Malfoy's Promise 1

Summary:

AU. Malfoy once made a promise to Harry that he would one day make his wife his. Now Malfoy's come to fulfill that promise.

Chapter I: The Verdict

Sitting in the special atrium to the Wizengamot courtroom, Harry Potter stewed in the least formal robes he felt he could get away with in front of the leaders of the wizarding world. Beside him, his wife of two years — Ginny — sat in much nicer robes and gave his knee a comforting rub with a slight smile, signaling to Harry that his outward appearance of distant annoyance hadn't fooled her. Allowing himself to relax at the young woman's touch, Harry sank back in the far-too-comfortable seats that had been provided for them and tried not to rub his temples or leap to the floor to pace back and forth, entirely feeling like everything in the room was designed to lull him into a false sense of security.

It wasn't that the room was particularly comforting, mind you. Nor was it particularly discomforting. The walls were a dull beige that seemed far too boring for wizards; the bronze plaques of the doors glared at him; the vibrant red carpet snuggled with his shoe soles; the chairs held him like a skilled masseuse; and the portraits on the walls all smiled at him happily with the easy faces of midwits and amateurs content in their centuries of service to the Ministry of Magic and, by proxy, the Wizengamot. Though all of it was serene in a very mind-numbing way, it sat on Harry's mind like Hagrid sat on Hogwarts chairs. The problem was that it gave him, very strongly, the same impression as when Umbridge had tried, those few times, to be nice to him in a poor gambit to get information on Dumbledore, and made him certain the room was designed for powerful people getting bad news. It made him want to glare at everything until it burst into flames.

It didn't help that he was only here because of a typically enigmatic letter from the Ministry summoning him, and his wife, to one of the smaller Wizengamot chambers on the same day he had rather been intending to get started on a family with Ginny. Harry had been rather looking forward to the occasion with his curvaceous and entirely too tempting wife, and had been thoroughly annoyed by the fact the Ministry had chosen to summon him at the very start of his vacation time. Nevertheless, having little desire to become Undesirable Number One again — and even less to take on the Ministry, now that the War was over — he had been a good little citizen and trotted along at the appointed date and time.

Then he had been kept waiting. His first thought was that he was having the same trick pulled on him as when he had been put on trial before his fifth year, and that someone in the political arena he had been so studiously avoiding had decided to make a move for Harry's little-used power. Having not taken anymore kindly to this than the first time it had happened, and, being substantially more aware of things, Harry had demanded various things loudly and continuously until the plump man at the desk had managed to convince him that his summons was still at the appointed time and that the partial Wizengamot had merely run overtime on some other business with another wizard.

That had managed to get Harry sitting again, but it had made him no more friendly to anyone and still required the attentions of Ginny to keep things from devolving again. Intellectually, Harry knew that he was being somewhat unreasonable, but given that he had never had a reasonable dealing with any wizarding authority in his life he felt rather entitled to his behavior. Certainly it felt damn good not to sit and let things happen to him anymore, even if he was accomplishing nothing but widening the rift between him and wizarding authority.

Finally, a full fifteen minutes after when Harry had expected to be let in, a scrawny man with enormous glasses and a quill behind his ear opened a side door to the chamber. "Lord Potter, Lady Potter, please enter." Standing stiffly, Harry felt Ginny give his hand a small squeeze before leading them both through the small door and into the partially walled-off area that signified part of the wizarding court-room. Beyond the large benches that stretched around one-quarter of the room sat two other desks and chairs, beyond which lay a dais in the center of the room, more benches on either side, and a pulpit. These last two were already filled, with the speaker of the Wizengamot (a snotty looking Death Eater relative who hadn't been a Death Eater himself, choosing instead to use bureaucracy as the outlet for the sadism which was his inheritance) sitting on the pulpit and various members of the Wizengamot seated on either side.

The scrawny man directed them to their seats: Ginny to one of the benches behind Harry, and Harry to the leftmost bench facing the pulpit. When they were seated, the Speaker cleared his throat and said "This is a merely the sentencing of a case against Lord Harry James Potter, the outcome of which was determined in a trial in absentia. Owing to the fact that the Lord has, presumably, not previously known of this case, we, the Wizengamot, do now give him the opportunity to have the trial details read to him. Speak now, Lord, if you wish for the trial details."

Furrowing his brow, Harry wondered what case against him could possibly have been made — owing to his non-presence in the wizarding world for the past three years since Voldemort's defeat — but had the presence of mind to say "I would like them, please." There was a murmuring about the room, and Harry wondered if there had been some sort of proper wording he had neglected to use. Not much caring, seeing as how he had come in robes that even Ron would be able to tell were cheap, Harry merely allowed this to amuse him, smiling as the murmuring continued until the Speaker held up his hand, a displeased look on his face. Given that that was how it usually sat, Harry felt no more informed than before.

"Very well. Last year, on the 31st of March, 1999, a plea was brought before the Wizengamot by one of its members to create an assembly for hearing a case against one of its other members; you, Lord Potter. This plea was granted and this body was assembled, and the case was thus: that you, Lord Potter, were guilty of multiple attempts at line extinction in the second degree. Specifically, that multiple attempts on life were made, by you, against persons whose death would have resulted in the extinction of houses including: Lestrange, Malfoy, Black, Nott, Bode, Avery, and other, minor houses. As all evidence was already held by the Wizengamot from previous trials, namely your personal testimonies during trials at the end of the War, the trial was conducted in absentia of both the defense and the prosecution. You were determined guilty on all charges except those against Bode and Nott. Do you have any objections?"

Finally finding his voice, Harry managed to ask "You mean apart from the fact that they were trying to kill me?"

"That is why this is second degree, Lord Potter, and not first degree," the Speaker said in a bored tone, as though Harry were stupid for not knowing this. "If you had premeditated the killings and/or intended to extinguish the line you would have been arrested a year ago. Do you have any other objections?"

"You've got to be kidding me!" Harry exclaimed. "There isn't anything about self-defense in there?"

"The charges are related to the line extinction, not the act of killing nor intention to kill. Any other objections?"

"So you're telling me that if those guys had been anyone else I wouldn't be here right now?"

"That is why you are not being charged for anything related to actions against other servants of the self-styled Lord Voldemort," the Speaker enunciated. "Do you have any further objections?"

"Yeah, a big one! This is bloody unfair! Doesn't killing Voldemort get me any consideration?"

"The law applies to you, Lord Potter, the same as it does for everyone else, regardless of temporarily legal and unrelated vigilante actions. You yourself were involved in several cases involving charges of line extinction, so you should be familiar with how the law is applied. Now, again, do you have any further objections or may we proceed with sentencing?"

Trying to work his jaw free of where it had set stonily, Harry struggled to think of something but came up blank. Eventually he could only ask "Can I appeal this?"

"No, Lord Potter. All evidence used was evidence deemed truthful and legitimate by you yourself during the various trials you were involved in. There is no right to appeal in cases such as these. May we proceed with sentencing?" Stiffly, Harry nodded, and the Speaker hummed in distant satisfaction. "Very well. Let it be noted that Lord Potter has no more objections and the ruling stands. It now falls to me, on behalf of the Wizengamot, to pronounce sentencing for these confirmed charges." Now the Speaker cleared his throat. "Owing to the scope of these charges, monetary penalties would normally apply; however, due to the number of charges of this kind I can only recommend a sentence of mulier adultera. So the Speaker has spoken, so let it be." His gavel rapped, and there was a smattering of gasps across the room. Harry, being ignorant of wizarding law for the most part, sat there confused.

Looking to the scrawny wizard by his side, who had sat half-asleep through the proceedings, Harry hissed "What does that mean?" The wizard started, and then looked at him questioningly. "What does that mean? Mulier adultera? I don't speak Latin."

The scrawny man's eyes widened. "My apologies, Mr. Potter. I didn't think it would be so… harsh."

"What the bloody hell is it?" Harry demanded, getting fed up with the whispering throughout the room and wanting to know what injustice the Wizengamot was going to heap on him now.

"Er… well…" the wizard stammered, blushing. "It means 'an adulterous wife.' The punishment is that the Ministry, on behalf of the esteemed Wizengamot, will modify your marriage bonds in order that another wizard may… er… get rights to your wife. That is, the Lady Potter will become an open-concubine. Again, I'm sorry. For what it's worth, it could have been worse."

"What?!" the famous wizard exclaimed in a voice that was more roar than hiss. The term 'open-concubine' stirred something in his memory, but it eluded his grasp and he settled for fixing the other wizard with a burning stare. "What the hell does that mean? 'Open-concubine'? Are you telling me she's…"

"She'll still be your wife. She'll just also be the concubine of another wizard." Harry's stare turned thunderous, and he felt tears of indignation pricking at his eyes. For the first time since the start of the affair he turned his eyes backwards to see Ginny looking pale, and her frightened eyes met his. Trying to give her some sort of reassuring look, Harry thought he only succeeded in making her sick, for her complexion turned green. Feeling sick himself, Harry turned back around, somewhat in shock. The Ministry couldn't do this, could they?

