His to keep

Quick note: I've been working on this in between everything else. Unfortunately the complete story is getting flagged by Patreon, so this is an excerpt. I've attached the full text as a PDF and you can also read it online on AO3

I sat tucked away in a dark corner of Malfoy Manor’s grand drawing room, watching the night unfold from a safe distance. These Friday night gatherings were a famously decadent affair, notorious for the kind of degeneracy that could make even the most jaded wizard blush. Tonight was no exception. Cut crystal glasses brimming with champagne floated through the air, intercepted by eager hands and lipstick-smudged lips. Death Eaters were sprawled around the room, each with an entourage of escorts draped over them. A thick cloud of smoke hung over the scene, mixing with the raw testosterone-fuelled air of power and success. The low hum of leering laughter, slurred conversation and the occasional moan from some darkened nook filled the air.

I normally didn’t mind partaking, in my own measured way. When I first joined these circles, the mindless escape with a revolving door of willing, beautiful women had been a novelty. Over time I’d come to rely on one girl in particular. One who knew when to speak and when to keep her mouth shut. A girl who didn’t demand more than I was willing to give. I would drink just enough to let the week fade away and then take her to a private room and let myself forget the world for a few pleasure-filled hours.

But she wasn’t here tonight. In fact, she hadn’t been around for weeks now. I had asked around, discreetly. It seemed that she’d moved on or found other business. Smart girl. There was no future here, no matter how much all these girls liked to believe the lies whispered in their ears. They were expendable, every last one of them, and she had been the only one with the sense to realise it.

Without her, the last few weekends had been a dreary slog, but I found you could learn a great deal about people when they believed no one was watching. Take Yaxley. He fancied himself some sort of strongman, but put a few drinks in him and set him in the lap of some busty blonde tart, and the man turned to jelly. Or Bella, whose devotion to the Dark Lord bordered on fanatical. One would think her incapable of disloyalty, yet here she was, snogging Rabastan in full view of her husband and anyone else who cared to look.

I was utterly unimpressed by the lot of them.

I still came, of course. It wouldn’t do to be absent. But I found myself drinking more and enjoying it less and tonight I was perilously close to being pissed.

I felt the beginnings of a headache forming just behind my eyes and closed them for a moment. Just then a hand slipped around my shoulder and my eyes snapped open in irritation. 

“You look lonely, love,” came a slurred simpering voice next to my ear.

I turned my head. A brunette half hung over the back of my seat in what I assumed was supposed to be a seductive pose, but she was too far gone to pull it off. She ran a finger down my chest and fiddled with the top button of my shirt.

"Why don’t you come join us?" 

She gestured unsteadily towards a chaise longue where Dolohov and two other girls were in various states of u*dress. Dolohov caught my eye and flashed me a lecherous grin before he pulled one of the girls in for a rough kiss.

I removed her hand from my shirt with the kind of care one might use to disarm a cursed object.

“I’m quite all right,” I said, perhaps more bluntly than necessary. She pouted and swayed on her feet for a moment, then tottered off to find more receptive company. Just as I was about to devote my full attention back to my drink a burst of raucous laughter drew my eyes towards the doors. Two girls hurried by, giggling as a masked Death Eater followed in their wake.

I sighed in frustration. Gods, I was tired and my head felt close to exploding. I needed some quiet.

I poured the last of my whisky down my throat and got to my feet, then quietly slipped away through a side door, not that anyone would have cared to stop me. Thankfully the corridor was empty. And blissfully quiet. The heavy woven tapestries muffled the drone of the party behind me as I wandered deeper into the bowels of the manor. The occasional wall sconce lit up the faces of Malfoy ancestors whose painted eyes followed me with vague disinterest.

Eventually I found myself in the library and without ceremony sank onto a comfortable brocade loveseat. I leaned my head back and shut my eyes, willing away the dull pounding in my skull. Just a few minutes of peace before I had to join the fray once more. I would have loved nothing more than to leave, but my ambitions demanded that I show my face and play along with these asinine displays of loyalty and camaraderie. The Dark Lord’s esteem was hard won and easily lost. To be absent without reason would raise questions I could not afford. Not when he was beginning to take an interest in me.

Suddenly a faint sound caught my attention. I looked up and saw a young woman hiding in the shadows by the door. Judging by her demeanour she was debating whether to come in or flee. She smoothed her hands over her dress and stepped inside with a forced sort of confidence. I didn’t move, merely watched as she advanced on me.

