FicWad

The author owns nothing in the HP universe.

And to the Victor the Spoils? A Harry Potter Story.

Lucius Malfoy rolled his eyes in disgust at the whispers and giggles from the two young women. The exotic beauty inbred into all the females of the pure blood families was readily apparent in both the brunette Rookwood and raven-haired Macnair, but Merlin, did they always have to act as the vacuous females they appeared?

He looked at his surroundings. While the drawing room was spacious and elegant, it was still only a luxurious prison. While he had the freedom of the large castle and expansive gardens, he was still trapped in a lifetime sentence he had been unable to understand, much less accept. Most of his magic had been stolen from him and he was able to cast little more than household charms. He was still of the purest blood, but even if he managed to get away, he had nothing to look forward to other than becoming a near squib in the mudblood world. Malfoy stared into the evening darkness outside the open balcony and found nothing that would help dispel his own dark thoughts.

Disquieted by this contemplation, he settled himself back into the expensive cushions of his chair and tried to interest himself again in the runes text he had been studying, but sudden shrieks of laughter made it impossible. Malfoy set his book down on the small table beside him and glared. "Ahem, I'm trying to study this runes text, you know!"

"Sorry," a not at all contrite Rookwood replied.

Macnair just got up from her own seat and approached, with an admittedly cute sway to her hips. "I really am sorry, darling, it's just that I'm so happy," her radiant smile proving the truth of her words.

How could she be that way, Malfoy asked himself with just a little bit of fear? It's been barely four months since the defeat of the Dark Lord, and only three since their fates were announced. How had one of the most feared and magically powerful supporters of the Dark Lord come to this?

The lithe Macnair draped herself on the arm of his chair, her quite impressive breasts almost jutting into his eyes. She smiled down at him with crimsoned lips while twirling some of her waist-length locks. Suddenly winking, she grabbed his hand with both of her own, and brought it to lightly touch her flat stomach. "You know I had been feeling a bit off these past few days, so I saw the healer this morning." Pausing, she suddenly had a sly grin, "she told me I'm pregnant with the new Macnair heir."

Malfoy jerked his hand away and slunk back in his seat, his own blonde hair flying and his eyes widening in shock! "You're pregnant," he almost screamed the question. "How is this possible!"

Smirking down at him, Macnair responded, "I thought even a Malfoy could figure out how I got to be this way." After giggling, she added, "In any case, Master was very pleased to hear the news, and we spent the afternoon celebrating," she announced with a satisfied smile. Her expression suddenly changed, and tears glinted in her eyes as she added, "he always wanted a family of his own, you know."

"And you," Malfoy blurted out, almost afraid to hear her reply, "were you also pleased?"

She stared into his eyes as the radiant smile slowly returned to her face, "Yes, I think I am."

Malfoy cringed back into the cushions at this admission, just shaking his head, when another arm touched his own. Looming up on the side of his chair was Rookwood, the shoulder length ringlets and the earth-mother voluptuousness of her body a marked contrast to the sleek, if still big-breasted Macnair.

"If anyone had told me three months ago that this would be my fate I would have happily killed them," Rookwood announced in her dulcet tones. "But let's face it, this is less then we deserved for our crimes," she told the startled Malfoy. Her bodice bounced enticingly as she opened her arms wide to gesture at their surroundings, "and instead of being tortured and killed in return, we have all this. I admit it was a very rude shock when I was first given to him, but I found I've come to accept Master's attentions, to actually enjoy what he does to me in bed. And yes," she added wistfully while reaching across to touch Macnair's still flat tummy, "I think I am even looking forward to that..."

A shuddering Malfoy stood up and brushed past the two youthful beauties, muttering vague imprecations as he paced about the room. Suddenly turning back to them, he started, "if the Dark Lord only knew what has happened to his feared death eaters."

"Hush, darling," Rookwood responded. "That useless dark wanker is dead for good this time, and this is the only life we have to look forward to. The slave spells kept me from attempting to kill Master or even fighting him too strongly, at least at first. But the simple fact that my family name would have otherwise died out is enough for me to now accept my fate."

