learner. I’ll just have to punish you again.”

This time he was at the very fattest part of Draco’s inner thigh when he bit down and, fucking hell, did it hurt like buggery! Draco screamed. But Potter chuckled.

“Get off me, you bastard!” Draco was yelling, “I don’t want this, you wanker!”

This time, Potter laughed out loud.

“But I’m not a wanker, Draco, not any more. You are my little wanker, you’ll wank me and suck me, and, bit by bit, you will learn to love it.” He was leaning over Draco now, face to face. He still had his hand grasping Draco’s cock, “And, however much you deny it, this,” he said pulling on Draco’s dick, “this disagrees with you.”

Draco couldn’t argue with that, could he? He was angry, furious, in fact. He wanted to get up off that bed and smash Potter into the ground, but he had never been so hard in all his life.

Potter leaned down now and kissed him. With such passion, and such intensity, that Draco almost forgot to breathe. At the same time, he was stroking Draco until, with a cry muffled by the insistent mouth of his erstwhile rival, Draco came so hard he thought his eyeballs were about to bleed.

Potter grinned and stood up. He wiped his sticky hand on the sheets on which Draco lay. Reached down to the foot of the bed and produced what looked, for all the world, like a collar; a rather gorgeous collar, solid silver and covered in jewels.

“This is for you, Draco,” Potter said. “By the end of the week you will crawl to me and beg me to put this on you. It is possibly the only thing that I will ever let you wear from now on. After all, why should I cover up that gorgeous body, when I can look at it all day long?

“You are so beautiful,” he said, stroking Draco’s face tenderly, “such a wanton little whore. My little whore! And I am never going to let you go.”

Draco shivered. Who knew that Potter could be so commanding, who knew he was so gorgeous underneath those dreadful clothes? He knew that he should be desperate to get away, from Potter, from Harry and he was, wasn’t he? But that mouth! Those big green eyes! That awesome, genius, fucking, tongue. He couldn’t possibly be more turned on than he had ever been in his entire life, could he?

But, already, his cock was hard and weeping again and Potter was still smirking. He ran a finger along the offending organ.

“My, my, pet. See what I mean? Totally, fucking, wanton. Only, this time, you don’t come before I do,” and he bent over Draco’s cock, fixing a cold metal ring at the base of it. With one final lick at the tip, he squeezed Draco’s thigh again and said, “Night, night, pet. See you in the morning!” And, with that last comment ringing in Draco’s ears, Potter disapparated with a pop and all the lights went out.


When Draco woke up again, his bonds had been relaxed a bit. He was still chained to the headboard, the cuffs were on his wrists and his ankles, but at least he could move. His cock was still hard though, and he couldn’t help secretly hoping that Potter would be back shortly to take care of it.

The light was streaming through a gap in the curtains, and Draco could see a bit of the room now. It was a perfectly nice room, with cream walls and dark wood furniture. The only remotely weird thing about it was the fact that he was in it, tied naked and spread wide on a metal bedstead which was dressed in cream silk sheets. Oh, and of course, there was also the fact that Hermione Granger was sitting in an armchair by the bed, watching him intently.

Draco yelped. He used all the leeway that the loosened bonds gave him to try to turn on his side and cover his cock with his leg. But, whilst the chains attached to the headboard allowed him some movement, the spreader bar prevented him from covering anything else.

Granger watched his contortions for a second or two and then commented.

“I wouldn’t bother, Malfoy. I am singularly uninterested in your, um, assets. Both Ron and Harry are far more generously endowed.”

“Fuck off Granger,” Draco growled, “At least you can cover me up if you are going to start drooling over me!”

“Sorry, Malfoy, no can do. Harry wants you just like that and I do like to make my dear friend Harry happy!”

She smirked at him, evilly.

Draco struggled for a bit longer, trying to release his bonds and then he just gave in. What was the point? He was gorgeous, she obviously wasn’t going anywhere and he wasn’t exactly ashamed off his body, let the poor woman have a look. After all, if all she was used to was the ginger ape, then she deserved to see some beauty.

“What the fuck are you doing here anyway? What the fuck am I doing here, come to that?”

