Title: Treasure Undesired

Author: rons_pigwidgeon (feltonxmalfoy)

Rating NC-17

Pairing: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy/Blaise Zabini

Summary: Harry wished someone had asked him whether or not he'd like two former-Death Eater slaves before they'd gone and handed them over.

Warnings: consensual slavery, throat-fucking, threesome

Prompt: PROMPT # 92: Draco and Blaise were oddly proud to be his slaves, something Harry had not expected. He also had not expected them to turn to sexual displays when he told them to entertain him. Harry was not complaining though.

Notes: Written for hp_owned fest on lj.

"In honor of Mr. Potter's great service to our community, it is my pleasure to present him with the Wizarding World's highest honor, an Order of Merlin, First Class," Kingsley proudly announced before stepping away from the microphone and lifting the medal from the plush cushion held by his Undersecretary. Both of them were beaming with pride. Kingsley placed the medal around Harry's neck, smoothing it out so that it lay flat against his dress robes. "I'm very proud of you, Harry," he said, shaking Harry's hand.

Harry fidgeted under the weight of the medal, mind turning over the hundreds of names of those who had died under Voldemort. He didn't deserve a medal, and truth be told, he would have preferred there not be a ceremony either. Long arguments with Kingsley, Hermione, and Professor McGonagall had taught him to keep his mouth shut, though, so he stayed quiet and smiled self-consciously at the crowd applauding him. At least he'd convinced them that he didn't want to make a speech.

Kingsley stepped back up to the microphone, still grinning from ear to ear. "In addition to this honor, the Ministry would like to present Mr. Potter with the deeds of servitude of both Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini, to be held until the term of their sentences are complete."

Harry frowned, having absolutely no idea what Kingsley was talking about. He accepted two rolls of parchment in confusion and looked in the direction the Undersecretary pointed only to be confronted with sight of Malfoy and Zabini standing at the edge of the stage, shoulder-to-shoulder. Neither wore more than a small pair of shorts and sandals, but they didn't seem to care. Their concentration was entirely focused on Harry. Harry looked from the two of them to Kingsley and back again, even more confused than he had originally thought he was.

He said a quick thank you to the crowd gathered in the ballroom and waited for the cheering to die down and music to begin before retreating off-stage after Kingsley. "What's this about Malfoy and Zabini? I don't get it," he asked.

Kingsley raised an eyebrow at him in surprise. "We talked about this at the meeting. In addition to the financial compensation you'll be receiving, Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini will be serving their indentured servitude with you. As of five minutes ago, they are yours to do with as you like. As long as you do not set them free or cause any permanent damage to them, of course. Blaise's sentence is three years, Draco's five. At the end of that time, they will be free to return to their lives, and you will no longer have ownership of them. But for now, have fun." He winked and patted Harry's shoulder, a smirk playing on his lips that made Harry a little hot around the collar, which only confused him more.

"What do you mean they're mine? Like slaves?"

"Indentured servants, yes. You may do whatever you like to them and order them to do whatever you like of them. In exchange, you will provide them with food and shelter. And again, you can't cause permanent damage or free them before their time is up."

Harry stammered, too stunned to know where to begin with his protests. "But I don't want slaves! Why would you think I would be all right with that? I'm not some… horrible… I killed Voldemort to make the world better, not worse. How could you think I would stand for bullocks like this? And whose idea was this? What gives the Ministry the right to just hand people over like gift baskets?! They're human beings!"

His rant probably would have gone on indefinitely, except that there were hands on his arms, and suddenly he wasn't standing alone against Kingsley. Harry turned to see Malfoy and Zabini standing behind either shoulder. "It's all right, Harry. We agreed to this," Zabini explained gently.

Malfoy nodded on his other side. "We made a deal with the Ministry that we could serve under a war hero instead of going to Azkaban. We would much rather be under you than in that despicable place." Draco's face scrunched up in a sneer, which for once wasn't directed at Harry.

