Mind the Gap

My entry into the Bring Back the Porn Challange! For tons more entries, go to bbtp_challenge.

Rating: Porny!
Word Count: 5,369
Summary: (using Prompt 51 from Round 4 of Thematic HP) They say time travel's dangerous for a good reason. After all, it could change history. As Draco finds out when he accidentally erases the abolition of slavery. Bonus points if he finds himself as a slave as a result.
Disclaimer: The universe of Harry Potter is not mine. I make no money from this flight of fancy.
Highlight for Warnings: * anal, spanking, D/s, slavery, toys *
Beta: carvedwood All remaining mistakes are my own.




Draco's Present


“Hoo hoo!”

Crabbe and Goyle both looked up at Draco’s crow of delight (it was a quiet crow as they were in the library on a Saturday. But it was definitely full of delight).

“Look at this! I bet the old bat mis-shelved this one.”

Draco slid the book he had been looking at over to his companions. They looked at it. Then they looked at him. Rolling his eyes, Draco brought the book back in front of him.

“It’s a time-travel spell. Horrendously complicated, but I can do it, of course.”

Crabbe and Goyle both nodded dutifully. They really didn’t know why they had to spend a Sunday afternoon in the library. However, it was a place they didn’t go very often so they had found interesting things to look at to occupy them while Draco was on his Mission-To-Torment-One-And-All.

“I wanted some sort of vicious spell, but if I can go back and actually erase Potter from existence, well, you can see how much better that would be.” Draco ripped the page out of the ancient book and stuffed it in his trouser pocket. He grinned evilly as he stalked out of the library, his goons happily following after him.


•Ø •Ø •Ø


The night was quiet as Draco prepared for the ancient incantation spell. It was so old it required casting a circle before he could speak the words. Rolling his eyes, Draco did all the prep work and with a final flourish, he spoke the ancient incantation in a language he wasn’t familiar with.

Nothing happened.

Frowning and more than a little put out, Draco looked around but saw nothing different. With a huff, he looked at the book again.

“Oh, bollocks. The year.” Rolling his eyes again, Draco raised his voice in the small and broken-down wardrobe he had found. (Well, privacy was hard for a boarding student, wasn’t it?)

“900 A.D.” he said in his raised voice. That, he figured, would be a nice number. The Potters should be easy to find with the smaller population in the area. Yes, Draco was quite pleased with his, admittedly, quick decision. True, he thought as he felt a fuzziness begin to drape over him, he probably should have actually looked up Potter’s lineage, but Draco was nothing if not resourceful.

As the light went out around him, he decided he was not going to bother worrying about the fine print about not ‘traversing time with no forbearance to the consequences”. He wanted consequences, after all. He wanted Potter eradicated.

For good.


•Ø •Ø •Ø

Wonderful. It was raining.

Draco’s eyes cleared to find an overcast sky, mud, and no castle. Well, Draco thought, it wasn’t built yet, of course.

The rain was more of a heavy drizzle, and more annoying than impeding. Not even bothering to pull up his school robe’s hood, he reopened his cast circle and started off down the hill towards where he believed Hogsmeade would be. He was sure it would be there, even in a smaller, dingier way. Once he found other Wizards, he would hunt down the dog that had birthed the Potter line and snuff the bitch out.

Feeling particularly pleased with himself, he grinned. He smiled wider when he finally saw the first rooftop. Excellent.


•Ø •Ø •Ø


When the fuzziness lifted again, Draco sneered at the broken wardrobe walls. He quickly dismantled the spellwork and slammed out of the large piece of furniture.

What a ridiculous waste of time. And shoes! Draco glared down at his expensive leather shoes and saw they were nearly completely destroyed with mud and slime and things he knew he had stepped in but decided he would not remember it later.

Apparently, the wizarding populace had been complete imbeciles in the year 900! No wonder the Hogwarts founders had felt it necessary to educate the masses. They were all pitchfork-wielding idiots. Pitchforks! As if they didn’t know how to use a wand. Draco vowed to lay flowers at the feet of Salazar’s statue for raising Wizards up from acting like filthy, mouth-breathing Muggles.