His attention was diverted by the sound of a gavel smacking. "Order! Order!" the Speaker cried. "Now, onto precise business. The sentence stands, but it must be completed." He turned his eyes briefly to a parchment lying in front of him, before addressing the chamber again. "Owing to Lady Potter's pureblood status, those who are not pureblood are excluded from achieving rights to her. You may leave the court now." There was an immense shuffling as a few Wizengamot members rose to leave, and the reverberations seemed to quake Harry's stomach like jelly. When they had left, the Speaker resumed. "Rights are to be awarded via auction, with Lady Potter's open-concubinage to be awarded to the highest bidder." At this Harry heard a cry of anguish from behind him, and he wished for nothing more at that moment than to be able to comfort his wife. "Bids will start at five hundred galleons and increase by one hundred. The auction will start in one hour. Until then, the court is adjourned." At this pronouncement the Speaker rose and left the room, with others beginning to follow suit, and the scrawny wizard — who Harry now no longer cared at all to learn the name of, feeling irrationally like all of this was his fault — turned to him.

"I can escort you and Lady Potter out, if you like."

"We're fine," Harry ground out, and the wizard scooted backwards, before Harry powered through the gate towards Ginny and grabbed her arm, almost dragging her out of the room. Ginny didn't protest, following him out and through hallways. Harry didn't know how long they walked, only that the Ministry workers stayed out of his way as he thundered through until he found a suitably out of the way room to barge into. As soon as he did he exploded. "Bloody buggering fucking hell!" he swore. "Stuck up, unjust wankers! Treasonous fucking bastards! Fuck them! Fuck them all! I didn't ask for this! My wife — cheating on me!"

This seemed to jolt Ginny out of her state of shock, and her face reddened. "You?! You?! You're not the one who's going to become some fat Death Eater's fucking whore, now are you? And what's this shite about cheating on you? You think I want to fuck whoever pays the Ministry enough money? Like I'm just some tramp they picked up off the street? Fuck you!"

Harry, still too angry with everyone to think properly, immediately shot back "I'd rather be fucking some pureblood bitch than standing around emasculated as my life becomes sexless! At least you might enjoy the whole damn thing!" At this Ginny looked like she wanted very much to stab him, and Harry felt his head clear enough to say "Sorry. I didn't mean that. It's just… with all I've been through, you know?" Ginny's look softened, but she didn't seem anymore inclined to forgive him just then. "Gin, you know I didn't mean it, right? I'm just so bloody pissed off." He looked at her, her arms folded and posture defiant. "I know you'll hate this as much as I will." She softened again, enough for Harry to take her in his arms and press her smaller body against his. Errantly, he wondered if this might be the last time he'd feel his wife's untainted body, but he shook the thought away. Ginny couldn't be blamed for this. "I won't take this out on you," he whispered in her ear.

Her body was still coiled, but her voice was soft when she replied "Promise?"

"I promise."

She shifted under him and uncoiled, before sniffing angrily. "At least it'll give me a way to punish you when you're an arse, like now." Harry stiffened, and Ginny sighed. "Sorry. I didn't mean that either. I'll hate this. I know I will. Just like I know you will. I promised to be faithful and I'll be breaking that promise. Can you forgive me?"

Harry, who had grown stiff at her words in a way he didn't want to think about, merely kissed her ear before whispering into it huskily. "Yeah, I forgive you. I will forgive you."

"It's just…" Ginny sighed. "I'm not a whore… you know?" She panted slightly, and Harry hummed as he breathed down her neck to get to the zipper of her dress. "I'm really not, whatever the bloody Ministry says."

"You can certainly moan like one though," Harry purred at her, slipping the straps off her shoulders and ignoring his wife when she shot him a betrayed but guilty look. Instead, he took the opportunity to turn the redhead around and kiss her deeply, exploring her mouth as he had done so many times before. Ginny moaned, blushing, and Harry broke the kiss to mutter "You're such a dirty girl."

This time, Ginny merely hummed in agreement. "Yeah, I am. You like it though. You like it bad."

"Yes, I do," Harry breathed, taking in his wife's topless form before kissing her again, palming one of her fantastic breasts. "I love that you're such a dirty girl. A devious, bad, wild seductress. I love how impure you are in bed. And you're a naughty witch. You're going to be a naughty witch, aren't you? You won't be able to help it."

"I'm going to be such a terrible wife," Ginny moaned, and Harry felt himself grow harder.

"Maybe you should make it up to me," Harry suggested in a voice that wasn't terribly gentlemanly. This might be the last time he could enjoy his wife's unsullied mouth…

"Yes," the redhead groaned against him.

Just as he had placed his hand on top of her head to guide the young woman down, down, down, Harry felt something stab the back of his head, and he jerked away from his wife with a loud "Ow!" In surprise, Ginny fell over on top of him, knocking them both over so that her bosom was crushing his manhood. "Ah!" Harry cried again, in pain, and Ginny quickly rolled off him. Mood thoroughly ruined, Harry felt himself soften, and he looked around to find the source of the disturbance and burn it to a crisp. It didn't take long to locate it, and they found it was an enchanted paper plane beckoning them back to the court room. Harry groaned. His opportunity was over.

Hurriedly, Ginny dressed herself back up, slipping the straps of the dress back on and covering it with the cloak she had been wearing. She, too, wore a disappointed look, though not as disappointed as her husband's. Once they were cleaned up, Harry took them and managed to find the courtroom again, where a now sullen-faced Scrawny Man greeted them and led them back down to the back benches. There a new wizard was waiting, and Scrawny Man quickly introduced them. "This is Mr. Weaves," he said. "He's the court officer who handles… er… business of this sort. He'll be… presenting you, Lady Potter." Both the Potters glared at him, then at the new man, who gave them only a disinterested look in return. It occurred to Harry that the man looked about as sexual as being stoned to death, and wondered if it wasn't deliberate. The man seemed to have the disinterested look of some lesser insect, and gave them little notice. Harry settled for giving the man a murderous look, before sitting down in the benches and glaring at the rest of the room.

Rows and rows of Wizengamot members shuffled in to their side benches, and eventually the court was filled, the last being the Speaker who returned at the last minute to sit at his pulpit. Banging the gavel, he spoke once again. "Order!" he cried, and this time there was no delay. The room fell silent. "Before the auction begins, officer of the court, Mr. Weaves, will display Lady Potter for potential bidders. Mr. Weaves, Lady Potter, if you please."

"Come," Mr. Weaves spoke to Harry's wife, and Ginny glared at him defiantly for a moment before letting the fight drain out of her and rising. "Your cloak?" Reluctantly, Ginny took hers off and gave it to the man, revealing her tight but modest and functional black dress. Harry hoped he was imagining things when he heard several whistles across the room. For his own peace of mind he wrote them off as phantoms, figuring he must have misheard sounds through the glass separating him from the rest of the room. Wordlessly, Mr. Weaves gestured towards the dais in the center of the room, and the young redhead followed him, trying not to look nervous.

The witch and wizard made it to the dais far too soon for Harry's liking, and he liked everything, somehow, even less when it rose up to give the entire room a better view of his wife in her — far too revealing, Harry now thought — dress. "Lady Potter," the Speaker spoke again, "is nineteen years old and has been married for almost two years. She is currently a player for the Hollyhead Harpies, a popular quidditch team. She has C-cup breasts, is one-hundred twenty pounds…" the Speaker read off, and Harry felt himself tune out as his vision turned red. All of his wife's measurements — how did the Ministry even have them? — were read out to the entire crowd, and there was no doubt this time there was a smattering of approval.

It was only then that Harry realized that some sort of spell was being employed to give the chamber a closer view of his wife, and he smelt the desk in front of him smoking as his magic sought an outlet. Reigning in his temper, Harry brought himself back to the proceedings, noticing that Ginny was studiously avoiding his eyes, but glaring defiantly at every member that dared turn a lusty gaze her way. The Speaker made some gesture, and Mr. Weaves leaned to whisper something in the redhead's ear. The reaction was instantaneous. "No bloody way!" Ginny cried. Mr. Weaves whispered to her again, but Ginny, if anything, seemed even more irate. Giving up, Mr. Weaves turned to the Speaker, who nodded his assent, and with a wave of his wand Ginny's dress was in the air and floating down over his arm, while Ginny stood suddenly nude in front of the whole chamber, covered by nothing but a pair of red panties. Instantly, Ginny swept her arms to cover herself from the gaze of the crowd, and her face turned from defiant to mortified. Around the chamber there were mutterings, ones that Harry could only guess — judging by the fact that it was old witches doing the muttering — were of disapproval at his wife's choice of undergarments. Not that it was their bloody business! Harry shot them such powerful, hate filled looks that they instantly quieted, and the Speaker, who had raised his gavel, lowered it again without sound.

"Lady Potter, please," he addressed her. "These are a necessary part of the proceedings. Uncover yourself, if you please. We are adults here."

"Go to Hell!" Ginny snarled, and Harry felt a fierce pride well up inside him.

Mr. Weaves gave the same resigned look to the Speaker, who nodded his assent once again. Again the wand waved, and this time it was Ginny's panties that floated over his arm. Not only that, but Ginny herself found her arms outstretched, giving a seductive, if entirely utilitarian, pose to the entire room, revealing her complete naked glory. Harry's fist clenched hard enough that even his pathetic nails drew blood from his palms at the reveal of things only he, her husband, had up to that point seen.