"How could you think this was all right? I understand that you don't want to be in Azkaban, but you heard Kingsley." He quickly shot an incredulous look at Kingsely, who thus far had been only absorbing Harry's rantings without expression or comment. The continued neutrality only caused Harry to get angrier. "I could do anything I like to you, as long as it doesn't cause permanent damage. There are a lot of horrible things a wizard can do to another wizard that won't leave marks."

"There are, and if you were a lesser man, we might worry. But you aren't a lesser man; you're the noblest of bleeding-heart Gryffindors, and we know we'll be safe with you," Malfoy responded with a simpering smile that was more than a little mocking. Oddly, it made Harry feel a little bit better.

"And the fact that we've been given to you says a lot about our status. They wouldn't have given you slaves who weren't worth something. The Ministry obviously thinks we're a prize to be had," Zabini said.

"As we are," Malfoy preened, smirking behind Harry's back at Blaise.

"You see, Harry, they want to be yours. Now, if you will excuse me, I promised my wife a dance and I can see her glaring from here. Congratulations, Harry. Enjoy the party." Kingsley shook Harry's limp hand and walked away without a backward glance.

Harry stared after him in disbelief. "What… this is insane. Can we at least agree on that?"

"On the contrary, I find your stubborn indignation quite amusing."

Harry turned at Malfoy's voice and glared. He took the chance to really look at the two of them and couldn't help but laughing. The shorts were some sort of glittering gold fabric that glinted in the light of the hundreds of candles hovering over the ballroom. Thick bands of leather circled their wrists, and they were both wearing collars. Their faces, chests, hands, and feet were decorated in intricately patterned gold paint that matched the shorts. Malfoy's hair had been braided on the sides and was curled and fluffed up on the top, while Zabini's hair, now much longer than Harry could ever remember seeing it, was very curly and tipped in gold leaf. "You both look ridiculous, you know that, right? Did they paint your toenails?" he asked in astonishment, looking down at their feet.

"They insisted," Draco muttered, glowering.

"They couldn't have put you in decent clothes at least?"

"I chose the clothing. They are representative of our station as your slaves," Blaise told him, looking not at all ashamed of wearing clothes more befitting a go-go dancer.

Harry sighed and scrubbed at his face, feeling completely unequipped to deal with this. "Fine, sure, whatever you say. I'm going to go get a drink. Do whatever you're meant to…do." He said, slowly backing away.

Malfoy stopped him with a hand to his wrist. "I'll get it. What would you like?"

Harry hesitated. Was Malfoy actually offering to do something for him? "I… a Goblin Gold, and whatever you both want, I guess." He looked from Malfoy to Zabini, who smiled and sidled closer to Harry as Draco disappeared into the crowd. "This is really fucked-up, you realize."

"Consider it from our perspective. We could be rotting in Azkaban, being raped and beaten by guards and fellow inmates, subsisting on the bare-minimum of food and water, freezing in unheated cells on dirty cots and pissing in corners. Instead, we will live with you in, I assume, a comfortable home with enough food and drink—because of course you would never let anyone in your charge go hungry—healthy and unharmed."

"And not raped," Harry supplied.

"Of course not. We're completely consenting." Blaise gave him a smoldering smile that sent uncomfortable things to Harry's groin.

"And what exactly am I supposed to do with you both, then?"

"Anything you like," Zabini answered with a smile more wicked than his first.

Harry huffed at him. "Yes, thank you, very helpful."

"Harry, oh there you are! We've been looking for you. Hello, Blaise. Where's Draco?" Hermione greeted them, emerging from the crowd with Ron in tow. She didn't look nearly as appalled as Harry would have expected her to, given the situation.

"Hermione, thank god! What am I supposed to do about this?" Harry asked, grabbing onto her arm like a lifeline.

Hermione looked confused. "What do you mean? Do what about what?"

Harry stared at her, but he was prevented from saying anything by Malfoy's return with a small tray of drinks, which he held out first to Harry. Harry snatched up the beer and started chugging, but ended up sputtering and choking at the unexpected burn. "What is that?"

"I asked the barman to spike it with Firewiskey. I thought you could use something stronger," Draco answered simply, handing a water to Blaise and taking the other for himself, the tray disappearing as he did.