Draco squelched down the hall towards his own dorm as he inwardly raged.

Viking! The group of villagers he had first come upon had begun screaming at him and calling him a Viking! Idiots. When they had started throwing things at him, he knew he was completely justified in throwing some curses back at them. He grinned when he thought of the two who had fallen down in the mud.

So, now here he was, in a world still full of Potter. (He was not a coward, of course, for running back to his proper time. He was prudent.) He was wet and cold and quite irritated at his set back (not failure).

“And where have you been?”

Draco spun on his soggy heel and shot daggers at the bane of his existence.

“It has nothing at all to do with you, Potter!” he spat, putting a nice helping of spittle behind his nemesis’ name.

Potter stood nearly ten feet behind him, his arms crossed and a supercilious eyebrow raised (which of course was completely unfair that Potter had a supercilious anything that was better than Draco’s).

Potter sighed. “Another rebellion, Draco?”

“You do not have leave to use my first name, Potter!”

“You do not have leave to use my last!” Potter snapped back.

Draco blinked, stunned into confusion.

“I’m not sure if you have these tantrums because you know how much it pleases me to reign you in, or if you are truly unhappy.” Potter sighed and stepped forward. “Well, it’s not that it matters. Come on, then.”

“You have obviously lost your mind, Potter! I have always doubted if you ever had on in the first pl—”

smack

The sound rang down the hall and disappeared before Draco registered what had happened. As if in a daze, he raised his right hand and laid it on his now-stinging cheek.

“I’ve told you about that mouth of yours, Draco. I warned you that I would slap you if you didn’t get control of it. Apologize, and we’ll let it go.” Potter’s voice was calm and much more mature and relaxed than Draco had ever heard it.

Why was he concentrating on Potter’s voice when he had just struck him?!

“Oh, there will be an apology, alright.” Draco snarled and reached for his wand. “From you!”

It would have been perfect, really, if he could have shouted out a curse at that exact moment. A wonderfully timed piece of dramatic revenge.

Unfortunately, Draco appeared to be without his wand.

“What the…?” Draco patted himself down. “What did you do with my wand, Potter?” he shouted. Draco was sure he hadn’t heard a spell of any kind out of Potter, but his wand had vanished.

Harry smiled and shook his head. “Alright, alright. You know, Draco, no matter how many times you act out these scenes, I’m never going to go along with it. I’ve let you keep talking to Granger, but if she keeps filling your head with all this slavery abolishment rubbish, I’m going to have to ban you from seeing her.”

The sheer incomprehensibility of Draco ever wanting to be in the same room as Granger left him dumbstruck. His hands went slack at his sides and he was glad he wasn’t near a mirror for he was sure there had to be the most ridiculous look on his face.

Potter’s smile got soft and his hand took hold of Draco’s. “Come on, dove. Let’s get back to my room.”

Draco actually followed him for four and a half steps before wrenching his hand away and wiping it on his trousers. “Either you have gone mad or I have if you think I will go anywhere with you, allow you to touch me, or to ever, ever call me an endearment as pathetic as that!”

A dark frown settled on Potter’s face. “Right, enough, Draco. Now. You’re proving what my dad said and I won’t have it.”

“Communing with the dead now, are we, Potter?”

Harry reached for him and Draco stepped back. “Touch me again, Potter, and I kill you.”

Draco wasn’t sure what exactly happened next. He did know, though, that he was suddenly staring down at the ground from only a few inches away and that his knees hurt. A lot.

“You will never threaten me again, boy,” Potter hissed into Draco’s ear. “Ever. And now you have made me very angry with you. If that was your plan, congratulations. Now get up and follow me.”

Draco did, indeed, get up and follow Potter on his way through the halls. It was very disconcerting to Draco though, that he did not actually tell his body to do so. In fact, Draco would have been screaming the castle down and attacking Potter’s back if he had been able to. But his body was not his own and he was forced to go along for the ride.