There were jeers of approval throughout the chamber that more befitted a brothel than a government function, and Harry had to restrain himself from attacking them as his wife's naked body slowly rotated on the dais. Though her eyes were wide — with shock, anger, or misery, Harry couldn't tell — her face was distantly seductive, its high cheekbones and red lips arranged for all the perverted old wizards to see. Her slender neck curved downwards to her teardrop-shaped breasts the curved perfectly into her pale body, their small, pink nipples still erect from her near-romp with Harry earlier, much to the amusement and delight of the wizards throughout the room. Her fiery red hair hung down her backside to tickle the top of her firm derrière, something that was matched, everyone could see, on her front, where her womanhood was accentuated and complimented by a triangle of short, dark, red curls. Involuntarily, as Harry looked at his wife and then the appreciative gazes being focused upon her, he felt himself stiffen in his trousers.

This time there was no mistaking the cheers and jeers throughout the court, and Harry moved to stand before seeing two aurors, who had previously remained hidden in the shadows, move towards him threateningly. Overcome with rage, Harry almost decided to fight them, before looking up at his ashamed wife and seeing the pleading in her eyes. Even though every instinct screamed against him not to, he sat back on the bench. Waiting for the room to settle instead of ordering it, the Speaker sat with a pleased look on his usually terminally bored face. "As you can say, the Lady Potter is just as beautiful as she is reputed to be. Now that you have seen all she has to offer, which of you wishes her as your concubine?"

Immediately a cry went up, but the loudest was from Theodore Nott. "Five hundred galleons!"

"Bastard!" Harry couldn't restrain himself anymore, and almost leapt to strangle the offender when Nott sent him a condescending little smirk.

"Five hundred!" the Speaker affirmed, ignoring Harry's outburst. "Do I hear six hundred?"

"Six hundred!" someone called out. The bidding continued, but Harry began to fade out, going somewhat into shock. How could this really be happening? His wife was literally being sold as a sex slave to men he had fought a war against. On and on it went, until there were only two bidders left. Harry was surprised to see they were Neville and Malfoy. His stomach dropped, and he tried to contemplate which would be worse. His longtime rival or one of his greatest friends taking his wife? Some logical portion of his brain whispered that Neville was likely trying to win as a kindness, but most of him surged with the bitter sickness of betrayal. On the dais Ginny looked more broken than ever.

"Ten thousand, two hundred galleons," Malfoy finally called out, leaving Neville looking hopeless.

"Ten thousand, two hundred galleons," the Speaker recognized. "Do I hear ten thousand, three hundred?" Neville hesitated, glancing at Harry, who could only bring himself to half-glare, half-implore at him. "Going once!" Neville's hand twitched. Malfoy smirked at him, then directed an unreadable look Harry's way. Finally his gaze turned to rake over Ginny's body again, and his face relaxed with lust. "Going twice!" Neville seemed to realize that even if he were to bid Malfoy would still outbid him, and he slumped in his chair. No, Harry thought. It was though a nightmare were unfolding in front of him. His heartbeat quickened, and his palms grew slick not only with blood but sweat. This can't happen; this can't happen, he repeated to himself. "Done!" the Speaker cried, and there was a collective sigh of relief, regret, and dismay at the word. It was done. "The Wizengamot hereby decrees that Lady Ginevra Potter's marriage bond be modified in order that she may become the concubine of Lord Draco Malfoy, effective immediately, and order Lord Malfoy to pay a sum of ten thousand, two hundred galleons to the Wizengamot no later than one month from consummating his concubine bond. Thank you, Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot. Justice has been served and the court is dismissed. Lord and Lady Potter, Mr. Weaves will advise you on your next duties. Good day." With that the Speaker vanished from the room, and, with a general muttering, the rest of the Wizengamot members followed suit, though many not before giving Ginny final, appreciative looks as she was handed back her clothes by Mr. Weaves and changed into them with an angry blush. Following this, the dais lowered and she and Mr. Weaves made their way back to Harry.

"I've never been so humiliated in my life," Ginny spat furiously. "Sold like a whore, and to Malfoy no less! Why–––" Her thought was cut off by the quiet voice of Mr. Weaves.

"Lord Potter, Lady Potter, follow me please."

"Where?" Harry demanded. "I'm damn tempted to leave this farce of a government right now."

"That would be illegal. Now, follow me, please. We're going to a ritual room to meet with Lord Malfoy, in order that you may become his concubine as the Ministry has decreed, Lady Potter." As if to reinforce this and dissuade them from running, the two aurors from before appeared at Mr. Weaves' side, and Harry, who had had his grip tightly on his wand, furiously relaxed it, tensing his jaw alternately. Ginny still looked like she wanted to murder one of the men before them, but a soft touch from Harry at her covered elbow (Ginny having thrown on as many clothes as possible since her embarrassment) stopped her from doing anything. Mr. Weaves gave them a stern nod, as if assuming their compliance, and turned to walk out the door. Reluctantly, the couple followed, the two aurors coming in the rear.

The walk through the halls were shorter than when Harry and Ginny had taken their too-short break, but seemed to stretch on infinitely longer by the stares they were all now receiving. If before the news had not spread or Harry's rage had dissuaded them, none of them knew, but whatever it had been it was not sufficient now. Some looked sympathetic, some looked smug, but by far the worst were those who looked jealous. Whatever the case, the Potters ignored them steadfastly until they came to one of the Ministry's ritual rooms. They were dismayed to find Malfoy already waiting there.

"Lord Potter," Malfoy said in a tone that bordered on mocking, giving him a slight bow. Then he turned to Ginny, eyeing her over as though he was seeing straight through her, now, baggy robes. "Lady Potter," he addressed her, attempting to take her hand to kiss it and smiling when she jerked it away. "I must say that you looked far better back in the chamber. Pity you didn't decide to keep yourself that way. Ah well." Harry, who had been restraining himself owing to the aurors, now strode forward at the remark, not entirely sure what he wished to do to his sometime-rival, but found himself held back. Malfoy turned to him with a small smile. "So, Potter, maybe I should have taken divination after all. I did tell you, didn't I?" It was then that Harry remembered where he'd heard the term 'open-concubine' before. He snarled furiously.

"I know it was you who arranged this, Malfoy! Somehow, this was you!" Harry accused. Malfoy merely held up his hands innocently, but before he could reply their talk was broken by a cough.

"If we could proceed with the ritual?" Mr. Weaves asked. Harry gave a final glare, but allowed it to subside in a manner that could only be taken as acquiescent. "Do you have everything you require, Lord Malfoy?"

"Of course," Malfoy replied happily.

"Very well. Lady Potter, if you could stand in the center there?" Ginny did so, if only reluctantly. "Lord Potter? If you would stand on your wife's left. Lord Malfoy, please stand on your prospective concubine's right." They did so, and then Mr. Weaves stood at the front, the aurors by the doors. Then he began chanting. Most of the ritual was a blur to Harry, who kept glancing at his wife's ashen face and Malfoy's expression of quiet satisfaction. He was cognizant of the fact, however, of the bizarre sensations his magic was giving him and the lights and sounds as it swirled around them, nor of the fact that, when it dissipated, he felt decidedly less manly and connected to Ginny. Finally, Mr. Weaves cleared his throat after all the chanting. "Lord Potter, please remove your wife's wedding ring from her left hand."

It was the most painful thing Harry had ever had to do, and that was coming from a man who had been tortured by Voldemort. It felt as though he were removing a piece of his soul as he raised Ginny's left hand to look at her ring. Slowly, but ineluctably, his fingers grasped around it, and it came tenderly off her ring finger. Harry looked up to see tears streaking her cheeks, and he couldn't help wanting to do so himself. It was though he was undoing his marriage to her — in actions inverse to what he had done on that happiest day of his life. In way, he thought, he was.

"If you would give the ring to Lord Malfoy," Mr. Weaves intoned. Harry's hand felt less like a hand than a claw as he extended it to Malfoy's outstretched palm, but even still the golden band dropped. "Lord Malfoy, if you would place the wedding ring on Lady Potter's right hand." Malfoy grasped Ginny's right hand far more roughly than Harry would ever have allowed to happen without a response and raised it. The Lord of the Potters merely glared at the offending limb, however. Without pretense, Malfoy slid Harry's wedding band onto Ginny's right ring finger, and there was a bright flash throughout the room. "The wedding band on the right hand signifies Lady Potter's status as an open-concubine, proclaiming to the world that she has a lord besides her husband. Lord Malfoy, if you could present the mark of concubinage?"

Almost eagerly, Malfoy produced something from his pocket, and with a closer look Harry identified it as a choker. Malfoy would brand his wife with a choker. Harry held back the tears that were now threatening to take the place of his anger, which had slowly been boiling away. The choker itself was thin, about a three-quarter inch wide and made of some black, silky material. It was diaphanous, but nevertheless it was easy to distinguish that it was crafted so as to appear made of two snakes winding around each other to come together in the front to bite a small, bronze medallion bearing the Malfoy crest.

"Very good, Lord Malfoy. Give the mark of concubinage to Lord Potter and instruct him as to its placement."

Malfoy did so, handing Harry the choker, and then whispering roughly to him "Fasten it around her neck."

