Intimacy

10th August 2002- Saturday

It was an unexpected day in August, over a week following the attack on the Court, that Thomas called for Harry. Head Eunuch Elson escorted him to the Palace in silence, simply bowing his head when met with his numerous queries. When he arrived, Harry was both anxious and slightly incensed at the mystery of the meeting, and he entered his husband’s office with a slight glare plastered on his face.

Ever since the attack, something had changed in their relationship. Now that Harry knew Thomas did not care to punish Harry for transgressions many would find themselves faced with treason charges for committing, he was more open with his disapproval of the man’s actions, openly questioning and critical of him at times. When the man had decided to gift Harry the Elder Wand a few days ago, he had accepted the wand without grace, turned on his heel following the conversation, and refused to return to Thomas’ Palace despite his summons for the rest of the day. When Harry had arrived for the morning meeting the following day, Thomas had simply lifted an amused eyebrow, nodded his head in a veiled apology, and continued on as if Harry hadn’t publicly defied him.

Today, Harry raised an eyebrow at the man sitting comfortably on the sofa by the fireplace, sipping contently on a glass of wine. He appeared remarkably relaxed for a man whose Empire was now at war. Harry cleared his throat, gaining his husband’s attention as Thomas peeled his eyes away from the scroll he held.

“Darling,” The man purred, gesturing for Harry to come closer, to sit by his side. He did so, tucking his legs underneath him comfortably, forgoing every thought to remain formal. He and his husband had far surpassed those boundaries, there was nothing formal about their relationship, not now. The five year anniversary of Harry entering the man’s Harem had passed recently, a thought which made him giddy. He couldn’t believe that they had known each other now for half a decade. Hopefully, there would be many decades left of their companionship to follow. Thomas shifted closer, turning the scroll so that Harry could read from it. “I called upon you to place your signature upon the decree I am currently writing.”

Harry tilted his head, reading the contents of the parchment. It was a decree ordering the immediate cease of rebellion within France, where, emboldened by the recent attacks, smatterings of violent protest had broken out. Within the decree, the Emperor assured the deployment of a contingent of Knights to contain the destruction, the loss of life and destruction of property having grown too concerning for the government to handle by itself. And the man wanted him to place his signature upon it.

“Why?” Harry breathed out, staring up at Thomas with awe. He had signed small documents before, but nothing important, not such a thing as the deployment of troops.

His husband gave him a fond look. “I am still working on the dissolution of the Harem, no matter that these attacks are delaying matters. The rebellion will end at some point, and following it, the Harem system shall be abolished for myself. You are to therefore be my sole spouse, and as my husband, I wish for us to sign the most important of documents together, as a show of our unity. Now, I believe, is the appropriate moment to begin consolidating your power, whilst many will still be distracted.”

Thomas rolled up the scroll, placing it upon the table to his side.

“However, there is another matter that I wish to discuss with you beforehand.”

“What is it?” Harry questioned.

Thomas drew in a deep breath, steepling his fingers, his expression growing cold, his eyes alight with a freezing flame of fury. “I highly suspect that Penny Haywood has been consorting with the enemy, revealing sensitive information that was privy to her when she was the Head of the Harem. It is rather outdated now, I admit I have been expecting a betrayal at some point so I never reveal to anyone the true power of my armies, but that woman has still betrayed me. I am planning to have her arrested as soon as Dumbledore is tracked down, so that she does not flee or warn him in the meantime.”

Harry frowned, considering his husband’s words. “Even despite that, would it not be best to keep her isolated? She may discover something in the meantime. That is not to say that her knowledge would make it outside of the Court, but if she has been relaying information to Dumbledore...”

