Intimacy

21st January 2001- Sunday

Bella was filled with fury as she made her way through the halls of her Palace, taking little notice of the cowering, spineless wretches that were her maids. Her magic was sparking around her, little bolts of visible power like lightning dancing up her arms and twining themselves around her fingers, causing them to twitch with instinctive violence.

She wanted to wrap them around that traitor's neck.

Bellatrix had tolerated her cousin's apparent fondness for that half-blooded, unworthy, conniving brat of an heir to their esteemed House for this long, because she had vehemently believed Regulus to still have his senses.

The man had long been a loud advocate for his daughter to be bestowed the title of heir to the House of Black after himself, as was his and her right as the closest kin to Sirius, that bloodtraitor. Regulus had been displeased to be ousted from the position when the Potter brat had been born, having his rightful assignment stolen from him, claimed on the shaky grounds that the boy was Sirius' chosen heir despite their weak blood relation. That the boy was his Godson should not have even been worth consideration.

Regulus had retained a frosty relationship with his brother since, ill feelings simmering on both sides. Their relationship had only suffered further when Princess Carina had been born four years later, and Sirius had refused to reconsider the matter, ousting his only niece out of the succession in favour of his Godson. She had never seen Regulus as wrathful when he had received that letter.

Therefore, imagine Bellatrix's shock when the boy entered the Harem, and her cousin seemed to take him under his wing, protecting Potter with his title of Concubine. It was baffling, to say the least, and she knew that Princess Carina had been equally as confused.

She had expected coldness, perhaps indifference if Regulus deemed him a non-threat, but never indulgence. And his fondness for the boy had only seemed to increase over the years.

Bellatrix had confronted Regulus recently, questioning him on his motives, attempting to make Regulus see reason and side with blood, as they had been taught from a young age. The Black Family, those who were worthy of the name, would always aid one another. Blood before all. Toujours Pur.

And her cousin had turned on her with a snarl.

Regulus had demanded she 'see sense'. Sense! Bellatrix was no fool, she knew exactly what Potter was, and what he would bring to their House. Ruin! Never had there been a half-blood heir disgracing their pure Family name and lineage, and certainly not one who shared only a meagre amount of their blood. She did not understand how Regulus had let go of his grievances and accepted such a travesty, such usurpation of not only himself but his daughter, who clearly wished for the title of heir.

Bellatrix had told him as such, and her cousin had the gall to remove her from his Palace, stating that neither of them could change the other's mind, so there was no point in them discussing such matters further.

It had been months of that same cold treatment, now. No longer could she confide in her cousin, the only member of the Harem who Bellatrix had felt she could trust, their shared blood enough to calm a portion of her doubts about betrayal. And look at where that had got her!

Clearly, she had been mistaken.

She heard a happy screech up ahead, the joy in the babbling voice grating on her nerves, but Bellatrix reigned herself in moments before the doors opened.

Sat in the middle of the large playroom, dressed in a red ruffled dress, her small circlet laying lopsidedly over her pigtails, was Bellatrix's pride and joy in all her glory. Delphina looked up as she heard the doors, and beamed as she lunged for her.

"Mummy!" The girl crowed, and for the first time that day, Bellatrix smiled.

"My little star, how are you?" She crooned, indulgently listening as the toddler babbled on about her day so far, from the hour-long lesson she had begun taking in the morning since she turned three, concerning etiquette and general wizarding knowledge, to play time which had spanned the rest of the hours. Soon, however, Bellatrix could feel the anger she was suppressing so painstakingly creep back in, and had to withdraw lest her precious child get caught up in it.

Shutting the door behind her, Bellatrix's eyes roved the hallways, seeing no maids in the general vicinity, and she would not touch the maid within the playroom as Delphina liked the woman. Her hands flexed by her sides, wanting to draw her wand on the next living creature she saw.

Her Healer had said it was not good for her health to be so high-strung all the time. After she had finished torturing the man, she had taken his advice to heart. It had been very therapeutic, after all, to hear his screams so that she didn't have to release her own.

She began her hunt.

27th January 2001- Saturday

Penny smiled from behind her glass as she watched Potter standing on the edges of the celebration, appearing put out by the situation. He was shuffling from foot to foot, sending away all those who approached him, cutting a pitiful figure standing alone at such a festive event.

