Harry kept talking, cutting him off. "Anyway you're dressed well enough for breakfast. Follow me."
Draco scowled but couldn't ignore a direct order.
The two of them left the bare room and made their way along corridors towards the large main dining room. It was really too big for the two of them; it had probably been used for dinner parties in Draco's childhood, meeting old Death Eater chums and schmoozing politicians. Still, Harry was going to use it. He owned this place now, and he was going to make himself comfortable with living this way.
Draco looked around as they went, seeing the damage done by the Aurors. Anything remotely dark or suspicious had been confiscated, meaning that little objects Draco never would have noticed until their absence were gone. A little end table had been taken because the Aurors had been mistrustful of the nature of the Thestrals carved on its sides. Draco missed the vase of white flowers that had always been there; Narcissus, because his father insisted that they always be growing in the gardens.
The portraits were gone too, at Harry's request. It wasn't just the loss of various things; the house itself had been hurt by the careless Aurors. The wood panelling was scraped, the floors scratched and scuffed. Draco swallowed. His mother would have been so upset; she'd always hated the raids, because they hurt the house itself as much as for the invasion of privacy.
Harry watched Draco's reactions to the changes, and felt a guilty pang. He'd risked Death Eater discovery to visit Godric's Hollow nearly a year ago; he understood about family homes. For Draco it must mean even more; he'd grown up here, generations of Malfoy history permeated its walls. For Ron, having what his family had passed down was a source of shame; for Draco it was clearly a matter of pride. The wounded grey eyes, for once guileless, showed the pain at the harmful indifference of those who'd invaded his home, who'd defiled something almost sacred.
Harry swallowed and told himself this was his home now. Besides, there were very good reasons for those confiscations.
Draco looked a little ill as he took in the changes to his family's dining room. The furniture looked largely the same – the centre of the room was still the six-person, beautifully engraved mahogany table. Little side tables topped with expensive vases filled with flowers still stood against the wood-panelled walls. But the chairs that had lined the table had vanished, leaving just one, and every painting, no matter what it showed, had been removed.
He swallowed, obviously upset by the changes Harry had wrought. Or even, Harry thought, watching him out of the corner of his eye, that it's still mostly the same, but it belongs to me now – and so does he.
Harry sat down in the single chair, which was at the head of the table, naturally. Draco stayed by the door, glaring as a lavish breakfast appeared in front of his master. "Where's my food?" he demanded venomously. Harry heard the slight note of distress in his slave's voice and wondered if he thought he'd have to stand and watch Harry eat, or even feed him himself.
Harry muttered a spell, jerking his wand. A low table appeared on the floor to its right, its mahogany and engravings matching the decor. On top of it was some buttered toast and water. Adequate, but nothing like the spread before Harry, and unlike Harry, Draco apparently did not merit the ancestral Malfoy crockery. That had to really burn. Harry had to hide a smirk before he turned to look at Draco. He was giving the table a narrow-eyed grey stare.
"You'll kneel at my side and eat there," Harry told him.
Draco's head whipped round. "No way!" he retorted loudly. "If you think I'm kneeling next to you, eating off that thing like – "
"It's the only way you're getting any food," Harry said calmly. "I won't order you, but you're going to have to give in eventually."
He turned back to his embossed, silver plate, and started covering the Malfoy crest in the centre with grilled pineapple, plain yoghurt and toast. There was a lovely selection laid out in front of him – toast, kippers and porridge; various kinds of jam and different fruits; tea, coffee and orange juice. Harry glanced over to see Draco glaring at his toast, arms folded in front of his chest and jaw clenched.
Harry nonchalantly munched a pineapple ring, watching Draco covertly. He could see the struggle between hunger and pride in his tense muscles, furrowed blond brows, shifting stance. Eventually he must have decided that he'd have to give in sooner or later, so why stay hungry: he sank to his knees at Harry's feet and picked up some toast.
Harry smiled to himself.
Draco was obviously irritated that Harry was controlling him so effortlessly; he began tapping annoyedly at the surface of his table. Harry glanced down in irritation, but decided that he wasn't going to be goaded into a reaction.