"Do as Lord Malfoy has instructed, Lord Potter." With trembling hands, Harry moved behind Ginny, hating how she tensed when his hands touched her. With as gentle a touch as he could manage, as though she would vanish if he disturbed her too much, he lifted her chin and brought the medallion to her throat, lifting the fiery hair that he had always loved so much in order that he could bring the black straps of the choker around the back of her pale neck. As his fingers brushed the base of her head, Ginny closed her eyes, trying to stop the tears from escaping. Almost upon touching the two straps together, they lashed together and melded, seeming to become one as the choker shrunk to fit his wife, and the snakes writhed, throwing hints of green out in the light that Harry hadn't noticed before. There was another flash of light. "The mark of concubinage signifies Lady Potter's status as a concubine of the House of Malfoy for now and forever more, destined to serve her Lord Malfoy in addition to his wife. Finally, Lord Potter, if you would take your wife's left hand and stand before Lord Malfoy." A sick feeling in his stomach, Harry did so. "Now place her hand in Lord Malfoy's left, then bow to the new Master and Concubine, before taking your place behind them." If Harry had been set on fire at that very moment he would have been in more comfort than as he followed Mr. Weaves' instructions. All the same, Harry eventually placed Ginny's — his bloody wife's — hand in Malfoy's, bowed as he hadn't done willingly to Voldemort, and then stood behind them. "I now present to you all the new Concubine of House Malfoy, the Lady Ginevra Potter. Our business is concluded, and I wish you all a good day."

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Summary:

Malfoy begins exercising his newly acquired rights to Ginny. Ginny starts losing focus on staying faithful.

Chapter II: Adulterous Seductions

The days following the travesty of justice that had befallen the Potters were amongst the worst either had ever experienced, and it wasn't, per se, because Malfoy had exercised his new 'rights' to Harry's wife either. Truth be told, that was part of the problem — not that Ginny hadn't been forced to have sex with Harry's rival but the strain the anticipation of such put on their marriage. Harry had become as broody and ill-tempered as he had ever been during Voldemort's time, while Ginny was being forced to balance her husband's temper, her own emotions, and everything else. She could tell that thoughts of Malfoy defiling her ate at him day and night; whether she was at home or with her quidditch team; whether he was at work on a case or studying her like Malfoy's impending touch would make her unrecognizable.

That was not the worst, however. Worse was that news of the new status of the Potters' marriage had spread to the entire wizarding world, not the least of which were the press and (perhaps even more awfully) their friends and family. The press, at least, was predictable, if deplorable. Goodwill generated from Harry's defeat of Voldemort had lasted him a year or two, but he had rather unhappily discovered just how fleeting gratitude could be. If he had thought the media during his isolated years at Hogwarts had been bad, he had no words to describe them now. They alternately castigated and praised him, but Harry had managed to avoid most of it by living a private and secluded life.

That didn't save him now. The press was vicious, openly running articles from the vexingly factual 'Ginny Potter first open-concubine in seventy years' to more ghastly opinion pieces such as 'Potter the pimp? Politics as usual or the move of a new dark lord?' — which speculated that Harry had arranged Ginny's infidelity as a way to solidify his power base — or 'Ginny Potter: Less than innocent in sexual power-play' — which claimed that Ginny had been in love with Malfoy since Hogwarts and that marrying and then cuckolding Harry was part of her sadistic streak. And those were mainstream papers. More gossipy magazines and less-than-reputable journals had field days. 'Why Ginny Potter is the luckiest witch in Britain,' 'The disturbing fetishes of Harry Potter,' 'Potter couple looks to school friend for flagging love life,' 'Why open-concubinage is not as weird as you think,' and 'How to save yourself from a Pottering' were just some of the many headlines Harry and Ginny had thrown in their faces when they were out and about.

All that, however, was nothing compared to the reactions of their friends and family. Mrs. Weasley had given her condolences to the couple but hadn't seemed all that upset about the ruling. She had even tried to comfort Ginny — out of what she mistakenly thought was Harry's earshot — by reminding her that at least she had once had a slight crush on Malfoy, which she hotly denied. Harry had fumed about the episode for days afterwards. In contrast, the Weasley boys didn't seem to know how to act. They were still trying to accustom themselves to the fact that Harry was sleeping with their little sister; imagining Malfoy doing so seemed to be a little too much. They couldn't seem to decide whether to comfort Harry, help him get revenge, storm the Ministry, castrate Malfoy, or declare war on the world for their sister's virtue. In the end they settled for something like distant, confused concern, hovering around like tenacious fruit flies. Mr. Weasley, for his part, simply seemed to exist in a state of general bewilderment that preventing him even acknowledging the issue, save for general muttering about "those asses."

Hermione had been outraged, of course. Neither Harry nor Ginny had expected anything less. She had met the news with the pronouncement that it couldn't possibly be legal, and had, predictably, thrown herself into research. Neither had much hope of her turning up anything. Both had belatedly realized that if there was to be any hope of getting out of their predicament it had probably vanished when they performed the ritual. They had both been in a state of shock, and now bitterly regretted going along with the thing. Most likely, Harry thought, why the ritual was performed immediately. Nevertheless, the Potters felt it best to let Hermione work without reprimand.

Infuriatingly, Fleur had blithely declared Ginny lucky to be able to sleep with two men, something that had shocked everyone. It had also, to Harry's mind, rather highlighted the differences in attitude for those with veela ancestry. Or, he thought, perhaps not, considering that Mrs. Weasley seemed to tacitly agree. Ginny herself had quickly disabused them — in her typically fiery fashion — about any notions that she might actually be pleased with the arrangement. After that episode, none of them had dared ask her whether Malfoy had actually taken her yet. Instead, they settled for giving Harry pitying looks, which set him even more on edge. Or, in Mrs. Weasley and Fleur's case, evaluating looks, as though they were trying to decide whether he was still a worthy lover for Ginny.

Neville had been the one person they had both been expecting, and his sentiments had run much as they suspected they would. He had wanted to help them, he said, and Hannah had given her blessing. "I'm really sorry, Harry," he had said. "You know I'm not made of money… Not like Malfoy." Neither had been sure what to reply to that, nor when he said "I figured if it was to be anyone, you'd prefer a friend…" The meeting had been as awkward as any had ever had, and Neville had left in a hurry. Both the Potters had been left thinking the same unspoken question: Would it have been better for Ginny to be Neville's concubine? Dinner had been silent as a grave.

The most terrible of all their friends had been unexpected. Ginny's teammates on the Hollyhead Harpies had seemed to decide that Ginny's new status was something worth celebrating. Rather than as a concubine, they seemed to regard Ginny as some new mistress of Malfoy's and of her becoming a concubine as some masterful accomplishment of hers, that she now 'got to' have sex with two of the most sought-after wizards in Britain. More than a few had declared themselves envious. Some of the more daring had even questioned Ginny about which of them was the better lover, whether she had had both of them at once, or even whether she might consider some four-way arrangement. One particularly loud girl (a beater, predictably) had even declared Ginny unfathomably fortunate, saying "Now you won't have to cheat on Harry! Shame, too, because I had some great guys lined up for you who really wanted to have a go at 'the Chosen One's' wife." The same witch had even tried to declare a toast "to infidelity and new lovers!" but had failed when Ginny had given them icy stares. Suffice it to say that Harry now held them in considerably lower esteem.

All that, however, was still not the worst of all. No, the worst of all was that Ginny had been lying to Harry for weeks. She hadn't yet slept with Malfoy, but he had been visiting her. The first had been about a week after the ritual had been completed. Harry had been out at the time — she had coaxed him to return to work to 'get his mind off things' while she lazed about the house and tried to calm herself. She had been sitting at the table when there had been a knock at the door and she had stood to answer it, and before she knew it she had found herself, clad in only a bathrobe, slammed against her door and forcibly kissed. She hadn't realized it was Malfoy at first. At first she had simply been in shocked and then overcome by the passion of the kiss, and when she had gotten her wits about her she had begun fighting back. Malfoy had overpowered her easily, pressing her scantily clad body against his while he plundered her mouth. Ginny's little cries and protests only seemed to spur him on, and he had even been so daring as to fondle her breasts through her robe. The sensation had been just as good as always, and involuntarily Ginny had found her nipples hardening. She had even found herself returning the kiss. Inexplicably and without warning, Malfoy had disengaged and left. Ginny had been in such a state of disarray and arousal that she almost hadn't noticed, and had found herself feeling very frustrated and then very guilty. When Harry had gotten home she had told him that Malfoy had come 'round, and Harry had become so agitated that she told him nothing had happened when he asked. She was determined to spare him the truth, and so she hadn't told him about the subsequent visits.

The day after and the day after that it had happened again. Malfoy had taken Ginny and ravished her in different spots all over her house. The second day it had been while Ginny tended to her garden. The blond had snuck up on her and pushed her down onto the wet ground beneath him. The redhead had tried to push him off, but had only found that she had ridden up her summer dress so that he was settled between her legs. He had kissed her feverishly while the sprinkler charms soaked them (in retrospect affording him a tremendous view of her bra-free top). Ginny could not be certain, but she even thought she had felt his fingers ghost up the hem of her dress to brush her thighs. Just like the day before, he had vanished part way through his near-rape of her, leaving Ginny lying in the wet grass feeling very stupid and very frustrated. She also, to her horror, couldn't determine if the wetness between her legs was only from the sprinkler charms or not. She hoped that it was. At any rate, it took a little more than a cold shower before she was feeling herself again.

The third day, Harry's wife had decided to return to her quidditch team. She had been avoiding them since the 'celebration incident' on reluctantly given sick-leave, but she hoped to avoid Malfoy more. The captain had been only too glad to have her back, and for a little while Ginny was able to distract herself from her deteriorating personal life. She had worked up a sweat and played fantastically, and when practice had finally been called in the evening hours she had landed her broom coated in sweat and mud, her heart racing. Just as before, however, Malfoy had appeared out of seemingly nowhere. With little more than a quiet protest on Ginny's part they had become pressed in the bleachers, Ginny sitting on the protective fence while Malfoy snogged her silly. She had gotten mud all over him, but it had been nothing compared to the sweat. Her heart had already been pounding, but when he had, as ever, disappeared she had felt light-headed.