When they passed the broken down wardrobe again, Draco noticed the old spell book still partially hidden inside.

Time travel.

Bollocks.


•Ø •Ø •Ø


Draco was marched up the stairs and into Gryffindor Tower. All was quiet as Potter went up another set of stairs and through a doorway. One bed dominated the small room.

Perfect Potter had scored himself a private room? Bastard!

He fought to throw off this strange Imperious-like curse, but struggled in vain and in silence. It was the silence that was the worse because he really wanted to lay into Potter and then curse him into next Wednesday.

Potter stood in the middle of the room, hands on his hips as he looked Draco over.

“You’re lucky I don’t have any classes tomorrow. I’d be even angrier and make this go on for a few days.” Potter removed his school robe and tossed it on to the edge of the bed. He wore only blue pajama bottoms underneath, his chest bare. “Right, you wanted my attention, then. Get the box.”

Go to hell, Draco desperately wanted to shout. Instead, his body held him prisoner looking back at Potter.

Potter sighed. “Get the box on the dresser, Draco. Now.”

Draco was beyond enraged when his feet dragged him past Potter and to the prick’s dresser. His hands reached out and picked up the ornately carved wooden box that was roughly the size of a breadbox. He carried it back and held it out to Potter.

“Take off your clothes.” Potter said calmly as he took the box. “And remember that you asked for this. I hate when you make me resort to this to force you back into your place. I think you pull these stunts to punish me.” Potter sighed heavily as he sat the box down on his school trunk at the foot of the bed.

Draco was horrendously and shockingly appalled when his hands actually started removing the clothing from his body. (He was also relieved that he had trimmed that morning and was therefore at his best for being naked.)

“I wish I could let you talk, but I just know you’d use that mouth of yours against yourself.” Potter dared to give Draco a sad and sympathetic look. “I wish you’d get over this tendency for self-abuse. Not all slaves need to be beaten, you know. I’ve told you this.”

Draco was sure he would have fallen down in shock if his body hadn’t been pulling his trousers and underwear off then. And he wasn’t sure what would have done the shocking. The fact that Potter was intimating that Draco was a slave or the fact that Draco’s cock was missing something very important.

Draco took a moment out of the surreal situation and really tried to understand from a logical and academic point of view what was happening. As his body finished stripping itself, Draco listed out what had happened.

First, he traveled back in time. Second, he was accosted by peasants who thought he was a Viking because of his beautiful blond hair. Third, after a laughably easy spell fight, he decided to abort his mission until a later time. Fourth, he was now confronting a Harry Potter who didn’t seem so Golden-boyish. Nor did he seem as quiet and unassuming and self-deprecating as he usually was.

Had the fifteen minutes in the past truly created this much change? It was ridiculous! How did he change Potter when he hadn’t even been allowed to find any of Potter’s ancestors? And how did that equal Draco being called a slave? And more importantly, why was Draco now circumcised?! And being made to strip in front of Potter?!?!

(Draco briefly worried if Potter had found out about the dream he had once had. He had told no one and immediately wrote it off as blood lust turned into something else. And never thought of it again. Well, only occasionally. Like a bad memory. Yes, just like that.)

“All right, Draco, bend over the bed. You certainly deserve it.” Potter pointed to the side of the bed and Draco’s body moved. And Draco desperately tried to stop it. Hecate save him, Draco was about to be raped by Harry Potter. He wasn’t sure if he would live through the humiliation long enough to tell everyone he could of his degradation.

Draco’s body complied and laid itself over the edge of the bed. Draco gritted his teeth and prepared his statement to the press. He was interrupted by the hand on his arse, rubbing and fondling.

