Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Consort: Hummingbird Circus	By : GoldSnitcher Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 28278 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
“My lord!” Chief advisor Augustus Rookwood cried, entering Draco’s office bent in a bow but still moving at a pace that made Draco fear the man might plow headfirst into his desk.

“What is it, Rookwood?” Draco asked, already fearing what his advisor would say. He had worries enough dealing with all the many problems confronting his new ascent to the throne to worry about what might be troubling the man.

“My lord,” Rookwood said again, this time righting himself and looking most agitated, though he was clearly trying to maintain proper decorum. “Something must be done about the High Priest.”

“What is it now?”

“He has closed Aneniel’s harem! Disbursed the very men and women pledged in body and soul in the service of the god!” Rookwood cried. “I have always said it was a mistake to elect a rebel peasant for such a position!”

“Are you questioning my decision?”

“I –“

“High Priest Emerald is within his right to close Aneniel’s harem. I was already aware he had done so, and in complete honesty, I saw little point in Aneniel having a harem to begin with. There is even less reason now that he is wed.” The practice of selecting some of the most intelligent and beautiful youths only to lock them away in temples where they supposedly pleasured the gods they served, but in fact remained bored and untouched until they died had seemed both ridiculous and archaic to Draco ever since he first learned of it.

“My Lord, he is setting himself up to be in direct opposition to you!” Rookwood cried in dismay. “Even now, he is in a position where, should he so choose, my lord, he could overthrow you completely!”

Draco leaned back in his chair and smiled a little. “I know,” he said. “You are dismissed, Rookwood.”

……………

Harry slept each night in a golden bed, with satin sheets and gossamer curtains. He felt every night when he lay down as if he were being offered-up in sacrifice, and so every time he woke the following day it was with a certain amount of surprise.

“High Priest Emerald,” Millicent Bullstrode said as she dropped to one knee in greeting. Colin was dressing him; his skin covered in the fine white powder and his eyes and lips accented with gold in what had become standard costume for him when appearing in front of the general populous of Agathe.

“What is it?” Harry asked, then flapped his arms when Colin continued to fuss and would not allow him the freedom to face Millicent.

“I wanted to inform you that I have been appointed as a scribe for Madame Bones. I know you have probably heard, but I thought I should tell you in person.”

“That is fine, thank-you Millicent,” Harry said. “Make sure you work closely with the others, and keep a close watch on Severus Snape and Blaise Zabini. If they know you are connected with me in any way … well, they’ll probably help you, but I don’t want to put them in that kind of position.”

“Of course,” Millicent agreed. “And I will keep my past private.”

“I don’t think hearing you are a recently freed servant of Anenial’s harem would win you many points of favor. That is probably wise.” Harry had a number of people positioned in the palace who kept him abreast of the gossip as well as the politics. There was such turmoil in the empire and Harry wanted to make certain that what was most important in the empire survived.

Millicent bowed as another priest entered the chambers. “High Priest Emerald,” a young neophyte said, bowing low before holding out a little golden dish on which sat a rolled parchment with a familiar seal.

“From the king?” Harry asked while gesturing that Colin should accept it.

“It’s a request for your company,” Colin said as he glanced over the message. “A private meeting.”

Harry paused, his expression still before he nodded and gestured to three scrolls resting on his desk. “If I’m going over to the palace anyway, I might as well drop these off for Blaise.”

……………

Harry took Demon, his preferred method of transportation, although many felt strongly that it would be more appropriate for him to take a litter, and rode with Colin and Cedric, both of whom were priests but also knew their way around weapons. Harry loathed the retinue of servants and priests and priestesses and neophytes that haunted his steps both at the temple and when he left it, and whenever it was possible he took as few of them as possibly. He regretted, as well, that his costume made it impossible to be inconspicuous, but the reaction of the palace guards was worth it. The guards, many of them three times the size of Harry himself, were in complete awe.

“High Priest Emerald,” one guard greeted with a deep bow as Harry handed Demon’s reigns over to a stable hand at the front steps. Harry nodded in answer but said nothing.

When they were inside the palace he turned to Colin and Cedric. “There, you’ve delivered me.”

“Not trying to get rid of us, are you?” Cedric teased.

“Only a little,” Harry admitted. “I can’t meet with the king with you two skulking about. I’m safe here.”