As this was Draco Malfoy, the decision was, naturally, futile.
"So what are you going to do today?" Draco asked after a bit, still tapping. He was barely eating, too busy trying to bother Harry. "Lock me up again and see if I die of boredom? Go and see the Mudblood and the Weasel?"
Harry's hands clenched on his cutlery. He'd have train him not to say 'mudblood' any more, but he wasn't going to let Draco see his fury. He owned the blond, he shouldn't be able to manipulate Harry like this.
"Tell me, have they started making halfbreed babies yet?" Draco continued, sounding revolted. "A pureblood and a mudblood – it's practically bestiality."
Harry whipped his head round and glowered furiously down at Draco, only to be brought up short by his little smirk. He was looking up at Harry with amused grey eyes, daring Harry to punish him.
Right, Harry thought grimly. He is going to learn not to push me. I'm not going to back down, nor hurt him – I'm going to humiliate him. Forcing the proud blond to kneel at his feet had been its own kind of rush. Harry was quite willing to take this up another notch. "Slave," he rapped out.
Draco glanced up, defiance sparking in his eyes again. They widened as he saw Harry's wand pointed straight between his eyes. "Get up," Harry said softly. "I've decided you're going to sit on my lap."
Draco blushed furiously – whether with anger or embarrassment, Harry wasn't sure, but it amused him all the same. The slave would have to do this eventually – the collar would make sure of that – but it should be interesting to see how long he held out.
"I – " Draco spluttered. Harry jerked his wand warningly just as the blond felt his collar begin to constrict. "Fine," he muttered mutinously, levering himself up with a slight sigh of relief; the stone floor couldn't be easy on his bare knees. Harry scooted his chair back to give him space and grinned, opening his arms in welcome and mockery. Draco looked a bit uncertain, and Harry guessed he didn't know exactly what was expected.
"Come on, pet," Harry said, still grinning. "Sit sideways, your legs should go over my left side."
Draco sighed and obeyed. Harry smiled a little more gently as he felt the blond settle on to him, sitting stiffly with his hands in his lap. Harry wound his right arm around the blond's waist and cuddled him, making Draco relax against him slightly.
Harry enjoyed the feeling of the warm, helpless weight atop him, the golden slave collar almost at his eye level. Draco sighed, apparently resigned to this (and maybe enjoying the contact a bit) and reached for some toast off Harry's plate.
Harry instantly slapped his hand hard, making him withdraw it with an indignant cry. "Stop that!" Harry said sharply. Then he added more gently, "don't take my food, pet. I'll feed you."
"I'm quite capable of feeding myself, Potter," Draco said indignantly, cheeks flushing in affronted dignity once again.
This whole defiant thing isn't as amusing as I thought. I may not want him really hurt, but I do want him scared. He's rather cute now though, all helpless and flustered, and annoyed at me, biting his lip.
Harry decided to ignore what Draco had to say and just proceed with feeding him. He picked up a fragment of pineapple and dipped it in yoghurt. Then he lifted the fruit, offering it to the blond. Draco tried to take it in his hand, but Harry jerked it back, smiling wolfishly, and lifted it to Draco's lips. The blond rolled his eyes and leaned forward to get the fruit into his mouth.
He swallowed quickly and immediately leaned back, sitting up poker-straight again. He'd no longer recovered some of his dignity when Harry said smoothly, "good, pet."
Draco gave him a wary look, hearing the purr in his voice. His eyes widened anxiously at Harry's lecherous expression. Harry smirked slowly, deliberately unsettling him and feeling Draco shift on his lap. Harry could see his blond wondering again if Harry would take him to bed. God, this game was exhilarating: keeping Draco off balance, not giving his pet a chance to claw back some of that icy composure. He doubted Snape would approve of this use of the psychology he'd taught him, but after all, Draco was his now; and even at school, he'd never missed a chance to mess with the Slytherin. It was just nice to know that this time he couldn't lose.
