Grazhir :: Harry Potter :: CIA :: 10 :: Games

10 • Games

Outside the club Harry stopped and turned to Draco. “Those men were so nice, don’t you think? Why, I counted up over a thousand pounds in tips for your stellar performance.” He pushed a folded stack of bills into the blond’s pocket and continued, “You will report to my office tomorrow morning at ten.”

“Yes, my lord,” Draco whispered, refusing to meet his gaze.

“Fabulous. You may go.”

He was doing paperwork when Draco arrived and prostrated himself; Harry waited a good ten minutes before he spoke. “Be seated. I hope your little adventure last night taught you something, and perhaps from now on you’ll be respectful and obedient for those you are sworn to.”

Draco whispered, “Yes, my lord.”

“Lovely. Now, to help you maintain this pleasingly submissive attitude you’re currently sporting, I’m loaning you to my pet once a week.” Harry opened a drawer and removed a collar, then pushed it across the desk. “Every Friday after your work duties are complete you will strip down completely, wear the collar, and activate it with the phrase, ‘deliver me to my master’.

“Moony will then take you in hand, to do with you as he pleases. Saturday evening you will be returned, after any easily visible injuries you might have sustained are healed. And, just to be clear on this, Peacock, should you fail to appear each week, and there is not an excellent reason for that, such as you having suffered grievous bodily harm, you will be terminated.

“I don’t want to kill you, but not for the reasons you might be thinking. You should by now know that I’ll kill anyone who gets in my way or annoys me past a certain point. The reason I’m not fond of the idea is that I’d have no way of knowing your reaction after the fact.

“It isn’t as though I have a hotline to the afterlife, Peacock, so I’d never know if it finally got through your thick skull that I don’t make idle threats. Also, to further drive home the point that you are to obey your betters, I will be suggesting to Lucius that he find you a wife so you can get on with begetting an heir of your own for the continuance of the Malfoy line.”

Harry smirked when a look of horror flashed over Draco’s face. “You may go,” he said, deliberately not mentioning the part about how activating the collar would also stun him for a short time, nor that he knew damn well Draco wanted the punishment of being Moony’s bitch. If Draco knew his secret was out, he might not act so amusingly in his efforts to be smacked around.

Draco slid the collar off the desk and pocketed it, bowed, then scurried out, at which point Harry got up to slink into his lover’s office and perch on the edge of the desk. After a few stolen kisses were out of the way he said, “So, anything interesting yet today?”

“I’m converting the Despatis property into a real sanctuary,” Voldemort said.

Harry shifted more toward the center of the desk and said, “For?”

“The same people Despatis was luring in. Those two new werewolf Death Eaters have been sent back to the place to get it ready for normal habitation. Naturally, they’ll get first pick of rooms and be the nominal overseers.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Harry commented. “I assume it’d also be open to the immediate family of any werewolves who choose to live there?”

“Of course. It’s a given that werewolves often have a difficult time finding a place to live given the prejudice, and their families are frequently tarred with the same brush.”

“Hm, okay. I expect our two new friends might spread the word quietly.”

Voldemort nodded and pushed his stack of paperwork aside completely. “We will need to modify the wards there, to make it beneath the notice of the Ministry.”

Harry smiled at that and shifted over some more. “Absolutely.”

His lover arched a brow, appeared to consider, then produced his wand and cast several locking and privacy spells. Hands were shortly stroking Harry’s thighs, making him feel quite agreeable.

“Love, perhaps we could skip the spar today.”

Harry nodded absently and considered leaning back on his elbows, then had a wicked thought. “Can we go down there anyway?”

“Whatever for?” Voldemort asked suspiciously.

He licked his lips. “Well, I’ve been thinking again.” Harry paused a moment, thinking he had heard a faint whimper, but then continued on, “I mean, we’ve seen all sorts of interesting behavior out of Moony and Peacock over the past few weeks. And I’m curious.”

“About?” Voldemort’s hands on Harry’s thighs were stroking them much more firmly.

“Well, I honestly have to wonder what it would be like for one of us to be tied up while we made love.” He shot a wide-eyed look at his lover.