“Yes, I have thought of that, and it is why I called upon you so suddenly, so that any spies, if they exist, would have no time to ponder on this meetings’ intentions. I am tasking you with watching over her for any movements to contact her new master, or anything that upsets you in the slightest.” Thomas smirked, giving Harry an amused glance. “Find a reason for me to seclude her once more, so that she is not fraternising with the other concubines, and so that I may control who enters her Palace. With hope, I will find a reason to rid the Court of those maids of hers, replace them with a steadfastly loyal staff. I trust that you will agree with me, my darling, that Haywood does not deserve any mercy for even the slightest of infractions. You are certainly owed the chance to repay her in kind for the many times she has caused you distress over the years. In the meantime, I will discover every other rat within this Court. I have already pinpointed several, I am only waiting for the pin to finally drop.”

“Still, why not arrest her now? Dumbledore is making it clear he does not intend to hide away, would now not be the best time to subdue her and ensure she does not leak anything else?” Dumbledore and his Order had attacked several other places around the globe following the attack on the Court, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. As soon as he was alerted of these disturbances, the Emperor and a select task force were deployed to the scene whilst the Court was locked down with heavier wards for their protection, more Knights called in. It was estimated that the Order’s forces had fallen by a quarter since the beginning of their rebellion nearly two weeks ago, but still, Dumbledore had not been captured. He was a slippery old man, willing to sacrifice his whole attack force for a moment to escape.

Thomas leant back, tilting his head to make eye contact with Harry. “I do not wish to put the Court in danger once more. I have increased the protections, amped up the wards, and ensured that not one person is privy to every layer of protection. However, Dumbledore’s people were inside my Court. Who knows what they could have planted here without my knowledge? I am halfway through scouring the Court for any explosive elements so far, but until I have overturned every stone, I will not be assured of our safety. Therefore, Dumbledore cannot be alerted that I am suspicious of Penny, or intending to capture her in any way. He most likely already knows of my suspicions in some respects, but until I act, he will remain as he currently is. She needs to be secluded for a more petty reason, it will be difficult for people to point fingers at what will seem to be the usual instance of Harem politics.”

Harry still frowned, but he acquiesced to the Emperor’s opinion. Thomas chuckled when he noticed Harry’s face, smiling teasingly up at him.

“You may not understand my reasoning at the moment, my darling, but I assure you, you will have your revenge.”

16th August 2002- Friday

Jules and Lila turned two years old far sooner than Harry was prepared for. He was glad that he had already planned their party beforehand, leaving the preparations in the hands of the Administrative staff and his maids. All Harry had to do on the morning was get his darlings dressed. Julius was wearing a smart little navy robe with delicate embroidery in silver, wearing more comfortable clothing underneath that he could dirty when play took the inevitable turn into wrestling territory. Lilaia wore a light blue dress, the skirt as poofy as his daughter wished so that she could twirl with it. He had placed two matching bows into her hair in short pigtails, although as she ran past him, he noticed that one had already unravelled. Their party was a picnic this year, with all their siblings of a similar age invited, and only a few of the concubines to keep the atmosphere stress free. There hadn’t been much pushback to that this time around, as many were still preoccupied with dealing with or feigning trauma from the attack. Felix had sent a long letter detailing his wish to attend, but that his fear of open spaces since the attack was still strong. He had spotted the man taking a walk with Penny only yesterday.

“Lila, be careful!” Harry called out as his daughter made a beeline for the pond, faithfully defended by Anya who was quick to divert the Princess in another direction. Lila simply giggled as she continued toddling, running over to Tabitha to clutch at her robes and stare imploring up at her.

Harry chuckled slightly, returning his attention to Julius, who was sitting happily on the picnic blanket with him and Thomas, babbling about all the gifts he had received this birthday. It had nearly brought tears to Harry’s eyes watching his first twins open their gifts this morning, seeing how excited they were. Lila was absolutely ecstatic to receive her first paint set, and Harry had had to change and bathe her before leaving due to the amount of paint splatters over the girl. Julius had received a short, wooden sword from Thomas, after he had noticed the boy’s interest in the swords some of the higher ranked Knights carried around for display. The boy was enamoured with it, and had brought it along for the picnic to show off to all of his siblings.