“With all due respect,” Colin said quietly. “This is where you are most vulnerable. There are many of the king’s advisors who know only the barest details, and that makes them dangerous.”

“I’m perfectly aware,” Harry said. “But to walk down the halls with you both clearly visible shows a weakness on my part.” Colin bowed and stepped back.

“We’ll be in the shadows then,” Cedric said. “Skulking, as per usual.” Harry smiled and shook his head as the two disappeared into the shadows.

……………

“There was an attempt on the king’s life last night,” Blaise announced as he opened the door.

“Hello to you as well, Blaise. I hope that is not the way you greet everyone who knocks on your office door.”

Blaise grinned and ushered Harry inside. “It’s not. I just knew you’d be coming, and you have a very distinctive knock.” Harry considered that as he dropped the scrolls onto Blaise’s desk and settled into the chair his friend gestured to. “You don’t seem surprised about the attack. Or concerned.”

“I’m not,” Harry said. “I assumed if the king had been hurt you would have greeted me with that news, as well. Besides, if he were dead I would have been called to utter prayers outside his room.”

Blaise observed him from across the desk for a moment. “You’re getting far too skilled with politics. I’m not even sure if that’s how you really feel.”

“I was always skilled at politics, Blaise. That was never my problem.”

“If you had one at all,” Blaise muttered. He sat back, poked at the scrolls and then steepled his fingers. “Millicent Bullstrode has been appointed as principle scribe to Madame Bones. I gave her my assurances that Miss Bullstrode could be trusted explicitly. Is there a reason why I have granted permission for another of your spies to work within the palace walls?”

“Spy?” Harry shifted in his seat then leaned back and met Blaise' eyes, as if coming to a decision. “May I speak honestly?”

“I wish you would, Harry.”

“Miss Bullstrode was recently employed in the harem for Aneniel. Since I disbanded that ridiculous practice she was free to do whatever she pleased; but in point of fact, she has no husband and no longer holds any particular standing at court; her options were undoubtedly limited.”

Blaise grinned. “If you don’t want to admit it, that’s fine, but I’m onto you.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“That assassination plot I told you about? It fell to pieces.” Blaise leaned forward across the desk, a slender eyebrow quirked, and good-humor in his eyes. “Somehow information on each of the participants of the plot, as well as information on the plan itself, found its way onto Kingsley’s desk; and you know how he is about protecting the empire. Draco is the embodiment of the empire, many believe he is the empire itself. So you can imagine, Kingsley took immediate action.”

“I’m relieved to hear that.”

“You know, I can’t understand you,” Blaise admitted, sitting back in his chair. “I believe you might have loved him. I believe you might love him still. But after what he did to you? I’m trying to figure-out when this started, this game you have us all playing … do you know, Harry, I’m not even certain anymore if you really lost that rebellion? Because I don’t believe that a prisoner walked onto Draco’s ship.”

“Of course I lost the rebellion,” Harry said, his voice low and fierce. “I led my city, that the empire had beaten low and taken nearly everything from. I told them that if we stood-up then there was no way the empire could continue to ignore us, and I was right. Did you not see the chains, Blaise? We were all wrapped in them when you first stepped onto our soil. Did you see the blood and bruising? … those of us who lived.”

“More of the king’s soldiers died than citizens of your city.”

“Yes, and all of that could have been avoided if Lucius Malfoy did what he promised us at the beginning: kept us safe and let us profit from our own labor.” Harry sighed and rose from the table. “You don’t have to figure me out, Blaise. You don’t need to understand me. If you’re afraid, then don’t be. I’m not the enemy here, I’m not tearing anything down, I’m trying to build it up.”

“I’m not afraid of you, Harry,” Blaise said, his tone bringing to his simple statement many underlying meanings, and Harry nodded once and left the room.

……………

Draco stood hurriedly when the guard opened the door for Harry. There was no one in the smaller chambers except them but it still felt as if they had an audience. “I thought we could speak over lunch,” Draco said, as Harry stepped forward.

Harry glanced around the chambers where both table and chairs were noticeably absent. “Where is the food?”

Draco pulled a basket from where one of the servants had left it. “Picnic?”

“The High King and Priest picnicking together? Do you think your ministers would approve?”