“Harry, I love you with all my heart, and I trust you almost more than I trust myself, but I will tell you now, in no uncertain terms, that I will allow no one to put me in restraints.”

Harry giggled and started swaying his upper body from side to side. “I am not surprised. But really, I keep seeing it in my head. There I am in the dungeon, with all that atmosphere, tied up and seemingly helpless in the face of the Dark Lord Voldemort coming to ravish me and pleasure me against my will. It’s all very appealing at the moment.”

His lover stared at him for a bit, then began chuckling and shaking his head. “All right, Harry. But, if once we’re done either of us decides we do not especially like that little game, it shan’t come up again.”

Harry leaned forward and gave his lover a kiss, then said, “Yes, Lord Voldemort! And I shall do my best to resist your wicked advances despite being utterly helpless in your grasp.”


“What is it, Nakisha?”

The handler shifted in his chair a bit, looking quite uncomfortable, then said, “My lord, I have come with a request regarding Weath.”

Harry sat back and arched a brow. “Which is?”

“Well, you see, my lord, some of the men have been wondering if Weath might acquire some piercings. Er, like for the tongue? They say it makes things that much more interesting.”

Harry took a deep breath, feeling a great deal like strangling someone given that Weath’s transfer was supposed to have lowered his stress level. “I see. Speak with Frentil. He’s on the training staff, torture division. I know he can do them given some of his work I’ve seen. However, let it be understood that this permission is no excuse for Weath to suddenly sport a half pound of metal. I can’t imagine for the life of me why an eyebrow ring would do anyone any good. And no silver, as there are werewolves among your number.”

“Yes, my lord, thank you. I will speak with Frentil directly.”

“Wonderful,” Harry said tonelessly. “For future reference, any requests with regard to Weath will be done in writing and placed in the holder on my door. Once a decision has been made a message will be sent. You may go.” What he wanted to say was, ‘Get the fuck out of my office,’ but he knew he shouldn’t.

A few seconds after the door closed Voldemort appeared and took his hand, helped him out of the chair, and led him home to the bedroom, where Harry was treated to a luxurious massage capped off with a vigorous session of lovemaking. It made Harry fall in love with Voldemort all over again, and he told him so just as soon as he recovered.

It was over lunch that Marius raised an interesting point. “It seems to me that with all these hunters going missing Scrimgeour must be getting suspicious about who is causing it, and I expect he’ll be thinking about Harry on that. But what it brought to mind is now that you’ve been able to set up the members of the Wizengamot as being very helpful for you, and you can begin to start getting laws repealed or new ones added, he might become all kinds of certain that Harry really is behind things.

“After all, who better? Harry Potter, alleged incubus, still at large, and suddenly not only are the people looking for him disappearing, but the laws change in his favor.”

“I suppose so,” said Harry, “but it’s not like he’s going to have a chat with me anytime soon.”

“He might, however, try to make a connection between you and Lord Thanatos,” Voldemort said.

Harry frowned. “No way. Since when do dark lords do nice things like help sentient magical creatures? Aren’t they supposed to lure people in with promises, Mark them, then fail to come through after it’s too late for them to back out?”

His lover chuckled.

“Can’t you subvert some key people in the Ministry to get a better idea of Scrimgeour’s thoughts without having to risk someone like Skeeter?” asked Armand.

Voldemort went thoughtful at that and eventually nodded. “I will invite Lucius to dinner. He can be responsible for luring targets into position so Harry can screw with their heads.”

“Ooo,” Harry said. “Another person to cook for. Say, Tom, how much, if any, do you own of the Daily Prophet?”

“Not enough to constitute a majority.”

“I’ve been thinking, you see.” Harry worried his lower lip briefly. “We haven’t even begun to touch on the issue of muggle-born socialization. I know I might have been a bit of an exception. My relatives despised us and they didn’t allow me to get at my school supplies to do any reading ahead of time. I walked in blind, though I know people like Granger were a lot better off than me.

“Even so, there’s absolutely nothing in the curriculum at a place like Hogwarts to help integrate muggle-borns. And yet, there’s a class on Muggle Studies starting third year? While I might agree that it’s high time for certain muggle ideas to filter into our world and bring things a bit closer to modern times, it’s incredibly irritating that the muggle-borns are expected to learn wizarding culture and customs completely on their own, not to mention how some of them bull their way in telling us just how wrong certain things are without even considering history.”