"I agree," said Macnair. "With my pregnancy, Master has changed my status from slave to consort, and I will gladly bear heirs to my family name and maybe," she happily contemplated, "even the heir to his own name."

"What," Malfoy exclaimed in shock. "You're willing to have more than one?"

"I'm not sure I have a choice," Macnair admitted. But smiling, she added, "Yet I have come to enjoy and even crave Master's attentions, so the babies he expects from me is no longer mere punishment but has instead become a mutual desire."

"But he's just a half-blood," Malfoy objected.

"But a god in the bedroom," Rookwood laughingly admitted, "I know he quickly changed my own inclinations."

"And the strongest wizard since Merlin himself," Macnair added. "Face it, darling, we lost. Blood has become meaningless and only skill and power will be used to rank wizards and witches in the future. The dark wanker's pureblooded women have already been distributed throughout the light families to repopulate our world. What's more, I've also come to really enjoy my nights, and our children will be of the light, have wealth, and with any luck, inherit at least some of the immense power of Master."

Malfoy sputtered at these confessions, "but, but..."

"I'm grateful that I was accepted here," Rookwood admitted "and didn't end up in the new joy houses like some of our compatriots or those new recruits from Germany and the East. Youth and beauty is also good, along with a rich and powerful Master who greatly pleases me in bed."

A disgusted Malfoy just turned away from them, unable to understand how they'd come to appreciate their changed lives. He had to admit that they were both enticing beauties, but neither of them affected him in the old ways. He was especially disgusted with himself, for even if he couldn't desire them because of who they once had been, he was likewise unable to desire any other women.

He remembered how it used to be. Long nights with Cissy and others, thrusting into their softness, making them moan and shriek when their desires had been fulfilled. He especially remembered the unwilling, both muggles and witches, and how powerful it felt to conquer them despite all their crying and wails. Shuddering, he reminded himself that he had none of that now, and deciding he would not wait for the return of the girls' Master, went straight to his bed instead.

However, Malfoy was tormented by his dreams of what had been. He had enjoyed his life as a pure blooded patriarch, with money, power, and sheep-like fellow wizards and witches who could be manipulated in any way he wished. But it was the memory of sex that most affected him. He dreamed about those glorious days, and remembered how satisfying it had been to see the defeat in the eyes of females as he had first thrust into them. How much he had enjoyed staring into their wide, fearful eyes as he continued thrusting into their mouths or nether parts, their faces full of pain at what they were being forced to endure. How supremely powerful he had felt when their cries caused the eyes of their men to fill with despair. It was if he had raped the men, too, at least mentally.

Even in his sleep, memories of a particularly beautiful young witch caused his body to heat up as he shifted in his bed. How delicious it had been inside her. The sensations as his hips moved back and forth, the wetness inside her...

No! A part of his mind tried to scream, she was dry and unready for what he had forced into her.

The memories of how I moaned with the sensations of my continuing thrusts, and how I fondled her as she lay above me.

No, I was laughing at her cries as I topped her. And this definitely wasn't the way I felt then.

Malfoy's eyes jerked open as he lay back in bed, only to see the familiar Avada Kedavra green eyes of his Master above him. He attempted his most potent glare, but only received a smug smile in return as Master continued to piston his hips between Malfoy's own.

"Good evening Lucy," Master told him, "I came in to check on you, but decided to surprise you when I heard your moaning and discovered how wet you were inside. That must have been some dream!"

Mafoy attempted to continue glaring at those smug eyes, but those impossibly long thrusts caused him to begin arching his own hips, moaning all the while. As always, the hatred and resentment caused by his new reality was overcome by his traitorous body, and when Master lay on his elbows so he could begin his despicable manipulation of Malfoy's new protuberances, the battle was lost. Once, and then again, his body reveled at its completion, and then a thunderous final time as thick ropes of fluid exploded into his quivering, three-month old quim.

Waking from a short nap caused by his body's exertions, Malfoy found himself wrapped in the arms of Master, and hated the fact that his body found it comforting. He thought about the day his real Lord had been defeated, and the torturous month he and his fellow death eaters had waited for the wizarding world to take their revenge for the pain and death they had caused. The losses to the light had been horrendous, but nearly all of the almost 150 death eaters had survived the death of their Lord, along with their women and children.