Harry selected another piece of pineapple and held it out. Draco looked at it askance and Harry said warningly, "go on, pet."
Draco scowled. "I'm not your pet."
"Oh I disagree," Harry murmured, as Draco ate the fruit.
He selected some toast for himself and munched on it, pondering how else to unsettle Draco. He was really enjoying this, even though some affection for the blond now shot through his very real lust. Why he should feel any affection for his bratty, prejudiced old enemy Harry had no idea; perhaps it was just his Gryffindorish tendencies coming out now he was faced with someone helpless. Having all this warm skin perched on his knee, Draco vulnerable in his shorts and T-shirt, was intoxicating.
"So what happened to you after Hogwarts?" Harry asked, as he finished his toast and handed Draco a slice, allowing him to hold it in his hands this time. Harry wiped his left hand and rested it on Draco's right leg, just above the knee.
"I ran away with Snape," Draco started. "He took me back – " He stuttered to a stop, his grey eyes widening, his skin no doubt prickling. Harry's thumb was rubbing over his pale skin. Draco turned to look at Harry. The ex-Gryffindor kept his green eyes neutral, but he never stopped rubbing at Draco's skin.
Draco recovered his composure and began to talk again. "Snape Apparated me back to Riddle Manor. He took me to Voldemort. He was muttering to me as we went, telling me what to say, how to act, but...but I was too scared to listen to him." Draco's eyes met Harry's defiantly, as though daring him to laugh. Harry saw nothing funny in a teenage boy's terror of Voldemort – he'd been there himself, after all. He simply looked back calmly and nodded at him to go on.
"Anyway we went back, and..." he swallowed. "Voldemort wasn't too happy. I faltered, but he'd meant Snape to do it in the end anyway, so he let me live. He told me a soft Death Eater was no use to him and tomorrow I'd have to kill Muggles. My – my mother killed herself the next morning."
Harry stared, aghast, and pulled Draco closer. Harry held Draco against his body as he saw the grey eyes swimming with tears, arms around him protectively. He was improvising, wanting to discomfort Draco, and now he'd made him cry over his mother.
"She didn't want to be used to force me into obeying," Draco continued, sounding a bit choked, "and I think she lost hope that our family would have a happy ending after Dumbledore died."
He shifted in Harry's arms and added acerbically, "she was right, I daresay."
Harry scowled. "Go on." Draco nodded, seeming to have recovered some of his calm.
"After that I had no reason to stay – the Aurors were all guarding Azkaban like maniacs, so my father was safe, and anyway I knew my mum wanted me to get out. So I ran for it. I only had my wand, but I got to the Channel Islands and there's a Malfoy cottage there. I used my blood to raise the wards as far as I could and waited it out."
"So you just never came out?"
Draco shrugged. Harry's arms loosened, his left hand slipping back to Draco's leg. "The place had a house elf on retainer. She was crazy but she kept me fed. The place had a library and a Quidditch pitch – I survived. I was bored out of my mind but I was more scared of what would happen to me if I left than of tedium-induced insanity."
"So what happened after?"
"One day the Prophet said you'd won. Considering the quality of its reporting, I waited a few days and it kept saying the same thing. So I Flooed home to try and find my dad." Draco glanced down, eyebrows raised, as he felt Harry's fingers start to stroke his skin again, but continued. "Unfortunately the Aurors were swarming everywhere by then and I appeared in the fireplace in the reception area. Instant capture."
Harry nodded, and stealthily began teasing at the skin a little further up Draco's thigh.
"They took me back to the Ministry. I got put in a holding cell because they weren't quite sure whether I was a real criminal or not. After all, I'm a Malfoy, and I did something awful – but Snape said I was coerced and I was underage when it all happened.
"Anyway, the Wizengamot said I had to be tried. I used an Unforgivable, that's what they were really pissed about. So they – "
Draco suddenly stopped, inhaling sharply in a breathy squeak. Harry had been very gently moving his hand up Draco's leg, stroking his fingertips in small circles. Draco had been almost unaware of the caresses that had startled him before, wrapped up in reliving his experiences. But he'd just felt Harry's fingers slide under the hem of his shorts, and Draco's fears about Harry's power and preferences welled up again.