Draco was royally pissed off! He didn’t know how long he had been here, he was hungry, thirsty and he needed a pee, his cock was still hard from the night before and he thought that Potter must have used magic to keep it so. But he knew that if he didn’t get to come soon his beloved organ was likely to drop off. He wanted some answers. Then it hit him: that’s what Granger was here for wasn’t it? To tell him what was happening?

He was going to have to talk to the bitch, wasn’t he?

“Oh fuck.”

“Hey, Granger!” he began, “What’s going on? Why am I here? Is this some sort of joke or something?”

“Well, it’s certainly something!” Hermione replied acerbically.

Draco ground his teeth.

“Please Granger. Tell me why I am here?” he asked as politely as he could under the circumstances.

She tucked her chin down and peered at him from under her brows.

“That’s what I’m here for, Malfoy,” she said coolly. “Harry asked me to explain what is happening to you; he’ll explain your duties. Perhaps he already has?”

It was gradually dawning on Draco that this was not a joke. Last night had been a bit like a hot dream! A rather weird, perverted hot dream right enough. But nevertheless, nothing like reality.

“Please Her..Hermione?” Draco was almost begging now. “I need to know what’s going on and I really, desperately need the loo.” He couldn’t help blushing a bit, which was really weird, because she had been sitting there watching him in all his naked glory for Merlin knew how long, and that hadn’t bothered him had it? But having to tell Granger about his need to relieve himself had him blushing like a school-girl.

“Oh sorry, Malfoy,” she said, somewhat contritely. And she waved a wand to remove any excess bodily fluids.

“Fuck!!” Malfoy yelped. He hated that charm; it made you feel like your insides were being rubbed down with sandpaper.

Much to Draco’s dismay, Granger laughed. He felt fury rising in him. He wanted to snap at her, call her a cold-hearted, Mudblood bitch. But that wasn’t going to get him any answers, was it? So he ground his teeth even harder and stayed silent.

“You belong to Harry now.” Granger began.

“He told me that!” Draco spat angrily. “And you’re okay with it are you? I thought you started that group at Hogwarts to free House Elves. What was it called again? Spunk or something?”

Granger bristled. “It was called S.P.E.W,” she spelled, “As you well know. And, if you are asking, I don’t like this, not one bit. But, under the circumstances…”

She looked at him steadily for a moment. “Look Granger,” Draco said, “I can’t get on my knees, can I? I am asking you, as politely as I can, to tell me what’s happened. And, considering I’ve been chained to a bed by a fucking madman, that was pretty fucking polite!”

She smiled ruefully then, and looked at him with something resembling sympathy.

“I am sorry, Draco,” she said, “Truly I am. “It’s a long story.”

“Well, I sure as hell ain’t going anywhere, am I?” Draco hissed.

“Voldemort made himself immortal by the use of something called Horcruxes” She continued. “Those are little bits of soul that a wizard can hide away, thereby saving his own life. If parts of his soul are hidden, safe, then, even if his body is destroyed, the wizard cannot be killed, ever.”

Draco shivered, whether it was the casual use of the Dark Lord’s name, the mention of the Horcruxes, or the fact that he was lying in a large airy room totally bollock naked, he wasn’t sure, but all at once he was covered in goose bumps.

But Hermione was continuing.

“Dumbledore knew all about the Horcruxes, and he said it was not a good idea to make a Horcrux out of a living thing. He thought that Voldemort had made a Horcrux out of his snake, Nagini. But Dumbledore was wrong. Nagini wasn’t a Horcrux, Harry was. Harry is. Even though Voldemort is dead, Harry still carries a part of his soul.”

Draco started to panic.

After he had failed to kill Dumbledore, Draco had had to face the Dark Lord. It had been the most terrifying experience of his life. He had been tortured, beaten and subjected to prolonged hexing, including repeated applications of the Cruciatus Curse. He couldn’t face that again. He knew he would go mad! He started to hyperventilate.

Hermione came over and sat beside him and placed a warm hand on his chest.

“Shh, Draco,” she said, “It’s okay.”

“How is it okay, you stupid bitch?” he growled, “I’ve just been made into the fucktoy of a Dark Lord. How could that possibly be fucking OKAY?” He shouted the last bit, so agitated was he becoming now.