Those innocent of crimes had been taken into the remaining light families or even with mudbloods, while the marked women and girls had been subject to the slave spells and claimed by whoever wanted them. Facing what he thought was his death, Malfoy had vowed to show the wizarding world how a true pure blood would graciously accept his punishment, secure in the knowledge that his death and those of the remaining death eaters would weaken the survivors even more.

The bound prisoners had been brought into the grounds of the Quiddich stadium at Hogwarts and tied to individual stakes marked with their names and the same obscure runes, while the stands were filled with most of the remaining wizards of the light. Malfoy was glad that he was still capable of only showing his disdain to the crowd, even when some of the poofters began begging and pleading for mercy. When he and a few other patriarchs of the pure blood families had been separated from their compatriots to a raised stage with their own stakes, he managed to show only indifference, even though he was quivering inside at the prospect of an especially slow and painful death.

But then that blood traitor Weasely, the new Minister, had announced that a different punishment would be given to the defeated. Instead of simply being killed, the guilty would be made responsible for replacing the numbers that were lost in the war. While the death eaters stared at one another, happy they weren't to be killed, the blank looks in their faces was proof that they were baffled by the Minister' words.

Suddenly Master, who had more power than any 10 wizards deserved, strutted into the stadium, and with a magically reinforced voice, announced their fate. "It is an ancient spell, that admittedly requires a great amount of power to trigger. But once begun, it will be powered by the guilty. Their loss of magic will be severe and permanent, but this spell will not affect any children that result." Smirking, he faced the death eaters and said, "it is time to begin."

Malfoy finally began struggling as the runes placed on all the stakes began to glow, still unsure of what the punishment would be, but certain he didn't want to lose most if not all of his magic. But before he could even loosen his bonds, Master called out:

"Planto es Abeo," 'make this change,' Malfoy thought to himself,

"Juvenis et Valde Décor", 'youth and handsomness or beauty,' but why thought Mafoy?

"Femina Fidelitas Quod Diligo," 'female loyalty and lust?' Malfoy began screaming at his fate before the pain of suddenly changing bodies caused he and the other death eaters to begin screaming in unison. After a long minute of their cries, the death eaters slumped in their bonds, drained physically as well as magically by the spell.

That hated voice then announced, "While their appearance is based on the what the muggles call genetics, that is, how the women in their families actually might look, the final level of youth or beauty is also dependent on the amount of the original magic of the guilty. While the spell does protect them from too much abuse at the hands of their new owners, their fate is to bear the replacements for the losses they caused." After additional quick wandwork, he continued, "the wards are open to all those that have lost family in the war. You can select one or more of the guilty as slaves if you wish."

A large crowd of men descended upon the new women. While most were content to merely laugh at the fate of the formerly feared death eaters, a very few selected relations or former friends as a form of protection, while more were chosen because of old family feuds or particular bitterness with guilty individuals. The crying and wailing of those selected disturbed Malfoy, especially when he saw what appeared to be a twin of a teenaged Cissy dragged off by one of those despicable Weasleys.

When the crowd finally cleared, Master then announced, "now the rest of you may also select a slave. Those not selected will be placed in joy houses, available to all as a reward for services or for a small price, but they too will bear replacements for the losses." Malfoy saw the new crowd walking among the new women, selecting most of the remaining purebloods and even some of the particularly beautiful recruits from outside England. When that crowd too had cleared, Master made a gesture to a group of female Aurors and the remaining women were coffled and led away to their new places of employment. Throughout the process, all Malfoy could hear was the crying.

Laughing, Master then jumped onto the stage, and was joined by that near squib Longbottom. Gesturing to the Patriarchs, he suddenly announced, "Your fate is different. You each have old family names that are still important to the remaining Wizagmont. In their wisdom," he added as he rolled his eyes, "they have decided to continue your lines, but have assigned the so called heroes of the war to ensure that you bear your own heirs."