“You know, I think I’m angrier over the fact that you are making me do this than your behavior.” Potter’s hand continued to rub. “I will try to keep that in mind since that is not something I should punish you for. You are not responsible for my feelings. That’s why I’ve decided not to use anything but my hand.”

smack

Draco would have blinked in shock if his eyelids hadn’t been on a regular blinking schedule devoid of his thoughts on the matter.

smack

Okay, now that hurt! Was he being—

“You may speak and apologize,” Potter said calmly.

“Are you spanking me, Potter?” Draco shouted into the bedclothes. “Who the hell do you think you—”

smack

“Ow, damn it! Who do you think you are that you can—”

smack

“You bastard! I’ll kill you, you hear m—”

Smack. Smack

Draco sucked in a breath. That had been more painful than he could have imagined. He desperately wanted to move away or kick or something.

“I want you to apologize for threatening me and my father,” Potter instructed calmly, his hand brutally massaging Draco’s sore cheeks. “If you don’t, this won’t end. And I want this to end, Draco. I hate doing this, you know.”

“Go. To. Hell. Potter. You are a—”

smack

“—pathetic excuse for a Wizard who needs to—”

smack

“…needs to learn when he is in the presence—”

smack

“…of his betters, damn it! You filthy—”

smack

“—disgusting—”

smack

“—mudblood-loving, goblin-fucking—”

smack

“Ow! Okay! Okay! Stop!”

“All you need to do is apologize, Draco.”

“I am not apologizing for anything!”

smack

“No, stop! Stop!”

“Admit you were wrong, Draco. It’s as easy as that.”

“Go to hell—”

smack

“Okay, okay! I was wrong! I don’t even know how I was wrong or for what, but for all that is magical, stop!”

“Good, Draco. Now apologize.”

“I just did!”

Potter’s hands massaged his arse. It was painful and yet not the slicing pain of the hitting.

“No. You admitted you were wrong. Now I want to hear your remorse. You threatened me and my father. You need to apologize for it.”

“Your father is dead!”

Potter sighed angrily.

Smack, smack, smack, smack, smack, smack, smack—

Draco shouted unintelligibly. The beating was unrelenting and he desperately wanted to fight. But he was stuck, not able to even flex his arse cheeks in reaction.

“I apologize! I apologize! I’m remorseful for threatening your father and you! Stop, now! Stop! Merlin, stop!” Draco refused to listen to his own voice. He was sure it was the spell Potter was using on him that was making him sound so pitiful. But the beating stopped and he ignored the tears leaking out of his eyes. Maybe it would gain him his freedom. He really didn’t care at this point what he needed to do to be able to escape this sadist Harry Potter.

Potter was now rubbing his back, leaving his sore arse alone.

“Good, Draco. Good. See? That wasn’t so hard. But I want you to remember this, you understand? I want you to know how much I hate doing this and how much it hurts. I want you to keep that mouth of yours under control. Stand up.”

Draco’s body moved to comply. Potter reached up to wipe the tears from Draco’s cheeks.

Smiling, Potter said softly, “You know I don’t mind your spirit, Draco. It’s why I wanted you. You make me happy. But I won’t tolerate any threats against my family or me. That is not negotiable.”

Draco stared down at Harry who, thankfully, was still a bit shorter than him, although not as much as he had been before. For the first time, Draco was confused as to his feelings. Normally, they were cut and dried: pride, hatred, superiority, amusement at others’ misfortune. But now Draco was confused as to what exactly he was feeling and why. He hated Potter. Hated him. But… Well, no one had ever told him that he made them happy. And Draco figured that was what was causing the confusion in his head. He was furious at what had just happened to him… But he had made someone say he made them happy. It was confusing. Draco hated this emotional quandary and he was going to strike back.

He really was.

“Come on. Let me make you feel better.” Potter took his hand and led Draco to the trunk. “Kneel down, dove. I’ll give you your favorite, yeah?”

Draco’s body complied and kneeled down in front of the trunk, facing it. Draco was preparing his verbal attack (since he still couldn’t move his body for a physical one) and was waiting for the perfect moment. Also, he was a bit curious about what was in the box and getting anything of his that was a favorite. After all, he did enjoy presents.