A faint cry caught Harry's attention, and he assured that Julius was thoroughly distracted by his Father, happily waving about the wooden sword, before he chambered to his feet and swept Laius out of Kia's arms.

“Oh, darling, what's the matter, hmm?” He cooed down at the squalling baby, who blinked up at him with teary green eyes that melted his heart. “You're fed and dry, were you just missing me?” 

Laius cooed, tears still trailing down his chubby cheeks as he wept to himself, a tiny hand coming up to clutch at Harry’s robes. He stroked his son’s soft hair gently, shushing the child with fondness, rocking him side to side as he observed the party. Linus and Laius were going through a clingy stage at the moment, perhaps lingering trauma from the attack. The only way the two could process the events that had transpired around them was crying in Harry’s arms, so he had made himself available at all hours the past couple of weeks for his children’s benefit. Jules and Lila seemed to need the least reassurance, reverting to the happy, chipper children they were after only a week. Alsie, however, still needed daily reassurances of Harry’s presence, and the girl followed him nearly everywhere.

The attack on the Court had scarred his children in different ways, still affecting them weeks later, and it was a heartbreaking sight to witness. Harry would never forgive Dumbledore or the Order for what they had done to his family, how they had broken the sense of security they felt within their own home. Never. If the man ever dared to show his face at the Court again, Harry would have no hesitation in disposing of the threat, morals be damned.

3rd September 2002- Tuesday

His boots hit the gravel with a soft thud as he apparated to the scene of the attack, wand raised and magic ready as he took in the scene before him. Thomas observed the chaos unfolding within the quaint, rural village, the screaming muggles, the burning buildings, the hooting, robed figures of Order members ransacking the place. It was reminiscent of the beginnings of his own rebellion, when Thomas had yet to fully leash his Knights under his command, when the press had attempted to brand them with another name that struck fear rather than embodying their purpose as his warriors. Dumbledore’s cronies, despite the resemblance however, did not have half the wits of his own followers. For one, there were no anti-apparition wards up, or anything of the sort to alert them of their arrival. They also did not possess even half the finesse even his Squire’s had, flinging around spells haphazardly, the magic fuelled with emotion rather than thought.

With an imperious gesture, lazily waving towards the revelling Order, Thomas implored his Knights to counterattack. They descended upon the hoard like an unstoppable wave, swift in their movements, quick to disable half of the force. It was boring to observe, the other side was so outmatched. Thomas would not have followed along on this excursion if there had not been another incentive. He twirled his wand lazily in his fingers, the yew wood buzzing happily under his fingers, giddy to once more be his sole wand. It was a possessive thing, outright burning with jealousy in his holster whenever Thomas had used the Elder wand. He was glad to have it back, to be rid of that tempestuous wand with far too much personality for a stick of wood. It was better suited, more appreciative within Harry’s hands, no matter how much Thomas coveted its power and the prestige it brought. The Elder wand had never truly been his to wield, he had simply remained alive long enough to pass it over to the only other worthy Peverell descendent. Harry, his husband. The wand had practically purred when Thomas had first laid eyes on Harry, and ever since, it had never quite listened to his commands. His faithful yew, however, lit up with glee as he pointed it towards Dumbledore’s defensive form, the old man having been hidden amidst the chaos of the attack until his forces were brutally thinned.

“Dumbledore,” He hissed, smiling wickedly. He was a slippery man to track, Thomas would give him that. At every attack where he was rumoured to appear, Thomas had only caught a glimpse of him before he had disappeared into the fray, leaving his troops to battle an unwinnable war. This was the first time the man had stuck around long enough for a conversation.

The wizard stared at him with darkened eyes, eyeing the wand in his hand with panic. “The Elder wand, where is it, Tom?”

