Intimacy

12th December 1998- Saturday

The morning of the twelfth dawned on Harry quicker than he'd of liked, the hubbub of noise it brought along deafening. The Court was filled with the flurrying of maids and Eunuchs, some hurriedly readying their masters and mistresses for departure and others preparing the Palace for the absence of the Emperor and his official spouses. Bags were packed, suitcases filled to the brim with robes for each day and evening, fine jewellery and trinkets that obviously had to come along with them.

Harry was sure that the last time hadn't been quite so hectic, but maybe that was because he had been out of the way as a Noble. There was a lot for the personnel to sort out, even though this process had been underway for a week now and planned long before that. There were always last-minute additions and problems for them to sort out; such as that little Delphina was now taking notice that her mother would be away from her, and she'd have to be stuck with her maids and nurses for the duration. That had led to a meltdown, Harry had heard, and the Consort was still steadfastly refusing to pack much of her belongings.

They would be in Australia for under two weeks, hopefully arriving back on the twenty-third, within the Royal Palace the Emperor had built there the year he'd taken over; 1964. It was aptly named 'The Scorched Palace', situated in the middle of nowhere, accessible to only those the Emperor permitted and only habitable due to magic, as it was situated in the middle of a large stretch of land most couldn't survive in due to the extreme heat.

The Palace was apparently a replica of the Court, except only with enough Palaces to house each Concubine and Consort, with additional buildings for the veritable army of personnel they would be bringing along. From the description he'd heard from Regulus, the buildings were surrounded by a high wall, and the grounds were expansive enough that it would keep them entertained whilst the Emperor was involved in whatever politics apparently needed his personal, physical attention.

Harry stood back and watched as Anya commanded the other maids in his employ, queasily observing the proceedings. Out of all days to begin feeling the full effects of his pregnancy, it had to be on the day he would first meet the public and be under the intense scrutiny of all present. It would be the first time in over a year he had been out of the Court, although that was nothing on Cordelia, who was now facing her first breath of fresh air in sixteen years.

It still felt surreal to Harry, how quickly he'd ascended the ranks. However, he had to remember that he was yet the Emperor's favourite, and still had a while to go until he reached his new goal.

He had entered the Harem wanting a modicum of respect for his family, which meant he had needed the rank of Concubine.

Now, Harry was aiming for the position of Emperor Consort.

Exiting the floo, Harry felt his stomach lurch uncomfortably, hand coming up to cover his mouth as his throat burned and eyes watered uncomfortably. Now, at just over eight weeks pregnant, his sickness had come forth full throttle. It was as if the baby protested his decision to keep their existence secret with vehemence, making it as obvious as possible that there was something going on. And the sickness wasn't just a morning occurrence either, it seemed to follow him throughout the day, set off by the slightest disturbances.

Sasha had to remain behind, if only so that the worst of his sickness wasn't revealed- the smell of her setting it off horrendously. He had given the kitten her own room, decorated with the softest beds and blankets he could procure, plants to give the semi-feral animal places to hide, and freely accessible to her by a large flap he'd had installed on the door.

The other concubines were incensed at the Emperor's gift to him, although that ire had died down now as over a month had passed, and Sasha had yet to make more than a short appearance outside of his Palace walls. It seemed they had all taken the position that she was simply a glorified pet, and not an extra guard as they had first assumed. Harry allowed them to continue thinking that as he trained her rigorously to patrol the perimeter of the gardens.

By his side, Anya fretted, covering Harry with her body as he leaned into her side, trying to hide the worst of his condition from the others. Luckily for him, the majority of them were enamoured with the sights of the Australian Ministry, or busy fluttering their eyelashes at the Emperor.

However, as he straightened up, the urge slowly fading away, Harry noticed the intense gaze Penny was sending his way, her eyebrows scrunched. She was beside the Emperor, standing tall and regal to his left. The Consort and the Emperor looked picturesque placed next to each other, bright blonde and icy blue contrasting perfectly with deep black and bloody red. 

Harry smiled at her weakly, trying to alleviate her suspicion, and after a few moments of consideration, she appeared to let it go, pivoting to talk to the Emperor once more. He breathed out a slight sigh, shutting his eyes briefly as he felt his stomach roil in protest as he forced himself to walk closer to the others that were now gathering into a coordinated formation.