“And what did you have in mind for the paper?”

“Maybe the editor could develop a sudden passion for editorializing on this travesty and work up the public over it.”

“That might cause some muggle-borns to write in their support,” Armand said. “What about the board of governors for the school? How much power do they actually hold?”

“You know, at this rate,” Harry mused, “I’ll have subverted half our government and those of the school.”

“Building up quite the little empire,” Marius said with a grin.

“Harry, I have no doubt you could write up a very persuasive editorial on muggle-born socialization. We could then convince the editor to publish it as though he wrote it.”

Harry looked at his lover and nodded. “Okay.” He got up to investigate the contents of the food cupboard, then looked over his shoulder curiously when Armand started laughing for no apparent reason.

Nobody said anything for half a minute, then Marius nudged his mate and said, “What on earth are you so amused about?”

“I was just remembering. Back when we were discussing us coming to live here for a while, I questioned whether or not the agreement could be dissolved if you and I found this place to be too stifling. I think about that now and just have to laugh.”


During dessert Harry said, “I’ve been thinking.”

Voldemort held back a whimper; he was starting to almost fear that particular phrase coming from the lips of his beloved.

“Now, Lucius, this is just a suggestion, so don’t think for even a second that it’s a thinly disguised order. I think you ought to consider finding a wife for dearest little Draco. He seems to be horrified at the very idea, but that’s rather beside the point. I have set up a continuing bit of reinforcement for him, of sorts, but he really ought to get it through his head that he needs to respect the decisions you make as the head of the Malfoy family.”

“I will take that under advisement, my lord. May I ask, what sort of reinforcement?”

“Oh, sure. He’ll be visiting with my pet once per week to get the defiance knocked out of him.”

Voldemort did not miss that Lucius developed a momentary tic in one eye, and had to wonder if it was due to a dislike of his son’s treatment . . . or a desire to help. He was almost tempted enough to ask, just to see how the man would react. And then he arched a brow as his mate let out a soft gasp of surprise.

“I’ve just realized,” Harry said. “I’m a kinky bastard, too, aren’t I. I mean, I’ve barely got any morals left to speak of.”

“The continuing legacy of Albus Dumbledore,” Voldemort said dryly. “And, Harry, I like you just the way you are.”

“Oh, well, I suppose it’s all right, then.” Harry heaved a slight sigh of relief and smiled. “Right, so, about subverting the world in”—he paused to count on his fingers—“forty-two easy steps.”

His mouth twitched in amusement. “Lucius, I have a task for you. Several, in fact.” He spent quite some time outlining what he wanted, as well as the procedure to be followed so that Harry could easily handle the influx of new people to mind fuck.

Voldemort was just finishing up when Harry went, “Oh,” and pulled something out of his pocket. “I forgot,” he said, shaking an envelope. “Bill would like to speak with us. Says he’s got some news we’d be interested in.”

“He does not specify what?”

Harry shook his head and stuffed the letter back in his pocket. “Just that it’s about the Order. I guess there was a meeting or something he actually attended. Hm, why don’t we have dessert in the garden now that business is out of the way?”

So they did, with Harry bringing an extra plate out for Moony, who seemed awfully pleased with his good fortune, and reminded him of something. “Harry, I have set up the warding inside. Your pet can now be given access.”

His mate gave him a grateful smile and nodded. “I’ll just have to fix the door, then. Moony, remember, any misbehavior and you’re banished out here again, so behave for my family.”

Moony looked up from his treat to say, “Yes, master,” then tilt his head to the side in a look that bespoke hesitant inquiry. “There’s something I wanted to ask.”


“It’s about Peacock,” Moony said, not looking at Lucius.

“Oh!” Harry grinned a bit maliciously. “You’ll be happy to know, pet, that Peacock will be visiting once per week, from Friday afternoon to Saturday evening. Turns out, he really does like it, but I didn’t let on to him that I knew. After all, if I had, he would know his little game wasn’t so opaque.”

