Privileges Chapter Seven

[dysonrules]

Because kashida said so.  Maybe I can sleep in tomorrow?  HAHAHA!

Harry watched Draco leave and frowned, wondering if he could send Davies away again, since his presence was obviously disturbing. He glanced back at Zabini, who had sprawled on the bench next to Davies and leaned close. They both laughed, sharing a private joke.

Harry sipped at a goblet of water and studied Zabini. There was something familiar about the dark-skinned man. Had he seen him before? Bards were rare enough. If he had met the man, he should remember him. Still… there was something.

Harry mentally filtered back through his memories, searching times and places. There had been so many. He sighed, realising he did not miss travelling in the slightest. This place was home now and he aimed to keep it.

The thought reminded him of King Lucius and he decided to track down Prince Draco to make sure he wasn’t ordering anyone around and getting into trouble, particularly with Davies and his men about.

Surprisingly, he was in the stables, currying Dobby.

“You wish to ride, my lord?” Draco asked lightly.

Harry smiled. “No. I promised Hermione I would allow her to fit me for a new breastplate this afternoon. She will behave shrewishly if I skive off.”

Draco snorted, but said nothing. Harry could only imagine the comments he suppressed. He watched as the blond stroked the soft-bristled brush over the horse’s back and flanks, flicking away dust in a rhythmic fashion. Harry’s eyes caressed him, lingering on the outline of the fine arse visible beneath the hem of the tunic.

He bit his lip and wondered how he could possible broach the awkward subject of his attraction. In the next instant he knew that he could not. He mentally kicked himself and dragged his eyes away from the prince. The kiss had been a mistake. It meant nothing to Draco and Harry needed to put it out of his mind.

“Best not be late,” Draco said finally, probably tiring of Harry watching him.

Harry grinned. “Yes, Your Highness.”

Draco cocked a brow at Harry’s sardonic tone, but he only laughed and went out to find Hermione.

Harry did not see Draco until the evening meal, mainly because Hermione monopolized his time repairing and refining his armour. Ron returned with an exhausted Neville. The signalling system was working nicely, it seemed, and the farmers were well pleased with it.

Ron joined him as they entered the Great Hall. Molly and her staff were setting out trenchers of food for the man. Harry quickly scanned the crowd and located Draco, already seated.

Harry frowned when he noticed Blaise Zabini sitting next to Draco. As he watched, Zabini leaned close and whispered something in Draco’s ear, placing a hand on his shoulder in the process. Draco laughed and blushed slightly. It would have been an enchanting sight except for the jealous rage clouding Harry’s vision.

Davies sat next to Zabini, apparently ignoring Draco in favour of drinking heavily and exchanging ribald stories with his men.

Harry quickly crossed the hall and sat down next to Draco, who moved even closer to Zabini to make room for Harry. Zabini barely shifted aside and Harry bit his tongue on a comment when he noticed Draco’s thigh pressed firmly against the bard’s.

Several glasses of mead helped to dull his annoyance and he was relieved when Zabini got up to entertain the crowd. The dark-skinned man told several stories and sang while playing a lute. He was really very good and Harry found his irritation lessening. He might have to consider keeping the bard around once Draco returned to his royal life.

The thought of Draco leaving put him into a melancholy mood. Zabini’s departure put Draco right next to Davies, who was drunk enough to start acting like an arse again, putting an arm around Draco’s shoulders.

“I ‘pologize for ‘sulting you before, pretty,” Davies slurred. “You forgimme?”

Draco got to his feet abruptly. “I need to help Molly with the dishes. I promised her. Excuse me, my lord Tensbury. Sir Davies.”

Harry stayed next to Davies and engaged the knight in conversation until he saw Draco cross from the kitchen to the stairs, obviously retiring for the evening. He noticed both Davies and Zabini watching the blond, as well, and gave thanks that Draco was ensconced safely in his room.

~~O~~

Draco lay awake until Tensbury abandoned his guests and entered the room. He watched through half-lidded eyes as the knight disrobed and climbed into bed. He wondered if Tensbury had always slept in the nude, or if this was a recent affectation. Either way, Draco had no complaint as he took in the sight of Tensbury’s lean form before it was concealed by the coverings.

“Draco? Are you awake?” Tensbury asked quietly.