“Forget the bloody ministers!” Draco said, and then sighed. “What about right here?” He didn’t wait for an answer but pulled a cloth from the basket and spread it out onto the floor, kneeling to set all of the contents from the basket out. “Well, come on!”

Harry tentatively stepped forward onto the blanket and settled himself opposite Draco. “Thank-you,” he said as Draco poured him a glass of wine and offered it to him.

“Do you know, most of my ministers think you are a danger to both me and the empire?”

Harry glanced at the young king over the rim of his glass. “I always thought you and the empire were one and the same,” he said, neutrally.

“I wanted to thank you.”

“For what?”

“If I have to tell you then perhaps you are not as well-informed as my ministers would have me believe.”

Harry sipped his wine and then calmly set it down on the blanket, meeting Draco’s eyes directly. “Has Blaise been whispering in your ear again?”

“You won’t accept my thanks?”

“Most graciously, if I were really due them.”

Draco huffed and flipped the lid of the basket closed with more force than perhaps required. “Do you know how infuriating you are?”

“My apologies, my Lord,” Harry said, lowering his eyes.

“Emerald…”

“I don’t know another way to be!” Harry said. “I was yours, once, and while I was yours I served you in every way I knew. But now I am not yours, and I serve the empire with the same fervor because that is who I belong to.”

“You belong to a god,” Draco scoffed. “You wed yourself to an idea!”

“Be careful how you speak of Aneniel, your Highness.”

“You are less yourself now than you were when you first came to me in my chambers!”

Harry rolled his eyes and huffed a breath. “Everyone is so determined to puzzle me out!”

“Because you are a riddle that makes no sense,” Draco said.

“I make no sense? Why? Because as a high priest I saw it was in the empire’s best interest to have a strong and united faith, and the best way for that to happen was greater authority in the High Priest?”

“And to get that authority you marry a god? Explain to me how that was a sensible course of action!”

“It makes about as much sense as devoting the brightest and most attractive members of your city in bodily service to the same god I am now wed to! Why is this empire so determined to keep people in gilded cages, serving no purpose at all?”

For a moment Draco observed the man who had once been his lover, his own anger draining as he watched the other man’s shoulders rise and fall with heavy breaths beneath the elaborate robes. “You served a purpose, Emerald.”

“I’m happy you feel that way,” Harry said, more calmly. “But how many souls can you take to your bed at once? How many are in that harem? How many souls can, as you put it, an idea take to bed?”

“It’s a moot point now that you have done away with that harem.”

Harry dropped his gaze to the blanket on which he knelt, at the food and wine set-out before him. “Why am I really here, Draco? What are you really angry at? Because if you think that…” Harry was interrupted by the press of warm lips against his own and a familiar tongue flicking first against his bottom lip, then the top, before pressing into his mouth.

Harry had wondered what he might do if Draco ever kissed him again. At times, he imagined beginning their intimacies again, and other times he fantasized about turning the man away. Sometimes he would be angry as he pushed at Draco, or perhaps he would be politely condescending.

Instead, Harry found himself following Draco’s gentle push until he was sprawled on the blanket, Draco’s hands quickly finding ways beneath his robes as Harry ripped at fabric that blocked him from the king’s skin. “You brought me here to ravish me?”

Draco kissed his way up Harry’s neck, smudging at the white dusting of powder that obscured golden skin. “I brought you here to thank you.” He bit Harry’s ear, grinning at the ragged moan that it elicited, familiar. “The ravishing was a last minute idea.”

It was surprising to realize how much he had missed Draco’s touch, but when he ran his hands up Harry’s bared chest and dipped his tongue into Harry’s open mouth, it felt like returning home. Harry felt his body arching toward a long-missed touch, his skin pebbling with the sudden rush of sensation.

It was awkward in a way it hadn’t ever been between them; hands and legs tangling and their bodies bumping and tumbling, both of them frantic, Harry’s white paint transferring onto Draco’s skin. It was rushed and exquisite. There was butter to smooth the way, and more pain than previously because it had been a while, and as they rocked they clasped hands and stole each other’s breath and muffled each other’s moans.

Draco collapsed beside him on the blanket as they regained their breath, and Harry turned his head. His words stolen at the sight of white smudges all over the king’s body, and Harry laughed.