“Here we are.” Potter’s voice seemed happy. Draco hoped that meant he wasn’t about to be beaten again. His arse burned and he didn’t think he could survive the humiliation any longer. (Or the pleading he’d been forced to do, but Draco refused to think on that.)

Potter walked behind Draco and his hand came down to pet Draco’s shoulder softly.

“Lean forward, dove. Rest your hands on the trunk,” he said softly in Draco’s ear.

Draco’s body moved on it’s own and he was left feeling, once again, nervous and exposed. He hated feeling nervous. It was a ridiculous sensation. His breathing seemed to still respond to him as it sped up with his emotions.

“It’s all right, dove. We’ll make peace now, yeah?” Potter’s hand slid down Draco’s back and stopped just before touching the reddened cheeks.

Potter moved away for a moment and Draco heard the box finally being opened and being rummaged in. When he came back Draco was horrified to hear himself squeak. But, honestly, what else was he supposed to do when he felt fingers separating his butt cheeks.

“Potter, what are you doing—”

smack

“No, no, not again!” Draco shouted.

“Then you will not call me by my last name. You will call me Harry. And that is all.” Potter’s hands continued to delve between Draco’s arse cheeks after delivering the quick slap to them. “Unless you want to call me ‘Sir’ or ‘Master’?”

“No!”

Potter chuckled. His fingers were slick as they pressed against Draco’s opening.

“Are you going to have anal intercourse with me, Pot— H-Harry?” Draco asked in a tone he hoped was superior and demanding.

Potter chuckled again. “I might. I thought we’d play with your toy instead. Although,” he said as one of his finger tips pressed inside Draco, “I shouldn’t give you a reward. But I can never stay angry with you, Draco.”

Dumbfounded by that confession, Draco at first didn’t feel the change in texture at his hole. He really should be more concerned with the fact that Potter was anywhere near his hole. But the whole situation was just too bizarre, and somewhere along the way, Draco had just decided to flow with it.

That flew out the window when he felt himself being opened wide by something much larger than fingertips.

“I thought you said we were going to play with some sort of toy!” Draco said in a panicked voice. “Not anal intercourse!”

Laughing, Potter leaned over and kissed the top of Draco’s head. “You’re sweet. But if I were as large as your toy, I’d never be able to keep my trousers up.”

Draco was being stretched wider and wider. He winced (as best he could with only partial control of his facial muscles) and his breathing became even faster.

“This isn’t going to work! You need to stop! Stop!”

And then there was a physical pop and it did, indeed, seem to be working. It was inside him now. The toy. Draco wondered if it were a Beater Bat.

“One of these days, Draco, you’ll trust me with your body and your mind,” Potter said, kissing Draco’s neck as he gently pushed the toy inside. “I’ve told you over and over that I would never hurt you.”

“Tell that to my arse!” Draco hissed.

“That was punishment. Punishment is supposed to hurt. Besides, the redness is already turning a soft pink. It might be tender tonight, but it’s not something you haven’t had to deal with before.”

Draco gasped as Potter began to slowly pull whatever-it-was back out.

“How does it feel, dove? Tell me.”

“It feels like something is stuck up my arse!”

Laughing, Potter kissed Draco’s shoulder and his other hand slid underneath, petting Draco’s belly.

“Well, let’s make that a bit better, then.”

Potter’s hand grasped Draco’s dick, making Draco gasp. He didn’t know why that had come as a surprise to him. He had been so focused on his rear end, he hadn’t thought of his front bits. And he certainly hadn’t thought that Potter, having Draco in his complete control, would bother thinking of Draco’s cock.

Wait a tic. That reminded him…

“Where is my foreskin?”

Potter sighed. “Where it always is, Draco: around my neck. I never take the charm off. You know that.”

Potter’s hand began fondling and stroking Draco’s balls.

“One of these days you’ll trust me, too. I’m not going to lose you to someone else just because I misplaced this.”