“So he’s going to be deliberately willful?” When Harry nodded Moony smiled and went back to his dessert.


Several days later they were back at the house in France. Voldemort opted to fiddle with the wards again, this time to allow entrance to select persons on a provisional basis. Should he and Harry be within the wards they would accept Bill, Charlie, and Fleur, but otherwise prevent them from entering. It would also save his mate the trouble of having to do identity checks each time they came to . . . visit.

Harry had just served up a nice lunch when Bill said, “So, about the Order. They finally got their act together and had a full meeting, and I was there. Minerva is nominally in charge, but I don’t think she’s suited for it, and will likely hand it off to someone else as quickly as she can. She’s also been placed as the headmistress of Hogwarts, if you’ve not heard.

“Anyway. The thing of note about the meeting is one of them, Colby Winn, decided to share his thoughts about how it is that deaths of Order members stopped so abruptly after Dumbledore and his . . . inner circle . . . were removed. That started a debate as to whether or not Harry Potter was in any way connected, as I guess some of them were a bit suspicious, like myself, about why Harry’s name and role in the war were always glossed over.”

Harry said, “Are you telling us that some of the Order think or suspect that I was that killer?”

Bill nodded. “That and some of them are beginning to wonder if you might be Lord Thanatos.”

“Well, I don’t know quite how I feel about that,” Harry said musingly. “But I did say I didn’t care all that much if Harry Potter’s reputation was shot to hell.”

“You did,” said Voldemort. “Do they hold suspicions as to why Harry might have killed them?”

Bill shook his head. “Not really, aside from the thought that it must have been something unbearably awful for Harry to react like that.”

“As nice as it might be to sway the remaining Order to our side, I can see no way offhand to provide them with information to persuade them without making it obvious that someone in the Order has contact with Harry, and that would cause problems.”

Bill shook his head again. “I don’t think, even if they saw the memories, that they’d go for it. What’s left are a bunch of people who would most likely be horrified and shocked beyond words at what Albus did, but would also probably refuse to believe that Harry’s actions were in any way justified.

“Up until now they’ve believed that Harry is out there somewhere, preparing for something big, and would return when it was time. Of course, they hoped for that to be the death of Voldemort.” Bill paused to snort. “Even I didn’t understand that it was Harry responsible for the Order victories until we met up just recently. I simply thought he was undergoing strenuous training toward a final result.

“Like Albus always used to make it known as his belief, despite it being rubbish, they believe that less violent solutions should be found. They seem to have this image of all the bad guys ending up in Azkaban, like there’s no possibility of them ever escaping. Stun, not kill. Trial, not execution.”

Harry shrugged. “I suppose I don’t care. However, if members of the Order start acting up, they might not survive for very long.”

“We have,” Voldemort added, “been keeping an eye on them, but obviously have had no ears within. We appreciate this information.”

Bill chuckled. “And I appreciate a fantastic home cooked meal. Fair trade, I’d say. By the way, did you guys have anything to do with that Wizengamot member I read about in the Daily Prophet who renounced the evil in his life and the temptations of all things material, and went off to become a monk in Tibet or something? I think his name was Despatis.”

Harry just smiled.


“Now, remember, pet. Peacock doesn’t know we know he likes being your bitch, so don’t change your treatment of him, okay? If he actually catches on to the deception he might start seriously misbehaving on the outside again, and then I’d have to kill him.”

Moony nodded and looked briefly thoughtful, then said, “There’s something I’d like to do to him, but I can’t personally.”

“What is it?” Harry asked, then was immediately distracted by Draco’s arrival. “Get him set up first, then come back and we’ll talk.”

His pet took care of harnessing the blond with efficiency, pausing only now and again to deliver a sharp slap or pinch. And certainly before the stunner wore off Draco was nicely rigged out and tethered to a tree.

“Right, what is it?” Harry inquired quietly once his pet was back nearby.

“Well, he’s a bitch. I should like for all hair below the neck to be removed. And since I don’t see you handing me a shaving kit to do it manually. . . .”

“I’m almost tempted, pet, just to see his reaction as you glide a razor around between his legs,” he said with a chuckle, then produced a wand and shot a spell at the blond. Two seconds later Draco let out a yell of outrage.

