Sight Unseen

Harry has been sold to a slave-house. Fearful that he will end up in a brothel, where the whores are treated awfully, he's both ecstatic and nervous to learn that a wealthy lord has bought him, sight unseen. Harry must learn to deal with both learning to please his new master and about the intrigues of a large household.

A/N: This will be Harry/Draco eventually, but not for a long time. Right now it is Harry/Lucius, with a couple of other M/M pairings that will not be as pleasant.

Chapter One

The brunette stood chained to the auction block, eyes to the singular, scraggly clump of weeds at the foot of the makeshift stage in the small village square. Eyes down meant submission. That was a great selling feature. You want to be sold. Because if you get too old, you’re sent to the brothels.

The boy was turned this way and that for the benefit of the audience. Itchy, tight burlap shorts were all he wore, showing off his lithe little body. He was coaxed to bend over, so the interested men and women could get a look at his round butt. “Sweet ass!” a whistle, and some catcalls were his praise, before the cattle prod nudged him into a series of stretches to show how limber and flexible he was.

The auctioneer rattled off a list of his assets in a stream Harry didn’t bother to follow. He knew what was being yelled at the crowd. Virgin. Great cook. Disease-free. All of his attributes added up to a price he very much doubted anyone in the crowd could afford. This was the third of these auctions he’d been to, and while he received much interest from the spectators, no offers had yet been placed.

Harry knew he had an enticing body, a solid resume (none of which was fabricated, surprisingly), and the posturing and manners of a well-bred concubine. He would probably be snatched up the first day in a true action-house. But because he was neither schooled in the sensual arts, nor had a pedigree to speak of, he was considered unfit for private auction. Noblemen and women rarely passed through the village square and were therefore (though the only people truly able to afford him) unlikely to see him.

He went back up on the block twice more before his auctioneer and manager, Mister Aberforth, packed he and the stage up and headed back to the slave-house. Harry was the only unsold slave of the day, and he silently helped Mister Aberforth load and unload the auction materials.

“You seem down, lad.” All Aberforth received was a noncommittal shrug and downcast eyes. “You’ll be sold soon enough, don’t you worry, boy.”

The answer was quiet, almost inaudible: “What if I’m not?”

“Yeh will be, I don’t doubt that. You’re quite the catch, young man.”

“I’m too expensive.” Aberforth had to strain to hear.

“I ‘spect we’ll lower the price ‘fore long; I don’t see you as one a them brothel boys.” Harry shuddered at the mention. He had seen what was done to the whores. Torn in two. Anything for the customer, if they pay enough. Whores never lasted long.

Aberforth and Harry finished unloading in silence. Harry then dragged himself back to his now-empty room and fell asleep without dinner. It would just be watery soup and stale bread in any case. He awaited without relish the arrival of his new roommates the next day. The truckload of crying, sniffling children sold off by their parents or guardians to pay a debt or have one less mouth to feed. And then the field-trip to the whorehouse where the new slaves would be made to view what they would become should they remain unsold for too long. While that fear was fresh, the masters would begin drilling them on auction etiquette: how to stand, how to turn, how to stretch. The children would be stripped, hosed off, checked for disease, and then clothed in burlap. Their clothes and possessions would be sold. Slaves didn’t own anything.

Harry slept through the night, without the usual sobs and comforting whispers exchanged between slaves to keep him awake.

~***~

The next three weeks were spent coaching the ‘new recruits’. They were taught not to look their masters or mistresses in the eye, to never talk back, to kneel properly, to speak softly (but only when spoken to), to show submission and apology with a display of their necks, and to please their masters and mistresses in more carnal ways.

The masters taught those who had already been breached themselves, while those who were virgins were taught theory and practiced giving oral pleasure on fruits. Harry liked those days best. They were allowed to eat the fruits after they had satisfied the masters with their skill, and as it was all review for Harry, he got to eat a banana and a peach every day.

~***~

On the eve of the next auction, Aberforth called Harry to his small set of rooms. He informed Harry that his price was to remain fixed. Harry’s shoulders slumped at the news.