With Bellatrix and Penny standing inches behind the Emperor as his highest-ranked spouses, the rest of them fell in line. Isla and Felix, Alecto and Regulus, Patricia and Cordelia. Then, as the odd one out, Harry rounded out the formation walking between and slightly behind the last two. Surrounding them were the intimidating, masked forms of the Knights of Walpurgis, a sea of black cloaks and silver buckles between them and the ministry personnel and general public present, who had begun to gather at the sight of them.

Unlike the crowds that embraced celebrities and socialites, the gathered were silent, watching on with awe and trepidation as the Emperor and his Harem made their way through, cowed under the sharp gaze of the Knights.

At the centre of the room stood a woman with an elaborate hair-do, the style looking reminiscent to that of a unicorn that had thrown up onto a bird's nest. Harry stared unabashedly, even as she stepped out of the throng of suited politicians to bow to the Emperor. Behind her, the others followed suit, some fumbling awkwardly.

"I welcome His Imperial Majesty, The Emperor, to Australia." She remained bowing for a couple more moments, before lunging upright giddily, a sharp grin on her features. "I am Merilda Tullman, the Minister of Magic, Your Highness."

Harry cringed at the inaccurate address, seeing the shoulders of those in front of him bunch up similarly. His only view of the Emperor was the back of his head, so he couldn't ascertain whether it had gained a reaction from the man, but his voice didn't make it known. "I have yet to make your acquaintance, Mrs-"

"Ms." She interjected. At the Emperor's pause, she fluttered her red and pink eyelashes, a bold colour choice and an even bolder action. Harry felt the first stirrings of interest and amusement fill him, despite the crassness of the Minister. It had been so long since he had seen anything of the sort, those of the Court much too uptight for the liking of the only son and Godson of the Marauders. "I am unmarried."

"Ms Tullman." Thomas paused once again, and you could hear a pin drop with how silent the crowd was, awaiting his further response. "I must say, I am a little disappointed with the welcome I and my spouses have received," The Emperor said so lightly, but the temperature in the hall seemed to drop by several degrees.

The Minister blinked rapidly, having expected praise rather than a reprimand. "Pardon?"

"Your predecessor, Ms Garnet, welcomed us with much fanfare a few years back, as is to be expected from such an occasion. This pales in comparison. I must say, I am displeased." Thomas let her flutter for a little bit, tittering about how 'Oh, but there wasn't much advance given!' And that she'd 'prioritised the people, not the festivities'. He stopped that with a click of his tongue. "No matter, we shall simply head straight for the Palace instead, although I made sure my spouses were all dolled up for a grand welcoming ceremony. Such a shame. Let us hope the Palace has been set up to standards. Come." The Emperor commanded them, disregarding the Minister as she flapped about, following him back to the floo with pleads falling from her lips; 'But, Your Highness, we did plan a feast, if you would just follow me to the Hall' and 'Won't you stay to greet the Lords of Australia that have come to greet you, Your Highness?'. Thomas simply waved his hand flippantly, and although her mouth continued to move, no sound came out.

It was such a simple but powerful display of his mastery over magic. An almost minuscule percent of the population could cast without their wand, an even lower amount whilst silently. The Emperor simply accomplished it with an off-hand twist of his wrist, barely paying further attention.

He walked between the concubines, who shifted out of his way in confusion as they had begun to sort themselves back into form. The Emperor came to a stop beside Harry, and without glancing in his direction, tucked his arm into his and began leading him to the floo, with the others squawking their dissatisfaction behind. Harry spluttered.

"Hush, I am simply in a hurry." Thomas flippantly spoke down to him as they reached the floo. "And I noticed that you struggled with the landing when you came through."

"The floo isn't my strongest form of transport, Your Majesty." Harry blustered truthfully, although to hide his predicament as well.

"Hm, at least my concubines get my title correct." The Emperor spoke loudly enough for the Minister to hear, who had stopped a few metres back, and without another second wasted, stepped into the larger-than-average fireplace. "The Scorched Palace!"

Harry promptly threw up mere inches from the Emperor's shoes once they landed, and cringed under the suspicion-filled stare sent his way.

13th December 1998- Sunday

Harry had forgotten how much he'd missed the warmth of the sun, growing used to the chill in the air as October came around, soon sweeping into November, and then into December. Now, however, in a different hemisphere, he got to experience the heat of Summer once again.