The man had arrived in good time for the celebration to be in full swing, the guests tipsy and loose-lipped from expensive wines and delicious food, hanging off of the Emperor's arm like a limpet. That had brought Penny up short, staring at the way their arms were intertwined, showcasing to the gathered crowd that the rumours of their closeness were not fabricated. She had been at a loss for what to do for a few moments, but fought to keep her indecision off of her face lest the vultures swoop in.

Penny had approached them, all smiles, and suggested that the Emperor come and see the birthday girl, but that her daughter was in such a mood at that moment that the sight of any of the concubines 'just set her off'. His Majesty had stared at her for a few moments assessingly, and Penny had worried that he would rebuff her so publicly, his gaze only broken by the man at his side patting his arm. They had seemed to share unspoken words with one another, as the Emperor had nodded, before pressing a kiss to Potter's forehead and following her to where Cecelia was glaring at her nursemaids. Her daughter truly was in a mood, but Penny herself had been keeping her distance so that she did not have to deal with it and ruin her own temper.

After that, she had seen more productiveness in attending to the other concubines, assessing their loyalties and soaking up their compliments, leaving His Majesty in the clinging grasp of her daughter.

It left Potter standing at the sidelines, the man waiting for the Emperor's return. And since she had not invited any of his allies, the man appeared out of place, as Penny had intended.

She had invited him, simply, to brag.

Under usual circumstances, Penny would not think of inviting the man to her daughter's birthday celebration. It would be out of character and would ruin her day with tension, as they were notably at odds with one another, both striving for the position only one could attain.

Therefore, Potter had to know that Penny had not invited him because of a change of heart. So why did he still show? It was of no matter to herself, she enjoyed being able to flaunt her visible pregnancy to those surrounding her, watched on by Potter, who must be seething in jealousy.

Penny would be the first member of the Harem to have four children, and hopefully the only one to do so. With the birth of this child, she would prove herself superior, undoubtedly gaining a promotion of some sort. She aimed for her stolen position of the Head of the Harem, the Primary Noble Consort. Seeing Potter reduced to the position of Secondary Noble Consort would only add to her delight in the aftermath of her child's birth. But, any promotion would be preferable. Becoming a Noble Consort meant she would be yet another step closer to the position of Empress, and it would also push her children before Evangeline's in the line of succession once they were adults.

It would also mean there would be nearly six years of space between her Aurelia becoming an adult compared to Potter's first daughter, where Aurelia would be the default heir to the throne even if Penny still ranked below Potter so far in the future.

That thought, more than most, relaxed her. There was nothing Potter could do to make up for the many years Penny was his senior. No matter how far he rose, how many children he produced, or even if he kept the Emperor's favour, her children would have the advantage of age. Aurelia, Rastus and Cecelia would always have had time to build up their accomplishments out in the world as adults before the Sixteenth Princess and her younger siblings could. It was only a matter of time before her children began proving themselves as worthy heirs to His Majesty, just as she had coached them.

Once the farce of a celebration was over, and Harry was once more at the side of his husband, making their way into the man's Palace, he could not help but begin to tear up remembering the sight of the little girl who was supposed to be the life of that party.

Cecelia was only three, yet instead of a fun gathering of other children, games and a bright, colourful theme, her mother had forced her into the midst of a political gathering that the poor girl obviously wasn't comfortable with. Nothing about that celebration had been about the young Princess. She had been shifted to the side, surrounded by presents and nursemaids, obviously upset, whilst her mother was flaunting her newest pregnancy to the masses.

It was sickening.

Never had he felt so disgusted by Penny. Even her many insults towards himself could not compare to this. Harry was an adult, he could take what she said about him, because he could retaliate. Her daughter did not have that choice. She had to sit on the sidelines until her Father arrived with little attention, despite it being her birthday. And perhaps, this would be the first one the little girl would remember.

At least her Father seemed to care about her. And he seemed equally peeved by the situation. Harry hadn't seen him for the rest of the afternoon, because his husband had decided to whisk the Princess away from that situation, spending hours with his daughter in the gardens of the Children's Palace, instead. Harry hoped that her day had been brightened.