Draco debated answering, but he thought it best to feign sleep. He was in no mood for conversation after watching Zabini staring at Tensbury’s arse every time he thought the knight wasn’t looking. The bard might have been pretending to want Draco, but his eyes followed Blackfell wherever he went.

Draco’s reaction to Zabini’s interest in Blackfell was disconcerting. He wanted to call the bard out on the field and cross swords with him. Either that, or knock him on his arse with a swift punch or two.

He scowled into the darkness. Why should he care? Tensbury had shown no return interest, at least, none that Draco had noticed. He seemed amused with the bard, at best.

“Well, if you’re awake, thank you for your help with the accounts today,” Tensbury said softly. “And with everything. I’m glad you’re here.”

The words warmed Draco and even eased his annoyance at Davies’ drunken groping and Tensbury’s obliviousness. Draco had left the table when Davies’ hand had begun to slide up his thigh toward his crotch. Thankfully, the cretin had been too pissed to be dangerous. Why Tensbury allowed his knight to continue such ignoble behaviour was a mystery, but he supposed it was possible Blackfell had not noticed, since he had spent most of the meal chatting with Ron or watching Zabini.

Draco put it out of his mind and tried to sleep, but his attempt at slumber was destroyed some time later when he heard the rustle of cloth. His eyes snapped open and fixed on the bed.

Tensbury’s torso was slowly revealed in the moonlight and for a moment Draco thought about giving thanks to some pagan goddess of the moon, because without it Draco would have been denied the vision of Tensbury’s body, which he had finally admitted was quite nice to look upon.

His breath nearly caught when Tensbury’s erect cock was slowly revealed and only remembered to inhale deeply when the movement paused. To his relief, the blankets finally kept moving to show Tensbury in all his glory just before the knight took hold of the turgid shaft and once again began to stroke.

Draco was rock hard and his hands were already conveniently placed near his crotch. He had not bothered to tighten the drawstring on his garment before retiring and his foresight was rewarded with easy access.

He took his own cock in hand and tugged gently, trying to be as silent as possible, moving in time with Blackfell’s strokes. He became bolder when the sound of Tensbury’s breathing increased. He didn’t think the knight would hear him over his own arousal.

Draco never took his eyes off of Tensbury. The man was bloody gorgeous in the throes of passion and the sounds he made only heightened Draco’s arousal. They came simultaneously, incredibly enough, although Draco admitted it might have been the sight of Tensbury losing complete control that sent him over the edge.

Fuck, he wanted to climb up on the bed and lick the man clean, which was almost as disturbing as it was arousing. He closed his eyes tightly and strove to force his breathing back to normal levels, hoping that Tensbury wouldn’t hear the change.

His eyes snapped open again when he heard Tensbury leave the bed and his heart leaped into his throat, but the man only walked to the washbasin and cleaned himself up. Draco grimaced when he realized he would have to sleep with wet stickiness and wash himself thoroughly in the morn.

Still, it was a small price to pay.

~~O~~

Harry rose early the next morning, but he dressed quietly and slipped out, allowing Draco to sleep. He felt slightly guilty about his actions during the night. What sort of pervert had he become, finding pleasure in the hope that Draco was watching? The memory made him pause. It had been more than a hope last night, he was certain of it. Draco had been awake and actively taking care of his own needs, if the small sounds coming from his pallet had been an accurate indication.

Harry touched the stone wall and pressed his hand against it, feeling the roughness dig into his palm. His feelings for the blond were very confusing. He actually liked Draco, now that he had gotten to know him. But even more than that, he found himself wanting to kiss him again, and more. He wanted to go back inside and slide beneath the prince’s thin blankets to awaken him with a touch…

Harry swore and pushed away from the wall to hurry down the steps. He needed to get away from Draco and clear his head.

So thinking, he located Ron and had him rouse a group of grumbling, hung-over, and generally unpleasant men. Davies could not be located, much to Harry’s annoyance. Witnesses had reported him seeking the company of a girl in the village, but none could remember which girl.

Harry was loathe to leave, knowing Draco’s aversion to the man, but he had left a note for his squire asking him to do some additional work on the accounts. If Draco stayed in Harry’s room, he would not need worry about Davies.

Harry had not planned to be gone long, but he was scarcely an hour from Tensbury Keep before a shout caused him and his men to stop their horses and await the approaching rider.

To Harry’s shock, it was Fred Weasley, riding one of Harry’s palfreys. Fred dragged the huffing horse to a stop. “My Lord ‘arry!” he yelled. “Mum sent me! Tis Sir Davies! ‘E’s gone right mad! I fear for your squire.”