Thomas grinned nastily, tilting his head mockingly. “It is where it has always belonged.” With that, he drew upon his eager magic, and sent a group of fireballs hurtling towards the man in front of him.

8th September 2002- Sunday

Harry sighed as he leaned heavily on his closed bedroom door. His children had been terrors today, dearly missing their elder siblings. The Emperor had delayed his children heading to Hogwarts for an extra week, ensuring the security of the castle was irontight before he sent them there. It meant that the students had headed out this morning instead, ensuring they started tomorrow on Monday, including Alexus and Amelia for their first year. Harry could admit to feeling trepidation as he watched the pair clamber onto the carriages that would take them to the school, but it had also filled him with pride. The two had hugged him for a few minutes before disembarking, promising to send letters as soon as they could. The sorting ceremony should have finished a little while ago now, and he wondered which Houses the two had been sorted into. All of Thomas’ children so far had headed straight for Slytherin, no matter their personalities, but Harry still believed Alexus to be a shoo-in for Ravenclaw. Time would tell.

Finally having managed to put all of his children down for a nap after a couple of hours of temper tantrums, Harry had headed for his room for some time alone, and because he had something which he wished to try. Straightening from his slouch on the door, he made his way to his bedside draw, where he had stashed the wand.

His hand tingled when he picked up the Elder wand, the vibrations it gave off sending pins and needles shooting up his arm. Harry held onto it despite the slight discomfort, examining the wood with curiosity. The wood appeared to have darkened slightly since he had last picked it up, with veins of black running throughout it. Harry hoped he had done nothing to damage the ancient wand. He examined it more closely, startling slightly as he heard a noise emanate from it as it grew closer. Frowning, Harry stopped breathing for a moment to ensure he hadn’t imagined the noise. Sure enough, a breathy rasp from the wand sounded once again, an unintelligible noise that sounded gravely, like rocks rubbing against one another.

He brought it closer to his ear, closing his eyes to focus his attention on deciphering its whispers.

Master…

Harry pulled away with a deeper frown, staring down at the wand with his eyebrows drawn up.

Strange.

With trepidation, He placed the wand in his holster for a moment, heading for his wardrobe where his cloak hung, shimmering delicately in the sunlight. He plucked it out, his thoughts racing, a spark of wonder sending a shock up his spine.

Smoothing the cloak out on his bed, Harry backed away, twisting the ring on his finger in trepidation. It felt daunting to pull it slowly off his finger, rolling it around in his palm as he stared down at it. The black gemstone at the ring’s centre shined innocently up at Harry, its beauty a contrast for such a daunting object. He stepped forward, placing the ring on top of the cloak. Immediately, the air within the room grew heavy, the magic building suddenly, seeming to coagulate over the bed particularly. It felt almost tangible, the weight of the air stifling. Harry sucked in a deep breath, glancing around, before pulling the wand out of its holster. He stared at it, acknowledging the weight of the moment for what it was, before dropping it onto the bed with the other two items. He took a hasty step back.

Nothing happened.

Harry stared down at the three items, a cloak, a wand, a black stone, for a few moments, before chuckling to himself.

Of course, nothing had happened. The tale of the Deathly Hallows and the three Peverell Brothers was a story he had been told many times, one every wixen child was taught at a young age. And whilst the items were real, held by his very own ancestors, their origins were embellished with falsehoods to make the objects more mystical, making many wixen throughout the centuries covet the objects. There was no such thing as a ‘Master of Death’, and uniting these so-called Hallows had proved that. Harry reached down, securing the wand back at his side and placing the ring onto his finger, before picking up the silken cloak with fondness.

The magic that had gathered in the room struck the moment he let his guard down, clamping around his neck in a vice grip that had Harry choking for breath, tightening into a bruising hold that sent him hurtling straight into unconsciousness. In his last moment of alertness, Harry heard that gravely whisper once more, this time as loud as thunder, as if the voice was speaking directly into his mind.

My Master…