Afterwards, once the girl was taken back to her room for a nap, Thomas had collected him from the celebration, where Harry had begun to feel increasingly incensed. At first, he had felt awkward, having expected at least Luna or Jasmine to be there, since he was invited. Then, seeing the situation with the Princess, Harry had felt the first stirrings of anger. As the woman hadn't even noticed the departure of her daughter, but asked the maids incessantly if the Emperor would be returning, that anger had bubbled into rage.

Now, away from the situation, he just felt tired and upset.

"How could she do that, Thomas?" Harry whispered, his arm tightening around his husband's. Thomas just shook his head, his expression blank, eyes darkened by shadows. He sniffed, blinking the growing tears out of his eyes.

3rd February 2001- Saturday

Lukas tugged his arm viciously out from the hold his head maid had on it, sneering down at her.

"I told you, I wish to be alone!"

The maid, a pitiful old woman his parents had sent with him, bowed deeply. "My apologies, my Lord, but, as your Head Maid, I must remain with you if there are no other maids present, to aid you-"

"I. Do. Not. Care. I do not care! I told you to leave, I am your Lord, listen to me or I shall have you sent to the Punishment Bureau for disobeying my orders!"

The woman began to shiver minutely, her eyes glistening. "My Lord, please, I will listen, but-"

"Leave! I wish to be alone." Lukas spat, sighing in exasperation when the woman finally listened, hesitantly exiting the garden. He pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on.

All these restrictions got on his nerves, and Lukas was still not entirely used to them even after so many years. He sighed as he walked further into the gardens, no particular destination in mind, simply seeking the peace of the gardens.

He was alone in the vast, tranquil space for only a little while, soaking in the calming atmosphere, when the sound of voices approaching caused his forehead to crease. With a groan of frustration, Lukas got to his feet, prepared to greet or ignore whoever entered the garden, depending on their status relative to his.

Entering the garden, fortunately, was the Emperor, in all his regal glory. Dressed in robes of the darkest, deepest black, decorated with threads of gold and red, a circlet perched on his head, the man appeared as ethereal as an elf. His red eyes, however, shattered that pure appearance, the piercing, dark nature ofthem as terrifying as they were enticing. Lukas approached, however, seeing this opportunity for what it was.

He made no effort to muffle his footsteps, wishing to announce his presence. The man looked to the side when Lukas was merely a few metres away, and that is when he halted in his steps, his eyes widening slightly. His Majesty's gaze was sharp, his lips turned down somewhat in a disapproving frown, his eyebrows furrowing as he took in Lukas.

"Greetings to His Majesty, the Emperor. Your concubine greets you on this fine afternoon." Lukas bowed, hoping that formalities would be enough to rid the man of his ire. After a few moments of no response, he hesitantly straightened, stiffening as he met the Emperor's cold gaze.

"I wish to be left alone, Attendant Erikson, to enjoy the peace. I request that you leave and find another garden."

Lukas was flustered at the direct, blunt dismissal. The Emperor hadn't even entertained the thought that they could remain in each other's presence without speaking. He hadn't even acknowledged his greeting, let alone said anything back.

Feeling chastened, and not willing to risk the man's anger, Lukas bowed once more, shuffling slightly as he felt the wind and magic in the very air shift as the Emperor swept past him, his Head Eunuch following close behind.

Once the pair were out of sight, Lukas' shaking hands clenched into fists, and he scowled.

Of fucking course.

8th February 2001- Thursday

Harry was surprised, that morning, to see his tutor at his gates, when he had thought the woman was still in Spain researching a newly invented Runes configuration. Blinking, he confirmed to the guards that the woman was welcome, inviting her in.

The woman came to his Palace less now, ever since Harry had completed the Seventh year curriculum a while ago now. Still, his tutor made the occasional appearance, to lecture him on any topics that had caught his fancy. Runes, magical creatures, advanced charms and transfiguration, she was a wealth of information and experience. There had even been talk from his tutor about recommending Harry for a duelling exam, although that would have to be approved by the Emperor, and there would need to be many conditions put into place to protect the concubine of His Majesty. It hadn't helped that Harry had kept falling pregnant, as that put all plans to the back bench whilst he carried the Emperor's heirs.