The next day, Ginny prepared herself for Malfoy's assault on her. She was on edge from dawn until dusk when she finally trudged through her door tired and sore, constantly expecting to be accosted by her decreed lover. The physical aches were nothing compared to the mental strain, however. Not just of being constantly on guard, but also of being all too aware of the fact she was in a constant state of partial arousal. Her nipples never quite softened and her panties were never quite dry, and though she tried, in her mind, to blame it on the cold night air and the sweat she had worked up during quidditch it never quite rung true. All the same, her vigilance was for naught. Malfoy never showed himself, and when Ginny finally changed into her negligee and lay down next to Harry it was after a day of having stayed absolutely faithful to him, at least in body. Her dreams, unwelcome though they were, were another matter.

Malfoy didn't show himself the next day either, nor for the entire week. By the end of it Ginny hadn't known whether to feel relieved or frustrated. On the one hand, a small, irrational part of her was hopeful that maybe Malfoy had given up on her and that her marriage to Harry would remain intact. On the other hand, a shameful, primitive part of her had grown to crave the excitement of being taken without warning. Not, of course, by Malfoy, but Ginny couldn't deny that her body reacted to the physical stimulation; she just wanted it to be from Harry. She wanted to be dominated by him. The problem was that he wasn't. He wasn't even touching her. The first few nights after the ritual she had thrown herself at him — partly to reaffirm their marriage — but some sort of magic had prevented them doing anything. Hermione had later informed them that the fresh magic of the concubine bond would prevent anyone but Ginny's 'master' touching her sexually, but all that both of them knew at the time was that they felt as though their genitals had been doused in icy water. Suffice it to say it was quite the turn-off, and after the first few times they had given up entirely. Harry, in fact, had been sent even further into his brooding and was quite unresponsive to any of Ginny's further advances, making her unsure of whether the jinx on them touching had been lifted or not.

There was also the problem of Ginny discovering she had a few kinks. Perhaps it was primal instinct or perhaps she was merely perverted, but the thought of being forcibly taken from her husband by another man was immensely arousing for Ginny. The thought that she might be forced to spread her legs for a man she didn't want to have sex with both sickened and intrigued her. It got her heart racing and her hands shaking, stomach cold and sick with feelings that could have been either excitement or disgust of a most fundamental kind. Maybe it was both. Whatever the case, the idea that an — objectively, not that Ginny really thought so — attractive man would come and take her from her husband to his bed was an undeniably appealing one to Ginny. Regardless of the fact that Malfoy had the entire wizarding government behind him for the deed, the redhead's instincts to mate with the strongest man around roared with approval. The thrills of taboo and betrayal were also there, much to Ginny's disgust.

At first Ginny had tried to rationalize away these thoughts. She was a good girl and had been raised to be one; she was raised to keep her promises and do her duty. Such perverse things would never normally occur to her, let alone arouse her. They had merely been put in her head by recent circumstances. They merely aroused her because they were sexual, not because she especially enjoyed them. She was a good woman and a good wife.

A good wife who couldn't keep the thoughts out of her head. To be fair, initially Malfoy hadn't been making it easy. She had even managed to convince herself that it was something he had done to her, but then he had stopped seeing her. For the first time since she had started having sex, Ginny was cut off from all sexual contact, and she didn't like it. Moreover, she found her thoughts suddenly wandering to her master, and she could no longer blame it on his accosting her. When she had, finally, orgasmed with a cry of 'Draco!' in the shower after imagining him tying up Harry so he could have her alone in their bathroom her eyes and flown open and her hand had stilled between her legs after realizing what she had been thinking. At that point it was no longer deniable that she was turned on by being a concubine. They weren't foreign and they weren't forced on her. They were her natural desires. Never before had Ginny wanted to die so much as in that moment of realization.

So she had gone with the natural reaction and tried to suppress the thoughts. It had almost worked, too. Almost. It was hard when she had no sexual contact with Harry. It was even harder when her left hand felt so empty and her right felt so odd with a ring on it. Hardest of all when she moved her head and felt her choker tighten or its medallion press, cool, against her throat, which was all the time. She had even developed the unconscious habit of massaging her bare left ring finger or stroking the medallion on her neck. She tried her best not to do it when Harry was around, but she didn't always succeed. It pleased neither of them.

Eventually, however, she had broken. She was young and nubile and sexual and she needed release. And when she had masturbated and the thought of Malfoy, rather than Harry, entering her on her wedding bed had popped into her head she had not brushed it away. She had embraced it and let her hands wander, tugging, twisting, and being altogether more rough with her body than Harry had ever been. She had imagined her husband's rival forcing her to do all sorts of things, and when she finally came it was to the most satisfying orgasm she had had in months. She had felt absolutely disgusted with herself afterwards, but that hadn't stopped a repeat performance the next two nights. It was almost a guilty pleasure, like eating a whole box of chocolates.

Masturbation had quickly not become enough. Not when Ginny knew what good sex was like. The marriage limbo she was in, she realized, was killing her as well as Harry. Malfoy had not been seen near her since the quidditch incident, but neither had Harry made a move on her since their first, fateful attempts. Ginny had known what she needed to do, but she hesitated. The Malfoy she had known all the way to the end of her schooling had never shown mercy to anyone nor taken pity on them, but then that hadn't been the Malfoy that had survived Lord Voldemort's fall. Before taking Ginny as his concubine, Harry had even vouched for the man, if reluctantly. So perhaps, Harry's wife thought, all she needed to do was talk with him. Perhaps he would free her and allow her to go back to physically loving Harry. Or, at the very least (a demented part of her thought), it would spur him into not leaving her sexually inactive. Ginny tried to quiet that thought.

Nevertheless, two weeks after Malfoy's last (unwelcome) visit, Ginny found herself dressing up and going to the Ministry where Malfoy spent a good deal of his time (to the point that he even had an office). She tried not to think too much on the underwear or dress she had chosen to wear, but a small part of her suspected that she had been a little too eager to show off, given the circumstances. Ginny hadn't wanted to be seen going to Malfoy's office, of course (Merlin knew the rumors didn't need any fuel, let alone what Harry would say), and with great hesitation she had taken her husband's invisibility cloak. After popping in to have lunch with Harry and throw off suspicion for her visit, the redhead left a bemused but somewhat less broody husband behind and reluctantly donned the invisibility cloak. The trip to Malfoy's office had been far too short, and Ginny couldn't tell if what she felt when walking was terror or arousal. At any rate, she had stumbled in her high heels more than once.

For a lord of the Wizengamot, Ginny thought upon sneaking into Malfoy's office, his security was rather lackluster. There had been no guard nor even any alarms, and she had been able to merely open the door. Then again, Harry's experiences with internal Ministry security hadn't been much different. Shutting the door, the redhead turned to enter the inner office, and wasn't too surprised to see her 'master' sitting at his desk looking through papers. Whipping off the cloak and stowing it away, she knocked on the door, causing him to look up. If Ginny had been forced to describe his reaction to first seeing her it would have been something like a flare of deep, primal satisfaction. Seeing it flit across his face almost made her reconsider coming, but when his face settled into something more benign and bemused she supposed she had already come this far. Ginny Potter never backed down from a challenge. "Hi," she said without preempt.

Malfoy's lip twitched. "Hi," he replied. "I don't suppose you were here for a kiss and lunch date."

Ginny felt herself bristle but forced it down. "Not at all. In case you've forgotten, I'm married, and I'm faithful to my husband." She had to resist the urge to smack the brief, oh-so-Malfoy smirk that flitted over his lips at her affirmation. Physical violence would almost certainly be unproductive. "In fact, that's what I'm here to talk to you about."

"Changing your faithful status?" Malfoy prompted, and Ginny very nearly did slap him. "Sorry, go on," he said at her wild-eyed look, not looking very sorry at all.

"No," she bit out. "I love Harry, and that's never going to change. In fact, I want you to release me as your concubine. As soon as possible. Before I leave this office, if it can be managed."

Malfoy hummed to himself, as though deep in thought. "And why would I do this? I did pay ten thousand galleons to make you my concubine, you know."

"For Merlin's sake, Malfoy! Have some pity on us!" Ginny cried. "Even if you insisted on repayment, Harry could repay you the money, but frankly I don't think he should have to. He bloody well saved your life personally, he spared you Azkaban, and he spared you life as a slave to bloody Voldemort! Isn't that enough to give him the smallest courtesy of not fucking his wife?"

Malfoy's mouth had set into a small line at this outburst, but he didn't quite look angry. Instead, he merely rummaged around until he found a sheet of paper and placed it in front of her. "You're not just asking me to forfeit money, you're asking me to subvert Wizengamot rulings. That is the notice of your husband's sentencing; I'm sure you have one. It says, plainly, that he must suffer the punishment of mulier adultera. You must sleep with another man. That's what the highest wizarding authority has decided."