"Forgive me. I didn’t mean to intrude."

She was a pretty young thing, just about my age. Dark eyes, a full mouth flashing me a smile that was meant to disarm. But the tension in her posture gave her away. She didn't look like the usual girls that ended up here. She lacked the sultry confidence that came from experience, the kind that could turn a roomful of lust-drunk wizards to putty. This girl had inexperience written all over her face and there was an underlying fear in her eyes as if she would love to be anywhere but here. 

I was intrigued despite myself. "Did you get lost?"

"No. I saw you leave and thought…" She took another step closer, tilting her chin up slightly in an attempt at flirtation. "Perhaps you needed company?"

Ah. So that was the game.

Her hands smoothed over her skirts again. A tick. She was trying to appear at ease, but even a half-blind bat could have sensed her nervousness. 

I cocked an eyebrow and stretched my arms over the backrest. "Did you, now? And if I were to take you up on such a generous offer, what exactly would that entail?"

There was a second of indecision before she slipped onto the seat beside me. She angled her body towards me in an awkward attempt to appear alluring and put a tentative hand on my thigh. "Whatever you’d like."

I snorted. "You’re not very good at this."

She retracted her hand as if my thigh had bitten her. "That’s not very gentlemanly of you."

"I never claimed to be a gentleman. Why don’t you drop the act and tell me what you really want?"

Her mask was slipping at the edges, nerves creeping in. “I don’t know what you mean. I just want to please you.”

I sighed and stood up. "Come along, then. If you insist on playing the whore, let’s see how well you perform the part."

She blinked up at me in stunned silence, but I simply turned and started towards the door. She didn’t move at first and for a moment I was hoping she might take the out and run. But then she followed me into the corridor. I found an empty guestroom a few doors down. A four-poster bed, expensive but impersonal furnishings. A setting meant for precisely this kind of encounter. I closed the door and looked at her expectantly. She stood in front of me and a single beat of silence passed between us.

Then another.

I tilted my head and my voice dripped with mockery when I spoke. "Go on, then. I thought you were so eager to please me."

Her composure cracked. The confidence she had tried to project only moments ago had completely evaporated.

I took a step closer, towering over her, and tilted her chin up. "Or perhaps this isn’t what you really want?"

She looked away. I could practically see the war in her mind, the fight between whatever had compelled her to approach me and whatever part of her still wanted to run.

I waited a moment longer before I spoke again. This time there was not a trace of mockery in my words. "Tell me the truth. Why are you here?"

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. "I…" Her voice cracked and she took a deep breath. "I was sent here."

“By whom?”

“My family.”

“Your family sent you here to offer your… services?”

She was pale as death now and stared at the floor. “My father… he failed the Dark Lord and…I’m…”

Something clicked into place. "So you're here to atone for your father’s shortcomings?"

She pressed her lips together but didn’t refute it.

I ran a hand through my hair. My earlier amusement faded into something colder. This sort of punishment wasn’t unheard of, though it was usually reserved for the lower ranks and seldom paraded out in the open. The Dark Lord valued pure bloodlines. To turn a precious pureblood witch into a toy for his servants, the failure must have been severe.

I shook my head. “Did your father offer you up to save his own skin?”

She averted her eyes and nodded.

I watched her for a long moment, considering. She was not the first girl forced into this and she certainly wouldn’t be the last. I was suddenly tired. More so than before. I had no strength to deal with this tonight nor did I feel like participating in this twisted punishment.

I took a step back to put some space between us. "You can leave."

"What?"

"You can leave," I repeated and gestured towards the door. "I have no interest in this arrangement. And even if I did," I let my voice dip into something edged with warning. "I don’t take what isn’t given freely."

I expected her to bolt out the door but she remained where she stood. “I told you to leave. Take the opportunity while you have it.”

She still didn’t budge. Her eyes searched mine as if trying to find something there. Then she took a steadying breath. “I heard you were different from the rest.”

I scoffed. “And you believe that?”

“I remember you from Hogwarts. You were never…cruel like the other boys.”

I squinted, trying to place her face in the muddle of memories from my school days. It had only been a few years since I left Hogwarts, but those years felt like several lifetimes stacked on top of one another. I crossed my arms in irritation. "That was a long time ago. You don’t know me at all."

She shook her head slowly. "It’s just… I’ve never done this…it… before.” 