Draco pouted at him. “That wasn’t quite the reaction I’d been hoping for.”

“You’re a complete mess,” Harry said, leaning up on his elbow to rub at one of the smudges that ran across Draco’s nose where their noses had bumped.

“We should probably go wash this off.”

“You don’t think it would look odd that we have a private meeting that results in the both of us requiring a bath? Or that the high priest entered the palace in his usual costume but left looking quite altered?”

The smug, preening look was something no one in the court had ever witnessed, but Harry felt the aching shock of familiarity at the expression. “I tend to have that effect on people,” the king said.

“How modest. Luckily, I am better prepared.” Harry gathered his clothes and dressed, Draco reluctantly mirroring his actions. “You should probably go.”

“Your neophyte will know who you were with.”

“Of course he will, but there’s a difference between seeing it plain as day, and assuming it. It’s called tact, Draco.”

“Emerald –“

“It doesn’t change anything, Draco,” Harry said. “Please.”

For a moment, Draco wanted to argue, but instead he gathered-up the cloth covered in Harry’s release and exited the chambers while Harry summoned Colin to reapply the smudged paint.

……………

“Precious Emerald,” Pansy said, stopping Harry as he walked. He stood in his robes in the open hallway of the harem, Pansy blocking his path as she rested casually against a column, her pale orange and yellow dress rustling with the soft breeze.

“Parkinson,” Harry greeted. It was the first time he had seen her alone since she had visited him in prison and he supposed that was the reason why her presence was making him feel slightly skittish, although he knew that Colin and Cedric were only a shout away.

“The world is a changing place, it would seem,” she said, her eyes raking over the white and gold on his skin, and his robes.

“For the better.”

“If you call a shaky grasp on this empire an improvement.”

“No,” Harry said. “I call letting go of archaic practices and uniting an entire empire under one banner an improvement.”

“Of course you would credit your actions as improvements,” she sneered, her gaze returning to him, disdainful and agry.

“Was there something in particular you wanted to say to me, Parkinson?”

“The king entertains us,” she said. “Dinners and parties and dances. Each night, he summons one of us to his bed.”

Harry kept his expression neutral and tried to show no reaction to the news. “What the king does in his own palace, in his own bed, is of no concern of mine. What does concern me is the king’s relationship with the gods, as well as the relationship of the king’s subjects with the gods.” He paused a moment and then stepped around her and continued walking, experiencing a certain amount of satisfaction when she hastened aside to clear his way.

“I made you a promise, Emerald.”

Harry stopped but did not turn to her. “I remember it.” He turned his head to the side, glanced to her from the corner of his eyes. “I have made my peace with the heavens and am in good standing with them. How about you?”

A shadow fell across the marble tiles and Harry looked-up to see Severus standing just ahead, glancing suspiciously back at Pansy. Harry had just come from speaking with the man, and Cho as well, and it made him feel warm to realize that Severus was still looking-out for him. “Is everything alright here, High Priest?”

“It is fine, thank-you, Keeper.” Severus’ lips quirked slightly as they did when he felt a smile but did not wish to show it. ‘Keeper’ was a long-standing term of teasing and endearment that Harry had used for the man. Severus bowed and Harry continued on his way out of the harem and away from the palace.

……………

Meals at the temple were something that Harry had not quite adjusted to. He had done away with most of the strict formality that had existed, with the exception of special occasions, but there were still a large number of priests, priestesses and neophytes who dined in the halls at the large rectangular tables. After becoming High Priest, Harry had made the decision to dine separately along with a smaller number of his order. Decisions made for the good of the Order were still frequently difficult for Harry because most of them entailed a sacrifice on his part. In the end, the choice had been to surrender a piece of the mystique and thus authority of the persona of High Priest that he had crafted, or to remove himself slightly from the Order, if only at meals, in an effort to allow his followers time to relax. He imagined it was similar to what Albus had dealt with being the head of his small town. Albus had managed by adopting a certain enigmatic air; Harry coped by remaining somewhat elusive.