Harry tried to respond, but was again distracted by something: hearty laughter from Ron. "You look like the goose that laid the golden egg!" Ron giggled, bending over to brace himself at the knees.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yes, thank you for the input, Weasley."

Harry turned to Hermione, ignoring them both for the moment. "Are you trying to tell me that the fact that I've just been given Malfoy and Zabini as slaves doesn't bother you?"

"They're indentured servants. They won't be yours for the rest of their lives. And they made the choice. They could have served their sentence in Azkaban, but they would rather be your property instead. I see nothing wrong with that, as long as they are consenting. If they change their minds and decide they would rather serve out the rest of their sentences in prison, they have that option."

"We won't be taking it, thank you," Draco interceded, glaring at Hermione. "Thank you also for putting that idea in his head. We won't be hearing about it for the next five years." Draco affected a voice that was a very close mocking version of Harry. "'Are you sure you don't just want to go to prison? You're people, not house-elves. I could do unspeakable things to you and you wouldn't be able to stop me.'"

"Wow, that was spot-on, Malfoy," Ron said, looking impressed. Harry had thought Malfoy might not like Ron complimenting him, but he just looked pleased and sipped his water. It was at the moment that Harry realized there was nothing he could really do to fight the situation. If even Ron and Hermione were all right with him owning Malfoy and Zabini, no one else was going to listen to him either.

He sighed and gulped down the rest of his firewhisky/beer and let Malfoy get him another when it was empty. The second came in a glass and, as far as Harry could tell, didn't involve beer at all. "Are you trying to get me drunk?"

Malfoy looked at him without expression and shrugged. "Maybe."

Harry drank the second glass down without further comment. He should have known by now that he wasn't going to get his way no matter what. He might as well enjoy himself.

Harry looked from Zabini to Malfoy, both washed of body paint, dressed in the only threadbare pajamas he could find to fit them both on short notice, and still a little groggy from their late night out. "So, what am I supposed to do with you, then?"

"You could fuck us," Malfoy suggested, sipping his morning tea.

Harry blinked at him, but decided it was too early for him to even fathom that, and turned to Zabini. "Any other suggestions?"

"Draco is an excellent investor. What were you planning to do with all the money you were awarded by the Ministry?"

"I was just going to put it in Gringotts, with the rest of my money…"

"Giant surprise, the Gryffindor comes up with the worst idea imaginable," Draco muttered.

"What would you suggest I do with it, then?"

"Invest it. With all the rebuilding going on right now, there are a hundred different businesses that could double or triple your investment within six months. The goblins might be able to keep the money safe, but they'd never be able to give you that kind of interest on it."

"All right, then, you can figure it out for me. I'll write the goblins to give you permission to access the accounts, but you'll have to give me a record of where the money's going every month. I'll not have you taking it and hiding it away."

Draco rolled his eyes. "As if I need your money. The reparations I've been ordered to pay have barely made a dent in my trust fund, and I'll be head of the estate as soon as I'm free, unless Father somehow manages to worm his way out of prison, which I highly doubt is possible."

Harry cocked his head to the side. "Why didn't he choose servitude, too, if it's so much better than Azkaban?"

"He thought being servant to someone else was undignified. As though sleeping in a one-room cell with a corner toilet and a bed roll shared with some mangy criminal is dignified." He made a face and poured himself more tea.

"What about you, then?" Harry turned to Zabini. "Are you good with investing, too?"

"Not in the slightest," Blaise said.

"Blaise is an excellent carpenter. He apprenticed under the best cabinet maker in Milan last summer," Draco remarked, smiling over his tea at Blaise. Blaise tensed a little, but nodded.

"Really? That's surprising. I would have thought carpentry was beneath a pure-blood." Blaise frowned and started to look upset, but Harry shook his head. "No, no, I wasn't trying to insult you. I like it. It's a useful, practical skill to have."

"And beautiful, as well. As nice as any artwork I've ever seen," Malfoy praised, running a hand down Blaise's back with an adoring little smile that made Harry uncomfortable. Blaise relaxed, but didn't say anything.