Longbottom stood up and announced, "Teddi Yaxley, you are mine," and then turning with a disturbing smile towards an old enemy, "as are you, Rodolpha LeStrange. You will be joining Teddi and your ex-wife Bellatrix Black at Longbottom Manor."

Malfoy just sniffed in disdain as the new Rudolpha began crying as she and the new Yaxley had been dragged off. He had always suspected LeStrange of being a poofter. He then turned towards what must be the Master's new women and was amazed at the changes that had been wrought. The stooped and pockmarked Rookwood had become a Ruebens masterpiece, voluptuous and heavy breasted, with perfect skin and curly brown hair. The change in Macnair was even greater. The once massive, ax-wielding man had become a lithe, raven haired beauty, with her sleek hair falling past substantial breasts to her slim hips. Malfoy chose to not think about what changes must have taken place to himself.

Bitter with those memories, he slipped naked out of bed to visit the ensuite, remembering what had happened when the new Wanda Rookwood, Augusta 'Angie' Macnair, and Lucy Malfoy had been dragged to Master's family castle. The three had sworn to forever resist their new master, and to make his life a living hell for what he had done to them. But what had started as the plundering of new female bodies had quickly changed to an act with active cooperation, at least in the realm of the physical. And given the conversation they had in the early evening, Malfoy thought that his fellow death eaters had given up on even the attempt at any mental resistance, despite all their previous vows.

Malfoy looked into the full-length mirror after splashing water on his face and saw someone who was no longer himself. Yes, yes, the long, white-blond hair was almost the same, and he saw the familiar features of his family ancestors. But instead of hard muscles and a large cock, he saw only saw apple-sized breasts and the slim body of an adolescent girl just entering into her full womanhood. And instead of the cruel, aristocratic lines of his former face, there were only pink lips and the face of what could only be described as an angel, albeit one with very sad eyes.

Tomorrow he would have to humiliate himself by visiting Cissie and Draka, now full consorts to the Weasely twins because of their new pregnancies. Malfoy frowned at his reflection. How he hated his appearances in public, for the castle's female elves would fully make him up and dress him in flowing pastel robes instead of the black he had worn his entire life. He was at least grateful that Dobby only served as Master's major domo; while Dobby was always polite and respectful to Master's afflicted, who would have guessed that a house elf could take such obvious delight in addressing his former master as mistress?

What's more, when outside she would attract the eyes of lustful males everywhere, their thoughts and desires very evident. Her life was filled now with fear, for she knew that almost any man could overpower her and subject her to their hated touch, and it was only the presence of Master that kept them at bay. She actually now prefered her outings in the muggle world, at least there she did not have to face the knowing smirks of those who knew who he once had been.

Malfoy railed at her fate, and what she fervently hoped was just humor from Master when he hinted she would bear a full Quiddich team. She had mastered her oral skills in an attempt to avoid that very possibility, but on so many nights she had been taken the same way she had been tonight. She fearfully considered the possibility, could she now be pregnant? How had this nightmare become her new life?

Strong arms suddenly surrounded her as she stared into the mirror, with an insistent rubbing at her bottom and a head nuzzling at her neck. "Come back to bed my lovely, the night's still young," her Master entreated.

Frustrated as her body started responding, she sought out her Master's eyes in the mirror. "I'm not like Wanda and Angie you know! I'll never be a simpering consort willing to do anything and everything you ask. No matter what you do to me, I'll always remain Lucius Malfoy deep inside myself." Suddenly, what had been soft rubber at her bottom had become an iron bar, and with it came a revelation. "Why you pervert. That's why you're always staring into my eyes when you take me to bed. You actually get off on humiliating old enemies and want the male still inside me to try to fight you."

The humor was evident in the green eyes. "You could choose to punish me by changing into that simpering consort you're so afraid of becoming, or you could continue to rely on the Malfoy pride to resist." Moving one of his hands downwards to gently rub at her stomach, he wondered aloud, "We'll see what happens when this finally begins to grow." Openly laughing now, he added, "While I believe I would be happy in either case, I think the pride will win out. It might make me a perv, but I wouldn't have you any other way."

Lucy could only glare at her Master as he carried her back to their bed.