Understanding dawned on my face when I realised what she was asking me to do. All because she believed I was different somehow. Damn it all to hell. She wasn’t as naïve as I had thought. She knew what was coming, knew what was expected of her. If not tonight, then another night. If not me, then someone else. Perhaps she was right. The others – the men laughing and drinking themselves senseless in the other room – wouldn’t care for her comfort. They wouldn’t care if she was willing. They wouldn’t care if she wept or screamed or begged. And yet I was loath to be the one who forced this on her even if she was asking me to do it.

I exhaled and pinched the bridge of my nose. This wasn’t supposed to be my problem. I wasn’t meant to care. But I did. And that was the problem. "Go sit on the bed."

She obeyed immediately and perched herself on the edge, back straight and hands folded tightly in her lap. Her terror was palpable.

I turned on my heel and walked into the adjoining bathroom, shutting the door behind me with more force than necessary.

I grabbed the edges of the marble sink and stared into the mirror. My reflection glared back at me, pale, tired and not in the mood to play the saviour tonight. The lesser of two evils, that’s what she saw me as. I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly.

Think.

She was pretty. Too pretty for someone like me. That was the first thing that had struck me when she had walked into the library. But that wasn’t why I was hesitating. It had been a while and I was definitely ready to indulge in some mindless fun. This, however, was anything but that. It wasn't right. What did she expect from me? How did she think this would go? And why did I care?

I had no delusions about who I was. I was not a good man. I had done things that would keep me awake at night if I allowed myself to dwell on them. But I would not be a man who bedded an unwilling witch. That was where I drew the line. She had come to me because she thought I was the best choice. The thought made me scoff. A mouse choosing the most agreeable viper in a pit full of them. That was the only choice left for her. And somehow she had chosen me.

I ran a hand through my hair again and unbuttoned my collar. Then I turned on the cold water and splashed my face. The shock of it cleared some of the fog from my mind. If I did this, if I gave her what she was asking for, I would do it my way. If she wanted me to be the one then I would do a proper job of it. I would not make her suffer through it, stiff and miserable, waiting for it to be over. I wouldn’t force it. No, I would make her enjoy it. I would make her want it. And if I couldn’t, then I wouldn’t do it at all.

When I walked back into the room she flinched as if expecting me to pounce. I stayed by the bathroom door and crossed my arms. She was still on the edge of the bed, rigid as a board and I frowned. This would not do. “Are you afraid I’m going to throw you down and have my way with you?”

She glanced at me. “Isn’t that what I’m here for?”

I sat down beside her, not too close, but close enough. She didn’t move, but I noticed the way her fingers dug into the sheets. “As you so accurately observed, I’m different. I do not enjoy taking my pleasure from an unwilling body. You expect this to be something horrible that must be endured, but I do not intend for it to be that.”

She looked at me and I could see the slightest bit of confusion mingled with hope in her eyes. I studied her face. She was just about my age as far as raw numbers were concerned, but I could see that the lives we had led prior to this set us worlds apart. She seemed to come from a place of stability, perhaps even love. It made this whole thing even more horrible.

I leaned in slowly. My lips were just a breath away from hers when she suddenly turned her head and my kiss landed awkwardly on her cheek. 

“Kissing is usually the easy part,” I said, unable to keep the edge of frustration out of my voice.

“I’m sorry. I just… I thought it would be faster if…”

“If what?” I interrupted and tilted her face towards me. “If I simply got it over with? If I skipped the niceties and took you like an animal? If that’s what you want then you could have had your pick from any of the others out there.”

She shrunk away from me. “No. I just didn’t expect you to kiss me. No one’s ever…” The rest of the sentence hung unspoken in the air between us.

“No one’s ever kissed you?”

She blushed rather prettily. “No.”

I was surprised. For all her innocence, I had assumed she would at least have that much experience. This would be more difficult than I thought, but perhaps also less so. A kiss was a far smaller thing to take than what she was offering and it would give me some indication of just how hopeless this endeavor was. “Come here.”

She inched closer until our legs were touching, looking everywhere except at me. I lifted a hand and tilted her chin just slightly toward me.

“If we’re doing this, we must start somewhere. A kiss is the least of it.” Then I leaned in. It was just a whisper of a touch, my lips against hers. Testing the waters.