"Maybe you could help me fix the house up? I've been wanting to renovate since I moved in, but I don't have the faintest idea where to start even. I've never had the opportunity to learn that stuff." Harry perked up just thinking about the things they could do. "In fact, Malfoy you might be able to help me with something. There's this portrait in the front hall of Mrs. Black that's permanently stuck to the wall. Mrs. Black is probably the most racist woman I've ever had to listen to outside Bellatrix Lestrange, but she likes pure-bloods who worked on Voldemort's side. Maybe you could talk to her, convince her to let us move the portrait? She screams every time I have a visitor."

Malfoy frowned. "I don't see why she would yell if you had decent visitors, but all right. She liked me when I was little, used to give me sweets. I'll go talk to her." He stood with his tea and left the room. The screaming started nearly immediately, but died down to a quiet murmur within moments. They listened to the sounds of conversation, though the words were too muffled to understand, for several minutes before Harry looked back at Zabini.

"Would you want to help me renovate, then?"

"I am your slave, Potter. You don't need to ask. Tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it."

Harry squirmed in his seat and drank his tea. "We'll start in the dining room. I'm never having a dinner party if I can help it and I want to turn it into a lounge."

"As you wish."

They were quiet again for a few minutes, Harry poking at his breakfast while Zabini watched him. It should have been awkward, but instead it was just nice. Comfortable. Draco came back downstairs smirking, his pajamas trousers slung daringly low on his hips, the t-shirt a little too threadbare and exposing skin in odd spots. He painted an incredibly sexy picture standing in the doorway, and Harry had to hide his flush behind his tea cup. He made a mental note to see about getting their clothes brought over. "Any success?"

"You really shouldn't call a deceased person a decrepit munter if you want her to do as you ask, Potter."

"I never called her a munter!" Harry protested.

"She says differently."

"Did you get her to tell you how to get the portrait down or not?"

"Yes, of course."

"Brilliant! Thank you! That's such a relief, you don't know. I've been trying to get her down for ages…" He would have continued, but Draco waved him off and settled back at the table for more tea.

"Yes, yes, I'm brilliant, I know. She's not off the wall yet. You'll have to do the spells. They took my wand."

"They what… This is ridiculous. How are you supposed to help me with things without magic?"

"Ask the Ministry agents who took them."

And that was precisely what Harry did. Within two days he had their wands back to them, restricted to magic in the house only of course, a selection of their previous wardrobes so that he didn't have to watch them wandering the house in gold shorts (as they were wont to do) or hole-riddled pajamas trousers. The renovations began shortly afterwards.

Harry flopped down on the sofa, tired, sore, and completely bored. Draco was curled up in a nearby chair, reading a book he'd found in Regulus' old room. Blaise was finishing up a second coat of paint in the front hall. Harry stared up at the ceiling, because really it was that or stare at Draco. The sound of the paint roller traveling up and down the wall was slowly lulling Harry into a sleep. He felt a little guilty for not helping, but Blaise had all but demanded that he stay away from the paint after the first day of painting the former dining room had left grey streaks across the carpet and white door trim. Malfoy had turned at least a dozen pages by the time Blaise finished and the sounds of roller sponges cleaning themselves replaced the squish of paint against walls. Blaise joined them a minute later and sat across from Draco, picking up the evening edition of the Daily Prophet and settling in to read.

Harry listened to them both turning pages for another few minutes before his ennui got the best of him and he sighed loudly. "I'm bored. Stop reading and entertain me," he said jokingly, hoping it would spark one of them to talk to him.

Draco lowered his book and looked over at Blaise with a smirk. Blaise looked back around his newspaper before setting it aside. "All right," he said, nodding to Draco. Draco set his book aside and climbed out of his chair only to crawl—crawl!—across the floor to Blaise's chair. He rose up on his knees and smoothed his hands up Blaise's thighs, lifting his head to meet Blaise's lips.