The large circular table was placed in one of the rooms that had originally been considered to be Aneniel’s chambers where catamites and concubines, whoever had been lucky enough to be selected, would go to spend a night entertaining their god which, in actuality, meant a night spent sleeping on a cold stone altar beneath an enormous figure of the God cast in glowing gold. Harry had the room redecorated and it had become a second dining hall, though much smaller. Around the table were some of Harry’s most trusted friends, each laughing and talking, distracting Harry from memories of his visit to the palace earlier in the week.

If there was one thing Harry did not understand, it was Draco. Their intimacy had felt like returning to a home that he had never actually had, but always wanted. Draco was angry, but at what and for what reason Harry could not be certain. At times he thought it was because of the changes that Harry had made as High Priest, at others he wondered if maybe it was that the pressure of the king’s advisors was making him leery of Harry’s growing power. Sometimes, he entertained thoughts that perhaps Draco was jealous that Harry was married to a god; but those were only idle thoughts that punished Harry more than anything else. He had promised himself to put aside his feelings because it was no longer proper for him to entertain them, if it ever had been.

“My lord?” Harry blinked out of his reverie, his focus returning to the hall and the people surrounding him to find a servant kneeling by his chair and offering-up a note card.

“Thank-you.” Harry took the card and read it hastily before excusing himself from the table.

In the main entrance of the temple Severus Snape was pacing restlessly, but stopped long enough to bow low to Harry and indicate that it was a private matter. Harry took no chances and brought Severus to his own chambers, offering wine and a soft chair before finally motioning for the other man to speak.

“I have no idea which news to deliver first.”

“Go by order of importance,” Harry suggested.

“Which would be useful advice under any other circumstances,” Severus said. He took a breath and then shook his head slowly. “The king intended it as a surprise to you, but I thought that you might not appreciate the shock if you are in your persona tomorrow.”

“What is it?”

“Firstly?” Severus set his wine glass down and leaned forward. “Your friends have been pardoned. In the morning they will be released and, I am assuming, their first order of business will be to come here.”

“Ron and Hermione?”

“Yes.” Harry was not sure how to react to that. He visited his friends as often as he could, not caring about how seemly it might be for the High Priest to frequent the prison, and he missed them constantly. He was relieved and overjoyed, and almost as equally baffled by the king’s intentions. “There is more,” Severus continued.

“What more could there possibly be?”

“An uprising has started in the north. Draco leaves in the morning to lead the troupes.”

“He’s leaving the city at a time like this?”

“There was little choice,” Severus said. “Morale among the military was more important than leaving the city when there are still attempts to overtake the throne.”

Harry rose from his seat and paced back-and-forth for a moment. “It’s a peace offering,” he thought aloud. “And support. He means for me to make certain that the throne remains for him when he returns.”

“He said nothing explicitly,” Severus said, though from his expression it was clear that this was what he had concluded as well.

“The timing as well, cannot be a coincidence. I’ll be distracted with the return of my friends and he’ll be out of the city before I have the chance to speak with him about this.”

“Draco might be many things, but no one has ever accused him of lacking in cunning,” Severus said, this time his smirk was apparent.

“How am I supposed to do all of this? I’m only a High Priest! And most of his advisors despise me!”

“If I may speak plainly?” Harry indicated that it was fine with an impatient wave. His friends never had to worry about offending him and Harry wished they would put aside the formalities. “A young boy once entered the harem of which I am Keeper, and worried that he would not be enough to satisfy a prince. Later, as he was ordained High Priest, he feared he would not be enough there, either. Somehow, Harry, I do not find I am inclined to agree with your worries.”

Harry found himself smiling in answer to that; the smile turned into a grin when he thought about his friends being released. It had been something he had been working for, but he had never believed it would happen quite so soon. “Did they feed you at the palace?” Harry wondered. “Or did you hear this and come directly here?” When Severus’ expression remained stoic, Harry shook his head fondly. “Join me for dinner, then.”

……………

Harry stood on the front steps of the temple and did not bother to mask his grin. It was returned whole-heartedly by the two figures making their way up the stairs. “Welcome to Aneniel’s Temple,” he said, a touch ironically as Ron and Hermione bowed. He gestured them inside and then gave them both a hard hug.

“It’s been such a long time!” Hermione said, and in the same breath, “This place is amazing!”