“I think that’s my cue.” Moony smiled and trundled off.

Harry watched with amusement as Draco was backhanded to the ground and his pet began lecturing him. Or, perhaps, threatening him? Draco actually cowered.

His focus on the sideshow was interrupted when his two friends arrived to enjoy the sun. Both were naked, but that was hardly a surprise, and Marius split off from his mate in order to fetch some things from his equipment shed. Within a few minutes Armand was posing for his mate, a lazy stance that conveyed a deeply satisfied man.

Harry was again distracted by the sound of flesh hitting flesh.

“What are you looking at?” Moony said loudly enough for it to carry. “It seems you need a bit more reinforcement, Peacock, having been away an entire week.”

He watched as Draco was roughly dragged off toward a conveniently placed water dispenser (having been put there due to Draco’s tether not allowing him enough reach to use the one Moony did), then forced to drink until Moony was satisfied. The blond was then ordered to remain there, mouth still wrapped around the cock-like protrusion.

And then Marius got up and walked to his mate to whisper in his ear. Armand nodded, and Marius called out, “Moony!” Thirty seconds later he said, “If you’re willing, I should like to borrow you and your bitch for a time. I’ve noticed you made Peacock drink quite a bit, and that gave me an idea. Have him drink more, and then we can pose him.

“While I’m trying to capture his likeness you can keep an eye on him and discipline him every time he squirms. After all, I tend to think a full bladder is going to be quite distressing as time goes by. This way we all get something. I get a new model for a bit, you get to impose your will on Peacock, and Peacock gets off on being dominated.”

“And what do I get?” Armand said with a grin.


Voldemort thought things were going well. Lucius had been making targets available, not more than two per day, and Harry was able to mess with their minds to their advantage. There was one person, however, that he was thinking ought to suffer still, and decided to raise the issue with his mate. It involved going out on another personal limb, but. . . .

“I grew up in an orphanage,” he said rather abruptly.

Harry looked up and said, “I think I knew that.” A second later he marked his place in his book and set it aside, then traded his seat for one on Voldemort’s lap.

“I did not enjoy it.” He reached up to run his fingers through his mate’s silky hair and sighed. “I don’t suppose you’re going to think less of me when I say I felt almost helpless at times back then.”

“No.” Harry leaned in to kiss him softly, then said, “There’s obviously a reason you’re thinking about this. Does it have anything to do with Trendun Kimbril?”

“Indeed. I think we should investigate him a lot more deeply, love.”

“You’re upset because he’s been skimming funds meant for at least one orphanage,” Harry stated. “Would you prefer he was simply found out, or something more along the lines of Despatis?”

“It depends on where the bulk of his fortune comes from. If it’s family money or from investments, it may make more sense to adjust him to not only stop embezzling, but also pour his own profits into that venture and the others he helps administer. If, however, he’s been building his fortune on the deprivation of children, I think something else is in order. Not necessarily Despatis, but in that range.”

Harry smirked after a moment. “Well, we could polyjuice a bunch of people as children, Tom, and give them the opportunity to torment the man. Might give him a lifelong phobia of kids. I mean, if he’s that bad, we could then at the least get him to hand over what he’s earned off the backs of children and other victims and make an anonymous donation with the funds. After that point I suppose he could quietly disappear in the dead of night, only to end up as . . . a slave, another monk, whatever. Otherwise, I could just wire his head to do like you said.”

Voldemort nodded and ran a hand along Harry’s flank. “I would like you to activate that trigger you left behind. I wish to interrogate the man properly.”

“Sure, I can send off a note in the morning. You’ll just have to tell me then what time and which place for him to report. And you know. . . .”

He arched a brow and slid his hand up and around Harry’s body to gently tweak a nipple. “What do I know?”

His mate took a few moments to respond. “We could attempt to trap Kimbril in the form of a child and drop him off in like . . . Ethiopia or Somalia.”

“We could,” Voldemort said agreeably, then slid a hand down Harry’s chest to trail his fingers over his beloved’s stomach. Harry’s breathing hitched slightly in response, so Voldemort moved both hands to glide along his mate’s thighs, then sweep back up and around to cradle his ass. “Or we could just stick him in the rewards pool.”