Draco rolled his eyes up a bit and was able to see Potter’s shoulder and a bit of his neck. Around his throat was a thin silver chain, a small pendant hung from it.

“My foreskin is in there?”

“Where else would it be?” Potter’s hand moved to Draco’s cock, which had started to harden. “You seem too distracted. Let’s work on focusing you, yeah?”

Draco grunted. Okay, well, that did feel good, what Potter was doing with his hand. And it was actually making the Beater Bat start to feel good. Something about the stretching.

Potter did seem to know how to use his hands. He coordinated smoothly between both actions. Draco bit his lip and closed his eyes, feeling the sensations flowing over him. He soon wasn’t able to decide which felt better: in or out, or balls or shaft. It all melded perfectly into the sensation of pleasure.

“Feel good?” Potter whispered in his ear.

Draco nodded, his hips beginning to move back and forth. His cock was rock hard. He arched his back, dropping it down as low as he could, reveling in the position and the feeling of offering himself up. Like a sacrifice. Like an offering.

Like a gift.

“So beautiful, dove. Like an angel,” Potter panted into his ear, licking and nibbling on it.

Yes, he was beautiful! He was perfection! And why shouldn’t he be? Had he not just proven he could wrap perfect Potter around his little finger? Ha! Potter had been angry with him and had hated giving him a child’s punishment (Draco refrained from remembering how very painful that punishment had been) and now was giving him something Draco would never have thought to ask for. Ha! Draco was being pleasured by Potter! Who held the power now, huh? Draco Malfoy, that’s who!

And then it stopped.

“Hey!”

“You’re making me too hot, Draco. I’ve got to be inside you.”

Draco’s eyes widened and he raised his head. “Inside?”

“Now. On your back. I want you on your back.” Harry sounded calm with a tinge of impatience.

In confused curiosity, Draco lay down on the floor. (Potter had apparently dipped into his funds to have a very nice rug laid out which only gave Draco a slight wince when his arse touched it.) Potter had lowered his pajama bottoms to his thighs. He grabbed Draco’s calves and hefted them up onto his shoulders.

“Wait, isn’t this making me a bit girly?” Draco asked with a frown.

“You always say that. And I will tell you again: I refuse to miss watching you. Your expressions are just too beautiful and arousing. They get me going more than just sex could.”

Potter knee-walked a bit closer and lifted Draco’s arse up onto his thighs. Draco was too concerned over the heaps of compliments he had just been given to pay too much attention to what Potter was doing.

“My very face turns you on, Pot— Harry?” he asked with a smirk.

Potter smiled and grinned back. “Don’t I always tell you? You are such a compliment whore, dove. But that’s all right.” Harry shoved himself all the way inside, causing Draco to suck his breath in. “There’s a lot to compliment about you.”

Potter pulled out and then pushed back, establishing a slow but deep rhythm.

“Is that why you acted up tonight and ran away? Have I been too wrapped up in exams and Qudditch to make sure you were happy? Have I been neglecting you?”

Draco had closed his eyes and was pushing his hips down against Potter’s thrusts. It felt so good. Better than he had ever thought having a cock up his arse could feel. (Although Draco had heard a few of his roommates enjoying themselves and had assumed it was something he would find entertaining.)

“I should have been paying more attention to you, shouldn’t I?” Potter asked, thrusting particularly deep.

“Yes,” Draco answered breathily. “Yes, you should have.”

“Poor dove. I didn’t mean to make you feel lonely.” Potter came down, and Draco was suddenly being kissed. By Harry Potter. Harry Potter had his tongue in his mouth.

Draco was having sex and kissing Harry Potter.

And it was good.

Draco wrapped his arms around Harry and held him tight, kissing him back for all he was worth. He really didn’t know why, but he did know that it felt good and felt really right. Not in a true-love-this-is-where-I-am-meant-to-be fluffy way, but in a I’m-being-fucked-and-frenched-in-a-most-excellent-way-and-I-plan-on-enjoying-every-moment-of-it way.