The previous day had left little time for relaxing. As soon as they had arrived within the confines of the 'Scorched Palace'- which was more of a Court- it had been too late to start much, and so, with his maids bustling about in the Palace he'd been assigned, Harry collapsed onto the bed and fell fast asleep to the sounds of quiet muttering and scuffling feet. He had grown increasingly more exhausted as his pregnancy progressed, although it had yet to begin showing visibly. He hoped that the day it did would be a while off yet. Harry still wasn't ready to announce it. There was too much that could go wrong, even if the Emperor was informed. He trusted the other concubines as far as he could throw them, which wasn't much at all. They would surely use this against him, perhaps twisting the narrative to fit their own, or even try and get rid of his baby in the most extreme of cases.

Now, after sleeping off the worst of his exhaustion for an astonishing fifteen hours, Harry was out on the balcony of his Palace, soaking up the sun rays as he swung in the hanging chair he'd found there.

Below him, in the courtyard by his Palace, the unusual pair of Penny and Cordelia were walking arm-in-arm, heads close together as they chatted. Unusual since he knew that neither was close to the other, they'd never been ones to seek out each other's company, especially not alone. Harry observed as they paused, Penny reaching her hand out to brush against one of the plants, before being tugged along by Cordelia, who seemed rather irate. It was an odd ritual they repeated several more times, and Harry was growing increasingly suspicious of their actions.

They had surely spotted him by now, Harry not even trying to hide his inquisitive stare, yet they continued. Penny had even offered him a slight wave and smile, before being yanked again. Cordelia had yet to glance up.

"Master." The voice of Anya interrupted his musings, and, grudgingly, he removed his gaze from the pair below. The woman was standing behind him with her hands full of books. "You have received a present from his Majesty. Books, to occupy you whilst you are resting."

Harry's eyes lit up with interest. Penny and Cordelia forgotten, he picked up one of the books to read the title. 'The Conquest- Asia and The Emperor'. The others were similar titles, one for each of the continents, barring Antarctica, of course. Britain had its own text, which he already owned, but Harry was thankful for the thought. He smiled.

15th December 1998- Tuesday

"Your Highness, I have brought you your tea."

Harry blinked as the soft words spoken to his side drew him out of his mind, and looked up to spot one of his maids- Aoife- standing there, a steaming cup of hot tea in her hands. She bowed his head when they locked eyes, and he took the moment to stretch, feeling his back crack satisfyingly.

"Ah, thank you, Aoife." Harry watched out of the corner of his eye as she placed the cup and saucer on the table by his parchment, before focusing once again on his work. He continued to scribble for several more minutes, before registering that he hadn't heard her leave. Aoife still stood in front of him, wringing her hands together. At his gaze, she smiled. It set off alarm bells in his mind.

"My apologies, Your Highness, I just wanted to see if you liked the tea. It's a new flavour, made from herbs native to Australia. Maia recommended it to me, and I enjoyed it so much that I thought you may like to try some."

Harry nodded, accepting her curiosity, and drew the cup closer to him. She often brought him new flavours of tea, so this wasn't as unusual as his mind was blaring at him. It was a green tea, darker than others he'd seen before. Hesitantly, he took a sip and hummed, enjoying the earthy taste, the smell equally enticing. In the back of his mind, he worried that Aoife could have tampered with it, due to how she was acting, but knew that she wouldn't be so bold as to do such a thing when there were so many witnesses. All four of his personal maids were present, and he knew they'd do all they could to inform someone if something happened. Therefore, whatever it was, if it was something, it couldn't be all too harmful, and certainly not fatal. Luckily, Harry was rather resistant to most potions and poisons, something his Mum and Severus had assured. He continued sipping, only a tiny mouthful at a time, to keep up appearances but also not ingest too much, just in case. Until his eye caught a hint of silver.

Harry frowned down at the liquid, swishing it this way and that, eyeing the strange swirls of silver that appeared with the light of the sun shining down on it, covering the surface with a strange sheen. He placed the cup down, feeling his body go cold.

He watched from the side of his eye as the maid retreated, walking strangely slow. At the clink of his cup meeting the saucer, her head turned, glancing nervously down at it, before turning back once again. Harry swallowed thickly and waited for her to leave.

"Anya." He whispered, his throat feeling tight.

"Your Highness?"