Harry’s blood went cold. He immediately put heels to Dobby and headed home, mentally kicking himself for leaving without Draco. If anything happened to him… Well, if anything happened to Prince Draco, then Tensbury would become a ruined spot on the map, but that meant nothing to Harry at the moment.

Dobby might not have been the prettiest steed, but he was a fast horse and Harry soon outdistanced the rest of his men. The gates swung open at his approach and one of the castle guards ran out to take his reins as he dragged the exhausted horse to a stop.

“Where is Davies?” Harry snarled.

“In the stable, my lord!”

Harry frowned and relaxed slightly, thinking it unlikely that Davies could get up to much trouble in the stable. He wondered if the Weasley twins had planned some sort of joke in luring Harry back to the castle. If he, he would bloody well tan their hides this time, and Molly be damned.

Still thinking vengeful thoughts about the ginger twins, he marched into the stable—and stopped dead.

Draco was tied to one of the rafters, stretched so tightly that only his toes reached the ground. He had been stripped to his braies, which hung dangerously low on his hips, exposing a tuft of blond pubic hair. Despite his helpless pose, his eyes flared with frustrated malice.

Harry would have been transfixed by the sight, except that a towering rage exploded through him. Draco’s torso was laced with red welts. He had obviously been lashed. Harry’s eyes swung past Draco to Davies, who smiled lazily until the look on Harry’s face froze the grin in place.

“Tensbury, your squire has been rude to me for the last time. In your absence, I took matters into my own hands,” Davies said. “Just a bit of minor punishment. I think he secretly likes it. He was getting rather excited before you showed up, if you know what I mean.” Davies chuckled nastily.

Harry drew his dagger and slashed through the ropes holding Draco to the beam. The blond collapsed, tried to keep his footing, and failed. Harry caught him before he fell.

“What is the truth of it, Draco?” Harry asked softly.

Draco sneered and tried to pull away from Harry’s grip. He sneered. “As if you will listen to my opinion, anyway.”

“I will,” Harry insisted.

Davies laughed. “He’s gotten to you, too, hasn’t he, Blackfell? That pretty, irresistible face.”

“I will,” Harry said softly into Draco’s hair as the prince straightened.

“The baseborn cur woke me from a perfectly sound sleep, hammered on the door and demanded I come out. Ask anyone; they all heard him,” Draco said. "He finally insulted my father, which is trea--" Draco caught himself before finishing the sentence, but Harry winced. Davies had no idea that King Lucius was Draco's father, but the slur had obviously been too much for Draco to bear.

The blond went on, "I demanded satisfaction, but Sir Davies set his men upon me instead of meeting me on the field of honour." Draco spat on the ground at Davies' feet, which sent the knight leaping forward with a roar.

Harry's booted foot caught Davies in the gut. He sprawled backward, gasping for air.

"You dare?" Davies snarled.

"You dared to lay a hand on my squire," Harry replied in as even a tone as he could manage. "I have not yet heard the rest. Please continue, Draco."

The prince seemed to realize Harry was still holding him, so he shoved himself away and stood proudly. "I fought them, of course. Three of them were down by the time they overwhelmed me through numbers alone. They tied me and brought me here for this bastard's... entertainment. Filthy ponce!"

Harry winced at the word, but Davies' glare was firmly fixed on Draco and he only smiled. "You would have been begging for me in another ten minutes."

Draco launched himself forward, but Harry caught him and wrestled him away from the smirking knight.

"I demand satisfaction, Blackfell," Draco said tightly.

"That's Sir Blackfell, you wretched whelp!" Davies said, inadvertently defending Harry in his need to prove himself superior to the squire. "It was that vicious tongue of yours that got you beaten to start with. You should string him back up, Sir Blackfell, and finish what I started."

"You had no right," Harry said calmly, even though he was shaking with rage. "You took my squire from my own quarters while he performed a task I had ordered him to do. You set your men upon him and beat him with no authorization from me."

Davies finally looked away from Draco, seeming to realize that Harry was an actual threat. His eyes narrowed. "What do you plan to do about it?"

"This," Harry said. He took two steps forward and slammed his fist into Davies' jaw. The knight spun partially around and fell to one knee. He froze for a stunned moment and then turned with a roar of rage. He threw himself at Harry.