He kneaded the firm flesh of his beloved’s backside and said, “Or you could use him to teach another class on torture techniques.”


“So, my sweet, are you having any particular cravings this evening?”

Harry made a visible effort to pull back from the results of Voldemort’s wandering hands and said, “Another game.”

“Oh? Of what sort?” he inquired as he traced the skin to either side of the scales on his mate’s back.

“Detention,” Harry whispered.

“And what sort of instructor am I playing, hm?”

“I’ve . . . done a bad essay for . . . your Wizarding Culture class,” his mate said breathily.

Voldemort chuckled and pushed forward, but paused when Harry spoke again. “And then, afterward . . . I wish to take you.”

Now that was a surprise given that Harry had stated he doubted he would wish to top again. He urged his mate to wrap his legs around his waist, then pushed up and carried Harry out of the sitting room, to the small study they almost never used. Voldemort deposited his beloved in a chair and set about altering the room to what had sprung forth in his mind.

Shortly thereafter Harry was actually dressed in fairly plain outfit of trousers, a shirt, and robes. He was seated on a stool with a small desk in front of him, and before him was some parchment, a quill, and ink.

And after clearing his throat slightly, Voldemort began with, “You obviously fail to understand the material, Bane, so I shall stand here and give you a demonstration of ways that wizards discipline errant students. You will rewrite your essay for me, and not allow yourself to be distracted by what I do.”

“Yes, sir.” Harry picked up the quill and inked it, then began to write.

Voldemort almost laughed when he realized that his mate was jotting down notes on further classes in torture. Instead, he conjured up a stool for himself, that one slightly taller than his mate’s, and had a seat. Within moments his hands had found their way under Harry’s robes and moved to wrap around his waist.

“I see a mistake already, Bane,” he said. “You must concentrate, or I will have to employ stern measures.” His hands dipped down to finger the fasteners of his mate’s trousers, causing Harry’s quill to skid across the parchment. “And another.”

Within a minute Voldemort had one hand inside his mate’s trousers and was slowly stroking his cock, all the while pointing out each instance where Harry lost control of his quill. Eventually the game was given up briefly; the quill tumbled from his mate’s grasp as Harry leaned back against him and moaned openly, unable to concentrate on anything but his pleasure.

Voldemort stroked his beloved to completion, then gently chided him for the mess that was his supposed essay. “I see I shall have to move on to those sterner measures, Bane.” He rose and vanished his stool, then unfastened his own trousers, letting them puddle around his ankles.

“Stand up, Bane. We shall try this again, and I hope that this time you will manage to properly complete the essay.” That stool was also vanished; Harry was directed to take up his quill, use his left hand as a brace, then bend over and start again.

Naturally, Voldemort then reached around to completely unfasten his mate’s trousers so they would drop to the floor, then flipped the robes up so that Harry’s ass was displayed invitingly. “Concentrate, Bane,” he said before pressing the head of his cock against Harry’s ass, then sheathing himself smoothly.

It occurred to him, perhaps crazily, that while game it might be, Harry might actually figure out how to prolong their lovemaking using a deliberate distraction to choke back his charms a bit. Generally speaking, Voldemort was mostly immune to Harry’s incubus powers, but he was affected in insidious ways, and it was nearly impossible to deny satisfaction to his mate on Harry’s schedule.

But, if Harry could learn to consciously control his thrall, other things might also be possible. However, those thoughts were whisked away as even he lost sight of the game and began thrusting with abandon, his mate giving up all pretense as well. Not much later Voldemort was experiencing that blissful haze once more, his orgasm triggered by Harry’s.

Harry began giggling softly around the time that Voldemort felt like he could move again. “Love, what is it?” he asked as he disengaged and stepped out of his trousers entirely.

His mate turned around and held up his hands; they were inked with reversed writing. “I also think your idea of punishment is delightfully silly, Tom.”

Voldemort snorted and swept his mate up to carry him off to the bedroom for round two. “No one said it had to make sense, love.”

Associated Snapshot: Marriage