“But it’s not all bad, Harry! I have a brother, you see. He’s a tutor to this real wealthy family. I’ve told him about you and he told them. He even gave ‘em one of your flyers! So some real rich folk might come and snatch you up tomorrow, Har!” Harry shrugged his shoulders and refused to get his hopes up.

Aberforth looked a little disappointed that the news hadn’t cheered Harry up, and he sadly acquiesced to the brunette’s request to go back to his room.

Harry tossed and turned that night, dreaming of the wealthy master he wouldn’t allow himself to think of whilst awake.

~***~

The next day the slaves were rousted out of bed with the clanging of a gong and the smell of cinnamon oatmeal. They were always fed well the week before a sale.

While Harry was in line to be loaded into the back of the cart with his fellows, Aberforth came scurrying up to him with a look of delight.

“Har! You’ll never guess! You’ve been paid for in full, sight unseen by some gentleman!” Harry stood there, stunned. He was pulled from clogging the entrance of the cart and into the arms of Aberforth. Harry reeled, once released from Aberforth’s gruff hug. He suddenly felt unsure of himself, unsure of his worth. Butterflies did stunning aerial attacks in his belly and he discovered himself on the ground, with no idea of how he arrived there. He watched with unseeing eyes as the cart was loaded. He didn’t notice the glares of some of his roommates or the relieved glances of the others. He was sold. To an unknown gentleman. Who was apparently wealthy. Harry hoped he wasn’t hideous.

~***~

Harry was told to wait in the shabby, faded lobby of the slavery. His skin prickled with cold in the drafts of the atrium. He waited for what seemed hours. Finally a well-appointed carriage pulled up to the slavery and Harry scrambled to kneel before his new master, not wishing to accrue punishment before he even got to the house. He cast his eyes to the cold, rough stones of the floor. He managed to keep his gaze down and squash the temptation to steal a glimpse of his new master before he was bidden. He heard the pad of soft-soled shoes and the rustling of clothing and he felt a shadow fall over him. He beheld with confusion a skirt and women’s shoes come into his line of sight. Startled, his head jerked upwards and he took in the matronly, full figure of a handsome, fiery-haired woman. She held out a hand and after Harry hesitantly placed his into hers, she pulled him to his feet. She was surprisingly strong for her appearance.

“Where’s my master?” Harry murmured, no small amount of confusion in his voice.

“At the estate, Dearie. He has other matters to attend to. He sent me to fetch you. I’m Molly, the head of Master’s household.” Harry felt small and degraded. He morosely followed Molly to the carriage and gracefully slid inside. “Cheer up, Lovey,” Molly said with a wink. “I think the master will give you a lot of attention once he sees you. You’re quite the looker, aren’t you? I don’t think master will expect that, not having seen you and all.”

“Is it awful?”

“Heavens no, child! The master is strict but doesn’t expect more than you can give. And he takes very good care of what’s his. Now the Mistress… She’s another story. You’ll have to be careful around that one. She doesn’t like sharing, and that’s a fact. You just remember it’s Master you have to please, not her. She’ll stay out of your way soon enough, I ‘spect.” Harry was vaguely disappointed for a moment. He had thought that perhaps a bachelor had bought him… Wives only complicated things as far as he was aware.

“Is he…” Harry paused for a moment and then whispered: “ugly?”

“Oh, no Honey! Master Lucius is about as handsome a man as there can be, no doubt about it.” Harry heaved a sigh of relief. “Granted, he’s a sight older than you are, but well kept and fine features, to be sure.” Harry was pleased at the news and relaxed a great deal.

He couldn’t help shivering in the breeze from the open windows of the carriage. Molly startled him with her exclaim of “Oh, me! You would be chilly, wouldn’t you, Dear? Dressed only in those… things.” She stood a bit unsteadily in the rocking carriage, reached into the confines of the shelf above her, and pulled out a slightly musty blanket. It was embroidered with the same crest as the carriage, and Harry fingered the design absently as he imagined his Master’s features. “Do you like it?” She gestured towards the embroidery. “Some of my own work.” Harry looked on it again with more appreciation for the workmanship.