Harry was spurred on by Draco’s enthusiasm and picked up the pace. Draco’s cock was getting much-needed friction by Harry’s stomach and he began to moan and writhe.

“Merlin, but you are sexy,” Harry breathed.

And truly, Draco knew that he was and being praised for it pushed his buttons.

“Fuck, I’m coming!” he moaned.

Harry kissed him hard again and Draco did, indeed, come all over himself and Harry. Harry thrust rapidly for a few more moments before pulling out and coming on Draco’s stomach, mixing their fluids in very pretty patterns, Draco thought.

Harry smiled, his hair flopping over into his eyes. “All better, dove? Revolt over with? Peace?”

Draco closed his eyes and shrugged. “For now.”

He heard Harry chuckle.

Draco’s eyes popped open. “Hey! I can move!”

Smiling, Harry crawled over to the foot of the bed and grabbed Draco’s shirt. “I know. I know. I can’t ever keep you in Servitium for long. Dad’s been on my case about that. It’s why I get so angry when you prove him right about my spoiling you.”

Harry began wiping up Draco’s and his own stomach. Draco nearly protested over the use of his shirt, but he enjoyed being catered to in this fashion. Besides, he’d just have Harry buy him a new one. (Draco did not bother to think through the ramifications of that thought nor did he pay attention to what that might say about his own feelings.)

“But you’re so easy to spoil,” Harry continued. “Besides, we have years to sort it out, right? Not like you’re going anywhere.” He leaned down and gave Draco a passionate kiss. Draco quite liked that. It was a kiss that screamed you-are-sexy-beyond-measure-and-I-can-barely-contain-my-gratitude-in-being-allowed-to-be-in-your-presence, he was sure.

“I’d never sell you or risk losing you,” Harry whispered into Draco’s mouth. “You’re mine.”

Trying desperately not to flush in pleasure at those highly-possessive words, Draco put aside any questions about anything until there wasn’t a plundering mouth and wanderings hands begging to worship him.


•Ø •Ø •Ø


It wasn’t until Draco was “helping” Harry in the library on Monday, that Draco was able to work out what had happened to him.

In history books, he was able to piece together that in the year 900, a lone Viking mage, very powerful, (Draco had smirked at that) had come to the tiny village of Hogsmeade and had warred with a small group of travelers. One of that party had been a budding activist against the institution of slavery in the Wizarding world. He had wanted to end it and make Wizarding-kind better than the Muggles. Unfortunately, this rebel had been knocked down in the scuffle with the Viking; potions were still crude at the time and the man had died. Draco recognized from his own history lessons the young rebel’s name as the man who had gone on to free Wizarding slaves. But, apparently, Draco had inadvertently killed him. Draco was further horrified to learn that due to that major upheaval in history, quite a lot had changed: stopping some chains of events and causing others to start. Harry Potter wasn’t the Boy-Who-Lived because he had never been threatened in the first place. His parents were alive and well and wealthy enough to purchase the slave that their only son wanted. A very pretty slave boy from good breeding stock. (Draco couldn’t decide if he was proud of the compliment or insulted.) In the slave trading way, Draco was purchased at fifteen, circumcised, and his foreskin given to his master in a magically-charmed item that would give his master control over him.

Draco was appalled at his current status, but, on the other hand, was quite pleased that he had apparently scored a very eligible wizard (though not of the highest rank that Potter had been in before), and because of this, was allowed to attend school along with Harry, a privilege only a few slaves were granted.

Draco smirked at his getting the best even when he was a slave.

But still, Draco thought with a frown, he couldn’t just leave himself like this. He couldn’t live his life as a slave. He had to get back to his own time period. He had obligations to attend to. A Dark Lord to become an acolyte to.

“Dove? Let’s go get lunch. I bought some of those sweets you like. We can have those for afters.”

Draco paused.

Be a slave to a mad Dark Lord…

Or be a slave to Harry Potter who bought him things, remembered his favorites, and shagged him silly every night… and morning…

“Coming, Harry!”


End