“It’s home,” Harry said flippantly, laughing when Hermione rolled her eyes and Ron bumped him. Along the halls the other priests and priestesses of the temple were giving slightly bewildered looks at them, but Harry didn’t care. He opened the door to his rooms and before he could even close it again, both his friends had collapsed onto the setee.

“What’s all this, then?” Ron asked, his feet creeping onto Hermione’s lap only to be batted away. For all their time in the prison Harry was pleased to see that his friends looked healthy, if a bit pale, and appeared to be in good spirits. “We’ve been hearing some pretty wild things lately.”

Harry had visited his friends as frequently as he could, but had been so busy with some of the strategizing and work with the temple that he had perhaps been a bit neglectful. He tried to think of a way to summarize what had happened since he had last seen them and was surprised to find that there was so much: the changes that had been occurring around the kingdom and in the capital, news about the king and his friends from the harem, news from family and friends back in Brucandis. He set to it and tried to avoid leaving anything out, until finally he had arrived at the news Severus had delivered the night before, and then topped it off with his own request.

“Stay here?” Hermione echoed. “You mean in the temple, as priests?”

“Only if you want to,” Harry assured. He’d missed the constant contact that they had shared when they had been home, but somewhere amidst all his strategizing to get home, Harry had realized that there was nothing tying him to Brucandis. He had friends there, and people he cared about, but nothing that made it home, nothing that made it his. He had made more of a mark on the capital, with people he was closer to. He had changed too much to be at peace in the quiet little town.

“I don’t know, Harry,” Ron said, sitting-up slowly and leaning forward. “I’ve been dreaming about going back to the farm, y’know.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “Well, that’s fine. That’s great. We can make arrangements for you to …” but Ron was laughing and clapping and shaking his head.

“Too easy, Harry. Way too easy! I’ve been getting some letters from back home. They’re doing really well, but I reckon there’s more money to earn here in the city, and they could use the boost. Besides, I think you need some real advisors, don’t you?” Harry was across the room in a flash, hugging his friend.

“Hermione?” he asked when he had let Ron go.

“Of course I’ll stay, Harry. How could you even question it? I’ve heard such wonderful things about the library here.”

“Naturally she’d stay for the books,” Ron huffed.

“And you two, of course,” she said. “But this is big, Harry. Isn’t there a lot of protocol about joining the order?”

“I’ve already set everything in motion, just in case you said yes. If you’re both certain, I’ll call Colin in and you can get your robes and your rooms. As for training, I’ve got quite a number of people who’d be willing to teach you, quietly.”

“Quietly?” Ron asked.

“So that you can be part of the decisions right away; part of my entourage, I guess you’d call it.”

“Entourage?” Ron teased. “My, my.”

“Shut it.”

“Well, what are you waiting for, then? Call this Colin and lets get started.”

……………

News trickled back to the city of the progress Draco was making with the troupes. All the while, Harry was managing the empire, making sure that whenever he returned, Draco would still have the throne to return to. It was not as difficult as he had anticipated, with Ron and Hermione helping him, and Severus and Blaise lending their support, Harry wooed the other advisors. Some still remained sceptical as to his intentions but so long as they continued to agree to his suggestions, realizing they were in the best interest of the king, then Harry was happy.

There was a rhythm that slowly took hold of his days, and somehow Harry found himself forgetting about his worries for Draco and thought only of the decisions that were his to make, the things that were under his control. He lost himself in work, and when there was a moment of peace to be had he spent it with his friends. Sometimes, alone in the night, Harry would go into his private garden in the temple and dance.

“I’ve caught him out there, y’know,” Ron said, his expression one of mischief as they sat in Severus’ rooms, along with Hermione, Cho, Blaise and Gwynn.

“You have not,” Harry said.

“I really have. Honestly,” Ron said. “Dancing out there in the gardens. There are windows in my room. You’re not the only one who has trouble sleeping at night sometimes.”

“It’s really beautiful,” Hermione said.

Harry turned quickly to look at his friend in shock. “You too?”

Hermione grinned, then looked somewhat wistful. “I would have loved to have been at the palace when you danced with the others. I bet it was incredible.”

“Is there anyone who hasn’t watched me dancing when I’m by myself,” Harry said, bewildered. He had always revelled in his nighttime dances because he believed he was alone. It was a time only for him. He supposed that it didn’t make much of a difference if he didn’t know at the time. When the entire room remained quiet he huffed. “Well, fine.”

