Chaste

Harry blinked as the necklace squirmed in its box. The gold chain slithered round his finger and began winding over his wrist. He gasped as it slipped under his sleeve, the heart-shaped padlock charm bumping and tickling the hairs on his arm. It wormed up to his collarbone and before he knew it, it was looped round his neck. 

“Potter?”

Draco’s voice from the next room startled Harry’s delight and reminded him he had work to do. He gave the padlock charm a tug, but the chain had clasped tight. 

“Potter?” Draco reappeared in the doorway. “What are you doing?”

“This necklace won’t come off,” Harry explained, giving the chain another tug to demonstrate.

Draco sighed, rolling his eyes. “Well, Potter. Maybe consider not wearing jewellery if you aren’t capable of keeping it on all day.” 

“Its not mine, Malfoy, it just started wrapping itself around me.”

“You touched it, didn’t you? I told you not to touch anything. These old families have an affinity for magic that binds people and places. Clearly I have once again overestimated your intellect.”

“It didn’t look dangerous, Draco, it had a heart on the box and it just said Chastity. How bad can it be?”

Draco’s face suddenly dropped its characteristic sneer. “You touched a chastity belt?”

“I mean, its a necklace, not a belt.”

“Potter, you imbecile,” Draco whispered. He looked genuinely at a loss, inching his way closer round stacks of dusty furniture and shelves of cobwebbed heirlooms. “Is it locked?”

“Err. I can’t get it off, if that’s what you mean.”

Draco bent and inspected the padlock charm. “You absolute moron, Potter.” He drew back, apparently marvelling at Harry’s stupidity. “You’re a virgin,” he smirked.

Harry spluttered. “I - what? I am not! I mean, I - what?”

Draco flashed Harry a smile of wry despair. “You, Potter, have managed to activate a chastity belt, which only ever works on virgins, and is likely to cause you extreme pain and severely limit your capacity for spells and can only be deactivated in one way.”

“Oh." Harry grimaced. The Ministry would have a field day with this, and Draco looked ready to tear his hair out, or cry. Harry wasn't sure which was scarier, a bald Malfoy or a bawling one. "Err. Oops? How do I get it off?” 

Draco sighed. “You get married.”

“Ah.” Harry let that hang in the air for a moment while he considered. “Fuck.”

“Fuck is right, Potter, and it’s exactly what you won’t be able to do until you are magically and legally bound to a lovely little wife. I do hope you have someone in mind, because you can’t work until you get that thing off.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t. I mean, I haven’t thought. Why can’t I work?”

“Because, Potter, you will burn. That sweet little charm will tighten round your neck and brand you with a symbol of impurity if you so much as soul-cast for anyone not directly related to you. And as much as you seem to collect scars, I expect that’s one you would prefer to avoid.”

Harry felt his face warm uncomfortably. “Err. I guess.”

“Bravo, Potter, correct answer.”

“What is soul casting, Malfoy?”

Draco blinked. “Potter, surely you aren’t serious?”

The heat in Harry’s cheeks increased like the swell of heat from a magically enhanced flame. “Should I know what that is?”

“Only if you expect people to believe you attended formal education,” Draco sniffed. “Soul casting is what produces involuntary magic. It’s magic you don’t control that is linked to your very core emotions, and can be very strong. It makes up a lot of protective spells, because their strength is directly related to your investment in the result - which says a lot about your soul. Unfortunately, for you Potter, they are often required in this line of work, and even more inconveniently, seem to come particularly naturally to you.”

“I can’t do protective magic?”

“Not safely.”

“But I’m an Auror! I have to do protective spells!”

“Yes, Potter, well spotted.” Draco eyed him thoroughly, making Harry feel as if he were being weighed. “As I said, I hope you have a good witch in mind, because that is now our top priority.”

“Our?”

“Of course, Potter, we’re partners.” Draco smiled innocently. “I would love to help The Chosen One choose a wife.” 

Harry gritted his teeth and supposed that at least throttling Draco wouldn’t be an act of soul casting.