Granger didn’t seem in the slightest bit flustered though.

“I do understand, Draco,” she said, almost kindly. “We’ve all been through the same thought processes; imagine how Harry felt when he found out? But Dumbledore was right, you see? There is a bit of Voldemort’s soul that was accidentally put in Harry when he was just a baby, because it was an accident, you know? When Harry didn’t die, and everything went wrong for Voldy, the piece of soul that he was going to put in Godric’s sword ended up in Harry. It has been there all his life.

“But Harry has such a good soul, is so loving and kind, that his soul, his goodness, negated the evil.”

Draco’s mouth dropped open; he had no idea what to say to that. She obviously didn’t think that chaining someone to a bed and bringing them off in the most earth-shattering way possible was evil. Mind you, when he thought about last night, Draco’s cock twitched with anticipation and he realised that bits of him didn’t think it was very evil, either!

“The only problem though,” Granger continued, “It has left him with some, um, unusual sexual proclivities. He has become very dominant in bed, with his partners and I believe he likes um S&M and er Bondage, um, and all that sort of thing.”

“But the problem was that, er Ginny didn’t really like it. You see um Ginny is much more the kind of girl who likes, er dishing out the punishment, not taking it!”

“So then, of course, Snape suggested you.”

Draco’s mouth was now open so widely at all these revelations that his jaw was beginning to get quite painful.

“Snape,” he shouted, struggling against his bonds. “I am going to fucking kill him!”

Hermione patted his chest again and he wanted to rip her fucking hand off with his teeth. Unfortunately he couldn’t quite reach.

“But don’t you see, Draco? Snape saw it as your only chance. He was a spy all along; Dumbledore left plenty of information to clear him as soon as Voldemort died. But you? As far as anyone is concerned, you were a Death Eater, and excuse me for saying, not a very good one at that.

The Malfoy fortune has been confiscated to pay for, what Scrimgeour calls, your family’s ‘war crimes’. Your father is dead, and your mother cleared off to Argentina with some South American aristocrat. The Ministry wanted to make an example of you, Malfoy. They found you in hiding at Greg Goyle’s. You were so badly hexed that you were Stupefied for nearly a week. But, if Snape hadn’t suggested it, and Harry hadn’t agreed to help, you would have woken up to a cell in Azkaban and the possibility of a Kiss from a much less attractive prospect than Harry.”

Draco shivered again, much more violently this time.

“So is this all pretence then?” he asked, “Did Potter rescue me?”

“Weellll..” Hermione mused, “he did, and he didn’t. You are obviously not in Azkaban, but the only way to save you was to enslave you, and Harry has been er quite obsessed with you since sixth year, so I think he is really, oh how do I put it? Really looking forward to playing with his new toy.”

Draco lay back against the pillow.

“I am so fucked, aren’t I?” he moaned.

“Oh I don’t know, Malfoy. You obviously enjoyed last night,” she said, gently squeezing his cock in an objective manner. If it had not been for the chains, he would have leapt off the bed at that point, “We heard you screaming in orgasm all over the house.

“You can’t change what has happened, you know? The Malfoy name is dirt right now. The only way to be safe, and out of prison, is to stay with Harry and, despite his need to play little games, he is too much of a Gryffindor to ever truly harm you. Shouldn’t you be making the most of this situation? Turning it to your best advantage? Isn’t that the Slytherin thing to do?

“I’m sorry that I can’t give you anything to eat or drink, but Harry said not too. He’ll be back soon and he is very eager to spend time with you, so I’d get some rest while you can.”

With that last statement ringing in the air she swept out of the room, bushy curls bouncing energetically in her wake.

Draco lay back on the soft pillows and wondered what in the heck he was going to do now.

The last three years had been sheer hell for him. His mother had cleared off as soon as his father had been killed. Stupid fool that he was, Lucius Malfoy had escaped from Azkaban with the help of his sister-in-law, Bellatrix, and, instead of clearing off out of the country taking the Malfoy millions with him, he had rejoined the Dark Lord, only to die in a stupid battle, when he was trampled to death by one of that fat oaf Hagrid’s hippogriffs.

An ignominious end indeed for a Malfoy.