"Bugger the Ministry! I didn't do what they said when they wanted me to turn in my friends and I'm certainly not going to cheat on Harry just because they say so!" Seeing Malfoy's unimpressed look, she sighed. "You didn't have a problem ignoring them before. Can't you just do the right thing for once?" Malfoy's nostrils flared at this, and Ginny quickly amended, "Please. Malfoy… Draco, Harry's done so much for you; this isn't too much to ask."

"Debatable, but it doesn't really matter because, lastly, I can't release you as my concubine because you aren't my concubine."

"WHAT?" Ginny roared. "Then what has all this feeling me up and leaving me halfway to orgasm bullshit been?! If I'm not your bloody concubine then why can't I put my ring back where it belongs and take off this damn choker?"

"You're not my concubine yet. You're not my concubine because we haven't completed the concubine ritual which, as you can imagine, requires that you have sex with me… To orgasm, in fact." Seeing Ginny's look, Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Oh, please, you didn't think all the ceremonial fluff with Potter giving you to me was all that it took, did you? All that happened there was the Ministry's magic modifying your marriage bond so you can have sex with me and become my concubine. The rest was you taking the initial steps to become my concubine, which only fully happens when we have sex and both orgasm. Only once you're actually my concubine would it be even remotely possible to release you."

Ginny blanched. "No! You're lying. There's no way we have to… to… have sex before I can just be married to Harry again. There's got to be some way around it."

Malfoy shrugged. "It doesn't really matter," he told her, and Ginny's eyes turned from pleading to worried. "I'm going to be honest with you… as a courtesy…" He smirked. "I have no intention of not having sex with you. In fact, Ginny, I want to fuck you. I want to bend you over and take you. I want to do all sorts of things to you, and I can. And I will." His blue eyes bored into hers, at once so similar and so different to her husband's green ones.

"But…" Ginny started. How could he? Had he not changed at all? All Harry had done for him and he was still going to take his wife?

"From now on," Malfoy interrupted her, "you shouldn't look at that ring on your hand as a symbol of your marriage to Potter. You shouldn't even look at it as Potter's. If you need a reminder about whose woman you are first and foremost you'll look at the crest publicly displayed on your neck. You'll learn that soon enough. When you look at that ring you should see it as a reminder that not even marriage can keep me from a woman I want." Ginny shuddered and clenched her legs, looking at him in a whole new light. Just who was this man? "If you need to think of anything when you look at it, think that this is my thanks to Potter: that I allow him to touch a woman again."

"Draco…! You can't!" Ginny said, knowing the words were irrational even before they left her mouth. Malfoy really raised an eyebrow, saying nothing. "I'm Harry's wife. Doesn't that mean anything to you? What if your wife told you she was going to sleep with another man? What if…"

He stopped her with a gesture. "You're bargaining, Lady Potter. I'm not changing my mind… but you did get me curious. Why didn't Potter come here himself? Why just you? To be honest, I was expecting him to confront me, but word is he's just been stewing this whole time… He doesn't seem… to…" his eyes flicked to the redhead in understanding, "have… done anything," he finished slowly. "You wanted me, didn't you?" he asked her. "You two haven't done anything. That's what this is about."

"No!" Ginny protested. How could he get such a ridiculous idea? But a knowing smile was already making its way across her 'master's' face. How she longed to get rid of it.

"I didn't expect… But I suppose it makes sense…" he murmured to himself. Then he smiled widely.

"Look, Malfoy, I don't know what you…" But Malfoy stopped her again, incensing the redhead.

"You should get going. I hear that Potter leaves work early these days, so unless you want to come home with me and leave him wondering…"

Ginny looked at her watch and realized that she had indeed overstayed. She needed to get home, and she definitely did not want Malfoy to see invitations that weren't there. Hurriedly, she left the room, rearranging her dress that had somehow become disarrayed and praying that Harry hadn't decided to leave too early. She hadn't told him about her excursion for obvious reasons.

As she left, she heard Malfoy's parting comment. "Nice dress, by the way. Very sexy."

––|––

Harry hadn't noticed anything amiss when he came home. Though he had seen his wife looked a bit unsettled, it was nothing much out of the ordinary, and after the lunch he had had with her his moods were sufficiently lifted that he didn't question her. Ginny, for her part, was merely in shock at Malfoy's response to her request. Not only that there was no way to get out of having sex with him at least once (and likely a whole lot more), but that he could be so… callous. Or selfish. Or domineering. Telling her he wanted her so plainly? Telling her she was his? He had some nerve. Or maybe it was merely a ploy to get her attracted to him. She wished it wasn't working.

It was another week after her meeting with her 'master' that his visits resumed. Much like before, they were unexpected and mainly about snogging her senseless, but Malfoy seemed to have grown more adventurous since Ginny had asked him to free her from his concubinage. Guiltily, the redhead wondered if she herself had prompted it by trying to get out of her predicament. Even more guiltily, she wondered if this was what she had secretly wished would happen when she had gone to see her 'master.' It was both better and worse than before. Her sexual frustrations would be somewhat eased, but never satiated. Malfoy had yet to do anything with her but some fondling, and Ginny had not yet orgasmed from his ministrations. Being taken almost to the top but always being let down was torturous, but Ginny was certain she didn't want to go back to no contact at all. At the same time, she wanted whatever Malfoy was doing to end. Really, she admitted to herself, what she wanted was a good fuck. If only Harry would give it to her…

She wanted it even more badly when Malfoy began torturing her. It was during one of their, now regular, heavy make-out sessions that Malfoy started. He was fondling her breasts through her thin summer dress and the redhead was moaning into his mouth. Then she wasn't as his hot tongue swirled around her earlobe. Insistent lips kissed down her neck, clouding Ginny's thoughts as she made little panting noises. Finally they came to her exposed cleavage, and the redhead had to resist arching her back to thrust her chest up into his lips when they began kissing down it. "You're such a bad girl," her master whispered to her. "A bad wife, moaning for another man like this. You're a bad wife, aren't you?" Ginny kept her mouth shut, but Malfoy kneaded her breasts again and a moan escaped. "Aren't you?"

Ginny couldn't stop herself. It was true, after all, and she couldn't think straight. "Uh huh."

"It's such a shame you're married," Malfoy whispered between her breasts. "Married women can't have their tits sucked by another man, and you'd like that, wouldn't you?" Again Ginny didn't answer. "If only I could just pull the strap of that dress aside…" He suckled her shoulder gently, nipping at the strap of her summer dress with his teeth and making motions to pull it over her shoulder before pulling it back again. The teasing was agonizing to Ginny. For Merlin's sake, she just wanted her nipples sucked. "But we can't. You're married." Then he went back to kissing her and massaging her almost painfully aroused breasts. Ginny almost told him to bugger her marriage and suck her tits, but her rational side prevailed and she didn't. She did, however, play with them furiously after Malfoy had left.

The next day, her 'master' was, if anything, even more attentive to her breasts. Ginny was practically putty in his hands as they kissed. Finally, when her nipples were so stiff it was almost painful, Malfoy's hand unexpectedly pulled the strap of her dress off her shoulder. It had been so sudden and without hesitation that Ginny didn't even notice her boob was hanging out for a moment. Only when she felt a rough hand palm her bare nipple did she realize, and her eyes snapped open while her 'master' was still tonguing her throat. "No," she tried to say, but it disappeared around Malfoy's tongue as little more than yet another moan. Instead she tried to push him, but her strength was no match and Malfoy was insistent. The kiss continued as did the fondling of her naked breast until the experience overwhelmed Ginny and she couldn't help but sink back into her pleasure.

Finally, the blond was suckling on her neck, and Ginny opened her eyes to see that the other strap of her dress was over her shoulder and her bosom was entirely exposed to her unwanted lover. With a motion she tried to pull the straps back up, but her arms would neither reach around Malfoy nor bend up to touch them. She was completely unable to cover herself until Malfoy stopped his ministrations. He didn't seem in a hurry, she thought as she bit her lip to stifle a moan from his hitting a particularly sensitive spot on her neck. "This is bad,��� he moaned into her ear. "You're almost naked for another man. Your tits are just right there. They're rubbing on my shirt. Can you feel it?" She could. Her stiff nipples were grazing against the impossibly coarse fabric they were pressed into, and it was driving her crazy. "I want to suck your nipples so badly, but you'd be cheating. You want this, don't you? You like showing me your tits. It turns you on, doesn't it?" He breathed into her ear and suckled her earlobe, and Ginny whimpered. "Doesn't it?" A hand slipped up the skirt of her dress to sit on her thigh, and, lightning quick, the redhead's hand caught it and stopped it.

"No," she breathed at him, eyes closed. The hand stilled for a second, but then began pressing forward past Ginny's resistance. "No, don't," she panted into his ear. The hand continued, forearm causing the skirt to bunch and lift up her pale thigh. "No, no," she sighed. Finally, her master's fingers reached the (far too skimpy, she now realized) panties she was wearing and paused.

"This is so bad," Malfoy whispered to her. "So wrong. We should stop. I can't believe you're letting another man touch your knickers." The fingers trailed along the waistband, playing with the little stylized loops and sometimes briefly pulling at the elastic. "I can't believe you wore such small knickers for another man. I wonder what I'd find if I took them off…" At this he kissed her again before Ginny could say anything, her protests dying in her mouth. Once she was sufficiently subdued again, the hand up her dress pressed flat against her stomach and slowly slid into her panties, cupping her womanhood for the first time. Her very wet womanhood. The redhead squeaked in surprise and shock, and Malfoy broke the kiss. "You're all wet for another man, you little slut. All wet for me. You're such a bad girl. Such a bad wife. If only we could do more than fondle… All this turns you on like nothing else, doesn't it?"