"Woah, there! That's not what I was talking about, lads!" Harry protested, shocked. They ignored him and continued to kiss, Blaise leaning over to devour Draco's mouth. In between kisses, Draco murmured, "What better entertainment is there than sex? Sit back and enjoy the show."

Harry stared, open-mouthed, as Draco slunk into Blaise's lap, turning so that he was facing Harry and arching his hips back into Blaise's as Blaise began to pull his jumper up to play with his nipple. Draco moaned, eyes closing for a second as the nipple was tweaked between dark fingers. Blaise pulled the jumper over Draco's head and off slowly, dragging his hands up the exposed skin as he went. Draco began to gently rock his hips back, his eyes falling on Harry as Blaise continued to tug and twist his nipples into hard little nubs. He bit his lip seductively and dropped his head back as Blaise's hands moved south to his tight trousers and began to unbutton the placard slowly.

It was torture for Harry, watching each inch of new skin being exposed, slowly realizing that Draco wasn't wearing any pants, which meant that he never wore pants, which made Harry's blood pressure rise to near-boiling. He shifted on the couch, hand traveling towards the growing erection in his jeans as Draco's own was released into the open air. It was long, thin and very pale, with a bright pink head that just begged to be suckled. Blaise stroked it for him in time with his rocking hips, sucking on his ear as his eyes met Harry's over Draco's shoulder. Harry let out a stuttering breath and cupped his shaft through the jeans, his hips involuntarily lifting as Blaise's hand quickened. Draco shuddered, his hips quickening as he grew close to orgasm.

He stopped just shy, smirking at Harry as he slid back out of Blaise's lap and turned to face Blaise. He kicked the trousers off and away, leaving him naked except for the cuffs and collar that restricted his magic and marked him as Harry's property. It was the hottest fucking thing Harry had ever seen. That is, until Draco pushed the chair and Blaise around to face Harry full-on and knelt in front of Blaise, spreading his legs wide to give Harry a perfect view of his exposed hole. It was as pink and perfect as the rest of him, a light dusting of blond fur ringing it and trailing his perineum to cover his hanging bollocks. Harry wanted nothing more than to lean over and lick it, but he held back, watching as Draco made a show of undressing Blaise, kissing, sucking, and licking at each new bit of skin he exposed.

Blaise ran his fingers through Draco's hair and lay back, letting him do as he pleased, eyes focused on Harry. The look of sin on Blaise's face was too much for Harry. He unzipped his jeans and pulled his cock out, spitting on his hand for lube as he began stroking himself. Blaise watched him, eyes only leaving Harry's to stare at his hand stroking his cock. Harry looked down at Draco, who had peeled away all of Blaise's clothing and was licking up the length of his cock like an ice lolly. Blaise was bigger than Harry thought possible, longer than his own by a few inches and fatter around as well. Harry wasn't sure if Draco could even fit the head in his mouth, but he managed, his pale lips suckling the dark head before opening wider to swallow a good few inches down. Harry became mesmerized as Draco slowly worked his way up and down the shaft until he managed to take in the entire length. Harry's hand sped up on his cock as he watched.

Blaise cupped the back of Draco's head and began to slowly fuck his mouth, becoming more forceful as Draco's gagging saliva made the passage easier. Draco arched his back to get closer, his tongue flicking out to slide up the shaft every few thrusts. Harry thought he might come just watching them, Blaise watching Draco's face for signs of distress as Draco opened his throat for thrust after thrust, moaning when he could and clinging to Blaise's thighs for support. His blond hair was tangled in Blaise's hands and his eyes were shut tight, tears running down them. Harry groaned, arching his hips up and squeezing his balls tight to stop himself from coming.

Draco pulled away and turned to Harry, assessing him as he mopped up some of the mix of saliva and pre-come that had dribbled down his chin and licked it off his finger. Blaise let go of his hair, smoothing it with his fingers for a second before mopping up some of the mess on Draco's chin and cheeks as well and using it to reach over and slide a finger inside Draco's hole. "You want to fuck him? He's got such a pretty mouth, doesn't he? But his hole is better, and it's just waiting for you, Harry," Blaise teased, fucking Draco with his thick finger until Draco moaned and bit his lip in pleasure.