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about if everyone has found it lovely,” Gwynn said.

“I could never dance like that,” Cho added. There was a racket out in the garden and Severus excused himself. “Everything has been so boring here, lately.”

“Boring? With all the scheming? That’s one word that I’ve never heard attached to the harem,” Hermione said. Gossip always filled the city about the harem, and apparently it reached the prison as well.

“Well, if you keep yourself apart from the general group things can be quite peaceful. I think most of the concubines have forgotten I exist, and as for the catamites…” she was cut-off by the door being flung open and Pansy Parkinson strutting in followed closely by Severus.

“If it isn’t our Precious Emerald, returning home,” Pansy cooed.

“Miss Parkinson,” Severus reprimanded, and she huffed, smoothing her dress and sitting dutifully in one of the wooden chairs by the small breakfast table. Harry noticed that there were three scratches cutting across the bridge of her nose and onto her right cheek. “A fight with one of the newer additions,” Severus explained as he went to his cupboards where he kept his ointments.

“I should really be getting this properly treated.” Pansy smoothed her skirts again and turned her nose up in general at the room.

“I will not be summoning a medic for a mere scratch,” Severus said as he shut the cupboard door and approached the table.

“It was that bitch’s fault, anyway. I hope you intend to see that she is properly punished.”

“Oh, be quiet, Parkinson,” Cho said, in such a bored drawl that Pansy actually fell silent for a moment.

“Have I interrupted your little tea party?” she said, recovering herself. “How rude of me, my apologies, Master Snape, and with such notable company, as well. The high priest, what an honour for me.” Severus ignored her and set about applying ointment on the marks. “I should really have something to offer you, but myself being only a humble concubine … but wait,” she pulled the flower that was pinned to her dress and twirled it in her fingers. “Surely this would be an adequate gift.”

“I require nothing from you,” Harry said.

“It was a gift form the king,” Pansy continued. “To me. A promise that he would return as quickly as he could.”

“That should heal within a few days, Miss Parkinson,” Severus said, gesturing to the door. She rose demurely but stopped by Harry, wrapping his fingers around the stem of the rose before she smiled and left.

“Bitch,” Cho muttered.

“Forget it,” Harry said, raising his hand to his mouth to suck at the scratch one of the thorns had left on his hand.

“She probably plucked it from the garden.” Cho leaned over so she could peer out the window where she could see Pansy’s retreating back.

“Some wine, I think, is in order, Severus,” Blaise said. Harry dropped the rose into the garbage where the thick blossoms made a satisfying ‘thunk’ as it landed.

……………

Harry was halfway up the steps to the temple when the light-headedness he had been experiencing since leaving Severus’ caught-up with him and he sank to the steps. “Are you okay, Mate?” Ron asked, wrapping an arm around Harry’s waste in an effort to help him stand.

“M’fine,” Harry said. “This looks really bad. The High Priest stumbling about, obviously drunk.”

“It’s too late for that many people to be out and anyway, you don’t have your costume on. I bet no one would believe you were the High Priest at this moment,” Hermione said. Harry staggered again and raised a hand to his head. “Are you sure you’re okay, though? I didn’t think you drank all that much.” Before Harry could answer her the world closed-in and became darker still, and sound vanished and all he wanted to do was sleep.

……………

Draco stood at the edge of the camp and looked down the hill at the land stretching beyond him. The city was on the outskirts of the empire and had attempted to shirk its responsibility to the kingdom that kept it safe, and now it was at peace and also, Draco had claimed a bit more land to boot. Around him the soldiers were celebrating and relaxing, and getting on with the tasks at hand of keeping the camp running. “My lord, there is a rider from the capital,” one of the men said, bowing low, his cloak blowing out around his legs as the breeze picked it up.

“Thank-you,” Draco said, taking one more look at the green hills and the town below before returning to his tent. The messenger was already making his way toward the tent and Draco thought the man must have been travelling very fast to arrive so quickly after the scout had passed-on word. He hoped it was not bad news about the city, he had trusted that his friends would be able to maintain peace even in his absence.

“My lord,” one of the guards at his tent said, but Draco waved the man on and he dutifully held aside the covering for the messenger to enter.