“It’s beautiful,” he breathed. He looked up at her, his interest piqued. “Will you teach me?”

“I don’t know that you’ll have the time for pursuits like that, Sweetness, and it’s a little feminine of a hobby for a boy. But if the master allows it, I’d be thrilled to teach you.” She looked sincere, so Harry didn’t take the words to be off-putting.

The ride continued in a comfortable silence, Molly knitting and Harry gazing at the countryside. He fell asleep as the view outside the carriage changed from the squalid penury of sharecroppers to average ramshackle farmhouses to the grand estates of the noblemen.

~***~

Harry awoke to gentle petting of his hair and a sweet voice calling him “Sweetheart.” He flashed a quick, genuine smile to Molly before scrambling up and peering intently out the window. The sun told him that he had slept for a few hours. It was late afternoon.

“Are we there yet?” he whispered.

“Almost, honey. Those are the Malfoy estates to your right. We’ll come up to the main gate in about twenty minutes. I thought you’d want to be awake to take stock of what all your master owns.” Harry clambered over to the far side of the carriage and eagerly took in the rolling hills and seemingly endless bounty of his master’s land. He gently worked a crick out of his neck from the awkward position he’d slept in.

After miles and miles of wrought-iron fencing, with elaborate ‘M’s done in silver, the carriage arrived at the main gate. It was one of the more spectacular structures Harry had ever seen. While Harry strained his eyes looking, he couldn’t even catch a glimpse of the house from the gate.

“It’s useless, Darling. You can’t see the manor from here. It’s still a good thirty minutes away at a gallop. You’d better sit back. Harry took her advice, though he took in with interest the orchards and manicured hedges of the main drive.

It seemed an hour later that Molly motioned him to the window, so that he could catch his first glimpse of the house. Harry gasped. It was the largest structure he’d ever seen. He was suddenly very nervous that he’d get lost on his way to meet his master one day and either starve in some forgotten corner, or be punished for having been the cause of a search party. Harry determined that he’d pay very close attention to the directions Molly gave him.

As they pulled up to the grand white mansion, a butler leapt to the carriage and opened the door with a flourish and a bow.

“Thank you, Peter, but it’s only us. This is Harry.”

“Ah, I… see. The master’s new boy, yes?”

“Yes.”

The man’s voice was wheezing and slimy, and Harry got chills when the man looked him carefully over. He didn’t like the look in the man’s eyes and he shuddered. Molly escorted him inside, waving off the servants. Harry could feel the butler’s eyes on him until the heavy doors shut.

The entrance hall was proud, with vaulted ceilings and stained glass windows bearing the Malfoy crest. The fabrics and tapestries were rich, the vases looked expensive, and Harry recognized a few of the statues and busts from a textbook he’d once had. Overall, the room was ornate, but tasteful. The décor was not tacky and overdone as the newly rich lords were wont to do; the room exuded wealth and the old style that spoke of multiple generations of exorbitant amounts of money.

Overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the entrance hall, Harry began to feel as though the fifteen thousand galleons he cost was a pittance to his master.

Molly told him she was going to lead him to his master’s private room, and that he should take note of how to get there. Harry’s nervousness soon melted away as he realized it was a pretty straight shot from the entryway to his master’s bedchambers.

Molly took a single key from around her neck and fitted it into the lock of the set of carved, polished wooden doors. The door opened soundlessly, though for some reason Harry had expected an ominous creak. The room was the most luxurious they had yet come across, done in blacks and silvers, with touches of gold. There was a large fireplace, a massive four-poster bed large enough for ten people, and what appeared to be a spectacular bathroom through a doorway on the right.

Molly directed him to stand near the fireplace, dead center of the room. She informed him that the master would be in shortly, and then gave him a quick hug in comfort, belying her professional tone. She left, soundlessly closing the door behind her and turning the key in the lock.

Harry soaked in the warmth of the fire and curled his toes into the plush rug, breathing deeply the scent of fine furniture and masculinity. He sank to his knees, grateful for the cushion of the rug, arranged himself into the proper position for a slave, and awaited nervously the arrival of his master.