Draco pulled away from Blaise and crawled closer to Harry, shuddering as the finger left him. He climbed onto the couch over Harry's knees and pushed Harry's hand away from his cock,taking over the stroking himself. "Did you like watching Blaise fuck my throat, Potter? Want to give it a try," his grip tightened as he stroked downwards, "or would you rather open me up? I'd love to feel you come inside me. I've been fantasizing about it since the day we were given to you." He lapped at the precome at the head of Harry's cock, moaning as it hit his tongue. "You taste as good as I thought you would."

Harry was so turned-on that he worried he'd lose consciousness before he got a chance to come. Draco was sucking him down now, his head bobbing up and down as his hands pulled at Harry's jeans, yanking them under his hips and off to fall in a pile on the side of the couch. Fingers combed through Harry's hair, causing him to look up to find Blaise standing over the couch, tugging at Harry's hair to pull him to a sitting position. He complied and Blaise slipped behind him, settling Harry back into the V of his legs, his slick erection smearing saliva up Harry's spine. Blaise trailed kisses up his neck, hands moving to pull his t-shirt over his head.

Draco pulled off his cock and sat up to kiss him, starting to straddle his and Blaise's legs, but Harry stopped him, shaking his head. "Turn around. I want to taste you first." Draco's eyes glazed over and he quickly turned around and lifted his arse up, wiggling it in Harry's face. Harry clamped onto his cheeks and opened him up, taking a moment to tease with his thumb before plunging his tongue inside Draco's hole. Draco arched back further, crying out as Harry rimmed him. As he worked Draco's hole open with his tongue, he felt a slick finger probing his own entrance, stroking the puckered skin and hesitantly breaching, one knuckle at a time.

Draco was thrusting back onto his tongue, groaning into the couch cushions. "Fuck, Potter, please. I can't take it anymore. I want you in me, claiming me, marking me with your come." His litany continued, begging Harry, until finally Harry pushed him down flat on the couch and shoved into him, his saliva more than enough to smooth the way. The pleased shout that echoed through the room spurred Harry on as he set a gradually increasing rhythm. The finger inside him morphed into two, and then three, as Blaise pressed against his back and murmured dirty things in his ear.

He barely noticed when Blaise's cockhead replaced his fingers, pushing in a little farther with each backthrust of Harry's hips. Soon he was rocking between them, fucking Draco as he was fucked by Blaise. He felt stretched wide and held tight at the same time, the all-encompassing warm, slick slide of Draco around his cock made all the better by Blaise's own thick cock pressing against his prostate with every stroke. It was the most intensely pleasurable experience of Harry's life. He soon tumbled over the edge of orgasm, dragging Draco with him until they were both collapsed on the sofa, shuddering as Blaise continued to fuck Harry's flagging erection into Draco, until he too lost control and spilled come over both of their open holes.

Draco eventually shifted around to face Harry, dislodging his penis, but making up for the loss by kissing him deeply. Harry kissed him back, pushing his hands into Draco's sweaty hair. He eventually lifted up, grinning uncontrollably. "Why haven't we been doing this the whole time?" he asked.

Draco rolled his eyes. "I honestly don't know. We've only been asking you to fuck us since day one."

Harry turned to Blaise, sitting back on his heels and watching them with a lingering hunger that hadn't been dulled by their activities. "Is the slave supposed to fuck the master?" he asked, pulse racing as Blaise's eyes trailed over him.

Blaise grinned back at him, leaning over his back to kiss him. "I thought you might be too busy screaming my name to mind."

Harry grinned back, pushing his arse back into Blaise's groin. "You're not wrong." He turned back to Draco, busy drawing patterns on his slick arms with lazy fingertips. "All three of us are come-covered sweaty messes. Shower?"

"Lead the way," Draco said, leaning up to kiss him again. His smile turned impish as he nipped at Harry's lip. "Master."

Harry groaned and pushed him back into the sofa, deciding they could shower later.