Today, they would be discussing that very topic, as Harry was now well-healed from the birth of his twins, and steadily regaining his previous flexibility.

All in all, Harry could now attest to the fact that he was a great dueller, even though he had little real-life experience. Entering duelling events would change this, however.

The woman cleared her throat as he finished perusing the list of events she had gathered, the dates of duelling events lined out in order of importance, skills needed to compete, and level. Harry, as a beginner in the field, could only choose and attend so many. This he already knew from spending his childhood following his Mother to such events.

"I believe that the event in France, several months from now, would be your best option. It is a relatively well-established tournament, but it is open to those of all experience levels, and sectioned into brackets depending on mastery. I am sure that you will do well. You are smart, Your Highness, and a skilled dueller."

"I just have to not go and get pregnant before that." Harry wryly grinned.

The woman's lips made an odd movement, settling in a straight line. "My apologies, Your Highness. I do not wish for this to interfere with matters of the Harem and His Majesty-"

Harry held up a hand, stopping her in her tracks. "You will not be. I have three wonderful children with His Majesty already. Our fourth, if there is to be one, can wait a little longer. I am sure His Majesty will understand. He supports my ambitions to achieve a Mastery in Duellership, and I doubt either of us wishes to postpone this further. Sign me in for this tournament, and we will go from there. If I do find myself carrying before then... well, there's only so much one can do. Do not fret."

"Yes, Your Highness, I will do as you say. Are there any other tournaments on the list that appear intriguing?"

Harry scanned down the columns of tournaments, noting the ones that would take place after the French tournament in June. There would be one in the USA in August, but he knew that there was a tense atmosphere over there regarding the Emperor currently, so the Council and Thomas would not agree. There was another in Norway, in late July, although he would need to prove himself in the French tournament before he could apply. Nodding, Harry pointed this out to his tutor, who took note of it.

Relaxing back into the sofa, Harry sighed, rolling his shoulders to loosen the tenseness that had formed in them.

Before he could leave for any tournament, he would need for there to be at least two of the Consorts more amicable towards himself than Penny, to keep the peace. And there were only two choices.

13th February 2001- Tuesday

Isla tutted as Silas groaned again, huffing and stomping his feet as her son followed along behind her.

"Silas, behave." She sternly reprimanded him, rolling her eyes as he only stamped a foot harder.

"But Mother, do we have to go? I don't like the Noble Consort." Silas whined, running to catch up. "He's mean, he didn't listen to me andhe got me in trouble with Father!"

"Yes, we must. The Noble Consort has invited us for tea, which I graciously accepted, although, to reject the invitation of a higher concubine, especially the Head of the Harem, is an insult. I do not mean to antagonise him, and you will remain similarly civil. Especially around your younger siblings. Is that understood?"

Silas muttered a quiet agreement, but it was enough. Her son was a dutiful boy, if a bit bratty from being pampered so much in his short life. Looking so alike to the Emperor endeared him greatly to the maids and Eunuchs, who adhered to his every whim. Perhaps, if she had cared to, her son could have turned out differently, but she too had been enthusiastic to spoil him when he was younger.

They were coming up to the Pavilion quickly, so Isla turned for a moment, gesturing for her Head Maid to make sure they were both presentable. After a few minutes of fussing, the woman stepped back with a nod, and Isla began making her way up the steps to where Noble Consort Potter-Black was seated.

Prince Alexus and Princess Amelia were a surprise. She felt Silas tense at her side at the sight of his older siblings. Her son had never been entirely comfortable with any of his siblings, but particularly not Prince Alexus. Isla supposed it was because his brother was the First Prince, and for the majority of his life, they had all assumed it would be Alexus who would one day become Emperor. It had created a distance between the pair, Silas concerned that his brother would use his power to remove any threats to his rule, which would certainly consist of his younger brothers.

Isla was ashamed to admit she had fostered such thoughts, as she too had believed them. It was foolish in hindsight, she had ruined her son's relationships with his siblings due to suspicion, however, Isla could not find it in herself to regret it. What if it had been true? Were flimsy relationships between half-siblings more important than her son's safety? No.

Therefore, she tapped his shoulder, reminding him to keep his chin high and expression blank, so that his brother could not exploit any weaknesses within it. Silas drew his shoulders back, squaring them, falling into his persona as a confident, self-assured young Prince. Isla prepared herself too, as she met the eyes of the Noble Consort.