Harry gave him a carefully emotionless look, though he couldn't quite stop one side of his mouth turning up in a smirk. "Go on," Harry repeated, his tone making it a command. Draco swallowed, seeing how dilated Harry's pupils were. "Pet, do as I say."
Draco made a strangled noise. Pet? Just what am I to him? Harry's hand squeezed his thigh at the delay, so Draco forced himself back on track.
"Right, the Wizengamot. They put me on trial. It lasted more than a week, and it had all these people coming up and saying stuff I'd said years ago. Snape spoke for me, and said Dumbledore had still tried to get me onside. But the court reckoned I'd probably not have taken his offer and I would have killed Dumbledore if Snape hadn't got there first." Draco scowled. Harry began sliding his hand a little further under Draco's shorts, but carefully, and Draco talked fluently despite his master's whims.
"But by this time you'd woken up and they bundled me off back to the holding cell. I was left there for ages. I think the Minister got me dumped there 'cause he'd already decided what to give you. I was left and they barely fed – " Draco broke off, eyes wide. Harry's hand had travelled worryingly. He was stroking at the soft skin and fiddling with the bottom hem of Draco's briefs. If he moved his hand just a couple of inches, he'd reach his pet's cock.
Harry smiled at Draco's wide-eyed look of surprise. He kept touching, teasing at Draco's skin. The blond squirmed in his lap, unable to contain his reaction. Harry met the anxious grey eyes, and saw Draco's thoughts in them clearly.
What is he planning to do? Is all this just to torture me, or would he really rape me?
Harry grinned ferally and Draco swallowed. Harry decided to see if he could increase the slight arousal he could read in Draco's squirming and quickened breaths, instead of the fear that ran alongside it. He moved his caressing hand just a fraction of an inch closer to Draco's cock, and the blond snapped.
"Get OFF me, you PERVERT! Just leave me fucking alone!"
Harry glared and whipped his hands away. Draco gave a sigh of relief, which was quickly cut short as one hand buried painfully in his hair, pulling his head back harshly; the other lying against his collarbone, fingers resting warningly around the base of his throat.
"I warned you, pet. Behave well or you'll regret it. You don't want to test me, I promise you. Talk to me with respect, or you'll be punished, and punished hard. Is that understood?"
Draco gasped. He wasn't sure if he believed Harry capable of real harm – much as he was blatantly enjoying Draco's helplessness, he doubted Harry would enjoy his pain – but the sudden shift from teasing to threatening had completely taken him by surprise. The fingers at his throat and in his hair tightened. "Is that understood?" Harry repeated, his voice a growl.
"Yes," Draco forced out, breathing fast. "I understand, I do, just let go!" His voice rose in a pleading cry. "Master!"
Harry let go so quickly Draco nearly fell, but Harry caught him quickly. "There you go. Is calling me 'master' so hard?" He tried to sound insouciant, but Draco heard the unevenness in his tone.
"Pfft." Realising Harry was no longer holding him into his lap, Draco quickly leapt away. "Don't expect it to happen again any time soon. I'm really not the 'master' type."
"What about Voldemort?" Harry pointed out as he stood up. Draco gave him a glare.
"That was a cheap shot. And it's a completely different situation. You don't have the ability – or the ruthlessness – to threaten my parents."
Harry smiled wickedly, and came to stand behind Draco. He pressed his body against the other boy's, one hand on the blond's hip, the other going to caress at his stomach. "True," he breathed in Draco's ear. "But then I have lots of ways to control you that he never thought of."
Draco struggled, and Harry let him go with a laugh. Draco turned to glare up at him. He looked slightly ruffled and very annoyed, but he couldn't conceal the slight dilation of his pupils or his quickened breathing. "That was cheesy, Potter."
Harry chose to ignore this. This one was a win for him, whatever the blond said now. "Come along, pet."