"No!" Ginny blurted. It was a stupid lie when he could feel how her body had betrayed her, but Harry's wife felt obligate. She couldn't be turned on by this. She couldn't. She had promised Harry she would hate cheating on him, and she couldn't break that promise. Without warning, the hand that had been on the small of her back swept down to cup her arse through her dress and lift her up slightly, forcing her leg to lift and wrap around him so she wouldn't fall. At the same time a single finger swirled around her clitoris, and the contact was so unexpected that Ginny felt herself tensing as the orgasm that had been building swept through her. "Uhhhhnngghg!" she moaned involuntarily into his ear as she shuddered from the pleasure. It was a small orgasm, granted, but it was more than Ginny had been experiencing for many weeks. His finger swirled around her clit, prolonging her pleasure, until, finally, Ginny came down from her high, panting.

"You're a naughty, cheating wife," Malfoy whispered to her. "You just came for another man. You got off to another man's touch." He suckled her neck again, kissing down to her cleavage. At the same time, his hand withdrew from her womanhood and he brought it between their faces. Looking up from her breasts, and slowly licked his glistening fingers in front of the redhead's confused eyes. Then, slowly and deliberately, he leaned up to kiss her again. Ginny leaned away, but even still his lips caught hers and she was drawn into another kiss, for the first time tasting her own juices. It was a wild, erotic thing. The kiss was broken once the taste vanished, and, without giving her time to think, Malfoy's lips moved to take one of the redhead's nipples between them. "So bad," he murmured around it. "We really shouldn't be doing this. You shouldn't be letting a man suck your tits like this while your husband's away." With a gentle nibble, her pink nipple was drawn between his teeth and softly pinched, and again Ginny couldn't resist moaning. Eagerly he worked on her until her breast was nice and erect again before switching to her other boob.

"Ah!" Ginny cried softly.

Back and forth he switched, kneading and pawing, licking and sucking, biting and nibbling. Soon enough, Ginny was on the verge of another orgasm just from her breasts, and she made little panting noises as she drew closer. She was so close… so close… Just a few more licks…

And Malfoy drew away. Ginny almost yelled in protest, but restrained herself. "No, we can't," he told her, a teasing little grin on his face. "You should be faithful to your husband." Ginny wanted to scream at him. With gentle motions he pushed the straps of her dress back over her shoulders and rearranged everything so that it was if his domination of her had never occurred. Then he walked away to disapparate, leaving Ginny standing there incredulously.

This incident seemed to set the pattern for the next while, though unfortunately without the orgasm. Malfoy now seemed to consider her breasts fair game, as well as her arse, and though he hadn't yet done anything more than cup her bare womanhood it happened enough with increasing frequency that some part of Ginny suspected he was merely building her up. Indeed, it was after one session, after Malfoy had given Ginny her first real orgasm in days (recently masturbating was just not doing the trick) that he made his demand of her. As Ginny lay disheveled, her breasts hanging freely with neither of them having made any efforts to cover them up, and panting while Malfoy walk to leave, he turned to her. "Do not wear any underwear with those dresses ever again," he told her. His gaze was so stern and she was in such a pleasurable, tired state that the redhead even nodded to this obscene request, and Malfoy looked satisfied before vanishing again.

The next day, Ginny had stood unsure and naked in her bedroom looking at her panties on the bed next to her dress. In a state of indecision she stared at both of them, different emotions warring within her. Harry had asked her what was wrong, but Ginny hadn't answered him. He merely gave suspicious, if puzzled, looks at the whole scene before shrugging and going through his morning routine. Ginny had sighed and gone to the shower. She took only the dress.

Harry's wife had to admit there was something erotic about not wearing any underwear with her dresses. Perhaps it was the thrill of being so exposed — or perhaps, a depraved part of her mind wondered, it was because there was no only a thin dress separating her naked body from her 'master.' Whatever it was, it made her worried that someone might somehow notice the slick trails down her thighs. It also meant, during her liaisons with Malfoy, that her was able to easily access her pussy. And access it he did. He didn't always touch her sexually. Sometimes they merely kissed heatedly, and sometimes he didn't appear at all. Other times Ginny had her breasts thoroughly ravished, and some other times she even got lightly fingered. Most rare of all, Malfoy sometimes brought her to orgasm, the only time Ginny got release. It was, again, in the aftermath of an orgasm that Malfoy whispered in her ear. Her bare, wet heat was rubbing against the bulge in his trousers, and Malfoy broke their kiss. "I want to lick your pussy." Ginny squirmed.

"No," she said.

"I know, baby. I know. You're married. We can't. We shouldn't." Then he kissed her again, doing so for the rest of their time together until he disappeared again. From then on, however, the teasing was ramped up. At first, Malfoy merely shifted them to laying side-by-side on the ground sometimes, snogging. Then he began playing with her legs and feet, occasionally kissing her calves and knees. It was spontaneous and without a pattern, surprising Ginny every time it happened. Other times, he would have her topless and expose her further; down to her ribs, then down to her navel. Then down to the top of her pubic bone, almost to the point that her pubic hair was revealed to him. Then he became adventurous, head slipping under her skirts so he could plant kisses along her thighs towards her core. Every time he pulled away before she protested and do nothing more than kiss or fondle her before disappearing, but every time he would start again. The kisses would get closer and closer until Ginny could feel his breath on her moist folds, and it began to drive her wild.

During one of these times, Ginny lay panting on the grass of her garden, for once fully covered by her dress. Malfoy had brought her to a small and quiet orgasm by fingering her, and now he lay blowing occasionally at her quivering pussy. Every now and then he'd plant a kiss on one of her thighs, prompting Ginny to once again attempt to close her legs before finding his arms stopping her. So she lay, merely enjoying the sensations and thinking as long as he didn't go further she wouldn't have to feel too guilty. He shifted, and Ginny felt his head move in again to blow on her.

And then a tongue run from the bottom of her folds to the top, dipping briefly into her before pressing roughly against her clit. The orgasm ripped through her before she was even fully aware of it, and she heard a voice cry "Malfoy! Yes!" His tongue was back on her, and everything was so wet that Ginny couldn't tell whether it was Malfoy's mouth or her own arousal. His tongue swirled and dipped and explored and probed, and it was almost overwhelming to Harry's wife. She had never been eaten out before, and the experience was so new and amazing that in what seemed like a very short time she was cumming again all over his face. She had nothing to compare to, but he seemed like an expert.

They said nothing as the cleaned themselves up, and it was only when Ginny was back inside did the guilt hit her. Not, she realized after sitting in the shower for a good long while, because she had let Malfoy eat her out but because she didn't feel guilty about doing so. In fact, she realized, ashamed, she wanted it to happen again. Orgasming like that was almost as good as sex, and she'd take what she could get.

Her wish was granted, to her shame. It took a few more sessions before Malfoy went near her womanhood again, and even then it took a small nudging motion from Ginny to initiate it. It was so slight that she could have pretended it was accidental, but her 'master' seemed to know exactly what it was, for after a moment she found herself hoisted up and pressed against the wall, her legs draped over his shoulders. For a second she worried that he might not do anything but tease her, but then his tongue was inside her and she was moaning in ways she had promised Harry she never would. Her orgasm, when it came, was just as good as ever.

Being eaten out by her master became something of an addition to Harry's wife over the next few weeks. It left her wet like nothing else, and it was one of the better experiences she had ever had to feel as though her entire pubic area was slick. At the same time, it gave her release like nothing else was these days, and she rationalized that it wasn't so bad to do with Malfoy. She wasn't doing anything, after all. He was doing all the work. Even if it was cheating on Harry, it was the least amount she could get away with.

It was during this time, while her pussy was getting acclimatized to Malfoy's mouth, that her husband seemed to come out of his funk enough to start getting sexual with her. Harry was being more affectionate, more the way he used to act, and Ginny wasn't terribly surprised when, one afternoon after he came home (and after a particularly good session with Malfoy) he pressed her up against a wall and kissed her senseless. Instantly, the sensation of having icy water poured all over their sexes engulfed the two, and Harry's lust-filled expression immediately turned to one of great anger. "Bloody, buggering Malfoy! Bastards! Bastards!" he cried, as well as a few other swears, before stomping off to his office. Ginny just slid down the wall, not sure what had happened. Whatever it was, she didn't mention it to Malfoy.

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One particular day, while Ginny was sitting in her robe in the morning at her table, sipping at a hot cup of tea, she happened to look out the window looking for owls, as was her habit. She hadn't really been expecting any that day, and was surprised when she caught sight of a large square. That was to say, she recognized, after a moment, a box in the distance, and then the far-too-small owl carrying it. Only when it came closer did she realize that the owl was fairly large as owls went and it was the box that was oversized, and she scrambled to open the window. All at once the box was sitting on her table, and the owl had disappeared fast enough that Ginny almost thought it had been a dream.

Dread and eager anticipation warred within her as she moved her trembling hands to open the box. It could only be from one person, but what would Malfoy have sent her? She was answered a moment later when she flipped the box open, and was shocked enough that she accidentally swept her teacup off the table, whereupon it smashed on the floor. The redhead took no notice, instead peering into the box as if in a trance.