“Majesty,” the messenger said, making a full obeisance that Draco chose to interpret as a hopeful sign. If he had been dethroned he could hardly believe that someone would make such a show of loyalty.

“Speak,” Draco said. He motioned for a servant to pour wine and lay out some food.

“I bring news from the city. The High Priest Emerald is in poor health. Doctors think it might be poison.”

Draco was silent for a moment. “Where is he?”

“He is attended at the temple, my lord.”

“Please, eat.” Draco gestured to the food as he rose from his seat and motioned his servant over. “Have my horse saddled, and notify the guard. I intend to leave camp as soon as possible.” The servant bowed and left, and Draco spent the time pacing.

……………

Harry had moments when he thought he knew where he was. He had moments when he imagined he was in the palace, but dismissed that for wishful thinking. He had moments when he almost thought he was back in Brucandis, could even hear his aunt calling for him to do the dishes. Voices blurred into a dull throb that beat in support of his pounding head. He could not move his body, there was no will remaining in him except for that core part of him that urged constantly to go to sleep. Sometimes he thought he was cold, other times he was hot. Most times he was absolutely certain that he was back in his cell.

……………

“Stop pacing,” Blaise said. “You’re making me dizzy.”

“I began pacing because you were pacing,” Severus snarked.

Blaise stood-up from the chair he had collapsed into and joined Severus in his rhythmic footsteps. “The doctor is in there; it should be fine.”

“You are displaying a keen trust in doctors.”

“I am trying to be optimistic.” A snort issued from one of the guards on either side of the gilded doors and Blaise glared. He made a mental note to pass the error on to the man’s captain. A young servant girl, her hair held back off her face by a single clip securing what looked like a mass of unruly curls slipped between Blaise and Severus, careful not to spill the bowl she was carrying that looked to contain rose water and a fresh cloth. She shut the door quickly behind her, despite the fact that both men were on her heels. “Why won’t he let us in?” Blaise complained.

“I assume Draco wishes for some privacy.”

“For what, exactly?” The door opened again and the servant girl and the doctor both slipped from the room.

“How is he?” Severus asked.

“Better,” the doctor said, rather cryptically, before turning away. Severus knocked gently on the door but there was no answer, and he and Blaise fell back into pacing. An hour later, three more servants had slipped by them, entering and then exiting the room. Ron and Hermione joined Severus and Blaise in their vigil, and then the hall become flooded with what seemed to be the entire court, and more and more people continued to join them. Finally it had become necessary to encourage those who wished to maintain their vigil to relocate to the throne room so that the servants might move freely down the halls; three guards moved solemnly through the masses, encouraging them each to their new location, and then everything fell silent again. Severus and Blaise were once again alone, given express clearance from the king.

“I hate the hours,” Blaise said. “There isn’t anything to be done but wait. I’m no good with waiting.” The door opened and both men startled, rushing forward when the opened doorway revealed Draco, somewhat the worse for wear but looking stiff and foreboding.

“How is he?” Severus inquired.

Draco waved a guard to him. “Summon Pansy Parkinson at once to the throne room.” The guard rushed to the harem and Blaise and Severus fell into step beside Draco, en route to the throne room.

“My lord, I cannot help but wonder as to the state of the High Priest,” Blaise said, but Draco kept an angry pace as he walked and did not slow to the question. When they reached their destination Blaise and Severus were forced to leave Draco’s side to stand with the others. Draco flipped his heavy green cloak aside and sat on his throne, looking every bit the ruling emperor.

The room hushed to look at him, and then rose to whispers as Pansy swooped through the doors at the opposite end of the hall walking smoothly, her skirts swirling at her feet as she moved, gliding toward the throne with regal bearing, making a show of a low obeisance.

“Rise Pansy,” Draco said. She stood, her eyes glowing. Draco held her gaze. “Concubine Pansy Parkinson, I order your immediate arrest and imprisonment, pending a sentence of death for the attempted murder of the High Priest and Consort to the Crown, the Divine Oracle Emerald.”

The whispers rose to murmurs at the announcement, and then became louder still as Pansy let out a bewildered cry, “Consort to the crown?”

Draco's face was a dark sneer and satisfaction as he said, “My consort.”
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The Consort: Hummingbird Circus