Noble Consort Harry sat in one of the chairs, furthest from the entrance to the Pavilion, looking poised but fond as he stared down at the group of young children rolling about on the cushioned area to his left side. His three children. The man had his attention solely focused upon them, particularly the Princess Alsephina, who was toddling from one side of the area to another, watched over closely by a maid.

Prince Alexus and Princess Amelia were staring at them as they came to a halt before the table, the First Prince's gaze sharp and unrelenting. The Princess looked away after a few moments, and Isla narrowed her eyes as she glimpsed the girl's lips turn slightly upward.

It took the Noble Consort a moment to acknowledge them, turning away from his children to gaze upon Isla and her son with seriousness and curiosity. The man gave them a nod. "Consort Isla, Prince Silas, thank you for agreeing to join me this afternoon."

"Thank you for the invitation, Brother." Isla returned, taking the seat opposite the man, whilst her son sat to her left. She looked to her son, motioning with her eyes that he should also thank the Noble Consort.

"Thank you," Silas muttered, eyes focused on the stack of cakes and small sandwiches placed in the middle of the table.

"You are welcome. I wished to see you, Sister, we don't interact much outside of the morning meetings and Consort gatherings." The man continued, plucking a cake from the top and breaking it up to hand a part down to his eldest daughter. "Help yourselves, there's plenty."

"Thank you," Isla made sure to take a cake from the same tier. Her Fathers had always drilled it into her mind that any situation could end in a poisoning, so any chance she could, she would mimic the host to lower that chance. Not that she truly thought Harry would poison her, the man was not that type. The same could not be said for many members of the Harem.

The tea, and the cakes provided alongside it, were lovely. The atmosphere could have been better, although that was more to do with the older children than anything. Silas and Alexus stared at each other every now and then, quickly averting their eyes whenever they met. It was entertaining the first few times, especially when they scowled, but Isla was beginning to feel ashamed that their relationship was so sour and tense.

Isla looked across the table, wondering what the other concubine's thoughts on the situation were, only to meet his eyes which were heavy with emotion, and not focused on the current circumstances.

The man's eyes were searching. She understood the questions dancing within them.

Isla nodded subtly.

19th February 2001- Monday

As the winter was not so frigidly cold, Thomas had decided to forgo meeting within his office that morning, and instead, invited Harry for a stroll in the gardens. It was a welcome change, the fresh air revitalising and calming.

It was only the two of them, with no badgering concubines to interrupt, as the Emperor had warded the vicinity to dissuade them. Harry felt free from all the burdens he hadn't realised were beginning to weigh heavily on his shoulders; his family, the Harem, the council, his children, his ambitions. With Thomas, just simply being for a couple of hours, relaxed him.

He plucked a flower bud from the bush, twirling it around in his fingers, before blowing on it. The bud, which had been wrinkled by the cold air, brightened and flourished, unfurling to reveal the vibrant flower that hid beneath. The pretty thing glistened in the weak sunlight, glittering slightly with the excess of magic. Perfect.

He passed it over to Thomas with a small smile, the man accepting it with soft eyes.

"Are you showing off, darling?" The Emperor murmured, his voice carrying amusement and fondness, and Harry chuckled brightly.

"Maybe," He drawled. "I want to show you how capable I am, since you agreed I could join the French tournament."

"These parlour tricks will not, and are not what led me to believe you are a skilful dueller. I have watched some of your lessons in the memories of your tutor." The man met Harry's eyes. "You are a fine dueller. A little too instinctual with your reactions, but sometimes, it is your instincts that save you, especially when spells are being exchanged too quickly to plan ahead."

Harry blushed at the compliments, turning his head slightly away. "Thank you, Thomas. I'm glad that you believe so."

Their hands brushed together, and Thomas intertwined them, bringing their connected hands up to kiss Harry's knuckles. "And I also believe that you shall win. I am confident so. And if you do, I assure you, you will be rewarded."

"How?" He questioned, intrigued.

"Simply request something of me when the time comes. I will fulfil it to the best of my abilities."

Harry smiled, bringing the man's hand up to kiss, mind already whirring with ideas.