A trance that was broken when Harry's footsteps came running. "What happened?" he called. Thumping from where her husband had been doing something in his office prompted her to seal the box back up, and when his nervous face appeared in the door he was unable to see the contents. "Gin, what's up?" he asked. Then, seeing the cup smashed on the floor, he waved his wand and repaired it, vanishing the spilled tea and placing the cup back on the table. Then he spied the box. His eyes narrowed. "What's that?" he asked suspiciously.

"Nothing!" Ginny blurted out, and before her confused and upset husband could inquire further she grabbed the box and ran from the room, sweeping into the bathroom and barricading the door shut with her back as she slid down it. Breathing heavily, she suddenly felt guilty again for running out on her husband. Didn't he have a right to know? But then, she thought, would he want to know? It would almost certainly infuriate him beyond reason, especially given that he could do nothing about it. Wasn't it her burden, primarily, to carry?

Ginny sighed and slid the box towards her. Folded neatly within their cardboard confines, nestled amidst paper stuffing, lay garment upon garment of very, very expensive lingerie. Some of it was black, some of it red, some of it grey, some of it green. Some of it was lacy, some was smooth. Some of it was shear, while some of it was opaque. Some was revealing, some was concealing. Some of it was comfortable and practical, some of it was meant to do nothing but scream 'come fuck me.' All of it was designed to tempt; to highlight her curves and seduce even the most zealous ascetic. And all of it was precisely to her measurements. At once, Ginny felt flares of emotion, amongst them indignation, delight, anger, satisfaction, disgust, pleasure, violation, and eagerness. She felt like a pampered sex toy, which, she realized a second later, was exactly what she now was. Feeling the emotions overwhelming her, Ginny closed the box and her eyes, and breathed. Calming down enough to deal with the backhanded, self-serving gift, Ginny opened the box and pulled out the note that was lying atop all the fabric. It read

Concubine,

You are to burn or dispose of all your old undergarments, save for your bridal lingerie, which you are to send to me. From now on, you are to wear no underwear other than what I buy for you. Feel free to wear anything I send you at your own convenience. Also feel free to keep it as prominently or secretly as you desire. However, should your husband ask where any of it is from you are not to answer him.

Your master,

Lord Draco Malfoy.

Nervously, Ginny swallowed. Nevertheless, as soon as Harry had left all her old underwear had left her house, the lingerie she had worn when she had lost her virginity to Harry sent off to his rival. When the redhead finally changed into one of Malfoy's bra and panty sets for the first time, she realized she had never felt so thoroughly owned. Though on the outside she might still appear to be Harry's wife, she realized, it would only take stripping her down to her knickers for anyone to see that she was now Draco Malfoy's woman. She had also never felt sexier.

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A few days passed, Ginny getting used to her new wardrobe, and Harry's wife found herself walking up the steps to one of Malfoy's residences. Unlike Malfoy Manor, which was large and imposing, this particular cottage was small and deceptively cozy. She wasn't quite sure why she had come to the cottage alone, without anyone knowing, except for the inclination that Malfoy's latest note probably had the largest part to do with it. It had been worded as a request to have lunch with him, but Ginny knew it was more of a demand. Rather than deal with whatever retribution Malfoy could come up with, she gave in and decided to come to the lunch. So she told herself.

The lunch was deceptively good like the cottage was deceptively cozy. Were it not for the way Malfoy behaved with her most of the time, Ginny might almost have said he was being respectful of her and, by extension of her marriage, the man who had saved his life. They — or, rather, he — talked about thoroughly nonsexual topics for the lunch, and by the time it was over Ginny almost thought she would arrive home without being dominated by her master. Almost. Until, as they stood, he told her "Take off your clothes."

"What?" Ginny exclaimed.

"Take off your clothes," he said more slowly. "I want to see what the lingerie I got for you looks like."

The redhead flushed, but obeyed her master all the same. Robe, shirt, and skirt came off until she was standing in the small living room wearing nothing but heels, a bra, and panties. Never before had she been so exposed to Malfoy. Not since she had been auctioned off, and even then they hadn't been this close. Eyes alight with unnamed emotions, her husband's rival circled her with visible appreciation. Almost hesitantly, his hand came up to brush the waistband of her panties, ghosting over the fabric and then trailing over her exposed skin before running along her bra. Ginny shuddered and closed her eyes.

His mouth came close to her ear. "Kiss me," he whispered. Ginny shook her head, and Malfoy drew away. She opened her eyes, and he was sitting in the armchair in front of her. His blue eyes bored into her own hazel ones. "Kiss me," he commanded, and his expression was so imperious that Ginny found herself moving towards him. Internally she battled. Being kissed by him was one thing, but kissing him voluntarily? How could she do such a thing? There was a line in the sand there. Her lips met his. It was chaste and brief, but when Ginny pulled away there was satisfaction in his eyes. "Now, I want you to really kiss me," he said. His hands were on her forearms, which lay on the arms of the armchair, and she couldn't move away. Her barely clad body hovered over him. She looked deeply into his eyes and found them unyielding. Obediently, she pressed her lips back against his, but this time opened her mouth and pushed her tongue forward.

What was she doing? She was snogging Malfoy! And he hadn't forced her! A part of her mind tried to get Ginny to stop, but it was hopeless. Her body wouldn't comply. In fact, it lay down and pressed itself against its master. Their kisses deepened, and Malfoy's hands began exploring her body without protest. It grew heated and feverish, and by the end of it Ginny found herself wishing it would be followed by an orgasm. Malfoy didn't seem inclined to oblige, and Ginny found herself returning home unsatisfied.

Again, this seemed to have set a new boundary. When he didn't have her wearing nothing but a summer dress he had her wearing nothing but a pair of the lingerie he got her. Sometimes he had her in her quidditch uniform or regular clothes to shake things up, but mostly it seemed his two favorite styles were far more skimpy. At the same time, he was now oftentimes insistent that she take more of a lead during their sessions, or at least that she take initiative. Soon enough, Ginny found herself planting kisses all over Malfoy's naked neck and chest, and after a little while, when he seemed to think she was comfortable, he moved on.

Yet again Malfoy sat in his arm chair, though decidedly less clothed than before, with a fairly active Ginny on top of him, grinding in a set of particularly shear, emerald lingerie. She was kissing his chest, sometimes flicking her tongue over his nipples, when she felt his hands on her head. The touch was gentle and unobtrusive, and initially Ginny thought he was simply holding her where he wanted her. Then, she realized when she found herself kissing hairs and his bellybutton, she was being moved downwards. Sure enough, soon her lips were on the fabric of his trousers, kissing his bulge.

Someone's hand — she wasn't sure if it was his or her own — unzipped his pants, and for the first time she beheld his manhood. It was certainly above average, she thought, but it had been so long since she had seen her husband's penis that she couldn't tell if her master was bigger or not. Harry was fairly well endowed, but he had never been so dominant with her, and the effect seemed to magnify her master's size. Without words, he took his mostly erect manhood in-hand and brought it closer to her mouth.

"Malfoy…" she started.

"You've given blowjobs before, I assume?" he demanded before she could continue.

"Yes, but I can't do this…" Giving her husband's rival a blowjob was too much. Kissing him was one thing, but this would be irrevocable.

"I know, baby. I want you to suck me off, but you're Harry's wife. You couldn't." Even as he was saying this he was rubbing the head of his cock across her lips. "You really shouldn't suck another man's cock, no matter how much you want to. You want to, don't you, concubine? You want to take your master into your pretty little mouth." Ginny almost opened her mouth, but fearing Malfoy might take that as some sort of invitation she resisted the urge. Malfoy seemed to sense this. "But we can't. Instead…" He pushed her to the floor into front of him, laying her down, but not before pulling off her panties and exposing her wet, bare pussy. With little prompting, his tongue was on her, and Ginny was writhing and bucking.

Two orgasms came before the redhead couldn't take anymore, and Malfoy sat back on his armchair, hauling her forward to lie on top of him. Belatedly, Ginny realized in her post-orgasm stupor that her master's hard cock was lying in her cleavage. With a little motion she tried to shift, but instead Malfoy merely pushed her down slightly. At the unexpected motion, Ginny gasped, and with a quick move Malfoy slid the head of his cock between her red lips. Her immediate reaction was to try to get it out, but her master held firm, and Ginny's struggles soon subsided. Once they had, her master pushed further into her, moving her head downwards into his crotch.

At first, Malfoy had to do the work for Harry's wife, moving her head up and down on his length. After a little while, however, and a stern look, Ginny had begun to get more into her blowjob. Malfoy had to admit that she was very good at them. She licked and sucked, slobbering over his shaft, responding in just the right ways to his grunts and urges to go on, never scraping him with her teeth and even attempting to take him into her throat. Finally, Malfoy drew close to his release, and the redhead going down on him intensified her efforts. "I'm going to cum in your mouth, Ginny," he grunted, saying her name for the first time, and Ginny's eyes widened. She tried to withdraw his penis from her mouth, but he held fast so she instead prepared for his load. Once, twice, three times she bobbed down on him, and then he twitched… "Oh, Merlin," he cried, and suddenly Harry's wife's mouth was filled with seed. Not allowing her to take him out, the redhead was forced to swallow his load, and even once he had stopped spurting she was forced to lick him up and down a few times so that his cock was completely free of cum. With a contented sigh, her master fell back. "Just as good as I imagined," he told her. "This is the first time you've made me cum, concubine."

Despicable though it was, Ginny felt a flare of pride at that.

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