She didn’t turn away this time and I pressed on, firmer, waiting to see what she would do. For a long moment, she remained frozen, but then, ever so slightly her lips began moving against mine. It was clumsy, but she was trying and I deepened the kiss a fraction. Then I pulled back. Her eyes remained closed for a second longer before blinking open.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” 

I leaned back in again before she could reply. I felt the shift in her as I kissed her then. It was subtle, but undeniable. She wasn’t simply letting me kiss her anymore, she was beginning to respond. My lips moved against hers in a slow steady rhythm, coaxing rather than demanding and I brought my hand up to her face, lightly raking my fingers through her hair. Then I tilted my head and let my tongue brush over her bottom lip. It was a suggestion more so than a demand, but it was enough to draw a barely there sound from her throat. I took that as encouragement and gave her lower lip a gentle teasing suck. She parted her lips ever so slightly and I took the invitation. My tongue found hers and she met it tentatively at first, then with growing curiosity. Soon the kiss turned hotter, wetter, less restrained and my hand slid from her hair to the back of her neck to pull her closer to me.

Her hands, which had been clutching the bedspread, released their death grip and one of them came to rest on my shoulder. I could work with that.

I gently guided her backwards, higher up onto the bed, still kissing her as my hand wandered down to her waist. She stiffened slightly and I paused, waiting. 

Her dress was simple, but designed with purpose. I could tell immediately that it had been chosen specifically for this to make her body more enticing to greedy eyes. The bodice pressed her breasts upward with each unsteady breath she took. She wasn’t even trying to be seductive, but even the slightest movement made it look as though she was on the verge of spilling out.

I clenched my jaw, willing myself to ignore the heat that flared up hotly between my legs.

I kissed her more deeply, trying to forget why we were here. She was growing more confident and as I pulled away to kiss along her jawline, she surprised me by lifting her head to chase my mouth. Her hesitation was giving way to an unexpected enthusiasm and it complicated everything for me. If she had been detached, I could have justified rushing through this with the cold efficiency of a task that simply needed doing. But her willingness to participate in her own inexperienced way…it made what I was taking from her all the more real.

My mouth found her neck and I slowly kissed my way down to her throat as my hand began its ascent to the barely concealed swells of her breasts. I ran a finger along the edge of the black velvet and her hand on my shoulder tightened. I lifted my head to look at her. Her eyes were closed and she grew stiff under my hands. 

I kissed her lightly on the lips. “Relax.”

She looked at me. “I don’t know how.”

She was still too aware. Her mind was working against her instead of allowing her body to surrender to what was happening. “You think too much.”

“I can’t help it.”

“Maybe I can.” I sat up and pulled her upright. “Take off your dress.”

Her eyes grew wide and she didn’t move.

“I said take off your dress.” It wasn’t unkind but firm.

She swallowed hard and her hands went behind her back, trying to catch the zipper. After several seconds of fruitless effort, I caught her hands in mine and pulled them away. “Turn around.”

She did as told. The sound of the zipper unfastening was loud in the quiet space between us. One strap slid from her shoulder and her hands flew to her chest to hold the dress in place.

“Stand up.”

She half turned, to plead perhaps, but one look from me silenced any protest. She scooted to the edge of the bed and rose to her feet on unsteady legs, still clutching the dress to her body. I was right behind her, but stayed seated on the edge with my legs spread wide. Her back was turned to me and I could see the tension in her shoulders, the way she clutched that dress to herself like a shield.

I ran my hands over her waist. "Let it go," I murmured and pressed a kiss to her spine. Then another. “Please.”

She hesitated, but finally the black velvet slipped from her fingers. I gave it a few light tugs and then it pooled at her feet. Her hands immediately flew back to her chest to cover herself. Every inch of her was taut like a bowstring. But I knew just how to change that. I dragged my fingers down the line of her spine. She had come to me and yet she was still fighting it. Fighting me just as much as herself. But I was nothing if not patient.

I wrapped my hands around her waist and pulled her down and back against me. Without a hand to steady herself she tumbled into my lap and I wasted no time pressing her back flush against my chest.

I let my breath ghost over the curve of her shoulder before I brought my lips down for a proper kiss, tasting the faint salt of her skin. Merlin, she was warm. And so goddamn soft.

I had told myself this was just something I was doing for her, but I realised I was lying to myself. I was enjoying this. Far more than I had any right to. Her scent filled my nose, so light and clean, nothing like the overly perfumed women that I was used to. She wasn’t like them. She wasn’t pretending or playing a part. She was real in a way that I had never experienced. And somehow that suddenly made her utterly irresistible.

“Still thinking?” I whispered before I gave her earlobe a nibble.

She whimpered but nodded, just barely. 

“I guess I’ll have to try harder then.”

[...]