Then Draco had gone into hiding. He had often been rejected, he had been hungry, lonely and sometimes close to despair. Greg’s house had been the last of many hiding places. He hadn’t been surprised that the Aurors had found him at long last. But this? This situation? This frightened the shit out of him.

He had closed his eyes to try to think and he opened them now, only to see Potter looking down hungrily at him with those gorgeous green eyes.

“Hello, Pet,” he grinned, “Did you miss me?”

It was four hours later, and Draco was wondering whether it were possible to die of pleasure. Harry had licked, sucked and nibbled him. He had fucked him into the mattress more than once. He had trickled juice down Draco’s parched throat and fed him melon and strawberries and peaches and ice cream.

His cock was huge, really huge - the biggest that Draco had ever had inside him - and Merlin did he know how to use it. His bonds had again been loosened and the spreader bar removed. And Harry had done that whilst he was making love to him, because that it what it was, making love. Harry had loosened the bonds, retightened them and then vanished the spreader bar all without saying a word or using a wand. And Draco realised that the man sharing his bed was indeed hugely powerful.

They lay spooned together now. Harry’s arm draped over Draco’s body possessively. His breath gentle against Draco’s neck, his leg gently inserted between Draco’s own legs.

But Draco wasn’t sleeping. How could he? He had far too much to think about.

When Hermione had first told him about the Horcruxes, the bit of soul, he had very nearly despaired. The Dark Lord had been dark and vicious. He had enjoyed the pain of others and, whilst he had had no apparent capacity for sex himself, he had loved to watch others fuck, others being raped. If it had not been for Snape putting a claim on him and spiriting him away, Draco would have ended up as the pet of someone like Greyback or Avery. But tonight, when Harry had worshipped his body with his mouth, whispered tender words in his ear and made slow and tender love to him, Draco had looked for signs that Harry was possessed.

There had been the occasional flash of red when he had been very aroused, but apart from that, nothing. The look in those green eyes had been one of hunger and one of tenderness. Granger had said that Harry had been obsessed with him in sixth year. Well, Draco knew that he had been obsessed with Harry, since a scruffy but very determined little boy had stood next to him in Madam Malkin’s all those years ago. All that hatred, all that animosity, was because he had been rejected, not wanted in Harry’s life.

But now he had him. He had Harry Potter in bed with him, holding him tight. The sex tonight had been beyond his wildest dreams, and Draco was no virgin, he had had lots of experience in bed. Harry was a very generous lover. And Draco had almost lost count of the orgasms that the dark haired boy had wrung from his body. It had been, well, it had been fucking fantastic!

Granger was right. He was a Slytherin; he should take advantage of any situation. Harry was obviously powerful, but was also sweet and loving. Draco knew he could handle him. He had always been known as a bit of a bossy bottom in Slytherin, so that’s how he’d handle Harry. He’d let him think that he was in charge, when really he would get his own way most of the time, and, compared to the last few months, that was definitely a step forward! Of course, it wasn’t what his mother might have wished for him, but then she had pissed off to Argentina with Carlos, hadn’t she? He was safe and protected and fed, and cared for. So what if he wasn’t free? He never had been free, really, had he? So what if his ‘Master’ was Harry Potter? The man in question was, without a doubt, one of the most powerful wizards in the country; both politically and, based on his earlier performance, magically as well.

He’d always had to fulfil a role: Malfoy heir, his father’s son, prince of Slytherin. So that’s all this was then, a role; one which might be a heck of a lot more fun than some of the others he had played.

So in the morning, he participated in the lovemaking with great appreciation. He gave in to the demands of his Master with abandonment. He allowed himself to be fucked several times and then he did not protest when Harry told him to bathe him and then join him in the bath. And later, later he crawled to his new Master and knelt at his feet, enjoying the feeling of his cock swelling yet again as Harry placed the beautiful collar around his neck. He luxuriated in the feeling of it, encircling his throat, just the right size, made for him, intricate, exquisite, costly. He felt safe and wanted and protected and very, very aroused.

And later, when Harry played with his body, Draco allowed him access with total abandon, he was compliant and submissive, everything his Master could wish for, and all the time he occluded his thoughts and waited to take control.

TBC - Part two up soon