"Call a healer. I suspect... if this isn't the first time, I suspect I may have been poisoned." He shushed her as she gasped, going pale as a ghost as she reached for the cup, which he kept out of reach. "Fetch the healer you have a vow with, and keep this situation quiet. If you must, tell whoever asks that I am feeling dizzy due to the heat."

Harry felt numb as the Healer's words sunk in.

Aoife- that scheming bitch- had been feeding him an anti-fertility potion, with the hopes that it would lower his chances of getting pregnant, or render him completely infertile if she got away with it for long enough.

It was only due to the fact that he was pregnant and that his magic was strong enough to burn off the worst of it, that it had yet to have any other effects besides making him feel queasier than usual. Harry had just been brushing it off as normal pregnancy sickness, but it had been the work of regular ingestion of the potion.

Aoife, who had been distant since the start, but certainly not suspicious, had been poisoning him for weeks, right under the nose of his maids and himself. He had suspected nothing from her, and it was only the strange and coincidental sense of alarm he had felt today that warned him of the possibility of poisons or potions. She had been feeding it to him through cakes and sweet treats, teas that she had been personally bringing to him, even spilling a bit of it on his pillowcase so he would breathe it in as he slept. It was only today that she had revealed her intentions, presumably eager to watch him ingest the largest dose yet, that would have surely left him struggling to conceive if he had swallowed the whole cup, if his magic hadn't been as strong, if he hadn't been pregnant already.

He felt sick to his stomach, and it had nothing to do with the potion.

With shaking, clammy hands, he grasped at the Healer's sleeve. "You cannot tell the Emperor that I am pregnant, your vow won't allow it." He stated. She looked nervous, looking at him as if he was going to keel over any moment. Harry felt like it, but he couldn't rest until he was assured the woman would do as he wished.

"Please, release me from the vow, Your Highness. The Emperor must know, he must be told that your maid was doing this, so that he can better protect your child." She pleaded with him, but he shook his head stubbornly, feeling his heart clench protectively at the mention of the baby.

The baby that woman would have deprived him of, that the potion would have seen never created.

"I can protect them myself!" He stated resolutely, although it was with a tinge of shame.

She stared down at him, eyes deceiving her feelings. "Yet this has happened." She cupped his hands in her, and he clenched them tight, setting his jaw stubbornly. "I will not tell the Emperor, I can't, not with the vow. But I must tell His Majesty of the potion, and he will grow suspicious why it hasn't had more of an effect. This has happened before, he knows it well."

"My magic is strong, you said it saved me." Harry injected, and she sighed, irate.

"Yes, but you would have been worse off if your baby hadn't absorbed some of the remnants."

His heart stopped, stuttered, then ricocheted into a frenzy, beating so fast he became dizzy. "They absorbed some?! Then how can you be sure there are no effects to my child!" Harry gripped he tighter, staring into her eyes with madness and ferocity he had not thought himself capable of, yet the thought of his child being hurt by this-

By his carelessness-

The Healer hushed him gently. "There will be none. The potion prevents pregnancy, it does not harm a current one. However, I cannot say for certainty that this may not affect your later pregnancies. You may experience sickness more heavily, or even struggle to retain the pregnancy in some cases." She explained, stroking the back of his hands with gentle circles of her thumbs as he gasped wetly. "I am sorry, Your Highness, but as little an effect as this had, it will still have some lasting repercussions, no matter how minuscule they hopefully will be. However, please know that your current pregnancy is healthy, and as far as I can tell, you and your baby will not suffer."

Harry nodded his head, taking in the information stonily. "Please go and inform the Emperor. Tell him that my magic burned most of it off, but that it has left me feeling sick; this should explain away my morning sickness for the time being. And... and tell him of the effects it may have. I feel honesty, as far as I may permit, is the best case in this scenario."

The Healer sighed, looking resigned. "Yes, Your Highness."

Aoife was dragged away by a swarm of Knights mere minutes after the Healer left, and according to Regulus, who had hurried to him soon after, thoroughly questioned, although in which way he wasn't informed. All he knew is that, due to a gap of memories in her mind, it was impossible to uncover the reasons why she had been feeding him the potion, or if someone had ordered her to do such a thing.

Thomas was, consequently, incredibly irked by the situation, and had stolen away the maid. It reminded Harry of Giana, and how he had never seen her after that incident. It send shivers down his spine at the implications, but also filled him with a strange sense of wanting.

The Emperor was doing this for him. For Harry.